The Missing Dead

by Karlous Naderi

The two men shared a confused stare. One of them finally turned back to Jack. “Sorry, there must have been some misunderstanding. There haven’t been any deaths in the Andrews family.”

  “Are you sure, bro?” Jack looked for the card that Abby had purchased at the flower shop. “I believe the card says it’s for the death of Damian Andrews.”

  “Listen, my good friend, as I said, there has been a mistake. Mr. Andrews is alive and well and, as we speak, on a fabulous vacation. So why don’t you hop in your little Toyota and get out of here before I call the cops on you for trespassing.”

  Not wanting to be arrested, or, worse, get beaten up by the two giant goons, Jack apologized for the confusion and backpedaled for the car.

  “What happened!” Abby asked as soon as Jack slammed the door behind him.

  “I’ll tell you in a minute.” He stepped on the gas before the guards could get an eyeful of their license plate. Two blocks down, when he was convinced they were safe from all human and electronic eyes, he told Abby everything she wanted to know and fielded her thousand and one rapid questions with a set of “I don’t knows” and “maybes.”

  “I don’t know why they’re lying. Maybe they’re all in on it.” Abby was frustrated.

  “Including Margret?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. You think we should go to the police directly?”

  “And tell them what?” Jack raised his voice slightly. “Excuse me, we want to report a missing dead person that, according to his guards, is not even dead.”

  “Well, we’ve got to do something!”

  “We’ll just wait till Melvin talks to the other dispatcher, and you to Margret when you go back to work on Friday.”

  “What am I going to tell her?”

  “I don’t know yet. Let’s see what Pig digs up first and then worry about Margret.”

  The rest of the day Abby was on the computer trying to learn whatever she could about Mr. Andrews and his Foundation. Jack was on his own mission to link the pieces of the puzzle in his own head. It had him confused. On the one hand, Abby adamantly stuck to her guns that she touched the dead body of Damian Andrews and she couldn’t have been hallucinating. On the other hand, Melvin said there were no records of a 911 call, which contradicted Abby’s claims. Than there was his own personal face-off with the two guards, telling him that Mr. Andrews was alive and well on a vacation. Which also discredited Abby’s claims. Except, how had she known the old man’s name and address? And how could she describe him if she hadn’t seen him at the hospital as she claimed?

  “Hey Jack!” Abby snapped him out of his deep thoughts.

  “What is it?”

  “Come here. See what I found.”

  On the computer screen was a Swiss article about an active case concerning some of the board members of the Foundation for a New America. According to the article, the Argentinian banker Ronald Plomaz and European billionaire Arnold Manse were under investigation for lewd acts with under-age girls, amongst other international charges. Damian Andrews and his board member, Chris Jackson, had agreed to sit down with US and Interpol investigators to provide them with any information needed to bring all guilty parties to justice and remove the dark cloud that hung over their honorable Foundation.

  “So, what do you think?”

  Jack eyed the article once more and turned his attention back to Abby. When he didn’t say anything she asked again, “Do you think all of this might be somehow connected?”

  “It might be.”

  Before Jack could deal with Abby’s next round of rapid questions, the phone rang with Melvin’s special ringtone. He pounced on it like an untamed jaguar and answered after the first ring. “What is it this time, Pig? Please tell me you have something good for me.”

  “I’m sorry, Jack, I have even less than yesterday,” Melvin confessed. “Unfortunately, Miss Davis took the day off and I couldn’t talk to her. But my curiosity got the better of me and I checked to see if there was a death certificate issued in Mr. Andrews’ name. There wasn’t. So either Abby saw something that we can’t explain yet, or Mr. Andrews might still be alive. But in any case, buddy, you have to wait until tomorrow so I can speak to Miss Davis and see what she has to say about the whole thing.”

