Debts Unsettled, page 28
“Yes, both.” Linda said and walked away.
When she returned, she picked up her glass of wine and tipped it back until it was empty. Michael smiled. “Hold my hand—you washed your hands, right?
Linda gave a guarded laugh and slugged his shoulder.
“I’ve missed your laugh. I still do.”
“That’s the best I’ve got.”
“I understand. Again, I haven’t tried this with a person, so if I disappear… I’ll be back in 15 minutes.”
Linda took his hand. He set his phone’s alarm for 13 minutes, opened the book to page 15, and found the picture he’d taken an hour ago. He looked at Linda. “Ready?”
She looked up at him and nodded.
“Okay. Here we go.”
Linda’s home phone rang till it went to voice mail.
52
Linda wobbled.
Michael caught her arm.
“Thanks. I’m okay, it’s so much to take in. We were just in my living room, now we’re… where are we, Michael?” her head jerked side to side, and up and down, as she looked for a familiar landmark.
“It’s July 4, 1986. We’re on a sidewalk, across from where Daniel Wygal lived. But,” he pointed to the Benedetti’s home, “we’re headed to that house.”
Michael held her hand as they walked to the entry gate that led to the Benedetti’s back yard. As they closed the gate, they heard Gina call out, “Michael, I thought you’d left?”
“That was my plan, Gina, but my friend wanted to meet you and Bernie first.”
Linda looked up at Michael, with lips parted, and eyes squinting.
Michael leaned over and whispered. “Play along. I’ll explain in about 34 years.”
Gina got within five feet. “Gina Benedetti, meet Linda Curt.”
“Great to meet you, Linda,” Gina said as she held out her hand. “Get something to drink, and there’s plenty of food.”
“Nice to meet you too, Gina. Thank you for your hospitality.”
“I bet you’d do the same thing for me, Linda.”
Linda smiled. “Of course, Gina.”
“Well, there ya go. Enjoy yourself. Michael, go find Bernie. He’ll want to meet Linda.”
“We’re on our way, thanks.” As they walked toward Bernie, he stopped and put his arm in front of Linda.
Linda stopped and looked at Michael. “What’s wrong?”
“I won’t point to him, but the little guy, walking 20 feet in front of us?”
“Yes, he’s on a mission.”
“That’s the weaselly guy who broke into my apartment.”
“Are you sure?”
“No doubt.”
“Then he’s the one who threatened Jacob?” Mama bear kicked in and Linda took off toward him.
Michael caught her arm. “Yes, but remember, that’s way in the future.”
Linda stopped and looked at Michael. “Preemptive strike,” she said. Michael detected her lips hinting a smile. She lowered her arms, relaxed her fists, and let out a sigh. “Okay, back to my question. How do you know these people?”
“I was just here.”
“Seriously—?”
“Hold on, let’s see what he does.”
The little guy walked up to Daniel and pulled him aside.
Michael leaned into Linda. “That’s Daniel, AKA, the white-haired man.”
Daniel and the weasel turned their backs on the party and moved close to the fence. Their discussion became intense. Daniel’s temper flared. The little guy dropped his arms in resignation, shook his head in agreement, turned and walked away, heading for the drink table.
Michael took Linda’s hand, walked to the table, and stood next to the weasel. Michael reached in front of him to grab a cup. “Excuse me.”
The weasel arched back. “No prob.”
Michael turned to face him. “Have we met here before? You look familiar.”
“I’ve been here before, but I don’t remember meeting you.”
Michael remembered Stephanie’s mother had said a man who called himself Bob visited her. “Is it Robert… or Bob?”
Surprised, he looked up. “Yeah, it’s Robert, but I go by Bob.”
“I’ve lost your last name, Bob?”
“It’s Gruen. I still don’t remember you.”
“Hmm, must’ve been in passing. I noticed you talking with Daniel. Is he a friend of yours?”
“Yes, and I do odd jobs for him.”
Michael noticed Daniel walking toward them.
“Nice to see you again, Bob. Excuse us.”
Michael took Linda’s hand and walked toward Daniel.
Daniel sauntered toward them. “I thought you’d left.”
“I missed you and couldn’t leave without coming back and introducing my friend Carol.”
Daniel looked Linda up and down, then at Michael and pointed to BTH. “Why were you talking to him?”
“I told him it was good to see him again; just getting to know him better.”
Daniel looked lustfully at Linda. “I’d like to get to know Carol much better.” He looked at Michael. “Why don’t you go make yourself a sandwich while I show Carol around? Maybe I’ll take her to OMSI for a tour, then go out for a bite.”
Linda said, “No thanks, Mr.…?”
“Wygal, but you can call me Daniel.”
“No thanks, Daniel. There’s nowhere in my future for you.”
Great. Michael thought. I hope I can keep it that way.
Michael’s phone alarm sounded. He removed it from his pocket and turned it off. When he looked up, Daniel was watching him and opened his mouth to speak.
Michael interrupted, as he placed his phone in his pocket, “I’m glad you had this opportunity to talk with me again, Daniel. I figured you were missing me.”
