Machines of the Little People - Chpt 3

Chapter 3

  

        For the next five days Tilley and I slept on the couch.  No one seemed to notice or to mind.

        Roger came and went from his office in one of the back rooms to the backyard as if he were the only one home, muttering to himself, discussing both sides of some unknown argument.  Sometimes with pants, sometimes without, always with Tilley in tow but never for very long.

         I kept a judicious eye on him each time the door opened, just in case.   

          He walked the fence line, first clockwise and then counter before returning to the house with no sign or word of the Katoy.

          Things seemed to be as close to normal as any one could hope.   

          Jessica would leave the house every day promptly at eleven thirty only to return by one with arms full of groceries and four new cans of tuna.  

          I couldn't help but notice her daily ritual.  She would stand in front of the entry mirror and brush her hair in five quick strokes, no more, no less.

          Another oddity was her broach.  It was a slender gold heart,  an inch or so in height, with three diamonds on its right side.

          She wore it on the left, always fussing with it longer than necessary, making sure it was just so.  What worked on my mind with regularity was that on each of the days she wore it, she would return by two and with an extra can of tuna.  It was like a song that got stuck in my head, a curiosity that worked on my mind in moments alone, repeating itself over and over.    

          I had to make a conscious effort to put it aside, not to dwell on it.  

          Audry and I spent our time together walking around the block with Tilley or laying on a blanket in the yard and talking.  I think I talked more in those five days than any other time in my life.  Everything she said was wonderful, every move elegant, every joke funny.  Each day seemed to pass by in a few fleeting moments.

          For that Saturday we had decided to go to the beach, just for the drive and a few shells.  Roger had been acting normal... well normal for Roger... and it seemed safe to leave for a few hours.

          Audry and Jessica made a picnic lunch, stuffing everything they could find in the kitchen into a dark brown wicker basket.  I was certain it contained at least one tuna sandwich.

          "Jessica, please come with us,  it will be fun."

           As much as I liked Jessica I didn't really want her company today.  I stood behind Audry and waved my arms wildly.   

          "I would love to but Roger needs me here," Jessica said with a smug little smile aimed at me. 

          We said our good-byes and piled into my truck, Audry, Tilley and me and we were off.  Audry sat close, pressing the warmth of her body to the soul of me.  I slipped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer.  The sun shone warmly, the radio blared and we sang along.  Time flew by, it was like being a teenager again.  

          The drive went by in a blink and before we could tire of singing we were there.

          Somehow the sky was bluer, the smell of the salt air richer and the cool ocean breeze was full of joy.  I couldn't remember the last time I felt this good. 

          We took a blanket out on the beach and set up camp.  

          Tilley pressed her nose to the sand and began to explore.  Only a hand full of people were there, most spread a good distance apart.  We chatted.  Her voice was like music to me.  It filled me with joy, with a sense of well being.  As Audry set paper plates on the blanket my attention was drawn to another couple coming onto the beach.  

          They appeared to be in their mid-thirties, each wore a short, untied white terry cloth robe and

sandals.  She was tan, shapely, athletic, wearing a red one piece and carried a matching, rolled up towel.  His were more chiseled features, as if he spent a good deal of his time in the gym.  His blue trunks stood out boldly against his pale skin.  In his hands, he carried a small ice chest as well as a small colorful umbrella.  He made eye contact with me and held it, as did she.

          "Take a look over there.  They look okay to you?" I asked, watching the new couple.

          "Who?"   Audry asked turning to look.

          "Them.  The two over there," I said, pointing discretely with my thumb.

          "They look like a lovely couple," she said, returning her attention to the plates and to lunch.

           "No, there's something about them.  I can't put my finger on it but something."   It was like an itch under my skin.

          "Now you sound like Roger," she joked and continued setting out the food.

          "Then why did they put their towels so close to us?"

          Audry turned to look over her shoulder at the couple again.

          They laid on their towels facing each other.  He ran his hand slowly up and down the woman's arm as they spoke to one another.

