Burying Ben (37 page)

There’s a message from
Mark on
m
y
cell pho
n
e. I call him
back.
W
ithout waiting for
m
e to ask he tells
m
e that Melinda is ho
m
e from
the hospital. The contractions have stopped, but she
’
s on bed rest until her due date.

“I want to clear so
m
ething up, Dot. I didn
’
t send her to see you. She did that on her o
w
n.”

“So she said.”

“She told
m
e she showed you the disqualifying recom
m
enda
t
i
on she wrote for Ben Go
m
ez.”

“She did. But what
’
s to prove that it
’
s the sa
m
e recommendation you actually sent to the chie
f
? You haven’t been exactly honest about things
w
i
th
m
e.”

“I’m
not trying to hurt you. I’m
trying
to protect Melinda.”
He
denies
changing anything and invites
m
e
to bring
m
y own co
m
puter consultant to exa
m
ine the hard drives on every computer in his office and his ho
m
e.

“So, if you didn’t change it,
who did
?
”

“I send the report to the chief. I doubt he reads the
m.
I think he sends them
on to his secretary,
B
arbara what
’
s-her-na
m
e, and the
lieutenant in charge of personnel and training. They have passwords too.” There’s a pause. “Anything else?”

I’m
t
e
m
pted to ask if he ever gave Mel
i
nda a tennis bracelet like the one he gave
m
e, but I don’t. If she
w
ants it so badly, she can keep it. I don’t want it any
m
ore.

I call Manny at ho
m
e. He
see
m
s happy to hear from
m
e.

“How you been, Doc?
You okay?
You work things out with your ex
?
”

“I don
’
t know.” I tell him about April and Ben.

“That
’
s cold. No wonder he did hi
m
self.”

I tell him
about the encrypted report,
the passwords and
m
y
s
uspicion that so
m
eone changed the recommendation. “If I cou
l
d prove so
m
eone changed the report, it
m
i
ght help
m
e. I talked to Eddie.
H
e doesn
’
t
know anything about co
m
p
uters. He told
m
e to call you. That you were a co
m
puter whiz and
m
i
ght be able to tell
m
e how to find out who changed the report. I don
’
t know
m
uch
a
bout co
m
puters myself. I don
’
t want to get you in any trouble. Think it over and call
m
e back.”

“I don
’
t have to think it over. Three people have gone down behind this, Ben, you and Eddie. This is not just your proble
m
. I don’t want to work next to so
m
ebody I can
’
t trust
b
ecau
s
e they
’
re loco.
W
hoever changed t
h
is
report p
u
t
u
s all in dan
g
er and for what, I don
’
t know. But I
’
d like to find out.”

“How
?
”

“Unless we
’
r
e talking CIA level encrypt
i
on, which I doubt, all you need is a file recovery utility. Piece of cake. You want
m
e to do it
?
”

“No. I just want you to t
e
ll
m
e how to do it.”

“I could do it easily. I
’
m
working
m
i
ds.
There
’
s no one on
m
a
hogany row. I could get up there on a break. No proble
m
.”

“Absolutely not. No way. You
’
ve he
l
ped a lot just giving
m
e this infor
m
ation. Please, don
’
t do anything else. I want to talk to the chief first. I
’
ll keep you posted.”

“One other thing, Doc. There’s a ru
m
or
going around that Ben sent a suicide note to the chief on e
m
ail. How do you know that it was B
e
n who wrote it
?
”

“I just assu
m
ed.”

“Eddie taught
m
e never to assu
m
e
a
nything. He used to say ‘Don’t assume nothing, just
m
akes an ass out of
you and
m
e.’ G
e
t the joke
?
”

I laugh to be polite.
The first ti
m
e I
heard it was in
m
y fresh
m
an y
e
ar of college. It
w
asn’t very funny then, either.

Chapter Thirty
Seven

It
’
s 9:00 p.m., and I’m
parked next to the c
h
ief
’
s car. Police headquarters may be off li
m
its, but no one has forbidden
m
e from
being in the parking lot.

