Lethe's Cipher

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 by Peter Sargent

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Lethe's Cipher

  The police found Ted sleeping in a blue Jaguar XJ 220. It was parked in Chelsea under the Tobin bridge, with the key still in the lock. The car belonged to Norma Stern, who’d gone missing that morning. Ted, who carried no identification and refused to provide his last name, was dressed in a hooded Harvard sweatshirt and cargo pants. His many pockets were full of neatly folded papers covered in Bible passages. He looked like a homeless man who’d stumbled across an unlocked luxury car. He didn’t look like a kidnapper or a murder – but hell, when you find a guy sleeping in a car that belongs to a very rich and very absent woman, you haul his ass in. Besides, what else did Ted have planned for that day? He complied with the police and didn’t speak much when they put him in the cruiser, except to say that he hadn’t urinated in that car so you had to give him credit for that.

  * * * *

  At that moment, Manuel Stern, the husband of the missing woman, was standing in the library of his Commonwealth Avenue townhouse. He was providing details of Norma’s disappearance to Bill Lyons, a Boston Police inspector, but to Lyons the man looked bored. The library was a mezzanine in the family room. It hung on the wall across from a massive window and Stern’s eyes were fixed on that window as if he were hoping to escape through it.

  Lyons saw a children’s book on the floor and used it to bring Stern’s attention back.

  “Do you have children?” he said.

  “Yes. She’s still in school; she doesn’t know yet.” Stern turned back to Lyons and saw what he was looking at. He picked up the book, which was open to a page with a drawing of a bear in a castle, and shut it. He held it against his chest with two arms crossed over it, obscuring the cover. “Ally, our daughter.”

  He pointed his nose at a photograph. Lyons had noticed the picture before and observed that the girl must have been thirteen in that photo – too old for such a book. But Stern said nothing about other children, although the library contained a number of books and DVD’s intended for preschoolers. Lyons made a mental note and changed the subject.

  He said, “I hope you don’t think I’m rude, but I need to ask about your level of wealth. You can see how it might be relevant.”

  “No shit.” said Manuel. “I founded Mission Trust, a venture capital firm. We specialize in SRI – socially responsible investing.”

  “That sounds like a non-profit operation.”

  “It really isn’t. We’re looking for ideas that can make money while doing something good. For example, bio fuels. I don’t like non-profits. I think that companies are most effective when they are both self supporting and socially responsible.”

  “And you wife – does she work?” said Lyons.

  “She runs a lot of charity work. She was on the way to an event when she disappeared. I know. Look at it this way. Are you married?”

  “Sort of. Well, no.”

  “Either way, I think you’d understand that each half of a couple is entitled to have at least one thing that is not the concern of the other. I don’t know anything about my wife’s life as a philanthropist, which is why I can’t tell you much about what she was doing right before I last saw her.”

  The inspector’s phone buzzed. He answered it, spoke briefly, and returned it to his pocket.

  He said, “They’ve found your wife’s car. Even better, there was someone in it.”

  * * * *

  “Can you turn that off?” said Ted, waving a hand at the AC unit on the wall above his head.

  “It’s not on.” said Lyons. “It’s October.”

  “Well the noise is driving me stark nuts.”

  The interrogation room was tiny, about the size of a break room. They sat across from each other on the same side of a folding table. Sergeant Huss, Lyon’s partner, sat across the table from them. The observation window was behind Arbor and the camera was behind Lyons. Ted looked directly into the camera lens during most of the conversation.

  “I’m sorry about that, but the AC’s broken.” said Lyons. He offered a friendly smile. This wasn’t the first time he’d met a schizoid. About a quarter of the homeless were mental cases. “You said you don’t have a watch, so you don’t know when you came across the car. But it was night. Why were you in that neighborhood? Were you looking for a place under the Tobin?”