  Jack paused for a moment, slightly disappointed. But with no other options, he accepted the facts and sighed deeply. Then he told Melvin about his own discoveries. First he told him about his face off with the two guards and their claims that the old man was alive and on vacation. Then he reported on the article that Abby had found regarding the international charges, and how Mr. Andrews and Chris Jackson had decided to sit down with the investigators to bring justice to the victims and preserve their company’s good name.

  “Hmm. Is this partner of his, Chris Jackson, an American?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t say.”

  “Let me check.” Melvin typed on his computer and came back seconds later with a quick update. “Not only is he an American, but he’s also a resident of Pacific Heights.”

  “Can you check to see if there was a death certificate issued for him?”

  “What, you think since he was also going to sit down with the investigators they might have targeted him as well?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s see.” It took a few minutes, but when Melvin came back he did so with a solid, “Negative. There’s nothing on him.”

  Jack sighed again in disappointment. Less optimistic, his thoughts drifted away. Not knowing what to say, he contemplated his next move.

  Deep in his own thoughts, after a minute or so Melvin broke through the silence between them. “I honestly don’t know what to tell you, Jack. Despite everything, including what the two guards told you about the old man being alive and well, I’m still going to look into the 911 call. If by tomorrow I can’t reach Miss Davis, I’ll drive to both Mr. Andrews’ and Mr. Jackson’s homes. I’ll pretend someone made a welfare call and that I’m following up on it. Then let’s see what falls down. If that doesn’t produce anything, then, Jack buddy, we might just have to admit that Abby was mistaken … confused. Or she might just have stumbled onto something big that’s way beyond our scope. So just hang tight for another day or so until I get back to you tomorrow.”

  Chapter 4

  San Francisco, America

  Next morning Melvin woke up at the same time as his wife Tania and his daughter Grace. They got her ready for school and, in a hurry, got her out to the curb in time for the bus.

  “I have to tell you, Pig, that little girl is becoming more than a handful day by day,” Tania said, closing the front door behind her.

  Melvin didn’t reply. He was jealous that he couldn’t witness Grace’s day-by-day progress. Depending on the murder case he was working on, there were nights when he got home after Grace was already in bed, and by the time she woke up he was gone.

  “What were you doing on the computer all last night?” Tania reached for the empty cereal bowls.

  “I was trying to see if I could find anything on this Damian Andrews.”

  “The missing dead guy? Why are you even wasting your time with that? It’s not like there really is a crime there.”

  “Well, I’m thinking if there is a death, maybe it wasn’t due to natural causes, and somebody purposely took the body away so the doctors wouldn’t find the true cause of death. And if that’s the case, then there is a crime.”

  “Oh Melvin, sometimes you get so stubbornly curious over nothing and drag everything into the mud. Especially when you link up with Jack and crazy Abby. Next thing you know they have you in deep trouble, with me having to go to Daddy for help.”

  “Don’t worry. You don’t have to go to Daddy this time.”

  “That’s what you say all the time. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Daddy and his boys where would you and your friends be?”

  “Probably be dead, or in prison somewhere far away, so I wouldn’t have to hear another one of your Daddy stories.”

  T
ania turned to Melvin with one of her looks: she rolled her eyes like someone possessed and out came the invisible horns. She gave him her fiery stare and disappeared into the kitchen.

  He didn’t like to admit it, but Tania was right. Sometimes he did become stubbornly curious and get bogged down. But that’s who he really was, and why they called him Melvin the Pig. And, yes, then Tania usually had to call Daddy, and he had to get his seasoned Bush Rats to help. A bunch of wild, ex-military explorers and arms men who believed in Voodoo and strange practices. Tough men, like Daddy, the ex chief of naval operations. Men who had served in the military for over thirty years. Some over forty, and a few, like Daddy, fifty plus. These men didn’t play around when it came to battle, killing, and protecting one of their own. They freelanced across the world with similar nut jobs, helping those in need and hunting for mystifying ruins and lost treasures.

  “But not this time,” Melvin murmured under his breath. There was no way he was going to need Daddy’s help. He would just poke around here and there and relay his gatherings to his good buddy Jack, who was in dire need.

