The Promise (27 page)

              “Why not, Mike?”
 

             
Gallagher laughed, “Because he’s dead.”

Chapter Forty-three---Recollection

             
“Elie, can you recall any other details the night Oden shot himself? It would really help here.”

Gallagher and his partner were back in the conference room with all the evidence gathered thus far laid out on the table.

              “I remember running. I remember him breathing heavily behind me. I remember looking back and then, I don’t remember anything else. As far as earlier that night, I remember everything I want to forget, but I never will.

So, how could he be alive, Mike?”

              Gallagher sat there stumped. “I can’t see any possible way he can be. I never saw Oden in the flesh,” he looked at a photo of the assistant headmaster, “And, this resembles the man I saw at the memorial service.

They are both about the same age, though.”

              Elie reasoned, “Maybe he’s a relative, like a brother or a cousin? And, he’s angry that he lost two family members and was just venting Norsely.”

              “Norsely?”

              Elie laughed, “Yeah, that would be Norse in the adverbial venting sense.”

              The detective sat there thinking. Finally, he concluded, “It can’t be Oden I saw yesterday. No way. If he killed someone in the ambulance and substituted the body for his, we would have known about it. All those paramedics know each other. There is no way.”

              “Maybe he didn’t switch with one of the ambulance drivers, Mike?”

              “Well, who else could he have killed and switched with then? He was not exactly lying there alone with all the time in the world was he? There were people all around him!”

              “What if he made the switch before he shot himself that night. After I passed out and before the police and the witnesses found his ‘body.’ Isn’t that possible?”

              “Wait a minute,” Gallagher threw his hand up in the air,

“You’re suggesting that he chased you until you slammed into a tree and while you lay there comatose, he killed someone else, substituted the body, put the gun into his hand and ran off into the woods to join Elvis as a co-manager of a 7/11 in Michigan until he shows up at the funeral service?”

              “Not exactly, Mr. Smarty Man. He could have killed the body earlier and then brought it out of the woods and made the switch.”

              “Okay, Elie, if he did that how did he know you would suggest going to that shed in the woods?

              “Look, Gallagher, you’re the one who thinks you saw a dead guy. I’m just going on your premise. I’m trying to make sense out of chicken salad and you’re giving me a big, fat turkey wing to make it with!”

              “You think Oden is a big, fat turkey wing, huh?”

              “I have more impolite words for him. Turkey wing will do for now.”

              “I’m not quite ready to give up on the possibility that Oden is still alive, Elie, I just have to logic out how he did it so my mind is satisfied. I’m not there, yet.

Our next move is to call the family and find out who is driving that Mercedes…”

              Elie countered, “I don’t think a big, fat turkey wing can drive, especially, a Mercedes.”

              Gallagher concluded, “You never know, Elie, turkey’s are pretty smart birds, except in November.”

Chapter Forty-
four-A phone call from England

             
It had been almost a month since Allison Taylor had disappeared. There was one burning question that continued to haunt Detective Mike Gallagher, “Why?”

Kidnapping was unlikely. There was no ransom note or demand for money. A voluntary runaway scenario was improbable, too. Allison was too responsible to do that according to her family and close friends.

There was also no apparent motive for her to do so. In addition, her bank accounts, including her ATM card and phone credit cards had not been used once since that day.

Murder?

Gallagher shook his head, by whom and for what reason? Suicide was possible, but, why would a girl kill herself over a goofy lug nut like Justin Shaw?

              As he sat in his office wondering if he should repaint his mascot, Mick, in all black, his phone rang.

He answered, ”Gallagher, here!”

He immediately recognized the English accent, “I have a person to person collect call for a Detective Mike Gallagher from Dr. Wells Thumbley.

Is this Detective Gallagher?”

He responded affirmatively.

“Will you accept the charges, sir?” Another yes.

              “Detective Gallagher? This is Dr. Thumbley, you told me to call you collect if I had any new information, correct, sir?”

              “Yes, Doctor. I really appreciate it. What can you tell me?”

              “Well, Professor Buckman did date an American girl that was about the age of your missing girl, I assume she is still missing?”

              “Yes, she is, Doctor Thumbley.”

