William Rabkin - Mind-Altering Murder

“Thanks,” Gus said, pulling his own gaze away from hers.

“No, I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Jerry said. “Because you’re in a position now where they’ll have to listen to you. I’ve seen so many people take a stab at the orphan drugs issue, and they’ve all fallen short. But I know you won’t. You’ll make us all proud. Won’t he, Chanterelle?”

She nodded, still staring at Gus with eyes that seemed to see straight through to his musculoskeletal system. “It’s my da’s passion, you know,” she said. “And now you’re in a position where you can do something about it.”

Gus felt an odd tingling at the base of his skull and turned back to Fellows. But the elfin gentleman was still smiling happily at him. He was nothing but pleased. How could Gus ever have been so crazy as to think of him as a killer?

Finally the party had broken up around three. D-Bob had told everyone to take the rest of the day off, and the employees filtered out to enjoy the perfect afternoon. Gus had tried to find D-Bob to talk to him about this promotion, but when he was finally able to extricate himself from the mass of well-wishers the boss was nowhere to be seen.

Gus hadn’t planned to go back to the office. Actually he hadn’t planned anything at all. He felt incapable of thinking. He just wanted to experience this day, to feel the uncomplicated joy that this expression of confidence in him brought. Later, he knew, there would be nothing but complications. There would be the terror of facing the new job, the difficulties of dealing with the other executives who had been passed over in favor of him, the responsibilities that came with the presidency. But for now he wouldn’t worry about any of it.

When Gus stepped back into his own office he was feeling so good he didn’t even notice that the duct tape had been peeled from the carpet and the curtains were now open. If the window had fallen out, Gus felt he could have floated down to the ground and landed like a feather.

He also didn’t notice that he had a visitor.

“I think they bought it,” Shawn said, popping up from the couch he’d been lying on.

Until this moment Gus hadn’t realized what was missing about this day. He’d had no one to share it with.

“You will not believe what happened today,” Gus said, delighted that the afternoon’s deficiency had been addressed. And then he felt that delight dissolve into confusion as he realized what Shawn had said. “Bought what?”

“But you realize this was only the first step,” Shawn said.

“The first step toward what?” Gus said. “What are you talking about?”

“I think you know,” Shawn said.

“If I knew I wouldn’t be asking,” Gus said.

“I think you would,” Shawn said.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Gus said.

“I think you haven’t,” Shawn said.

“Stop that!” Gus shouted.

“I think you-” Shawn said, then broke off. “You’re seriously interfering with my rhythm here, you know.”

“And you’re seriously interfering with my life,” Gus said. “Here I was all excited to tell you my big news, and you start talking like Darth Vader.”

“Vader, really?” Shawn said. “At least you mean the Darth Vader from the first films, right? Because if you’re comparing my silk-smooth delivery to that whining little punk from the sequels, we are going to have serious issues.”

“We can deal with your issues later,” Gus said. “I want to know what was bought and who bought it and what you’re doing here when you’re supposed to be in Santa Barbara.”

“Can I take the second part of that question first?” Shawn said.

“Whatever,” Gus said.

“Okay,” Shawn said. “What was the second part again?”

Gus tried to reconstruct his thought: Although he’d only uttered it seconds before, the sequence was completely jumbled in his mind. “Just tell me what you’re talking about.”

“They did,” Shawn said.

“Who did what?”

“I remembered the second part of your question,” Shawn said. “It was ‘Who bought what?’ and the answer is, ‘They did.’ ”

“That’s not an answer,” Gus said. “It’s not even a hint. It’s completely meaningless. ‘They’ only has any value if there’s a precedent in the sentence.”

“There is a precedent,” Shawn said. “That’s you.”

“What?”

“Precedent Gus,” Shawn said. “Didn’t Damp Blouse make the announcement?”

“That’s president,” Gus said, then broke off. “Wait a minute. How did you know about that?”

“What do you mean how did I know about that?”

“If you study my question I think you’ll find that there’s absolutely no ambiguity about what it means,” Gus said tightly. “It is simple, straightforward, and without any possibility of misunderstanding. So the fact that you are stalling and refusing to answer it is telling me that you are up to something.”

“We’re up to something,” Shawn corrected.

The thought occurred to Gus that what they were up to was 160 feet above the sidewalk, and if there were a way to get the window open he could count how long it took Shawn to hit the ground. But that brought images of the late Steve Ecclesine to mind. He took a step away from the window.

“How can we be up to anything?” Gus said. “ We don’t work together anymore. You’re a private detective and I’m the incoming president of a multinational pharmaceuticals company.”

“It’s great, isn’t it?” Shawn said. “No one’s ever going to suspect a thing.”

“Because there’s nothing to suspect,” Gus said.

“That’s exactly the right tone of outrage,” Shawn said. “Keep that up.”

Keeping the level of outrage high enough was not going to be Gus’ problem. He took a deep breath and then another before he spoke again. “I need to know what’s going on,” he said. And then before Shawn could answer he started over. “I take that back. I know what’s going on. What I need to know is what you think is going on.”

“Nothing big,” Shawn said. “Just your undercover assignment.”

“My what?” Gus said. “We’ve already had this conversation. I’m not undercover.”

“I realize that the phrase doesn’t really do your mission justice,” Shawn said. “The way you’ve burrowed into this company is really inspiring. All I can say is wow.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” Shawn said. “Why wow?”

“Yes, fine,” Gus said. “What are you talking about?”

“The way you were willing to walk away from your old life so completely,” Shawn said. “Giving up your apartment, quitting your job, pretending that the Echo had been stolen so the company wouldn’t insist on taking it back.”

“What about the Echo?” Gus said.

“Just part of your master plan,” Shawn said. “And what a plan it was. I’ve got to say, if I hadn’t known better, there were times when you would have fooled even me.”

“I wasn’t trying to fool you,” Gus said.

“Why would you?” Shawn said. “We’ve been in this together all along, haven’t we?”

“We have not.” Gus felt a familiar throbbing at his temples, the special kind of headache that only a particular type of conversation with Shawn could bring on. Although in the privacy of his own skull, he had to admit that now that he was feeling the pain he had missed it a little bit.

Shawn gave a chuckle of wry amusement, or what he imagined wry amusement would sound like if you were able to experience such a sensation without wearing a smoking jacket. “There is such a thing as going too far undercover,” he said.

“There’s also such a thing as getting to the point,” Gus said.

“See, that’s what I mean,” Shawn said. “You sound exactly like a busy corporate executive when you say things like that. You don’t have to keep up the cover when we’re alone together. Although if we’re together we can’t really be alone. Which is either kind of a deep thought or something I read on a Hallmark card.”