I
’
ve been here for an hour eating Chinese take-out from
a carton. My car
s
m
ells like soy sauce and grease.
Baxter
’
s inside at a city council meeting, where he
’
ll stay only until he can sneak out unnoticed. I’m
dying of thirst, thinking about dashing to the
local
convenience
s
t
ore
f
or a diet soda, when the interior lights in his car go on and I hear the locks click open. In a second, he
m
aterializes out of the dark. I scra
m
b
le to get out of
m
y c
a
r, cursing as half a carton of uneaten egg foo yung spills down the front of
m
y suit.

“
W
ho
’
s there?” He wheels around, sucking air, filling the darkness between us with the blowhole sound of a surfacing whale.
The street lamp behind
m
e
gives off a weak yellow
light. It
’
s enough to see that his hand is inside his jacket, gripping his gun.

“Stop! It’s
m
e, Dot Meyerhoff.”

He reac
h
es si
d
eways into
h
is car,
g
rabs a flashlight, and shines it in
m
y eyes. His hands look enor
m
ous.

“Jesus H. Christ. Do you know how clo
s
e I came to shooting
you?”

The pupils of his eyes are swimming in a circle
of white. He drops the flashlight to his side and leans against his car. I bend over and put
m
y h
a
nds between
m
y knees to stop shaking.

“
W
hat in hell are you doing here
?
”

“
W
aiting for you.”

“Ever heard of the telephone?”

“
W
ould you take
m
y call
?
”

“Probably not.”

He straightens up and
m
oves towards his car door.”
W
ait. I have to tell you so
m
ething. So
m
ebody altered Ben Go
m
ez’ pre-e
m
ploy
m
ent
psych report.”

“
W
hat are you talking about
?
”

“It
’
s co
m
plicated.”

“Give
m
e the short version.”

“Mark
’
s psych assistant disqualified
Ben. I saw her original report.”

“I don’t hire people who’ve been disqualified. It’s a
g
ainst the law.”

“
I know that. So so
m
eone in the PD c
h
anged the recommendation before you saw it.”

He rai
s
es an eyebr
o
w.

“And who would that be?”

“I don
’
t know. I’d hoped you would. Mark
’
s reports are encrypted.
W
ho else besides you has the password?” He scowls, looks
up as though the answer is written on the undersi
d
e of the street la
m
p.
“
W
e can trace whoever did
this with s
o
m
ething called a file recovery utility.
I don
’
t understand how it works, but
it can identify the co
m
puter where the c
h
anges were
m
ade as well as t
h
e
date and ti
m
e. Apparently it
’
s not that difficult to do.”

“This is total fantasy. I don
’
t know which one of you is crazier, you or your ex.” He is sweating in the cooling a
i
r, rolling the heavy flashlight
against his thigh. “I
’
ve had it with you. I want you to back off and stay t
h
ere.” His lips are dra
w
n up against his teeth like a dog.

“I can’t. I
m
ean I won’t. Twenty-four hours. I
’
ll give you t
w
enty-four hours to look into this and get back to
m
e before I go to the press.”

He
’
s in
m
y fa
c
e with two strides, leaning in so close I can s
m
ell coffee and onions on his breath.”I told you once before, don
’
t threaten
m
e
.” He lowers his voice to a whisper, although there’s no one within ears
h
ot. “Here
’
s what I’m
willing to do a
n
d when I
’
ve done it, we
’
re finished. Do you understand
?
” He punctuates
these
last
thr
e
e words with a finger pointed at my heart. “I’m going to ask the c
i
ty IT
guy to look into this. If so
m
eone has altered confidential records,
which I doubt, he’ll take care
of it. Not you. Not
m
e.” He slaps the flashlight against his leg.
“You piss people off,
you know that?
I bet that
’
s why so
m
ebody broke into your house.”