He took Linda’s hand, turned, and led her to the gate. After walking halfway down the block, the warm wind took them back to Linda’s living room.
Linda fell onto the sofa. “Worldview shattered—in 15 minutes—to the extent you renamed me?”
“Daniel’s a smart guy. I didn’t want to give him your name. Russell may have mentioned it to him, and it seems Daniel has a good memory. Are you convinced? Ready to help me solve this puzzle?”
“Yes, and more than ready. What can I do to help?”
“Okay. We must divide and conquer. I’ll do the time traveling.”
“Thank you. What do you want me to do?”
“Can you find out if a Portland hospital treated a Daniel on the day he crashed into your house? I believe he’s smarter than that, but it doesn’t hurt to check.”
“I’ll find out.”
“Daniel’s on parole. He must check in with his parole officer. I’ll get Trevor, my assistant, on that. Also, find out if someone treated a Robert Gruen the night someone broke into my apartment. Someone set his arm and cast it. I doubt he sought help in Portland. He may have driven to Vancouver, but more likely Salem.”
“I work tomorrow. I’ll get into my hospital’s computer system and see what I can find.”
“Great. Our goal: get Daniel Wygal back in prison.”
“Okay, Michael,” she paused and held her hands out. “I’m waiting.”
“Now what did I do?”
“You promised you’d tell me what was going on, and why the Benedetti’s recognized you?”
“I was there earlier this evening. That’s where I was when someone blew up my apartment. You and I went back a few minutes later, using a photo I took across from Daniel Wygal’s house before the book brought me home.”
“I’m sorry, Michael, but my head is spinning. My brain is refusing to compute this.”
“Linda, it still shakes me each time I travel back, but it’s more from excitement and anticipation than anxiety. You mentioned not computing. Something happened on my second visit to my Little League game. It makes no sense.”
“What happened?”
“I walked 30 yards away—golfer, that’s how my mind calculates distance—and sat on the grass watching my mother. I noticed a man taking photos. It was Daniel, but he was still a stranger to me. Out of nowhere, a man appeared behind him. The man was carrying a rifle. As he moved to shoulder his rifle, he looked at me. I was sitting beside a Douglas Fir tree. I fell back while tucking my knees into my chest and rolled to my left and behind the tree.”
“Are you sure he was aiming at you?”
“No doubt in my mind. He fired two shots. One bullet hit the ground behind where I was sitting, the other hit the edge of the tree.”
“And you haven’t seen him since that day?”
“No. Here’s what I’m trying to wrap my mind around. The shooter appeared behind Daniel, just as I’ve appeared behind the photographer of the photos I’ve used.”
Linda picked up on it. “How did the shooter get the photo from Daniel?”
“Yes. And that means someone else has the same book—or somewhere in the future—they get my book.”
Linda paused and considered the implications. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Either way, Daniel gave the photo to the shooter. That’s what’s puzzling me. Daniel didn’t know me. Why give the shooter that photo?
“Maybe the shooter stole the photo.”
“How could he know Daniel had a photo of me? Or, even who Daniel is?”
“Or, where he lived?” Linda said.
“Too many questions. I may have to wait until the shooter tries again.”
“Dangerous game, Michael.”
“What are my options?”
“None that come to mind.”
The ring from her home phone jolted her; she looked at Michael. He nodded toward the phone. “You should take that in case it's Jacob.”
She answered the phone. “Hello… hi, Jacob. How are you doing, honey?”
“I’m okay, mom. But I was worried about you.”
“I’m sorry. Michael and I stepped out for a few minutes and missed your calls—”
“I called three times.”
“Again, I’m sorry and appreciate your concern, but I’m okay. Michael is here—”
“Can I talk with him, mom?”
“Sure. But first, are you doing okay?”
“I’m having a great time, but I was worried about you. I’m glad to hear you’re safe.”
“Thanks Jacob, I’ll talk to you later; here’s Michael.”
Jacob wants to talk to you.” She said and passed the phone to Michael.
“Hey, Jacob, your mother’s doing great, but I appreciate you were worried about her.”
“Thanks, Michael.”
“Are you and MJ getting along well?”
“MJ’s a cool guy. I enjoy hangin’ out with him.”
“Good to hear; he’s a great guy. I haven’t forgotten your golf lessons, but someone destroyed my golf clubs. I’ll explain later… hold on—”
He covered the phone and asked Linda, “Any plans for Jacob tomorrow?”
“The Hindlers asked him to stay tonight and tomorrow night. Why?”
“I’m going shopping for new golf clubs. Why don’t you and Jacob join me tomorrow?”
“Jacob, going with you is a wonderful idea, but I’m working tomorrow, Michael.”
“Oh yeah, you told me that, didn’t you?” She gave him the look.
“Jacob, I need to buy new golf clubs tomorrow. Do you want to go with me?”
“Really, that would be great. Is my mom okay with it?”
“Yes. And tell Matt and Carrie I’ll be there by 9:30. And Jacob, MJ’s welcome to come with us.”
“Awesome. I’ll ask him. Before you hang up, Carrie wants to talk with you.”
