Michael Baden - Remains Silent

Manny tried the door. It opened. Like a spelunker, she aimed her flashlight at the interior. Padded walls, she realized with a shiver. The room contained a cot and tattered mattress, a sink, and a toilet; nothing else. Although she knew there were no records to be found here, she stepped inside, her mind alive with fantasies born of a dozen horror movies. By now it was almost pitch-dark outside; her flashlight provided the only illumination.

On the left wall, a portion of the padding had been torn aside, revealing a white stucco wall, scribbled over with dark ink. Writing? Yes! Manny bent to investigate. The hole was at the level of her waist. The writing on the stucco might have been a child’s, or a grown person’s writing from his knees. She got on her knees and concentrated the light on the writing. The message sprang into clarity:

Please, God, deliver me. End my suffering.

Have mercy on my soul.

I d la S Manny could hear the sound of her own heart beating as she stood up. Poor tortured creature. What did they do to you?

Warm air touched the back of her neck, and for a moment she couldn’t identify its source. When she did, it was with a terror so great she knew what she was experiencing now would haunt her forever. Breath. Rhythmic breathing. Human. Somebody’s standing behind me.

Her own breath died in her chest. She wheeled around, the flashlight making kaleidoscopic designs on the padding. “Who are you?” But there was nothing in the room except the meager furniture and the white padding to protect the insane. The open door testified to the route the intruder had taken.

There was someone here. I know it. Too shaken to scream, but not to run, Manny raced out of the Seclusion Room, up the hill past Promise House and Serenity Hall, and into the security of Kenneth’s waxed arms and the glorious smell of safety.

SHE CALLED JAKE and told him what had happened. He was still in his office.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“My apartment. Kenneth drove me.”

“Is he with you?”

“I sent him home.”

“Then I’ll come over.”

She was tempted. “Why?”

“I don’t want you staying alone. You’re in shock. The reaction might be bad when you come out of it.”

“I’m over the shock. Really. I was scared. Now I’m more than scared. I’m pissed off and really angry.”

“At least come to my office first thing tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“I want you to tell me everything again. See if you left out anything.” He paused. “And I want to see you. Make sure you’re all right.”

Kindness. Warmth filled her like helium. “Say that last part again.”

“I want to make sure you’re all right.”

“No. Just before that.”

“I want to see you.”

Yes.

She checked the locks, drew a bath, checked the locks again, and wallowed in warm water until the tension in her body eased and she was able to breathe normally. Dressed in a cashmere sweat suit- she realized with astonishment that she didn’t care how she looked- she took Mycroft for a walk, came home, fed him, and, not hungry herself, went to bed.

The phone rang. Don’t bother. It kept ringing. “All right,” she grumbled, and picked up the receiver.

“I’ve decided not to go any further.” A mumbled voice. Patrice.

“What did you say?”

“I’m not going any further with this, Ms. Manfreda. I’ve given it some more thought, and I don’t want to go ahead.”

Who got to her? “What are you talking about? We’ve taken the first step, got the court to sign the order keeping the skeletons.” All right, so we lost the bones. We’ll find them again. “We’re on the way to finding out about your father’s death, after all these years.”

“I’m sorry. I-”

“At least let me come to New Jersey and see you and your daughter.”

“That’s just it. My daughter’s going to make something out of her life. She’s at the top of her class. I can’t risk anything interfering with that.”

“Why would investigating your father’s death bring any harm to your daughter?”

Patrice was silent.

She’s scared. “Has something happened? You’ve got to tell me.”

A whisper. “You shouldn’t have gone back to Turner.”

My God! “How do you know I went there?”

A pause. Then: “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You have to. This is important- for your father.”

“My father’s been dead to me for forty years. My daughter’s alive now. I intend to keep it that way. Let his past stay buried with him.”

“Someone’s threatened you, haven’t they?”

Silence.

“I can hire a private investigator to protect her, protect you, until we get the police-”

“No police! When the man calls again, I’ll tell him I’m through. I’m finished with you and my father. I thank you, Ms. Manfreda, but please don’t try to contact me again.”

Jake slept on the couch in his office, waking up periodically with thoughts of Manny- that there was no call from her was either good or bad news, good if she was resting comfortably, bad if she was still frightened but didn’t want to disturb him. Or if something else had happened to her, a thought he pushed away immediately by thinking of Pete.

What was so important that people generations apart would kill for today? The four skeletons were missing. What would they tell him if they were found? Even without her whole body, Jake still had Mrs. Alessis’s liver samples, proof she had been poisoned. Now he needed scientific proof that Pete had been murdered- the kind that would convince a prosecutor to take the case.

In the morning, he called Elizabeth on her cell phone. It was something he dreaded- the worst, in a career that necessitated tough calls.

“It’s Jake.”

“Jake! I never thanked you for picking up my dad’s things.”

“I’m sorry the place was ransacked after I was finished.”

“So you heard about that.”

“Yes.”

“And about Mrs. Alessis?”

“Actually, I was up there a few nights ago. Her daughter asked me to do her autopsy.” He took a breath. Now or never. “Which brings me to why I’m calling.”

Ice on her end of the line. “Oh?”

“The autopsy showed Mrs. Alessis was poisoned. It turns out the poison was in a bottle of whiskey I took to your father that we shared the last night I was with him. Obviously, the poison was added after I left. I found the bottle in Mrs. Alessis’s apartment. It had carbon tetrachloride in it, which showed up in Mrs. Alessis’s liver. She may or may not have been the intended victim.”

Jake waited for Elizabeth to realize the implications. “Go on,” she finally said.

Spell it out. “I think the poison was meant for your father. The only way to know for sure is to exhume the body and look for the very specific damage to the liver this poison would cause.”

“Noooo!” It was more a wail than a word.

“Elizabeth, please. I need to find out.”

He could hear her fight for control. “You mean you want to dig him up and cut him into pieces?”

“You know it’s not like that. It’s science. Science your father pioneered.”

“I’m sorry. It’s exactly like that. When I was twelve, Dad took me to an autopsy. He thought I was old enough to handle it. He was wrong. Everlastingly wrong. I still have nightmares. And the thought of you doing that to my father-”

“Look at it from his point of view. The death certificate says he died of natural causes. I don’t think he did. Pete was a scientist. He’d want us to know the truth.”

“I don’t know his point of view. I only know mine and Daniel’s. He thinks the autopsy process is barbaric.”