The Missing Dead

by Karlous Naderi

  When Abby didn’t say anything, Jack confessed, “Halfway through our first bottle we started talking about your claims about that day at the hospital. By the time we were done, we were neck deep wandering about Margret, Miss Davis and your suspicions about Doctor Phillips. Through our second bottle, we searched on the computer and Melvin made a few calls to his cop buddies for intel. So before I continue any further, I would like to present my partner and our new evidence for show and tell.”

  With a set of drum rolls on the table by Jack with his fists, Melvin switched on the laptop and turned to Abby with a tipsy smile. “Well, just know what I’m about to show you might be something, or nothing.” After a few fast clicks across the keys they were on the home page of the Foundation for a New America. Abby recognized the web site immediately by its logo, which was a simple picture of the globe with the name of the organization written under it. With his long brown finger Melvin scrolled down and clicked on the directory. He came across the name “Skylar Phillips” and stopped. “Does this name sound familiar to you?”

  Abby repeated the name out loud a few times and finally said, “No. Who is she?”

  “It’s not a she. We believe it’s a he.”

  When Abby’s stare made it clear she didn’t understand, Jack cut in. “A few days ago when you saw Doctor Phillips in Barbra’s room acting suspicious, you suspected he was also involved somehow. The same night, as you recall, you and I searched the net to see what else we could find on the good old doctor. We even checked the Foundation for a New America’s web site to see if there were any connections between him and its CEO, Damian Andrews, but we came up empty. My dear Abby, where we messed up was that we searched for what we assumed was the good old doctor’s name. We thought his name was Robert Phillips. But we didn’t know that his true full birth name is Robert Skylar Phillips. We are not a hundred percent sure if that’s him, since we can’t find any present or past photographs of this Skylar fellow, but Melvin and I believe they are one and the same. This makes even more sense than our last paranormal theory, and to get closer to piecing the puzzle together we need you to take us back to that horrific day at the hospital and see if you recall Doctor Phillips being amongst the other doctors assisting you guys with the bloody, mangled kids.”

  Intrigued, but not really wanting to travel down that bloody road again, Abby did so anyway. Other than the horrible memories of the dead and the hurt, and the cries of the children, she couldn’t recall anything else. “But that’s a good possibility for sure,” she charmed in, warming to their new theory. “If Doctor Phillips wasn’t with us during the chaos, then he definitely had the time and the opportunity to remove Mr. Andrews’ dead body, get rid of my information folder and pen, and delete the computer record.”

  “I honestly still don’t know what to tell you, Abby, about your encounter,” Melvin said from the left. “But I stood a few feet away from the silver-haired man a few days ago, and I have to tell you guys, Mr. Andrews is definitely not dead. I’m still not sure exactly what you witnessed that day, or what the old billionaire’s and Margret’s roles in all of this are. But I’m sure Doctor Phillips holds the key to our questions. Him visiting Barbra on the sixth floor, telling you about Margret moving, and promoting you … It’s all just too much of a coincidence.”

  “Okay, come on already, tell Abby what your cop buddies said!” Jack said impatiently from the right, not wanting to postpone their main surprise.

  “Well, after my meeting with the captain and Mr. Andrews, I learned that some of the officers at the police department were advised not to provide me with any information about Miss Davis. The captain is concerned that I might have some PTSD issues, and he thinks it’s best for me to only receive case-related information to keep me in line and focused. But earlier today when I called, to my luck I spoke to an after-hours officer who wasn’t aware of the orders. He told me what I wanted to know. So I’m also proud to inform you that we now know where the call came from on behalf of Barbra.”

  With her heart racing, Abby edged to the front of the couch, waiting impatiently for the revelation. It came a second later when Melvin said, “The call came from area code 4131.”

  This just confused Abby. She had never heard those numbers before. It couldn’t be a United States area code since it didn’t start with one. She said as much.

  “You’re absolutely correct,” Melvin confirmed her suspicion. “It’s the calling code for Bern, Switzerland.”