          "They're not so close and they look just fine to me.  I am however, beginning to think Roger is rubbing off on you.  You can't play with him any more," ­she scolded, shaking a finger at me.  "Now, if you want to talk about someone suspicious, take a look at them."  ­she said, reaching into the basket for drinks.

          There, coming onto the beach from the opposite side of the parking lot was a man, also in his mid-thirties, with his wife and two kids in tow.

           "They look very dangerous to me,  especially the little one.  He must be all of four and those little inflators on his arms.  Scary," ­she teased before pushing a chocolate covered strawberry into my mouth.

          I conceded.

          The next few hours sped by as we filled them with silly talk and laughter.  We ate and played at the same time.  Audry didn't want to just sit with all this undisturbed sand at our disposal.  We ran up and down the beach, yelling, laughing, taking turns throwing a ball for Tilley as if we owned it and had no responsibility to share it with anyone.  It felt like we were the last two people on earth.  I would throw a tennis ball out into the waves and Tilley would give chase with wild abandon.  She dove into the water without fear or concern, paddling furiously before the waves could drag the ball out of reach.  It did my heart good to see her act as she had when she was a pup.

          In an effort to gain more distance for the ball Audry entered the water herself, diving under the approaching swells just before they broke.  She flung the ball toward me in a game of keep away.  Far flung, it landed close to the two children we had seen earlier.

          The older of the two, a girl who appeared to be about seven grabbed the ball, holding it over her head.

          "Get it.  Come on jump," she squealed excitedly, running with the ball, Tilley and her little brother now giving chase.

          Audry and I collapsed exhausted on our blanket.

          "How would you feel about a couple of those?" she asked, pointing at the children with a turn of her head.

          "I don't think they make them in my size, besides I think they take away from that macho look all the girls like and I believe they pinch your arms if you get to much air in them," I teased.

          "Not the water wings, you goose,  the kids.  How do you feel about children?" she said, slapping my shoulder.

          "I like them.  I think we should rent a few for a weekend or two and see which we like better - boys or girls.  You know make sure they don't sharpen their claws on the furniture, make sure they're house broken... stuff like that."

          "You're terrible," ­she said and turned to watch Tilley and the children play.

          The afternoon sun shimmered on her hair, framing her face, burning that sweet image into my brain to stay there for the rest of my life.  I leaned back on my elbows, closed my eyes and smiled.  I had never been happier.

          The sound of crashing waves, Tilley's barking and the laughter of the kids washed over me, filling me with contentment.  In the background of this heaven a phone rang, soft, muffled.

          I opened my eyes just as the young man, the children's father, retrieve a cell phone from a beach bag.  He stood to answer it.  As he spoke he turned, glancing in our direction.

          I sat up with an uncomfortable knot suddenly materializing in my stomach.    

          His wife frantically called the children, suddenly gathering up their gear, throwing them into a bag without concern for their placement or well being.

          Dressed in a lose fitting Hawaiian shirt and matching shorts, he was coming our way.  He held the phone to his ear with one hand and reached into his back pocket with the other.  He folded the phone placing it in his shirt pocket as he pulled a wallet out with the other, all in one swift, smooth, motion.

          He walked quickly to us, taking on an air of authority, as he approached,  flipping open his wallet as he reached our blanket.  He held it up to reveal a small, circular, gold badge.

          We stood to meet his advance.

          "Ms. Keswick, I'm Agent McCann.  There's a problem at the house and you need to return with me immediately," he said forcefully.

          The hair on the back of my neck stood stiffly with his tone and I was instantly angry. 

          "What problem?" I asked, grabbing his arm, turning him to face me.

          "Mr. Harris, please, this doesn't involve you," he said pulling away from my grip. 

          "The hell it doesn't," I argued.

          "Ben, please." Audry's voice was suddenly full of angst and scorn.  She gathered up her belongings, harshly tossing them into the picnic basket, slamming the lid shut.

          "Audry, what the hell's going on?  You can't just leave with this guy.  I'll take you back.  Come on, you can ride back with me."

          "Mr. Harris,  I was told to bring you both but Ms. Keswick must ride with me.  You can follow in your truck.  If you would like I can have an agent ride back with you."

