Mourning Dove (9 page)

“Oh my God! Where, where
was Jordie?”

“He was coming to pick
her up for lunch. He said he was a block away when he heard the accident.”

“Cass says he won’t
answer his phone. She’s been trying the apartment number and his cell. He needs
to call her, Ron.”

“He will when he gets the
opportunity. He was still at the police station when I left a little while
ago.”

“The police station? Why
is he there?”

“They’re trying to figure
out the step by step of the incident.”

“That doesn’t sound
right. What’s going on?”

He took a deep breath and
continued, “Sara, two witnesses saw a man dressed in black follow Stacey from
the shop to the curb. One of them stated that a man pushed her into the street
before fleeing the scene back through the door. A few minutes later, Jordie
came rushing out of the shop. He reached her just before she died.

“The police think one of
three things happened. Stacey could have tripped, been pushed by her boyfriend
at the end of an argument, or intentionally stepped into traffic, despondent
from all that was happening in her life. If the pushing theory works they
believe Jordan then realized what he had done and ran back out to her side in
the street. That would work fine for them, but Jordie swears he was a block
away.”

“So, who is the other man
in black? I’m assuming Jordie was dressed in his usual black t-shirt and
chinos?”

“You got it. That’s why
all of this is taking so long to iron out. I got Jordie legal counsel, and then
I went to the funeral home to make the arrangements for Stacey.”

“That poor girl,
everything seemed to be falling apart for her. I think she made herself
somebody’s number one enemy. They’re not going to pin this on Jordie. My God,
he must be so upset. I think he was in love with her.”

“Yeah, I think so, too.
Don’t worry about Jordie. I’ll call Cass and let her know he’ll contact her as
soon as he gets back to his apartment.”

“Thank you, Ron. I’ve got
to hang up now.”

“Sara? Where are you?”

“I’m just cleaning off my
desk.  I’ll drive down to Cass’s. She’ll want someone with her until she’s sure
Jordie’s all right.”

I don’t know where all
these people came from, Sara,” Cass said. “I thought Stacey didn’t have any
family left.”

Sara reached into her
purse for a less soggy tissue than the crumpled pieces left in her pocket. 
Hands trembling, she shook her head. “I don’t know Cass. Maybe they’re
friends.”

“Then where were they
when she needed help?”

“God, this is hard for
me. I’ve got to get some fresh air.” Sara stood up on wobbly legs and looked
over a sea of unfamiliar faces. Jordie was shaking hands with newcomers by the
entrance of the funeral home, Ron standing beside him. Except for Cass, everyone
else was a stranger.

“I’ll come with you,
Sara.” Cass stood and brushed imaginary wrinkles from her purple and black
caftan.

Sara looked around the
flower filled viewing room and noticed a bearded man in a dark blue suit. She
grabbed Cass’s hand. “Do you see that man with the beard standing beside the
guest book by the door?”

Cass glanced toward the
entrance. “There’s a woman in gray, but no man.”

Sara turned back toward
the entrance; the man was gone. “He must have left. I thought I recognized him.
I guess not.”

“Who was he?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve got
such a pounding headache; I’m having a hard time focusing. Let’s get some air.”

Out in the parking lot
they sat in Sara’s car. Cass grabbed a bottle of water from a small cooler, and
passed it to her. Sara rested her head on the steering wheel while Cass dug for
a bottle of aspirin in her purse. “Here hon, take these. They’ll help with the
headache.” After a moment, Cass reached over and started to rub some of the
tension out of Sara’s neck.

“Thanks, Cass.”

“There’s a man with a
full beard sitting in that black car one row over. It looks like he’s talking
on a cell phone. Is that the man you saw?”

“I’m not sure now. But, I
think I’ve seen him before.”

Mom, he’s a federal
agent. I know him. He’s okay.
  

“I thought you left me.”

“Sara, I’m right here.
I’m not going anywhere. Why did you think I left you?” Cass asked as she
continued to rub the tension out of Sara’s neck. “Did you space out on me?”

Careful, Mom, Cass
can’t hear me, but she can hear you if you verbalize your thoughts. 

“I’m sorry Cass. My
mind’s been wandering lately. What did you say?”

“Wait a minute.” Cass
turned to face her. “Who were you just talking to, me or someone else?”

“What are you talking
about? You’re the only other person in this car.”

“That’s not going to work
with me, Sara. You told me before you thought Carl’s spirit was with you when
you were most vulnerable. Is he with us now? Is that who you’re talking to?”

Sara closed her eyes and
leaned back against the headrest. Now what do I do, Carl? Do I tell her you’re
here?

What do you think
Cass’s reaction will be?

She’d probably love it.