  Abby would have stood but couldn’t. She felt heavy as steel, as though her bottom was glued to the couch. Two things popped into her head immediately. The Swiss article they had read about the investigation into the board members of the Foundation for a New America, and the sudden business trip that Mr. Chris Jackson took to Switzerland, according to his butler.

  “So what does all this mean?” Abby finally asked.

  “Maybe something, maybe nothing. But I think there are enough coincidences that I can approach the captain and see what he says. Until then you and Jack take it easy. Let me do my job, and we’ll see where we go from there.”

  Chapter 9

  San Francisco, America

  “Hey, boss, do you have a minute?” Melvin asked impatiently early next morning when he finally saw the captain coming in.

  “What is it, Pig?”

  “Well, Sir, if you don’t mind, I’d rather we talk alone in your office.”

  Hmming under his breath, the squared-faced captain gave him the once-over stare. This wasn’t going to be the pleasant morning he had hoped for. He finally nodded his agreement and picked up his pace. Eyes down, Melvin bustled behind the tall man. Once they were inside the office seated face to face, the captain repeated his question. “What is it, Pig?”

  Although Melvin had prepared himself all night for this moment, he still hesitated, not knowing how to broach the subject he had been ordered to let go of. He made a few broken half stutters, and then took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. He started with his theory.

  “Sir, you know the meeting we had with Mr. Andrews less than a week ago?” When there was no answer, just the captain’s fiery eyes burning into him, Melvin focused his thoughts and proceeded. “Well, Captain, as I told you before my friend’s fiancée, Abby, works at the same hospital from which Mr. Andrews’ dead corpse supposedly disappeared, and where Miss Davis is also comatose. Through Abby, I learned that the head of her floor is a doctor by the name of Robert Skylar Phillips. Coincidentally, this doctor is also a board member of the Foundation for a New America.”

  “So?”

  “Well, Sir, this doctor was acting suspiciously in Miss Davis’ room, and he also promoted Abby to the head of her department, perhaps just to divert her curiosity about the disappearance of Mr. Andrews and the reason for Miss Davis being comatose.”

  There was a short pause and the captain, still not understanding the purpose of this conversation, continued studying Melvin. After a moment he sighed. “Pig, I really don’t know what to tell you other than what the old billionaire said. I also do believe our taxpayers’ money should be going into fighting real crimes and not wasting time on stories from a delusional doctor.”

  “But Captain, my friends fiancée is not delusional. Mr. Andrews is the CEO for this Foundation for a New America. Also, the mystery person who requested the days off for Miss Davis called from Bern Switzerland. And, Sir, there was a recent Swiss article about an active investigation into a few of the board members of the Foundation, and Mr. Andrews and his neighbor Chris Jackson, who also happens to be on the board of the same Foundation, were going to cooperate with the local and international authorities. Now I have also learned that Mr. Jackson suddenly took a business trip to Switzerland. So, I think adding all these things together, it’s all just too much of a coincidence for us to ignore the connections.”

  The captain quietly studied Melvin’s focused demeanor. Something burning behind his eyes, perhaps curiosity, determination, danger; and maybe even a little cra
ziness. Not sure how to place the cap back on top of whatever Melvin was trying to unearth, he stuck to the facts and tried to reason with him one more time. “Listen, Pig, I hope you’re paying close attention to your own contradictory admissions. First you claimed that Mr. Andrews was dead of a heart attack and his body had disappeared from Memorial Hospital into thin air. Then you learn that there were no 911 records of that. Soon after that you and your friends manage to scare Mr. Andrews half to death, forcing him to cut his vacation short and hurry back to see what was going on. We have now clearly established that the old billionaire is not dead. Correct? Can we at least agree to that?”

  Melvin forcefully nodded his agreement and kept his focus directly on the captain, who was growing ever more frustrated.

