Dead and Gone Read online

  “Grand Central?” I was making an effort to not sound like a total idiot but as far as I was concerned he was speaking Greek. I was trying to get some idea who this little guy was and why or how I might have been involved with him.

  He was a small man but seemed to be packed tight with energy, and his energy level immediately made me nervous. The sleeves of his shirt were pushed up to his elbows and his New Balance shoes looked in desperate need of replacement. His eyes were narrow and squinty and never stopped moving. He adjusted the pack and gestured with a nod of his head.

  “I have been up since four, you schmuck,” he said in a deep Jersey accent, “and you’ve been all over me for a month about being prompt, then you treat me like an asshole and don’t even show.”

  I was blindsided by the entire conversation but covered as best I could. “Sorry, man, I’ve had a hell of a morning.”

  He snorted. “You and me both.” He produced a cigarette and lit it quickly. “So where is she?” he asked.

  “Where is who?”

  “The girl.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He glared at me and jammed the cigarette between his lips. “Wow, still treating me like an asshole.”

  “What girl?”

  “Veronica. You were supposed to bring her to Grand Central at six sharp! The deal was in place and I brought cash, so what happened to you, dude?”

  CHAPTER 3

  I about pissed my pants. What did he know about Veronica? Had he known she would be with me last night?

  “Did you call my cell this morning?” I asked.

  He shook his head no. “The last thing you told me was no phone contact. You were specific, as usual.”

  I studied his face, his eyes, his body language. Wasn’t sure what to make of him just yet. “What else did I tell you?” I asked.

  He gave me a look like I had stepped in dog crap and he was smelling it. “Are you trip’n?”

  Actually, yes I was.

  “I just want to know what I said.”

  “Are you play’n games?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t have time for this. I’ve got places to be.”

  “Why would I tell you no phone contact?”

  “Because you’re smart and you’re paranoid.”

  “When was the last time I talked to you?”

  He took a pull off the cigarette and glared at me sideways. “You are tripping, dude.”

  “Humor me.” Who was this guy? A friend? Looking at him I wouldn’t have thought so. Did he work at my agency? I was still in shock that he had mentioned Veronica. She had checked out of this life sometime before dawn, and here was a guy who could apparently, place me with her. “Did I call your cell?”

  “Are we gonna talk in circles all day? Because I’ve got to make a living and can’t much do that standing here listening to you fill my head with craziness.”

  The sidewalk was crowded with foot traffic. I took him aside.

  “Listen, let’s just say I didn’t sleep well and my head is a little fuzzy. My cell is on the fritz, and I need to know when and how we talked.”

  He shifted the pack to the other shoulder. The cigarette was already down to its last two inches. He held it away from his face and tapped ash into the breeze. His scalp was pink from the sun.

  “Are you for real?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  He shook his head. A tattoo was partially visible on his neck where the collar of his shirt had sagged open. It looked like a wing, or maybe a flame. There were tats on his left forearm as well, a twisting mess of them. He seemed familiar and comfortable with me, like we regularly encountered one another.

  “We had drinks at the Black Goose,” he said.

  I nodded like I understood but could see by the look in his eyes that my expression remained blank.

  “Black Goose,” I echoed.

  His expression told me the Black Goose was something I should be familiar with.

  “You remember having a whiskey with me, right?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I said.

  He didn’t buy it.

  “Are you off in outer space or something, Nick?”

  I shrugged. “So we had drinks at the Black Goose?”

  “You’re freaking me out.”

  “Don’t be freaked out,” I said.

  “You’re not yourself.”

  “I certainly don’t feel like myself.”

  “Did you bump your head or something?”

  “I honestly don’t remember.”

  He looked at me skeptically. “What did you do with the girl?”

  “Do me a favor,” I said.

  “Are you changing the subject?”

  “Call my cell.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously. Like I said, it’s been giving me fits.”

  He eyeballed me as one hand disappeared into a pocket and produced his cell phone. He raised it to his face and touched the screen a couple of times, then put it to his ear.

  A few seconds later I heard the ringtone of my iPhone. My hand dipped into my jacket pocket and I glanced at the name on the screen. His name was Hopper. I nodded to myself and put the cell away.

  “Hopper,” I said, “let me buy you a coffee.”

  CHAPTER 4

  I decided this was a good time for some honesty, but very little.

  We made a stop at Starbucks. My treat, of course. Hopper ordered a slice of something with raisins and nuts in it and I watched him dive into it as we headed down the sidewalk. I confessed that last night I might have had a few too many and that my brain was currently running at about half speed.

  “You might want to consider cutting back on the sauce,” he said, then sipped from his coffee.

  “Thanks for the suggestion.” I was playing with my iPhone, looking at Hopper’s page in my contact list. There was no information on him apart from his cell number. No photo, no nothing. So I still knew next to nothing about this sketchy looking little guy. I kept details to a minimum about my experience this morning. I certainly didn’t bring up my new roommate. More than anything I was interested in knowing if he was an individual I could trust, but he was at least aware of Veronica, so I needed to gently probe around the subject and how much information I could get out of him without revealing all my cards.