  “Better ask why the Jag was there. It’s our block. I think it was there because it’s the bottle. But no, dude, we don’t sleep under the bridge. My buddy Leo’s scouted this place right behind one of those electric transformers – for when the Oak Street Inn overflows. Last night I was lucky – till you found me. I forgot to crack the window and I fogged it up. I guess that was part of the plan too.”

  Lyons exchanged a look with Huss.

  “And what about Leo?” said Lyons.

  “He let me have the car. Leo’s like that. Can you turn off the damn AC?”

  “It’s broken. Sorry. Do you know Norma Stern?”

  Ted nodded, but was silent.

  Lyons said, “You know who Norma Stern is – or you know her personally?”

  “You’ve got to find Brian. That’s why she’s gone. If you find Brian, you find her.”

  “Who’s Brian, Ted?”

  “I don’t know. Geez, wouldn’t I say so if I did? I don’t remember what I ate last night – if I ate. I don’t know anything about Brian – except that if you find him you’ll find her.”

  “Norma Stern?”

  “Whatever.” Ted stood up and both cops warned him to sit. He grasped the AC unit’s plug and pulled it out. Then he sat. “You got some kind of listening device in there? I told you; turn it off. Hey, if you two guys want to know about Brian, then you got to understand the bears in the castle. That’s the message. You know, from the dude you’re looking for.”

  “I’m sorry, Ted.” said Lyons. “But sometimes I have trouble understanding things. If you don’t know who Brian is, then how do you know he’s got anything to do with Norma Stern?”

  “Okay, I see, I see. You don’t know. At first I thought you were just playing dumb, but I can tell you’re a good guy – and you seem young to me so maybe these bosses of yours didn’t let you in on it. So now you’ve got something they didn’t want you to know. The deal is, sometimes these people use me to send messages. They put these things in my head using this computer stuff and I don’t know what they’re about - so I remember the name Brian and I remember the bears in the castle. And that’s all I know, because I’m just the message and that Jag was the bottle – I’ve been trying to figure out why it was there and it was there because they wanted me to get in it. Because it’s the goddam bottle, you guys.”

  “And you’re the message.”

  “Can you just turn off the AC for a minute? Geez, it’s driving me crazy.”

  * * * *

  Lyons and Huss saw Jim Arbor approaching them as they left the interview room. Arbor was the superintendent of the department’s Bureau of Investigative Services, the boss’s boss, and could only be coming this way because Manuel Stern was a big fish and the commissioner wanted to see it turn out right. This had less to do with Stern himself - afte
r all, Greater Boston had a lot of self-important investment types - and more to do with the media coverage. Arbor was making the cut-off sign with his flattened palm.

  “Turn him loose.” he said.

  Lyons paused to consider his response. Then, “Sir, could you review the tape with me first? I’m not sure where this is going, but he said something cryptic about bears in a castle and it reminded me of a book I saw in Stern’s condo. Besides, this guy’s our only lead.”

  “I was watching.” said Arbor. “And he’s not our only lead. Mr. Stern got a ransom note a few minutes ago. We’ll plan our next move around that.”

  “In the meantime, can I follow up on Ted?”

  “In the meantime, you’ll drop him off at a shelter.”

  “Oak Square Inn.” said Huss. “It’s where he usually stays, when there’s room.” He turned to Lyons, “Bill, I’ve dealt with Ted before. I picked up for trespassing four, five times a few years ago. In my opinion, the man is what he says - stark nuts.”

  Huss nodded at Lyons and the second cop kept is mouth shut. Sergeant Lyons was no rogue. He played it rough with the public, but in the office he had his eye on the lieutenant's bars. Usually Huss was the one he turned to when someone needed to refocus authority in the most politically cogent way. If Huss wasn’t behind him on this, Lyons didn’t have many options.

  Huss checked his watch and said, “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.” To Arbor he said, “I put in for a half day today. It’s my kid’s birthday.” He made a silent apology to Lyons for leaving him short handed and disappeared.