Twenty four hours turns into seventy two. So much for
my threat to call the newspapers. I have picked up t
h
e phone three ti
m
es today and each ti
m
e I tell
m
y
self there has to be a better way. It
’
s not that I worry
a
bout ruining Mark
’
s reputation or Melinda
’
s future. Or Baxter’s. They
’
r
e on their own.

But I keep picturing Mr. and Mrs. Go
m
ez, the looks on their faces when they open the newspaper and see Ben
’
s photo, ha
p
py and s
m
iling in his acade
m
y unifo
r
m
, under a headline t
h
at says,
“Unfit for duty.” Their private tra
g
edy exposed, once again, for the entertain
m
ent of Kenilworth
’
s residents
as they drink their morning lattes. On the other hand,
w
hy am
I wo
r
r
ying about the
m
?
They lied to
m
e, just like Ben did.

I pick up the phone and call the
m
. Mrs. Go
m
ez answers on the first ring. “This is Dr. Meyerhoff.” I can hear
her saying so
m
ething to her husband in Spanish.

“
W
ait a
m
i
nute. I’m
putting on the speaker phone.” I hear a click. “You have news
?
”

“Yes I do. The news is that you neglected
to tell
m
e so
m
e
i
m
portant facts about Ben and his parents. I heard all about Mr. Go
m
e
z
’ ho
m
eless brother in L.A., but nothing about your daughter and her hu
s
band. They didn’t die in a
car wreck, like Ben told
m
e
, they died of an overdose.”

“
W
hy did you need to know this?
What difference would it
m
ake
?
”

“Because I’ve been t
h
i
n
king that Ben’s death was
m
y fault. Because—” She cuts
m
e off before I can finish
m
y sentence.

“So now you know why we didn’t say.
W
e’re asha
m
ed. It must be our fault. First our daughter kills
h
er
s
elf with d
r
ugs and then Ben shoots hi
m
self.”

“
W
hy did you tell the district att
o
rney’s investigator and not
m
e
?
”

“He was so nasty, t
h
at
m
an. He threatened to arrest us
.
”

“
W
e didn’t lie to you, doctor” Mr. G
o
m
ez says. “We just didn’t say.”

“Ben lied.
H
e lied on his police application. He lied to his wi
f
e. He lied to his in-laws.”

“That’s
m
y fault,” he says. “There was so
m
uch publicity. The na
m
e Sturgis was everywhere. It would have followed him
for
e
ver. He would never have had a chance, everyone thinking he
w
as like his dope fiend father. I was glad Sturgis
w
as dead. He took our daughter from
us. Turned her into s
om
eone we didn’t know.
W
e adopted Ben to protect hi
m
, give him
a new start. I told
hi
m
, never tell anybody who your parents were. Just say they
died in a
car accident. Nobody will ask.
A
nd nobody did. Not until he killed hi
m
self.”

A walk would help to work off the cortis
o
l t
h
at
h
as accu
m
ulated in
m
y syste
m
, but it
’
s after ten, too late, too dark and I’m
too tired.
My other option is the comforting ritual of popcorn and
wine, alth
o
ugh it’s n
o
t wise to dri
n
k during a crisis. Alcoh
o
l will only increase the stress-related hor
m
ones in
m
y
blood strea
m
.

Not one to practice what I preach, I pour
m
yself a generous glass of red wine and turn on the TV. And just for the hell of it, I take out a pad of paper and
begin writing down the talking points for
m
y future non-existent press debut. Oedipus is
m
eowing, co
m
p
l
aining that he
’
s been du
m
ped outside
f
or the night. I o
pe
n the slider to
m
y yard. He
’
s sitting in a splotch
o
f moonlight, his grey fur turned to silver. I b
e
nd over to pet him
and
m
y phone rings. It
’
s Baxter, sounding surprisingly upbeat. As pro
m
is
e
d, he tal
k
ed to the
c
ity’s IT expert who figured out what happened to the encrypted report.