The Stories: Part 1

Chapters 1 through 10

It's 4:26 AM when Laura's dreams are rudely interrupted by the bedside telephone ringing in her ear. She looks over at Dion, who is sleeping very soundly, and picks up the phone. "Hello?" she whispers groggily.
"Laura--Albert. There's--"
Laura sighs deeply. "Albert, look, can this wait until morning? I mean, I'll be seeing you in a couple hours." She closes her eyes and lies back.
"No. Listen to me. This is important. There's--"
"If you absolutely have to talk to me now, let me pick up the phone in the kitchen so I don't wake everyone else up," she sputters angrily. "Some of us are sleeping. Or trying to. You must be the most inconsiderate person I've ever met." Laura hits the hold button and deliberately puts the receiver in its cradle. Upon getting out of bed, she fishes around for her robe and wraps it around herself in silence.
She tiptoes to the kitchen, where she picks up the phone and says, "Go ahead, if it's so damn important." She leans back against the wall and nudges the fridge open with her toes, searching for something to gnaw on while Albert is gnawing on her nerves.
"Someone's broken into the lab."
Laura jumps to attention, and the fridge door slams. "What?"
"There are files all over the place. I haven't even looked at the computers yet...but our hard files are a mess. I can't begin to tell what might be missing. You'd better get over here ASAP."
Laura, numb with shock (there were so many files! how many years of work? how could they be recovered?), hears herself whisper, "I'll be right there," and she slowly hangs up the phone.

"All the files?" Dion asks. He's awake by now, sitting up in bed and yawning.
"I think so. I don't know. God, Dion...do you know how much work has gone into those? Those are the records of at least ten years of the Bureau's pathology work--if not more!" Laura hops around the room with only one foot in her nylons. "And if our computers are missing any files...I hope the head office has the backups...I feel so stupid for not safeguarding them better."
"It's not your fault. I mean, you can only do so much. Whoever did this had to get past a lot of security...I wonder. This is weird."
Laura has finished dressing--in a natty dress suit, stylish and professional. She briskly walks to the mirror and begins to put in her earrings. "Dion, could you give me a cigarette?"
"I thought you were trying to quit."
"I am, but...well, one cigarette doesn't mean I'm not trying, does it?" She whirls around to face her husband, and gives him one of her endearing smiles.
Dion is enraptured. He leans over to her bedside table, picks up her pack of smokes, and hands it to her.
"Thanks, sweetie. Hey, about Emily. I don't think it's fair to take her to David's, seeing that it's so early."
"And we know he's not awake. And won't be until at least noon." He smiles wryly.
"Dion, that's not fair. He's a fine babysitter, and a great uncle. Anyway," she continues, lighting up, "I can't take her in. How about you? You're working today, right?"
"Yeah. In fact, I suppose I could go in early and do some paperwork. I hate paperwork."
Laura smiles. "Don't we all. Em should be sleeping...and she sleeps long and hard--like her uncle--so she shouldn't be a problem at the Bureau. Besides, once she wakes up and gets rambunctious, you can take her to David's. I'm sure he'll be awake by then." She takes a deep breath and checks herself out in the mirror. "Too bad you're not that adept at fatherhood," she says, pseudo-playfully.
Dion stiffens. "I think I'm a damn fine father," he says, hurt.
"Oh, Dion, you are. I was just kidding." She turns around and plants a chaste kiss on his cheek. "I'm going now, sweetie, so take care. And beep me if you need anything."