  Tania was right about Abby and Jack dragging him into deep trouble. But she forgot that, if it wasn’t for Jack, he would have been dead years ago. Yes, it was Jack who had taken the shots that were meant for him behind enemy lines. That’s why he was still alive, and Jack had the cold bullets in his back and was forced out of a military career. For that reason alone, no matter how much Tania complained about him getting mixed up with Jack’s crazy shenanigans, he would still do everything and anything for Jack, whatever trouble he dragged him into.

  With these thoughts bouncing through his head, Melvin made his call to head dispatch. “Hey, Roger, it’s me, Pig.”

  “Good morning, Detective. What can I do you for today?”

  “Did Miss Davis get in?’

  “She was supposed to, but apparently she’s taking the rest of the week off.”

  This took Melvin back momentarily. He was struck by a tsunami of questions. “Did you take her call?”

  “No. You know how that works. You can do it the automated way, or it goes through a different department. If you want I can get her personal info and you can contact her directly.”

  “Okay, Roger that.”

  More than an hour later, with jingling keys in hand, Melvin left his modest house with lingering sensations and a Kool Aid smile on his face. A smile that only Tania’s good loving could produce, time after time. In the car, he turned on the radio and directed his attention back to Miss Davis. He decided to call her first before stopping by Mr. Andrews’ and Chris Jackson’s homes. He wasn’t sure how that would play out. Usually a uniformed officer with a marked vehicle would follow up a welfare call, not a homicide detective in casual jeans and shirt, driving a hooptie, but that was the plan.

  Melvin made a left on a narrow street and dialed Miss Davis’ number. The phone went strait to voicemail after the first ring, and he decided not to leave a message. Debating what to do next, he concluded that since Miss Davis’ house was much closer than Pacific Heights he would try his luck and stop there in person. If she was home, he would ask a few quick questions and then make his way to billionaires’ row. When he pulled up in front of the address, he called once more and, upon receiving the same response, he hung up and approached the two-story house on foot. Someone opened the squeaky door to his knocking. Melvin introduced himself and asked, “Is Miss Davis home?”

  His question brought tears to the old woman’s eyes.

  “Are you alright, ma’am?”

  “Yes, I’m so sorry. Please come in.”

  Like a good hostess the old lady sat him on the cushiony couch, and she sat on the wooden chair next to him. “I’m sorry, Detective,” she said again, wiping her tears. “It’s been a hard few days for me since my Barbra had her accident.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Yes, two days ago when she was on her routine morning jog she twisted her ankle, tumbling to the ground. According to the doctors she hit her head on the pavement with enormous force. She pass out and is in a coma. She’s been at the Memorial Hospital for the last day and a half. I just came home to fetch some of my personal belongings and freshen up before going back again.”

  Melvin just sat there quietly as the tidal wave of questions swept him away. After gathering his thoughts and comforting the old woman, he cleared his throat and resumed his soft interrogation. “So, Mrs. Davis, can you please tell me around what time you called her work to get the rest of the week off.”

  It was the old woman’s turn to stare back at him with confusion. “Excuse me?”

  “Yes, somebody called the department on behalf of Barbra and requested the rest of the week off.”

  “I’m sorry, Detective. I don’t have her work number, plus I’ve been busy at the hospital. There’s nobody else. I’m sure there’s been a mistake.”

  There was no mistake. Something suspicious was going on, and Melvin’s stubborn curiosity was dragging him deeper, like a pig in mud grubbing for answers.

  Chapter 5

  San Francisco, America

  On Friday morning, like any other day, Abby pulled into the San Francisco Memorial Hospital and parked her four-door Toyota as close to the entrance as possible. Two days ago she had left work with thoughts and questions clouding over her head; now she returned with twisters and storms.