  “Okay good. I’m glad at least we’re on the same page with that one. But moving on. Having established that Mr. Andrews is alive and well, where is the crime? You want to investigate this Doctor Phillips for what? Because he visited Miss Davis’ room and promoted your friend? If you ask me, this doctor is doing his job, checking on Miss Davis’ status and elevating your friend Abby to a higher position. Which is something I wouldn’t have done, due to her crazy mental delusions. But tell me, how did you even learn that this Doctor Phillips and Mr. Andrews are from the same Foundation?”

  “Well, Sir, there is a Skylar Phillips on their website directory and we believe that’s him.”

  “Are you telling me this person on the website is not even named Robert SkylarPhillips?”

  “No, Sir, but, as I said, we believe it’s him.”

  From behind the desk, the captain shot him another fiery stare, and when he spoke it was obvious he’d had enough of all the cock-and-bull theories. “Let me remind you of something, Detective Melvin. First and foremost, your partner is Detective Logon, and not your friends Jack and Abby. Quite frankly, their opinions don’t mean squat in this office, especially that of the kooky girl who started all this crazy mess. I have to tell you, Detective, the way you are conducting yourself at the moment is very concerning to me. We’re lucky that a powerful person such as Mr. Andrews didn’t slap this department with a lawsuit, and against your friends for making these unfounded, crazy accusations and harassing his men. Now you want to go after this doctor because he did his job at the hospital and might or might not be the person from the same Foundation. Even then, what does this prove? Again, where is the crime? To me it’s obvious that your thoughts are still on an imaginary conspiracy rather on the cases you should be working on with your partner. I’m disappointed that you disobeyed my direct orders and continued investigating Miss Davis’ accident after I clearly commanded you to leave it alone. I’m not going to ask who in this department provided you with the information, but it’s clear that you are having some personal issues. So before this goes any further and you end up hurting yourself and those around you, I want you to take a week or two off and make an appointment with one of our department shrinks.”

  “Sir, there’s no need for that.” Melvin sought to put the captain’s worried mind at ease.

  “I’m sure there isn’t, but I would like to get a professional opinion. I can’t afford to have you hurting anybody in this department, and bringing a huge lawsuit down on us by a man like Damian Andrews and a doctor with deep pockets. But what concerns me above all, Detective, is that you are indirectly hinting that there is a conspiracy even within this police department. Think about it. If you believe all this is true, then the lack of any record of Mr. Andrews’ 911 call means somebody in this department is willfully trying to hide something, and maybe even taking nefarious actions against Miss Davis to silence her, and that worries me. I’m sorry, Pig, but I cannot allow one of my best detectives to run around untethered and spread rumors like this, and taint the good name of the many men and women who work hard here day and night to keep this city safe.”

  Before Melvin could say anything in his defense, the captain paraphrased almost all of his concerns once more and told him he would see him in about a week or two, and that was final. Knowing there was nothing he could do to change the captain’s mind, with deep disappointment Melvin quietly excused himself, got to his feet and walked out, closing the door behind him with one motion.

  Chapter 10

  San Francisco, America

  For the last two days, while Abby was at work, Jack had been spying on the old billionaire’s mansion with his small military drone. So far there was no sign of the silver-haired man. Up front were the same two armed guards dressed in black uniforms, doing their routine rounds of the property like two well-trained dogs. Every six hours or so, the guards were replaced by two other black-uniformed men with guns who did the same. There hadn’t been any incoming or outgoing from the two-story mansion other than the guards themselves. Either the old billionaire was out of town again, or they had him on total lockdown somewhere deep in the cut.

  During Jack’s long, lonely hours of surveillance, Abby called him on her breaks, or when she was bored out of her mind, to keep him company and to get updates. When she couldn’t talk and Jack was bored and in need of company, he called Melvin and gave him updates about nothing in particular.