“I'm looking forward to it. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Okay, here’s Carrie.”
Michael could hear Jacob telling Carrie about going with him the next morning.
“Hey, Michael.”
“Hi, Carrie. What’s going on?”
“How about having breakfast with us tomorrow morning? Jacob told me you’re coming at 9:30 to pick him up. Can you make it at 9? I’m making waffles.”
“Nine o’clock, I’d be there at 5 am for your waffles. And I’d stand in line. I love them even more with chunky peanut butter and real maple syrup.”
“I only have creamy style peanut butter, and we usually use a fruit compote for topping, so you’ll need to get both.”
“No, problem. I’ll stop at the store on my way. I’ll pick up chunky peanut butter and syrup.”
“We’ll see you in the morning. Love you.”
“Okay, love you too. Looking forward to it.”
Michael turned. Linda stood with her head to the side, brow scrunched, and a slight smile. “I get the maple syrup, but peanut butter… on waffles?”
“Please don’t tell me you’ve never tried it. That might end our friendship.”
“Well, you got me to try time travel. I guess I’ll trust you with this, too.”
“You will love it. Well, 9 am will come quick; I better find a hotel. It’ll be a short night.”
“Michael, I have an extra room with a full bathroom. Stay here.”
“I appreciate that, Linda, but I don’t want to contribute to neighbors spreading rumors about you. Is that too old-fashioned, Linda?”
“No, it’s admirable. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
“Thanks, Linda, but I am not a knight in shining armor. My grandmother bred into me something that helps me resist what my mind is considering.”
Linda smiled and tilted her head slightly. “Michael, I guess you better leave.”
Michael raised his eyebrows, pressed his lips together, and shrugged his left shoulder. “I’m being honest, Linda. You’re a very attractive woman. So, I agree. I should leave.
“I’ll talk with Matt and Carrie tomorrow morning to find out what time they want Jacob back. He’s great company; I look forward to taking him around with me. He can also come with me as I get my apartment issue, or lack of an apartment, straightened out.”
“Jacob’s yours tomorrow,” she said, as she hugged him good night.
53
While walking to his car, Michael pondered all that had become his life.
What did I do with my evenings and weekends before the book came into my life? This past four weeks has been—
“The Files!” He blurted out loud.
The files on Wygal and my mother are in my briefcase.
Michael rushed past his car, to the road fronting his apartment. He stopped and surveyed the street.
Good, the news media left.
As he approached his apartment building, he scanned parked cars for occupants, and watched the sidewalks on both sides of the street.
Near his apartment, three men stood looking at the building. One was pointing and talking. Michael came within hearing range at mid-sentence. “… yeah, I told the cops a guy ran down the fire exit stairs. He yelled something about a gas explosion and kept running.”
Michael approached the group and asked the man who was speaking, “Excuse me, did you say you saw someone running away from this building after the explosion?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Did you get a good look at him?”
“Are you a police officer?”
“No, the explosion was in my apartment.”
“Wow, that’s a bummer, man. It was too dark to make out his face enough to describe him.”
“How big was he?”
“At first, I thought it was a kid, until I heard his voice. It was a man.”
“Do you remember anything else?”
“He was carrying something, but it was getting too dark to tell what it was. He was a small man, short and thin.”
“Thanks for your help. I appreciate it.”
“Sure, glad to help.”
The Deputy Fire Marshal’s car was still parked behind a police car near his apartment building’s entrance.
“Siri, call Carrie Hindler.”
“Carrie, Michael here, sorry if I woke you, but I forgot to tell you something. I need to give you a heads-up.”
“Sure, go ahead, Michael. MJ and Jacob are entertaining Matt and me, so there was no waking up involved.”
“Good. Carrie—crazy news—someone blew up my apartment. I’ll explain in the morning.”
“What? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I tried to get in to check it, but a Portland Deputy Fire Marshal won’t allow me access; protecting evidence, chain of custody.”
“They’re doing the right thing, Michael.”
“I understand, but I need your help with an issue.”
“Okay…?”
“The files you gave me earlier today are in my home office. I don’t want to leave them lying around unprotected. I’m going up to talk to the Deputy Fire Marshal again, to convince her I need to protect the file folders. If she refuses, I’ll give her your work number and ask her to call you. Can the caller still choose call forwarding?”
“It isn’t automatic, but the caller can press 2, and leave an urgent message for me. I check them an hour before bedtime. I seldom receive urgent requests.”
“I’ll text you when the Deputy Fire Marshal is calling. Talk to you tomorrow morning. Say goodnight to Matt and the boys for me.”
“Will do, Michael. Goodnight.”
“The investigators had locked his front door. Michael knocked.
On my own door.
The Deputy Fire Marshal opened the door. “Mr. Mays, I’m sorry, but your apartment is still closed and under investigation.”
“I hate to bother you, Susan, but I remembered two files I need. They’re part of a murder investigation. They’re in my briefcase—”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Mays. Your apartment is a crime scene. You still can’t come in.”
“Do me a favor, Susan, please?”
She pursed her lips and paused before speaking. “What is it?”
He opened his phone and brought up Carrie’s office number.