          I was irate.  I didn't want anyone riding with me except Audry.  My mind flooded with a variety of stubborn solutions, starting with punching this guy out.  The blood start to rush through my veins as my anger mounted.

          "Ben, it's okay... really.  Just let them do their job," she said, placing a warm hand on my arm.

          I bit my tongue and silently nodded my agreement.

           "I'll see you at the house," she said firmly and then kissed my cheek.

          Before I could form an answer she and the young man were walking to the parking lot.  Suddenly a dark colored car appeared.  The back doors flew open before it came to a stop and she got in.

          "Tilley," I yelled.  

          The man's wife and kids were nowhere to be seen nor was the athletic couple.  I stood alone on the beach and both my perfect day and Audry were gone.

           The radio that filled me with joy earlier now only served to annoy me.  I scanned the traffic ahead, striving for the smallest glimpse but to no avail.  I drove like a mad man, darting in and out of traffic as if on some level I thought I could catch up to the car with Audry.  With Tilley asleep on the seat next to me, wore out from her day of play, my mind raced with a thousand scenarios, making the road seem to stretch on forever.

           The world grew smaller as it grew darker and all that was important was held in the limits of my headlights.  Traffic seemed to place obstacle after obstacle in front of me, as if the entire planet was conspiring to keep me from the house and from Audry.  Hours passed and at long last I entered the neighborhood.  There at the end of the street were police cars as well as sheriff and CHP.  They were parked at angles to one another blocking the road at both ends.  There was a kaleidoscope of activity and brightly flashing lights from fire trucks, ambulances and police cars.  In addition there were several sedans like the one that took Audry away.  Dozens of police officers, men in military uniforms, men in a variety of colored jump suits roamed the street.  Yellow tape stretched between trees, posts and vehicles held back the on lookers.

          My heart raced with confusion.  What the hell was going on?  I parked my truck, leaving Tilley in the cab and walked toward the house.      

          "Please stay behind the line, sir," an officer said, holding up a hand to halt my advance.

          Before I could answer a second man, dressed in a suit approached the officer.

          "It's okay.  He's with me," ­he said.

          "Sorry, sir.  I didn't know,"

          I was confused even more now.  I had no idea what was going on.

          "Mr. Harris.  If you'll come with me, Ms. Williams will see you now," the man in the suit said, extending his hand to lift the yellow tape.

          "I don't know a Ms. Williams," I answered, ducking under the tape.  "What's happening here?"

          "Ms. Williams will answer all your questions," he said, slipping a hand to my shoulder, guiding me toward the house."

          As we got closer more men in suits appeared.  They were everywhere in the yard, in the house, in the garage.  Some with note pads, some with electronic equipment, many with phones, others with cameras.  All of whom gave me sour looks of disdain as I got close enough to have an effect.

           "Mr. Harris.  I'm special agent Sara Williams."

          Standing mid-way down the front walk, a woman dressed in a dark business suit with a pale yellow blouse stood with her arms folded.  She appeared to be in her late forties with shoulder length brown hair.  Although clearly attractive, her suit made her shoulders look square,  her stance more mannish in nature.  She came closer, holding out her hand to me.

          I took it.  It was warm, firm.  She squeezed my hand like a man, as a moment's level of competition to size each other up passed between us.

          Her face held the lines of a job related stress.  The crows feet at her eyes belied her efforts to look unaffected by time. 

          She turned her head slightly as another man in a suit slipped behind her to whisper something.

          "It's alright.  Let them take her," ­she said softly before releasing my hand.

          The man turned away, disappearing into the all consuming chaos.

          "Where's Audry?" I asked, pushing toward the house.        

          "Not just yet, Mr. Harris," she said, firmly placing a hand on my chest to hold me in place.  "Audry is fine.  You can see her in a minute."

          "What's going on?  Why are all these people here?  What happened here?" I pressed.

          "Mr. Harris, do you know where Roger is."

          "No, I don't.  Have you looked in the backyard?"

          At that moment two men, dressed in blue coveralls, rolled a gurney out of the house and down the walk.  On it lay a black body bag.

          My stomach lurched up into my throat with shock and panic.