  As usual, somehow, he had managed to bury Melvin head deep in trouble again, and this time with his captain. A few nights ago when they were drinking and reminiscing, it was Jack who had convinced Melvin that there was a connection between Mr. Andrews, Chris Jackson, Skylar Phillips and the rest of them, especially once they learned that the mystery call on behalf of Miss Davis had come from Switzerland. Now, because of Jack, Melvin was going to be out of work for three weeks instead of two, since that was the earliest he could make an appointment with the department shrink. Melvin’s wife Tania, who was not a big fan of Jack and Abby, had lectured him again about his poor choice of friends and battered him with her invisible horns and possessed eyes. Heck, Tania had every right not to like Jack and Abby. After all, because of them Melvin had ended up in a Mexican prison awhile back, and the time in China was also due to their crazy shenanigans. It was true that years back in the military Jack had saved Melvin’s life behind the enemy lines and taken the bullets in his back instead, but what Melvin never mentions is that it was Jack’s fault that they were in that predicament in the first place. He was the one who had persuaded Melvin to go on the unauthorized hunt for the AQI terrorist compound that he had heard was on the border between Iraq and Syria. Once there, they had walked into an ambush, and luckily, right at the last minute, he had pushed Melvin away from the barrage of incoming fire.

  The only upside this time was that there were no bullets flying anywhere, and at least Melvin could spend more time at home with his daughter Grace, which was much needed time that he had been yearning for. On the same front, the last two days had provided Melvin with enough free time to research more leads and clues of their revived Damian Andrews case. Like the good pig that he was, he had somehow sniffed out new information, like finding fresh truffles. One was that there was no Margret Stimson working at USC Medical Center. Second he learned Doctor Phillips’ home address, which Jack had also started surveilling with his military drone. In addition to that, in spite of knowing the backlash that would come from his captain if word got out, for the second time Melvin had stopped by Mr. Chris Jackson’s mansion. This time he asked the butler to let Mr. Jackson know that he needed to speak to him on his arrival back from Switzerland regarding a woman name Barbra Davis. For the last two nights before sleeping, Melvin, Jack and Abby had rallied on the phone over their findings and tried to figure out their next move.

  They still believed Doctor Phillips might be the key to solving their Damian Andrews mystery, if there was one. But so far they hadn’t seen anything suspicious while surveilling the weaselly doctor’s daily ins and outs. On the street Jack monitored his actions, while at work Abby had kept a close eye on his movement. Last night, over their routine pow wow, Abby said, “Apparently the old doctor was not lying about his reasons for being at Barbra’s ro
om.”

  “Yeah, but he lied about Margret transferring to USC,” Jack reminded.

  Tonight, so far there was nothing special going on. Jack was at home, quietly chilling on the couch, surfing the internet and waiting for Abby to get home from work. For the last four hours, he had been on Margret’s and Doctor Phillips’ social media pages, trying to see if there were any connections between them, and, most importantly, if there were any clues to Margret’s whereabout. It was obvious that she hadn’t logged into her account since a few days before the mystery at the hospital. Her prior posts never mentioned anything about USC, or her traveling to anywhere for a career change or even pleasure. She was married with kids, but there were no names or pictures of her family. As far as Doctor Phillips’ page was concerned, there was nothing promising. There were no mentions of the name Skylar, or even anybody close to that name. No Foundation for a New America, or Damian Andrews. Still not sure what to make of all the scattered pieces of puzzle floating in his head, Jack got to his feet when he heard the low squeaking of brakes outside. He cracked open the door just to make sure it was Abby and not the neighbor’s boy, who had a similar squeaky-brake problem.

  Abby waved her hand. Five, six, seven steps later she was at the door with a large smile and open arms. “I missed you so much, baby!” She gave him a big python hug and a juicy kiss on the lips. “So tell me, soldier, other than missing me what have you been doing all day?”

  “Well, for the last four hours I’ve just been combing through Doctor Phillips’ and Margret’s social media pages.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing. There are no connections between them, and no signs of Margret moving. But I’ve been thinking about something that might help us open another avenue to our inquiries. It might take us in a direction we don’t like.”