              “This girl was very pretty. She came into the office with Jon one day and I had a chance to visit with her. She told me she was from Athens, and up until this morning, I was thinking Athens, Greece, because she had dark features.

But, while I was motoring to work, I remembered she had a southern accent. And, I suddenly did the logical thing and realized she was from Athens, Georgia.

She said she was on an honors trip to study Shakespeare as part of her school’s exchange with an all-girls school here in the London area.”

              “Do you remember what she looked like, Doctor?”

              “I remember she was witty and quick-minded. Her language was sometimes salty. She acted older than her age. A black-haired beauty and she knew it, too.

She also had an uncommon name, Ravelle? Ranee?”

              Gallagher was processing the information quickly, “Was her name, Raven, by any chance, Dr. Thumbley?”
 

             
“Raven, yes, as a matter of fact, I believe it was.

Because I told her she would fit nicely here with our very own Edgar Allen Poe, who of course, wrote, ‘The Raven’ and she snapped back, ‘Nice try, Dockie, but, Poe is from Boston.

Besides, he would die of food poisoning around this town because it is so bloody inedible!’ I had to laugh. She was so charming and bratty, memorable girl.”

              “Yeah, that sounds like Raven. Do you remember anything else about her or the relationship she had with Buckman, Doctor?”

              “She seemed overly protective of him, almost obsessive. I think she wanted to marry him, despite the age difference between them. She really looked out for him. That’s all I can recall, for now. I hope this helps.”

              Gallagher felt like shouting. “This definitely helps, Dr. Thumbley. Thank you for calling. Get back to me anytime. You made my day, sir.”

              “Good day, Detective.”

              As Gallagher hung up the phone he knew one thing for sure. It was time to have another talk with the feisty and always entertaining Miss Raven.

This time, he had some solid evidence to present her with. Plus, he wanted to see a copy of her handwriting to see how she crossed her “t’s”.

Blimey!

Chapter Forty-five-heart Attack

             
Elie surveyed her dorm residence. On her side of the room, there was a psychedelic bedspread with toss pillows, a few stuffed animals and a poster. Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. She loved Paul McCartney as well as that particular album. She not only knew every song on the tracks, she knew every person’s face on the album cover poster.

She wished she could have been alive in 1967.

She loved the music of that era. There were pictures on her desk of Paul singing on stage, her dressed as an English rocker at a Halloween party in high school and a poster of Marianne Faithful, a former girlfriend of Mick Jagger and a 60’s icon herself.

              But, the other half of the room, was desolate.

There was a bed, with no sheets or bedspread with just a pillow laying on it. There was nothing on the wall and the desk was bare.

Verna was gone.

The spirit on that side of the room was missing, as well.

Elie sat in her chair wondering what she could do to make that side of the room come alive to complement the rest of the décor. Until she was assigned another roommate, she needed to do something to bring life to her living situation.

It was too depressing, otherwise.

              Her cell phone rang. It was Gallagher.

“Elie? I need you to come down to the station. There has been a development in the case. Can you meet me in a half hour?”

              “No problem, Mike. See you then.”

              She went into the bathroom and retouched her makeup, changed from her top and shorts to something a little more appropriate for a police officer and headed out.

As she jumped into her car, she saw Raven talking to Samantha. She smiled over at them and yelled out a, “Hello!” Sam waved back. Raven just stared at her.

Shaking her head, Elie drove to the station listening to her CD of, “Rubber Soul” and sang heartily all the way to downtown Athens. When Paul sang, “Michelle,” she replayed it several times and imagined what it would have been like to go on a date with him.

Where would they go? She visualized a picnic along the Oconee River, just her, Paul and his guitar. She would bring the fried chicken and the wine and he would bring his incredibly cute face.

She would tell him her real name was Michelle, her nickname was Elle or Elie, so he could sing the ballad to her personally. When he got to the French part of the song, he would lean over and kiss her.

A girl can dream.

              Arriving at the station, Elie made her way back to Gallagher’s office. As she entered, he wasn’t there, so she sat down and waited for him.

After twenty minutes or so, she finally asked one of the officers if he had seen the detective. The man replied, “Yeah, he’s at the hospital. Some guy had a heart attack. It sounded pretty serious, so Mike shot out of here like shit through a goose!”