  If the missing body of Damian Andrews and Margret’s lying were not confusing enough, now Melvin’s news about Barbra Davis in a coma had her mind in a whirlwind. There was also the sudden business trip that Mr. Chris Jackson had taken to Switzerland, according to his butler, and the surprising words that Melvin had received from the two guards when he stopped by Damian Andrews’ mansion.

  Not sure what to make of everything, Abby passed through the double electronic glass doors of the hospital and headed towards her department. She didn’t know how she was going to approach Margret about the subject of Damian Andrews again. For the last two days she had been searching for a reasonable explanation for Margret’s lie. What role did she play in this tangled web of mystery, if there was one? The question had weighed on her day and night.

  Now that Mr. Andrews’ two guards had invited Melvin back on Monday so he could be sure the old man was alive and well, Jack and Melvin had a new theory, and it involved spooky, paranormal visions.

  Jack told her, “You know, Abby, Pig and I know a little bit about this subject. When we were back in Iraq, our platoon sergeant thought he saw the commander get shot by the AQI. He swore up and down he witnessed the whole thing with his own eyes until, a few hours later, the commander drove in from his meeting alive and well. But what do you know, a week later the commander died exactly as Sergeant Candor predicted. So we think maybe the same thing happened to you, and instead of us searching for the missing dead, we should go back on Monday and warn the living Mr. Andrews about his horrible fate. This is the most logical theory we have for why Margret didn’t know what you were talking about, and Melvin not finding any 911 dispatch call.”

  But Abby didn’t see how this explained Miss Davis’ sudden accident and the mysterious person requesting the days off for her, especially when she lay in a coma and her mother had nothing to do with it. How did that fit with her having a paranormal vision? Nothing made sense. Maybe all this was just a crazy dream, and soon she would wake up from her nightmare back to her normal sanity.

  With more thoughts brewing inside her head, and not ready to face Margret, Abby detoured towards admissions. In minutes she located exactly what she was searching for and marched towards the elevator for the sixth floor. From the packed elevator she made a quick right and entered the third room on her right. She stopped in her tracks and, heart trembling, stared at the beeping machines with tangled tubes snaking out from the glass bed. For another minute she studied the beautiful, brown-skinned girl lying peacefully in a coma. When she had gathered enough courage, she drew closer and touched the cold, glass bed with the tips of
her fingers. At that moment, Abby knew all this was real, and not a dream or some form of paranormal vision. Heart racing, she was startled out of her thoughts by the banging behind her. She turned and locked eyes with a doctor. Both gasped with surprise.

  “Oh, Doctor Phillips!” Abby was relieved to see it was only the chief of her floor.

  The old man looked at Abby as if he had been caught with his pants down. He quickly composed himself and replaced his nervous expression with a weaselly smile. “Oh Abby, what are you doing here?”

  Wanting to ask him the same question but not wanting to give him the whole truth, she just said, “Well, one of my friends happens to work with Miss Davis and he wanted me to check on her status.”

  “Yes, it is tragic what happened to Barbra. So young and beautiful. It’s such a damn shame.” Under Abby’s curious stare, the old doctor quickly smiled again and said, “Well, I’m up here doing the same for Mrs. Davis. The poor woman. She’s been here for the last two days and I told her I would keep an eye on her daughter.”

  Although they each gave a plausible explanation for being there, it was clear that neither was being totally forthcoming. Like a nervous duck, Doctor Phillips moved his lips and quacked a few more words under his breath, and eventually said, “Well, Abby, it’s a good thing that you’re here. I was going to come see you today anyway. Let’s go back down to our floor and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  With one final stare at the beautiful, brown-skinned girl lying peacefully behind her glass prison, Abby walked out the door with a heavy heart and her ears tuned to the doctor.

  “You know, Abby, you’ve been working here for a number of years, and you are great at what you do. I don’t think I have ever received any complaints about you. Margret always praises your work and emphasizes how she can always count on you. So I guess what I’m trying to say, Abby, is that there’s a position available in your department and I think you would be perfect for the job!”