Go ahead and tell her.
But I would advise you not to broadcast it to the general public unless you’re
ready for a padded cell.

“Sara, did you hear my question?”

“I heard it, Cass. I was
just getting permission to confide in you.”

“Oh my God! Carl
is
here with us!” Cass leaned her head back against the side window and blew a
large breath through her lips.

Sara turned her head and
looked at her friend who had always believed in spirits even when there was no
proof.

“Carl, can you hear me,
too?” Cass asked.

She turned back to Sara
and asked, “Is he still here? Can you see him?”

“No, I can’t see him.
Apparently there are limits to his abilities.”

“Oh this is wonderful.
Tell him for me, I thank him for this knowledge and his trust. I won’t
embarrass either one of you by trying to exploit the situation.”

I heard her, Mom. It
would still be safer if you continue to communicate with me silently. I know
there is a tracking device on your car, but I don’t think there’s a listening
bug in it… yet.  Still, it’s better to be careful with what you say.

“What do you mean, Car…Cass?”

“I mean that I won’t try
to write a book about this or send the story to the National Inquirer.”

Sara held up her right
hand, placed a finger on her lips.

Cass nodded, and then
whispered, “What’s wrong?”

Scrambling in her purse
for a piece of paper, Sara grabbed the pen from the console box between the
seats and scribbled out a message:
Carl says it’s not safe to talk here.

Mom, the agent may not
have a bug planted in this car, but he doesn’t need one at this close range.
He’s probably listening through the device in his ear. As safe as he is, he
doesn’t believe in ghosts.

Sara closed her eyes then
looked over at the black car again.

Cass grabbed the pen and
paper from her lap and scribbled:
What’s going on?

Snatching it back, Sara
wrote:
The guy in the Chevy Blazer is a federal agent. Carl knows him. He
thinks the agent is listening in on our conversation.

Cass scribbled:
FEDERAL
AGENT!?
  Her eyes were as big as saucers when she looked into Sara’s face.

She held up her hand to
ask Cass to wait.

Carl, what do you mean by
he’s listening? What bug? What tracking device? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!

Cass turned Sara’s head
to stare into her eyes again. “Bloodshot but equal and reactive, okay, if
you’re not hallucinating or delusional then it has to be…” She picked up the
pen and wrote:
This is way over our heads. Carl really didn’t take his life,
did he?

Sara shook her head and
wrote:
I’ll explain later. Maybe we better take a walk.

Good job, Mom. I’ll
let you know if you’re followed.

You have a lot of
explaining to do, son. If I’m going to be careful, I need to know what I’m up
against.

Fair enough.  He’s
still in his car, listening to something. Maybe it’s the conversations going on
in the funeral parlor. I’m not sure.

They turned down a side
street and Carl finally told her it was safe to talk.

“Okay, Cass. We’re clear
to talk.”

“From the beginning, when
did you first hear Carl’s voice?”

“Months ago, at first he
could only reach me through my dreams. Those were my nightmares. Carl was
trying to make contact. He says he tried to reach his dad too, but apparently
Ron is not receptive enough. The first time I actually realized Carl was with
me was the night I saw Jordie’s three dimensional painting in your guest room.
Later that night, he made contact again at the hotel. He seems to be able to
watch over one of us, Ron or me, at a time, but he has no control over who, or
when. Apparently, if either one of us is stressed or in danger, Carl’s there.”

“Like a guardian angel?”

“I guess except he can
only watch and, in the last couple weeks, communicate with me.”

“What’s the deal with the
federal agent? This sounds kind of James Bond to me.”

“He never said anything
about that until just now. I need to be able to talk to him.”

“Ask him now then.”

Carl? Are you still here?

 Silence.

Sara turned back to her,
“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He’s not here. It
happens that way. I thought I was going crazy at first, hallucinating, hearing
voices, well only one voice.”

“Where do you suppose he
went?”

“Maybe back to the
funeral home, close to Ron.”

“This is really getting
weird,” Cass said. “I mean I’m as open as anyone to new experiences but this is
really climbing up to the top of my weirdo-meter.”

“I know Cass. I think we
should head back now. At least, my headache is letting up. I also want to get
another look at that guy with the beard. I know I’ve seen him before.”

“You’re probably right.
If Carl said the guy is okay, and a fed, maybe he’s watching what’s going on
and looking for clues to the murder.”

“Murders,” Sara added the
plural.

“Yes, murders.”

“I think Stacey was the
second one,” Sara sifted her fingers through her unruly hair and they walked
back to the parking lot.

“Do you think they’re
connected?” Cass asked.

“Honestly I don’t know,
but I’m starting to believe there is no such thing as coincidence.”