          "Oh, my God.  What happened here?  Who...?  " I asked, stepping off the pavement as the men rolled past us. 

          "Mr. Harris, Jessica is dead." ­she said flatly.  She shifted her stance, measuring my reaction.

          My mind reeled under the weight of her words.  They crushed down on me, pushing the air out of me.

          "How?  Who?  My God, I just saw her this morning.  How is this possible?" I gasped as her body wheeled by.

         “Three blows to the head with a baseball bat," Williams said with little or no emotion, as if it meant nothing. 

          Her words stabbed deep into my heart, filling me with pain beyond imagining.  The images of every conversation, every time I saw Jessica's face, every time I heard her voice played themselves in repetitive flashes over and over in my mind.

          "How could this happen?" I demanded. 

          "We've looked at everything and can come to only one conclusion... you."  ­she said, folding her hands behind her back and walked toward the house.

          "Me?" I gasped for air, struggling to regain my balance.  It was as if she had just thrown ice water in my face.

          "I didn't.  I couldn't," I stammered.

          "Relax, I didn't say you killed her.  Our problem is, it happened because of you." ­  She turned slightly to face me.   

          "I don't understand.  What did I do?"

          "We have camera's hidden everywhere in the house and yard.  Your presence here, with your particular  

problem, gives them... let's call it fits.  Your electrical interference makes most of them unusable. 

We were taking advantage of your little beach trip to replace them with shielded units.  All of them were changed out.  Jessica was alone in the house while we were setting up and calibrating the cameras.  That's when it happened."

          Almost without conscious effort I had followed her into the house.  In the living room, three men dressed in blue jump suits stood over the blood stain where Jessica's body had lain earlier.  They turned to look at me.  One of them held a small electronic instrument he tapped lightly as I passed, giving me a sour look.

          Furniture had been tipped over and broken, much like the night Roger had taken the bat to them.  I was shocked at the blood that had been splattered across the walls and floor.  At that moment the images of that night raced through my head.  Pictures of Roger with that bat beating down the lamps sent chills of murder down my spine.  My head filled with disbelief.  Roger hadn't shown any signs of anger or delusion since that night and I had felt it safe for us to leave for a few hours.  I had been wrong.  I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe.  I stumbled out the back door and outside into the cool evening air.  I stood next to the low split rail fence that divided the patio from the rose garden. 

Kate had planted all four dozen herself.  It was her part of the yard.  She had always tended to it personally.  

          I drew a deep breath, filling my lungs with the smell of  moist dirt, cool air and the memory of her.  I leaned with both hands on the fence trying to make sense of it all.   

          "Pretty, aren't they, Mr. Harris?" 

          I turned, startled, Williams stood next to me.

          "Beg your pardon," I stammered.

          "The stars.  Pretty, aren't they?" she said, gazing up to the sky.

          "Yes, they are."  I said, turning to sit on the fence. 

          "Did you know, Mr. Harris that every one of those stars is a sun just like ours and that two out of three of them has a companion sun?"

          "No, I didn't."

          "Oh, yes, and you would be surprised to know those double solar systems have planets around them as well, more than doubling the number of planets we originally thought.  Many times more and according to Roger's research most very much like Earth."

          "I would be surprised." What I was, was confused.  I had no idea what we were talking about, or why.

          "Roger, Mr. Harris, knows those things and much, much more.  You can understand why we would be looking for him."

          "You think he killed Jessica?"

          "He was out of the house for a walk and managed to slip away from my people,  so we don't know for sure.  We could have but since you've been here, all of our surveillance equipment has been... let's say less than helpful.  You have a very unnatural effect on our gear, Mr. Harris,"   she said, cocking her head in an accusatory way in my direction.

          "You've been spying on Roger and Jessica?"

          She shifted uncomfortably, moving to stand closer to me before speaking.

          "I'll admit, Roger was... is...   a matter of national security.  We've kept a close eye on him...  Jessica however was one of us, Mr. Harris.  We needed to be sure."

          "And Audry?  Where does she fit in all this?" I asked, not certain of anything at this point.