"Good morning, Laura. Great to see you," Albert smiles sarcastically, stirring his cup of steaming hot java. "Coffee?" he asks, holding the mug out to Laura.
"By name if not by nature," she remarks. "So where's the mess?"
"I couldn't stand the chaos, so I cleaned most of it up."
"Did you--"
"No," Albert interrupts, and sips his tainted coffee. "I figured anyone who would go to these extremes to take hard files and screw with the database--which they did--would have the foresight to prevent any fingerprints from showing up. I called in the loss to HQ before I so unkindly woke you up." He smirks.
Laura considers this for a moment. "So there are files missing? Do we know how many?"
"Like I said, I asked the computer geeks at HQ to do a comparison. Apparently the backup database was untouched. They ought to be getting back to us pretty soon, unless they're wasting our time playing Solitaire or something." He compulsively stirs his coffee.
As if on cue, the phone rings. "I'll get it--it's still my lab," Albert snaps as he bats Laura's hand away from the phone and grabs the receiver.
"Rosenfield, Pathology. Yeah, the missing files...What?...Two?...Okay, which ones?... All right. Okay."
He hangs up, and shakes his head. "Bad connection. Can you believe it? The place is within walking distance, and they can't even get the connection right."
Laura looks desperately at Albert. "Two files. Which? Did they know?"
"Calm down, Spencer--you're making me nervous. It's just two John Does, apparently, two murder cases, unrelated. No sweat. We can obviously recover the data."
"Great." Laura heaves a huge sigh of relief. The phone rings again, and she picks up even before Albert realizes it.
"Laura Spencer, Pathology...Dion? What's up?"
The hollow connection seems to echo. "Laura, I just got here and heard about the files. Seems we have three files missing here at the Bureau."
"Two John Doe murders? Same here."
"Yeah, two John Does...and a comprehensive case history going back almost twenty years."
"On whom?"
"Looks like Windom Earle."

A Telephone Conversation Between Two Unidentified Persons:

Yes? Uh, yeah...hi. I have the files. Excellent. And the databanks? As requested. (Pause.) Everything's a mess over there. They couldn't find their asses with both hands and a detailed map. (Laughs.) It'll be a while before they get it together again. Good job. I must admit, I'm quite impressed. I guess I'm just very good at following orders, hey. (Laughs.) Do they suspect anyone? Doubt it...they haven't even gotten that far. They're still running around like chickens, you know, with their heads cut off. "What's missing?" and "Where's the file?" and "Don't blame me!" You know...the standard government excuses. (Silence.) (After a pause:) Can you get those files to me? Oh, yeah, sure, no problem, I can do it. Hey, hold on a sec, will ya? (Sound of receiver being put down on a hard surface. Faint whistling sound. After about a minute:) Okay. Now, where were we? A drop-off. Oh, yeah. I'll let you know. No, look, I'm sorry, but I can't hold onto these things for too long. Can I dump 'em somewhere? You have to be patient if you want to get anywhere in this world. (Pause. Then meekly:) Yeah, okay. After a week-- A week? I can't wait a whole goddam week, for Chrissakes! Your attitude is getting you nowhere. Yeah, okay, I'm sorry. A week. Okay, after a week, what? After a week, take them to--wait. What? Is someone listening? I'll see you soon. Wait! What about the drop-off? I expect we'll run into each other sooner or later. At which point I'll be sure to procure the required reading from you. Be prepared. Dammit, don't leave me hanging! Don't goddam do this to me! Take care, my friend.
***END OF TAPE***

"No...Oh my God, Albert...What do you think this means, exactly?"

// don't scream. don't. be rational, rational, rational, detached...jesus, what if he comes here? is he already here? dear god, please let this be another terrible dream, that's all... //

Laura takes out a cigarette and fumbles for her lighter. "Albert, what does this mean?"
"I thought you were trying to quit that trash," he says with no kindness or sympathy.
"How much did Dion pay you to hassle me? Albert, do you think Earle is close by? Do you have any idea where this file might be?" she asks desperately as she lights up.
Albert politely excuses this. "Nothing. I don't know. And I have no idea, respectively. We have to come up with some ideas awfully damn fast, though. This is an embarrassment to the Bureau. You stay here and finish your coffee and that bad habit and I'll be back in a few." He gets up and walks out the door.

// alone at last...alone? alone. //

She stands and walks around the room, looking at Albert's various wall-mounted degrees, certificates, pictures of dead Presidents, and mutters, "Oh, Albert, you're soooo impressive." She puts out her cigarette and sits again.

// alone. //

** A sharp, vivid image of Windom Earle's face shoots into her mind. He says, "Alone." **

When Albert returns, he finds Laura passed out in the chair.