The black Blazer was
empty when they returned to the funeral home. At least it was still there, but
where was the bearded agent? And, what was his connection to Carl and Stacey?

***

Later in Jordie’s loft,
Ron looked around at the few close friends and family gathered to unwind. He
spoke quietly to Jordie in a corner of the loft with glasses of Irish whiskey
cradled in their hands. “Is everything settled between you and the police
department?”

Jordie glanced back
toward the women sifting through his finished canvases against the far wall.
“It appears to be. Some big wig in the department or maybe outside the local
force, I’m not sure, came in after I’d been questioned for several hours. He
asked maybe a dozen questions and then left the room. Ten minutes later, they
let me go. I’m not supposed to leave the area until they’re through with their
investigation, but the lawyer you sent thinks they’re looking in another
direction now. I don’t know, maybe someone saw me at the other end of the block
and backed up my statement. Mom doesn’t know how close I came to getting
arrested. I’d like to keep it that way.”

They looked across the
room at the women. “The women have been jumpy all day. Jordie, did Stacey or
Carl ever get into anything radical, groups that could have gotten them into
trouble?”

“What do you mean, Mr.
Stafford? What kind of groups?”

“Extreme radicals,
cults.”

“I would think Carl was
too intelligent to fall into a radical group. Do you mean religious cults?”

“Political.”

“Not Carl. I don’t know
about Stacey though. When we first met her in grad school, she was into anything
to shock her dad. Thing is, it never worked. He never gave her the time of day.
When he died a few years back, she took it hard. She cried for a solid week.
She spent that week on my couch. I thought she was going to lose it then. She
didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, wouldn’t get dressed; she just huddled on the couch
with a blanket she’d kept from her mom’s place. I came back from the market one
day with some of her favorite foods to entice her to eat and there she was
sitting in clean jeans and a tie-dyed t-shirt combing the knots out of her wet
hair. She’d taken a shower, folded up her blanket, and announced she was going
back to her own place. She thanked me for the shelter, shared lunch, and left.
She never talked about it. It was like her feelings about what happened were
placed in a trunk and locked into the recesses of her mind.

“When this thing happened
to her last weekend, she did the same thing. Huddled on my couch when she
wasn’t down at the shop trying to sell off what was salvageable to repay the
artists whose art sale money was stolen in the burglary.

“She could have been into
something radical way back in our college days, but not now. Why are you
asking?”

“I found some disturbing
things with Carl’s stuff. I was going to ask Stacey the same questions I’ve
asked you.”

“What kind of disturbing
things? Cult things?  Which cult?”

“Keep your voice down,”
Ron whispered. “I don’t want to upset the ladies anymore than they already are.
I found Internet printouts about a meeting between a political cult and a
representative of a Muslim extremist sect. The date was circled and the
location highlighted. Notes in the margin appeared to be a code of some sort.
Vertical down the page was a series of numbers and letters.” Ron reached into
his pants pocket, pulled out a piece of lined paper and passed it to Jordie.
“What do you make of it?”

Jordie read the list and
shook his head. “I have no idea.” He continued to stare at the double column
written on the piece of paper: 01, 32, 12, 55, 00, 44, PN, AO, XB, KI, IS, LM,
L O R T E, “some kind of code maybe.  I don’t know.  Did you copy this from the
printout?”

“Just as it was written
in the margin of the paper,” Ron said.

“Can I keep this? I’d
like to study it some more. Maybe something will start to make sense.”

“I thought it better not
to tear up the document, but I don’t want anyone to find the printout in my
possession, especially Sara. If Carl was into this group it would explain why
he took his life. His mother would be crushed if she knew. If someone in the group
threatened to expose him, I don’t know, maybe it would have pushed him over the
edge. What I don’t understand is why he would get into it in the first place?”

“I don’t know, Mr.
Stafford. I’ll think on it for a couple days and get back to you.”

Jordan slipped the paper into his pocket. He looked up and smiled at his mom and the mother
of his best friend. “They look deadbeat tired. We’re not going to find any
answers tonight. Let me know if you come up with any solutions to the puzzle;
and I’ll let you know if I do.”

“Ladies, are you ready to
head north?” Ron asked when he grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the
couch in the center of the room.

“I’m staying here
tonight. Jordie will bring me home tomorrow,” Cass said. She reached her hands
up toward the ceiling in an exhausted stretch.

“I’m ready to head north.
I’ve got a long day tomorrow,” Sara said through a stifled yawn.

“I’ll follow you up. Do
you want to stop somewhere for coffee? We could talk.”

“Not tonight Ron; I’m
exhausted. I would appreciate you following me as far as Greenland though.”