          Williams shifted her weight, making full eye contact as if trying to read my mind.

          "We should have pulled you from the house before now but you seem to have a positive effect on Roger.  Two days after you showed up he finished a project we've been involved with for more than a year.  He really is quite remarkable... when he puts his mind to it."

          "Let me ask you, Ms. Williams.  The Katoy?" I turned to watch her reaction after avoiding my question about Audry.

           "Ahh, that," she said, folding her arms.  She pushed her chin into her chest and rocked back on her heels.  "I wish everything was as easy to explain as a double solar system.  Every genius has his quirks, Mr. Harris.  Roger is no exception.  He has a very rich fantasy life."  With her head still lowered, her arms  folded, she turned to look at me.  She was searching my face for some sign of belief.

          "I understand.  How long has he had this particular fantasy life?"   It must have been the response she was looking for, she relaxed her stance.

          "It began right after your sister died, after we got him back," ­she said, turning away from me a little.

          "Got him back?  Does that mean you'd lost him before?"

          "Three days after the funeral was the first we heard of the Katoy," ­she said flatly.  She waited for my reaction.

          I had no idea what to say.      

          "Three days after that he disappeared." She turned to walk a few steps away, running her hand over the fence rail, her back to me.

          "Where did he go?"

          "We don't know, Mr. Harris.  We looked for six months... every airport, every train, bus, boat, bicycle, homeless shelter, hospital, even the morgue.  At first, we thought he might have been kidnapped, then perhaps suicide.  He just disappeared, fell off the face of the planet for all we knew.  Then six months to the day later he showed up to work like nothing had happened."   She turned to me, shifting her weight, jutting her right hip out before resting her hand upon it.  Her face held a 'can you believe it?'  ­expression.

          "Where was he?"

          "We don't know,  he never said.  Every time we asked, he would only say he had gone from the third

ring of hell to one of the lower steps of heaven and that it had eaten his soul before spitting him out." ­

          Her words repeated themselves over and over in my head but I could say nothing.

          "Now, we have an agent within arm's length of him at all times."

          "At least, you did," I said with a level of self satisfaction that surprised me.  Murderer or not, Roger was in the wind and it tickled me they had no idea where he had gone.  "You couldn't find him the last time and you think he'll go there now."

          "Yes."

          "I have no idea were he is now or where he was then.  I haven't seen Roger in over three years,"  I said, sitting on the fence again. 

          "I know where you've been, Mr. Harris,"  she was fishing.  "I know every switch you replace, every sink you fix, and every toilet you unclog.  I know every time you stop to get a burger for dinner, every time you fail to eat at all.  I know the shows you watch, where you buy your gas and the books you read.  In short Mr. Harris, I know everything there is to know about you," ­she said with authority.  She lifted her chin as if looking down her nose at me.

          The tone of her voice, her words sent a chill down my spine.

 

          "You don't know everything," I countered, standing, trying to hide the anger that swelled within me.  My heart raced.  The sudden knowledge of my every move having been followed and cataloged for this woman's consumption left me violated.

          She took several steps closer.

          "I know why it took you three years to come back," she whispered smugly.  She held her hands behind her back, swinging her shoulders from side to side.

          I just stood there.  A ­hundred thoughts and images shot through my mind.  How could she know when I didn't know myself?

          "Bullshit," I barked and turned to go back inside.  My anger was about to get the best of me.  I have never struck a woman before but I was about to give it a try.

          "He kept her alive," she called after me.

          I stopped.  Her words cut me to the core and the anger suddenly washed over me as great waves of sorrow.  My breathing was suddenly ragged, difficult

to hold.  My heart ached and pounded as if it were its last. 

          I fought the tears now threatening to escape.  I turned to face her.

          She stood, feet apart.  Her hands hung at her side like a gunslinger itching for a fight.  Her face held a sneer that jabbed defiantly at my pain.

          "He experimented on her." Her voice held a sharp edge that she wielded like a sword.  "You couldn't stand to see her suffer and he gave her every concoction his desperate brain could whip up, and she let him.  She held on for all she was worth, through all that pain, through all that torment,  pretending for him.  You never forgave him for not letting her go, for not letting her die in peace."  