Misirlou

Striding into the lab my eyes catch Laura slumped in a chair--
"Christ, she starts smoking again and this is what I have to look forward to." Part of me is disgusted with people who cannot handle their vices...ironically, my coffee cup, bearing a slight dusting of white on the edge of the cup, sits on the desk nearby.
I go to Laura, check her pulse and find signs of an elevated heart rhythm. Her respiration seems normal. I gently raise her head and support it with my hand behind her neck to cradle her head. I open her right eye, then her left. The pupils are dilated, but react normally to the light in the room. It could be stress or exhaustion.
"Laura, Laura, can you hear me?"
She stirs, regaining her senses.
I continue, "You were out. You know, you really should stay away from cigarettes." My voice carries that typical caustic edge. "Seems that you can't handle them anymore. You check out fine, except for the slightly elevated heart rate possibly resulting from a mild stimulant such as caffeine"--my left eyebrow arches--"or nicotine. Do you wish to obtain another medical opinion for this episode? Will this be a regular occurrence?"
Genuine concern fills my voice as I continue on in a softer tone. "Do you remember anything before you lost consciousness? Anything unusual?"

// unusual, hell, the whole damn day has been one fun-filled jam-packed carnival ride, admission--free! //

As I wait for Laura's reply both she and I become aware of the small blinking red light on the phone.
"Voice mail," I mutter, picking up the receiver and punching the button. An obviously altered electronic voice--

Drivin' that train
High on cocaine
Albert you'd better
watch your speed
Trouble ahead--
you're no match for me
better pay me my fee.

"It's personal," I say, as I hang up the phone.

Carlotta

umm...trouble..."I want you to kidnap her...use this gun...this warehouse... rewarded..."... "He's dangerous!"...Then, from a song: "This man is utterly mad--you're playing a lunatic!" "That's the problem: He's a brilliant lunatic, and you can't tell which way he'll jump. Like his game, he's impossible to analyze. You can't dissect him, predict him...which of course means he's not a lunatic at all."...David, it's just a dream...David, wake up...David...David!

David blears awake to find himself on the couch, Meg shaking him gently yet firmly.
"David, wake up!" She looks honestly concerned.
He smiles sleepily. "My angel...What time is it?"
"Seven. Please, David, wake up. I have to go to work. Dion is here with Emily."
"I won't be, much longer," Dion says from the foyer. "You're not exactly instilling me with confidence, David."
"No, no, I'm awake," David says, and sits up clumsily. "Really. What's going on?"
"Something came up at the Bureau. It's confidential," he adds, when Meg looks at him questioningly.
David smiles, and reaches out to take Emily. "I know. It's Windom Earle."
Both Meg and Dion stare at David in absolute disbelief.
"How...how did you know?" Dion manages.
"So I was right. Chalk one up for the bad old big brother," David says softly. "Never mind how I know. I know." He turns his attention to his niece. "Hey, sweetie, how's my little bunny? How's my honey pie?" Emily squeals with delight.
Dion watches them enviously for a moment, then clears his throat and turns to Meg. "Anyway, like I said, it's confidential. I don't even want to know how he found out about it. But don't tell anyone else. I have to get back to the office. There's a lot of work that needs to be done. Take care." With an obligatory nod to his brother, Dion is out the door.

=:=

"So how did you know?" Meg asks, as she prepares herbal tea for the two of them and pours dry Cheerios for Emily.
"Lucky guess. No, really," David says, "I was just dreaming about him, about the time I kidnapped Laura for him. I don't think I dream...I think I have visions...divine inspiration...and you--you're my angel!" He smiles shyly and looks right into Meg's eyes.
She blushes. "Oh...you're just silly." She giggles, embarrassed.
"No, I'm not silly," he insists. "I'm...I'm...it's the heroin." He falls silent and stares into his teacup.
Meg takes his hand. "Every day, David, I try to understand a little more about you. I think I know a lot right now. But that's one big thing I don't think I'll ever understand." She sighs. "I'm here for you. Don't forget that." He closes his eyes, squeezes her hand, and heaves a shuddery sigh. They kiss.
"Um, um, um!" Emily cries, and waves her spoon around happily. David smiles at Meg, and they all laugh.