  The superintendent took Lyons aside, saying, “That interview was meandering, amateur stuff. I know you’ve got a problem with the homeless. Don’t say anything - I know - and do you think I give a shit? I don’t.” Arbor breathed and stepped an inch closer. “Sergeant, I do need you to check under the rug for other leads while we handle this ransom note. I don’t buy it. The only thing is, stay away from Ted. If something else turns up we’ll take care of it then, but I don’t need a detective badgering some shizoid wino because he’s got personal issues.”

  * * * *

  Lyons didn’t say anything to Ted when he dropped him off at the shelter. Instead, he went to the basement, where he found the kitchen. The room was full of kids unloading food from boxes, chopping vegetables and cleaning up around the place. They all wore bright yellow T-shirts bearing the name of Blue Hill Temple, a Baptist church in Dorchester. Lyons wondered why they had to come up to East Boston when there were plenty of homeless people in Dorchester. He figured the yellow shirts encoded the answer. If you want to be seen helping the less fortunate, then you want to be in a well known place like Oak Square, not one of the dozen or so more anonymous outfits that covered Dot.

  The only one over twenty in the room was a massive, bearded guy that was ordering the others around. Lyons walked up to the man and introduced himself.

  “Andy Till? I’m Inspector Lyons. I happen to be a friend of Sergeant Huss, who I understand is friends with you.”

  “Oh yeah Huss comes down to the Temple all the time. He’s a solid guy.”

  “I agree. I had some questions about Ted, a schizophrenic man that sometimes stays here. My friend’s picked him up a number of times and I just dropped him off. I don’t really want to make trouble for him, but he was found in a very expensive car owned by a missing woman. Huss tells me Ted’s a little troubled, but not dangerous, and after talking with the guy I have to agree. But you see – my boss has it out for him.”

  “I’d believe it. You know life sucks for the disenfranchised, but let me tell you – it really sucks. And what kind of compassion do you get? Constant harassment from the cops. No offense; you seem like a good man.”

  “I try. Can you tell me anything about Ted? Any family that I might be able to inform about his condition?”

  “Do you know his last name? Because I don’t. And I don’t know any of his family.”

  “What about someone named Brian?”

  The preacher let out a laugh that shook the earth.

  “Brian is imaginary.” he said. “Sort of. I think he’s Jesus.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s clear to me that Ted was once a church boy. He can quote the Bible better than any kid in here.”

  “We found him with stacks of Bible verses.”

  “He’s working on a book. He’s trying to refute every single verse in the Bible, word by word. Ted’s an atheist, or so he says. We’ve had many theological arguments. I’ll say one thing; he’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. But he’s confused. I think he’s a victim of child abuse. He turned away from his religious education, but deep down he still holds some seeds of faith. Sometimes little shoots of reason manage to poke through all those layers of crazy.”

  “You think Brian is his representation of Jesus?”

  “That’s right my friend.”

  “And what about the bears in the castle?”

  “The what in the what now?”

  “Nevermind. Is there anyone else who might know Ted well?”

  “Only Leo. Hey, Leo!”

  A tall, rail thin man came out from a store room. Lyons pegged him at around fifty. With his stocking cap and string through his belt loops, he looked like one of the residents here. But he was carrying a box like the well-scrubbed kids. The preacher introduced Leo to Lyons and the two struck up a conversation.

  “I’ve known Ted for five years.” said Leo. “Here’s the most important thing you need to know about him. He can find people. We first became friends when he got me off a DUI. That was when I still had a car. Maybe I’m a drunk, but I never drove drunk. That other lady wasn’t paying attention, but of course they pick me up. I look like trouble. Hell, I am trouble.”

  “What does this have to do with Ted?” said Lyons.

  “He found that woman. He tracked her down and he got her to call off the cops. And just two weeks ago, Teddy found someone more important. My daughter. I haven’t seen her in, I don’t know, about twenty years. She’s coming to see me this weekend. I owe Ted my life, in every way that matters.”

  “Let me ask you something Leo. You said you’re a drunk.”