          I glared at her.  Her words stabbed deep into my heart, plunging deeper than any knife ever could, striking the center of a hidden truth.  I wanted to make the words stop, to punch that face to make it stop.

          "Bullshit," I said again and returned to the house, wiping my eyes.

           "Don't go far, Mr. Harris.  We will talk again," she intoned.

          My anger swirled with in me, surging madly to get out.  I pushed through the people inside.  Making my way to the front door I grabbed it and flung it open, slamming it against the wall.  

          The strobe of police lights cut the darkness into alternating, slashes of red and blue light.  Several police men and many of Williams' people now populated the front yard.  It was an eerie composite of light and people.  It all seemed twisted, unreal in a frightening, nightmarish way.

          Everyone within range turned in my direction.  My slamming the door had drawn their attention.  Two men in business suits quickly met me on the path to my truck.  I tried to push past them but they grabbed me and we began to scuffle.  I tried to get free enough to throw a punch but they were too close and held me  tightly.  The smaller of the two released me long enough to throw a punch of his own, sending me to the ground.  My head  jerked to the right with the blow, stunning me for a moment.  I knelt on one knee to gather myself.  As I looked up, several officers as well as more of the Williams' people gathered around me.  

          "We're not going to have a problem here are we, Mr. Harris?" a uniformed officer said.  He stood over me, his thumbs in his belt, his barrel chest jutting out to intimidate.  

          Slowly, I stood, rubbing my chin, trying to realign my jaw.  I turned half to the right and then to the left.  Eight men now formed a ring about me.

          At that moment Ms. Williams appeared at the front door.  She shifted her weight to the left, placing one hand on her hip the other on the jamb for balance.

          "Trouble, Mr. Harris?" she called across the front lawn, her voice tinged with a level of sarcasm.

          "No trouble," I said, trying to stifle my anger.

          She stood for a moment and then nodded without saying a word.  As she turned to go back inside the men surrounding me began to separate as well.

          I twisted my jaw a few more times, trying to get it back in place.  To my left stood the b*****d that had hit me.  Almost without thought or effort I tapped him on the shoulder and returned the favor, sending him sprawling on the ground.  Instantly, the men grabbed me, filling the air with angry voices.  They pulled me, jerking my arms behind my back as he struggled to get to his feet.

          The agent had finally regained his footing and now charged to get his revenge.     

          The other men held him in place as he fought to get to me.

          "Agent Adams," Williams yelled in a harsh voice

          After a moment or two my opponent relaxed and they released him.  He pulled back his shoulders, stretching his neck and then straightened his tie.  Then he stood, feet apart, his hands folded, gazing straight ahead as if nothing had happened at all.   

          "Satisfied, Mr. Harris?" Ms Williams' question cut through all the angry voices.  She stood outside on the porch, her arms folded.

          "For now," I said with a true level of satisfaction.

          "Let him go," Williams ordered and I was released.

          The ring of men cleared a path for me but I just stood there.  I wanted to leave, wanted all this to go away but I just stood there.

          "Forget something, Mr. Harris?" Williams asked with acid in her voice.  She stood in the doorway, her feet spread, her arms folded.

          "Audry," I said, flexing my fingers expecting a fight at any moment.

          "Benjamin," Audry called to me from somewhere behind her.

          Just inside, Audry appeared with a suitcase held in front of her with two hands.  Williams turned as Audry made her way to the door.  With her back to me she grabbed Audry's arm, pulling it slightly, leaning closer and uttered several words before letting her go. 

          Audry nodded slowly but said nothing and then came to me.  All those in the front yard silently moved aside for her passing. 

           Upon reaching me, she all but collapsed in my arms and instantly broke down into a flood of tears.  She buried her face into my shoulder and sobbed, heart wrenching sounds that pulled at the soul of me.   

        "It'll be okay.  I swear," I said, but I wasn't sure I could keep that promise.  The words caught in my throat like handfuls of sawdust as my tears flowed as freely as hers.

 

 

Reviews

[Wendy Seames Garner]

Looking good, Tegon!