The engine cranked to a noisy stop and I just sat in the lot of the Bureau office for a moment, fresh from David's "prescient" vision. A car ride's worth of time to think had left me with some nasty thoughts in my head. Was Earle using David to get back into both the Bureau and our lives? I kept flashing back to the hell of the warehouse, tied to a chair and high beyond comprehension on Earle's coke. Now was he back? Or was the missing file indicative of someone just looking for Earle? Regardless, the demon of our pasts has once again insinuated himself into the present. And through that damned brother of mine!
I slammed closed the car door and went up to see Laura and Albert, letting them know of the potential nastiness of the situation.
"Morning, Dion--your wife's whacked again," barked Albert, in his ever-happy greeting tone. I saw an obviously worn Laura slumped just awake in a chair.
"Hold a second, I got some more bad news."
"Just what I need," groaned Laura, grabbing for the nicotine once again. This time I was almost tempted to join her.
"It's David--I think he might be working with Earle. He knows Earle is involved with the case, he told me so. I didn't even have time to think about it when I was dropping Emily off, but in the car...Oh God, and I left Emily with that bastard!"
"I wouldn't worry about David much; he's harmless," sighed Laura, remembering his kidnapping attempt.
"I don't care, Earle might be back--and if it's David that let him back in, there's gonna be hell to pay!"
A brief silence engulfed the room as we all contemplated the return of Windom.
"Hey, Albert, make me one of your cups of coffee, will ya? I really need one today..."

JArgent

Dion's request takes Albert by surprise. He surreptitiously catches the young agent's eye and raises an eyebrow. Dion looks at him impatiently.
The phone rings in Laura's observation-room-turned-office. "Just what we need--more bad news," she groans, and picks herself up off her chair, grabs her cigarettes, and walks briskly to her office.
Albert pours coffee for Dion, and looks at him archly. "Are you sure you want my coffee?" he asks carefully. "This is so unlike you, Spencer. Remember when--"
"Look, I asked for it, didn't I?" Dion interrupts. He nervously bites a fingernail. "Just do it, okay? Don't worry about me."
"Hey, I'm not worried about you. Please. You and your health and well-being happen to be the furthest things from my mind," Albert adds sardonically, as he opens a small Ziploc bag of cocaine into Dion's coffee cup. "Laura will be extraordinarily pissed."
"So now all of a sudden you're worried about my wife's reaction?" Dion snaps. "Is everyone out to get me?"
Albert puts down the mug and folds his arms across his chest. "Look, I don't think you need this. You're paranoid enough as it is."
Dion glares at Albert. "I never said I needed it." He begins to pace around the lab area.
"You quit, didn't you? After the 'incident'?" Albert asks.
"Well, yeah...for a while...Look, this isn't any of your business," Dion says furiously.
"You think your brother had something to do with the break-in?" Albert pours a huge amount of sugar into Dion's cup and stirs the concoction thoroughly.
"Hey, he knew about it before I said a word." He takes his coffee from Albert. "Goddam junkie." He takes a sip. Albert can't help but smile.

=:=

Laura returns to find Dion, flushed and a little manic, examining the rat and mouse cages lining one wall of the lab. Albert looks up at Laura from his seat and says, "He's had a hard day."
"Well, I just got some more news. That was Meg. David's file at the hospital is incomplete--as though someone had erased half of it. I don't know--"
"Ha!" Dion cries, and spins around to point a finger at his wife. "I knew he had something to do with this! God, I knew it!"
Laura looks shocked. "Dion, nobody said he had anything to do with anything. That's like saying these two John Does we lost were the ones who stole the files."
Albert smiles to himself. "Laura," he points out, "they're dead."
"Yes, I know they're dead," she says, exasperated. "But David is a victim here just as much as the John Does are, and as much as we are, and..."
"But what about Windom Earle? Huh?" Dion smiles a bit crazily. Albert makes a mental note to tone down the java next time. "Is he a victim, too? No way, Laura, I still say David is in cahoots with Earle. Give me a few days to prove it."
Laura regards him curiously. "Anyway, as I was about to say, she's missing another file, too, but she doesn't know whose it is yet. She thinks it's a cocaine abuser"--pointed look at Albert, and, incredibly, straight at Dion--"although it could very well be a heroin addict"--Dion smiles defiantly at Laura and Albert--"and that he or she may be the key to this case. We might have to do a search."
"David is mine," Dion grins.
"And I'll talk to you later," Laura adds.