  “Refresh my memory,” I said. “Tell me about our conversation yesterday.”

  “You’re not funny.”

  “Did we talk about Veronica?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “What did we decide?”

  “You told me you would take care of her.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He stopped and flashed me another sideways look. “I’m beginning to think you’re yanking my chain.”

  “I’m not.”

  “This is dangerous business we are talking about.”

  “If you say so.”

  “We are talking about serious amounts of cash.”

  I stared at him.

  He stared back.

  I was still missing every piece of the puzzle. So far I had a dead woman, a shady-looking new friend I didn’t trust at all, and a mysterious transaction at Grand Central Terminal that I had failed to show up for. I don’t know how to explain what all of this felt like, walking through my own life without a clue about any of it. I don’t care how drunk I might have gotten, I just couldn’t see how a single night’s drunk could have made such a dramatic impact.

  My cell chirped and I checked the call. It was someone named Heather. Of course the name meant nothing to me so I let it go to voice mail.

  The morning was bleak. The sky was overcast. It looked like rain was coming. This was Tuesday and I felt like I was late for something but didn’t have the first notion of where I should be at this moment. Of course, as an adult male, it seemed natural to assume I should be headed to the office, wherever that was. All signs pointed to gainful employment at a place called Burgess, Levine,
and Holt. So I decided that sooner or later this morning I would find my way to the office.

  Hopper had drained his coffee and made a hook shot with his Starbucks cup into a trashcan along the sidewalk. I got rid of mine too even though I’d barely touched a drop. He looked anxious, like some of that overabundant energy inside him was threatening to leak out.

  “You not showing up this morning is going to become an issue,” he said at me, switching his pack to the other shoulder. “I have clients who expect results.”

  I had no idea what he meant by that.

  “When I don’t produce, they take business elsewhere.”

  I was even more lost than before. It would have been fascinating to know what kind of business Hopper was in, what kind of clientele he serviced, and how exactly my world had collided with his. The mystery of it wasn’t comforting.

  Hopper’s cell phone rang and he turned away to take the call. I listened to him chew on somebody named Tony. I had no idea who Tony might be.

  I stared down Park, the morning bright and humid. Heather called again, and I debated answering. Judging by her photo she was cute, but I wasn’t thrilled at the notion of getting into another awkward conversation. Maybe Heather could tell me more about Veronica. Maybe they were friends and Heather was calling to make sure everything was okay. Whoever she was, I didn’t want to commit myself to having to stutter and stammer and lie my way through several minutes of confusion. So I let it go to voice mail again.

  It felt like there were cops everywhere. Obviously I was getting as paranoid as hell, but every time I turned around I spotted another NYPD uniform. Which shouldn’t have mattered, but I happened to have a dead body in my bedroom down the block. I tried to act normal but it felt like everyone in the world was staring at me like they knew what was going on. So, in case you hadn’t guessed by now, I was kinda freaking out.

  Hopper put his cell away and got back in my face. “I don’t have time for this, Nick. My day is already jacked up enough because of you.”

  “I’m sorry, Hopper.”

  He shook his head and dismissed me with a flourish of his hand. “Save it,” he said. “I’ll call you when I figure out a way to clean up the mess you’ve made.”

  I shrugged. “Good idea,” I said, very much interested in knowing exactly what kind of mess I had made for him.

  Hopper crossed the street and was gone.

  Then my cell rang again. I glanced at it. It was Heather again. I looked away, staring past traffic, pondering whether to answer. See, when you don’t know anything about yourself except your name, it’s a bit tricky having a halfway intelligent conversation about anything with anyone.

  I decided to throw caution to the wind and answered the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Nick?”

  “What’s up?” I said, having no idea what I might usually say to this person named Heather.

  “Where are you?”

  “A couple blocks from my apartment.”

  “I’ve been calling your cell for like the last ten minutes.”

  “Yeah, sorry, I was in the shower. Where are you?” I asked, thinking this was good, normal conversation.

  “Where do you think, genius?” she said in a tone thick with sarcasm. So, wherever she was, it should have been obvious to normal Nick.

  “Are you at work?”

  “Why would I be anywhere else? I practically live at my desk since I started working for you.”

  “Right,” I said, slowly beginning to understand the nature of our relationship. “How long have you been at the office?”

  She ignored the question. “Nick, do you know about any of this?”

  “Any of what?”

  “Why are there police here?”

  I stopped walking and squeezed the cell phone so hard in my hand I thought it might turn into a diamond. “Police? What are you talking about?”

  She responded in a hushed tone, “They were here when I came in.”

  “Did you talk to them?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “What do they want?”

  “No idea. There are several standing around in the lobby, and a couple more are in Louis’s office, talking with the door closed.”

  Great. Who in the world was Louis?