  “I was. I’m in AA now.”

  “Come with me.” Lyons walked Leo over to a corner where the two could speak out of earshot of anyone else in the room. “How long have you been this way? At least since you’ve last seen your daughter, I bet. And you seem pretty sober now, but you’re still here.”

  “You can’t just jump back in. I can’t work for no one but the preacher.”

  “Yeah, you can’t jump back in even if you are dry. But are you?”

  Leo leaned back. “Well not yet. But I’m better.”

  “I’m sure you’ve been getting better for years. I’ll tell you what you are and you tell me if I’m wrong. You and Ted share something in common. You blame your problems on other people. He does it in his crazy way and you do it in your drunk way, but in the end it’s always someone else’s fault, isn’t it?”

  “It’s all a little bit my fault, and little bit from where I landed in life.”

  “Ted didn’t do you a favor when he got you off that DUI. He found that woman and he threatened her. That’s the story I’m piecing together in my head. You didn’t even ask him to do it. And I’m sure at first it frightened you, but then you saw the advantage of having a friend like him. You’ve got to protect him from himself and in return he finds things for you.”

  Leo was nodding and looking at his shoes, but not speaking. Lyons asked him if he really wasn’t drunk when he hit that car. Leo said nothing.

  “I understand. My dad was dumb and as hell and when one moronic decision lead to another he turned us out on the street. After that they took us away and I lived in foster care. The difference is that he was no addict. He had one simple problem and that was he couldn’t take responsibility for his own actions. Sure, life sucks, but people make their own way more than anyone wants to believe.
You’re here because you deserve it, and don’t you ever forget that.”

  Another phone call interrupted their chat. The superintedent was wondering what his inspector was up to. Lyons explained that he was following up with one of the family members that Manuel Stern had referred him to. He was now going back to Stern to corroborate some information. Lyons hung up.

  Leo said, “You’re a lying shit, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t do my job by letting morons push me around.”

  “Is that what your old man did? Let morons push him around?”

  Lyons shoved the skinny man against the wall. One of the kids in a yellow shirt stopped and glared at them. The inspector looked at the kid, looked at Leo, and walked off. Leo called after him,

  “Sure sounds like you’re making your own way, man.”

  * * * *

  Lyons got a call on the way back to Stern’s house. It was two thirty and his daughter’s mother was stuck at work again, which meant it was Lyon’s job to pick up Lil from kindergarten. He pulled up to the curb and made Lil sit in the front seat. Lil’s mom kept kids under twelve in the back seat like the rules say, but the girl wasn’t going to tell on her dad for giving her this privilege. The mom always accused him of trying to conspire against her, and the cop always denied it. Like Stern had said, each half of a couple was entitled to do one thing that was of no concern to the other.

  Lil said, “Mommy’s working again?”

  “Uh-huh. That’s right baby.”

  “I want you to stay with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

  “What’s wrong with staying with Grammy?” said Lyons.

  “I don’t like Judge Judy.”

  “Heh. It’ll show you how many idiots there are and how not to become one of them.” She huffed and Lyons said, “Lil you’ve got to stay with Grammy because Daddy works too.”

  “Why do you both work?”

  Lyons lived in a triple-decker he bought years ago with his mother. After Dad died, Mom couldn’t keep up her place. They sold it and bought this stack of flats. The idea was that Mom would get free room and board in exchange for the down payment. That was when Lyons and his girlfriend were planning the wedding. Mom would live in the bottom apartment, Lyons would live in the middle, and they’d rent out the top to someone else. It was a good plan until Lyons found out he wasn’t Lil’s father. And maybe that was the ex’s version of doing philanthropy behind Lyon’s back. Now the two ladies lived in the top apartment while Lyons stayed in the middle. It was bizarre, but Lyons demanded it. He even knocked down the rent to entice them to stay. What the ex didn’t understand was that Lyons had been Lil’s father for six years and he wasn’t about to resign over a simple matter of mismatched sperm.