David caps the needle, pops it off the syringe, and throws both away. He absentmindedly massages the inside of his left elbow and sighs. He closes his eyes and lets the familiar tide overcome him, then turns to his computer. He turns it on and loads up his word processor. After staring blankly at the screen for a few seconds, he begins to type:

It's like this: When you live your entire life under a storm cloud, eventually you stop hearing the rain.

David lights a cigarette while he searches for whatever comes next:

But when it's quiet, and you're alone, you realize it had never stopped raining, and it never will.

He frowns. The phone rings and he picks up. "Hello?"
"David, hi, it's Meg. How's work? I'm sorry I'm disturbing you."
"No, I needed some disturbance." He laughs ruefully. "I decided to forego the manuscript today and start something new. It sucks, I think."
"Give yourself some credit. You're a very famous author."
"Mmm-hmm...well, not right now, I'm not." He smokes his cigarette and stares at the screen again. "So what's up?"
"Well...I feel I have to tell you. Your file here is incomplete. Like someone wanted to steal it, but decided to corrupt it instead, you know?"
David swivels around. "Très bizarre. But why are you telling me? All is not lost. I can certainly update it for you."
Meg hesitates. "I think Dion is very, very suspicious of you. He thinks you were working with Mr. Earle on this file fraud. Laura doesn't agree...but I wanted to warn you to be careful."
"Okay. I will...thank you. I don't know why he has such a vendetta for me lately."
A pregnant pause. "David...did you do it?"
"No! Of course I didn't!" he answers hotly. "I can't believe you would think I would!"
"No, I didn't, David, honestly," Meg says hastily. "But I wanted to make sure."
"I believe you, angel," he says softly. "I should get back to work. Thank you again. I love you."
"Love you too," Meg answers, and she hangs up.

"He sounded serious--I really don't think he did it..."
"Thanks, Meg, I'll get back to you later."
"Goodbye, Dion. I'm sure I'll see you tonight."
"Okay, I'll be over to David's apartment to pick up Em in a few hours."
"Do you want me to meet you somewhere?" Meg's voice had a very pleading tone to it.
"Are you kidding? In public? On today, of all days?"
"I'm sorry, Dion." She really sounded like she was, too. "I'll call you later."
I just hung up. I didn't feel like I needed any more anxiety to add to this day. Time to evaluate.
"What's up, champ?" Albert walked in, on his third cup of coffee.
"I just talked to Meg. David told her he had nothing to do with it."
"And let me guess: You doubt his integrity."
"Oh, not me!" Brief laughs were exchanged before the overall gravity of the situation came back down on the room.
So what's our course of action, Dion? There's nothing we can legally do with David, even if you're sure beyond a reasonable doubt--"
"I am."
"Okay, fine, but that still doesn't change the fact that we've got jack on the elder Mr. Spencer and anything we do to his ass will get yours thrown in the gutter."
"God, I know you're right, but there has to be something we can do..."
A brief moment of silence. There was a warm breeze from somewhere that was oddly distracting in our current states.
"Okay, Albert, we'll drop this for now. Any word on the two John Does?"
"None yet; the Records department is too busy picking bugs out of each others' fur to get anything done for us."
"Okay. Any thoughts on David's corrupted file?"
"Well, sounds like stock Earle. Do some minor thing somewhere to throw us off. Hold a minute. Think about that for a second."
"Wait, I hadn't even considered that."
"Stay on track, laughing boy. David is the perfect red herring here. We know he and Earle have worked together before, and however he does, I'm sure Earle knows that David is now a big part of your married life. I wouldn't be surprised if he knew about Meg, too."
That stung. I didn't think even Albert knew about Meg. I'll deal with that later. Still, the coffee mix helped me keep a poker face.
"Wait, Albert, I don't want to make any damn conjectures about David's guilt, innocence or whatever until we know who the hell those two John Does are."
"Fine. I'll be downstairs badgering Records." He chugged his coffee and stared at me for a split second, just enough to show his smug little feeling of power over me. I knew that to a degree, I was his whipping boy now, but a quick gulp from the mug on the desk made it all go away...

JArgent

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Last edited on 4 June 2001 by N. S. Heath.
E-mail nora@heathens.co.nz.
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