  “You need to be here, Nick.”

  That felt like a really bad idea. Seemed like the worst idea in the world, in fact. The police happen to show up at my place of employment the same morning I wake up with no memory next to a dead woman.

  “Have they asked you anything about me?” I asked her.

  “No, but why would they?”

  “Well, you called me.”

  “Have you spoken to Terry this morning?”

  Terry Burgess, I assumed.

  “No,” I said, “but I’ve only had time for a shower and coffee.”

  “He’s not here. Louis is the only partner here, thus he’s alone with the cops, and he doesn’t seem terribly pleased about that.”

  “Yeah, I can’t blame him. How long have the police been there?”

  “Probably twenty minutes. Nick, are you okay? You don’t sound like yourself.”

  “I’m fine, was a long night and I slept like crap.”

  It was interesting talking to a woman who I only knew from a photo on my cell phone about people I currently remembered nothing about. I rubbed my eyes and blinked at the sun. Certain things about the city seemed strangely familiar to me. I could get around and function in the world like a normal human being, the only problem seemed to be with names and faces and what they should mean to me.

  “How do you want me to handle them until you get here?” she asked.

  “Just keep busy and avoid eye contact. I’ll be there shortly.”

  “OK.”

  I ended the call.

  There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that the police were at the office because of Veronica Wagner. That meant they had somehow already found out she was dead and followed the trail of clues to me, though I didn’t see how any of it was possible. I mean, I’d been awake less than an hour, and when I awoke there was no one else in the apartment. Just me, Veronica, and the dog. I would have loved to sit down and have a long conversation with the dog, find out exactly what she had seen last night. I’m sure she could have provided some interesting answers.

  Eventually, my memory was going to return, but I needed to speed up my decision making process now. The cops were at the office, and the minute I showed my face it was going to be impossible to do anything about Veronica’s body. Because either they already had a search warrant in hand, or they would be getting one any minute and I would no longer have an opportunity to cover my tracks. If I wanted to get rid of the body, this was my only chance. Again, I didn’t know the whole story, and if I hadn’t had anything to do with how she died, my actions would certainly be making me look very guilty even if I wasn’t.

  I found the office address on my iPhone and headed that way. It was weird that I knew my way around. I walked a block and jaywalked to the opposite side of Park. I was looking for a way to buy some time, but I had to be careful because if I was late to work, that would look suspicious too. My head was in a fog. Eventually my memory would return, but I had to be careful not to dig myself too big a hole in the mean time.

  I took a taxi to Madison and Forty-Forth, found my building but ducked inside a bodega across the street and stared out the window, watching people go in and out of the glass and steel tower where I apparently, spent my days selling stuff to America. Two squad cars were parked at the curb.

  My cell rang twice. Didn’t recognize either caller. I tabbed through my contacts, studying names and faces, praying for some kind of link to finally fall into place in my brain. None did.

  The clock was ticking. The police were in the building across the street waiting for me, and the body they were looking for was in my apartment getting colder by the minute.

  I entertained the notion of running back to my apartment to di
spose of the body, but didn’t have the first of clue of how to go about a process like that. Frankly, the notion creeped me out. The thought seemed terribly sinister. I cringed and shook my head.

  I felt very alone. There were obviously many people in my life, but there was no one I could turn to. With no memory, there was no one I could trust, especially in this kind of delicate situation. Every decision was up to me.

  I most definitely didn’t want to get rid of the body. I wanted to get the police involved and get to the bottom of what happened to her last night, but I also didn’t know if I really wanted to know the truth. It might teach me more about myself than I was willing to know.

  Suddenly, I saw several police officers exit the building across the street, load into the two squad cars, and drive away. My spirit lifted. I exited the little bodega and watched the cars disappear into traffic.

  Then my cell rang. It was Heather.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “They’re gone, Nick.”

  “Yeah, I see that.”

  “Where are you?”

  “On my way up.”

  “Good.”

  “Why did they leave?”

  “Just get up here,” she said.

  CHAPTER 5

  The elevator took me up twelve floors. I stepped out and looked around. Spotted a directory and followed the arrows. Brass letters spelled out Burgess, Levine, and Holt on the wall. Something pinged in my subconscious, telling me I must be in the right place. I hesitated a beat before going through the door.

  A receptionist with the face of a twenty-five-year-old said, “Good morning, Mr. Cortland.”

  I faked a smile. “Good morning.”

  The office had been designed with a contemporary touch. It looked like the kind of space where very creative people worked. The decorating was sparse, with lots of clean lines and stainless steel. I immediately felt right at home.

  I did my best to act casual. Everyone was standing around talking and drinking coffee. My sudden presence quickly became the focus of attention and everyone wanted answers at once. I largely ignored them. A very attractive woman in her late twenties spotted me and rushed over. Her hair was ironed straight and her body looked like she spent half her life in the gym. I recognized Heather from her photo on my iPhone. She was tall and thin and statuesque.