Death Never Sleeps (15 page)

Michael sensed that, like all of Alex’s wives, Jennifer had a short attention span. Perhaps, he thought, it was a useful trait for anyone who had spent a lot of time with Alex. But, unlike Alex’s wives, Jennifer Walsh had a certain spark, a high energy level, and a head on her shoulders.

Jennifer lifted her champagne flute and finished her second glass. She appeared nervous and tense and obviously was looking for something to relieve her anxiety. As he watched and listened, he sensed her insecurity but began to believe in her sincerity.

“Michael, there’s a very important reason I asked to meet with you today.”

“What is it? Is something wrong?” Michael could see Jennifer struggling, but he really had no clue what it could be, unless … But he quickly forced himself to stop speculating and turned his total attention to this beautiful woman who was now leaning in closer to him, her face only several inches from his, as he inhaled her Chanel scent.

“Here’s the thing. I don’t know if you know any of this already, but Alex had this obsession with living forever. He never believed in that stuff like where they froze Ted Williams’s body.”

“You mean cryonics?” Michael and his brother had once discussed the sad situation where the great baseball star’s son actually had surgeons first decapitate and then preserve Williams’s body in two pieces, frozen in liquid nitrogen.

“Alex said that was total bullshit, and he didn’t like the idea of being split in two. But he was always talking about some way to live forever or something like that, you know?” Jennifer ordered another glass of champagne. Michael could see the tension beginning to lift as she began talking about Alex and perhaps unburdening herself.

“I know,” Michael said. “I often thought he had too much free time on his hands. Sometimes, though, he had some really good insights.”

“Well,” Jennifer continued, “he really got into this artificial intelligence thing with computers. He had Russell do a whole lot of work for him on his computer, along with some imaging stuff so that
he made another real Alex on his computer
.” She was watching Michael’s face and expressions as she was describing Alex’s uncharacteristic foray into sophisticated technology and the afterlife.

Michael wanted to reassure her that he wasn’t questioning her information. “I’ve heard a little about this from Alex’s friend, Skinny Lester. Do you know him?”

“I met him a few times. Mostly by accident when Alex and I went out to eat. I didn’t think Alex had told anyone about this except, of course, for Russell … and my God, I read what happened to him.”

“Well, I don’t think he really meant to tell Lester, but I think they were sitting around Alex’s house one night, and Alex had too much to drink and showed it off. But Lester didn’t really know what to make of it. By the way, the police found nothing unusual, other than some porn, on Alex’s computer.”

Jennifer looked puzzled. “Which computer did they check?”

“Donna told me the police downloaded everything from Alex’s office hard drives and his home computer that sits in his den,” Michael said.

“Was it a regular big computer with a separate monitor and all that?”

“Yes. It’s got a pretty large screen or monitor attached. Alex’s was larger than most people’s television screens.” Michael was laughing.

“A lot of Alex’s things were bigger than other people’s.” Jennifer leaned into the table, slightly invading Michael’s private space, making him feel just a bit uneasy. “That’s not the computer he used for real personal things—or for his artificial intelligence stuff.”

“Oh my God, that’s it.” Michael brightened up with the revelation. Now he knew what Alex had wanted to show him. “I never thought of that. There’s another computer?”

Jennifer appeared to relax, ordered her fourth glass of champagne, and continued enthusiastically. “Alex never wanted to leave real personal things on his home computer. He also even set up a separate e-mail account just so we could e-mail and message each other. He was always nervous that someone would get on his home computer and see stuff.”

“Who was he worried about?” Michael could see several more layers of Alex’s life and personality being unraveled.

“Well, he was worried about everyone. Alex always worried about everything, you know. He was obsessed that someone might go on his computer—even innocently—while he was at work or out at night. He certainly didn’t want Donna getting into it—especially if anything about me was in there. But he was also very concerned that this artificial intelligence stuff stayed a secret.”

“So he had
another
computer …” Michael was now the one leaning into the table.

“Well, Alex was also absolutely in love with Apple computers. He had an iPod, you know, for years. He had twenty thousand songs on it. Then, when he saw this Apple laptop—I think it was called a MacBook—he fell in love with it. After he got it home, he had these really smart people customize it or something. Alex said he owned the most powerful Mac in the world. He called it his ‘Big Mac.’

“But here’s where it got real interesting. He then had Russell do all this research and contact companies that specialized in artificial intelligence. One of them was in Europe, I think, some others in San Francisco or Silicon Valley. Alex spent a shitload of money on all this. Then Russell loaded all this new experimental artificial intelligence, and voice and imaging software onto the laptop.

“Alex brought the Apple over to my apartment one night. I swear he was obsessed with it. He said that, in the process of working with all that expensive software, Russell had made some big breakthrough, something that had never been done before. This laptop was unbelievable though. It weighed a ton, too. I told him, I thought those things were supposed to be light, but this was some special machine. I called it his ‘mini Alex,’ you know, like ‘mini me.’ He thought that was funny.”

“Jennifer, where is this laptop now?”

“Michael, you have to promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You know that porn you mentioned? On Alex’s other computer?”

Michael’s imagination began to soar, despite his best efforts to stay focused. “Yes. I never saw it though. Donna just mentioned that the cops had found it.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that. It’s the porn on his Apple laptop that I need your help with.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s pretty kinky. I’d hate for it to get out.”

“What difference does it make? Why do you care?” Michael had already guessed the answer.

“I’m the star. It was meant to be private, just for Alex.”

“I’ll take care of it. I promise. But, Jennifer, where is the laptop?”

“It’s where no one would ever find it.” Jennifer’s electric-blue eyes lit up. “Shall we order lunch?”

Chapter 27

Whitestone, Queens, New York

November 23, 2009

M
ichael let himself in through the front door using the key Donna had given him after Alex’s murder. He entered the security code, disabled the alarm system, and then walked through the entry hall and up the stairs into the master bedroom.

Alex’s house was dark. Michael knew that Donna was out to dinner at a nearby Queens restaurant. He walked across the room, switched on the lamp by the bed, and then turned and walked several steps over to Alex’s personal closet, opening the double doors and walking into the huge wardrobe.

In an odd flashback, he remembered, as a teenager, searching his brother’s closet, looking for Alex’s collection of
Playboy
magazines. Tonight, as he turned on the closet’s many recessed lights, Michael was astonished by what he saw.

The closet was empty; not a trace of Alex was visible in the dark-red mahogany shelves. Not a pair of trousers or a shirt. In fact, the cabinetry looked brand-new, as though it had been built, or rebuilt, quite recently. The walls had been freshly painted and the carpeting, although the same design as the rest of the master suite, was clearly new, its color tones slightly brighter than the surrounding areas.

Michael pulled out his cell phone and dialed Jennifer’s number. She answered on the first ring. “Michael, is everything okay? Did you find it?”

“Everything is fine, I guess. I’m in Alex’s closet. I think we’re too late though. Everything’s gone. All his stuff is gone. In fact, it looks like the whole closet’s been redone. It’s all new, the shelving, everything. The paint’s all fresh.

“I didn’t think Donna knew about the laptop, but if it was here as you said, she must have found it. Everything’s been ripped up.”

Michael left Alex’s closet and stood, gazing at Donna’s bedroom in the soft light. Unlike when Alex was alive, the bedroom was a mess, with Donna’s nightgowns, lingerie, and several pairs of shoes on the floor. The bed was unmade. Used bath towels rested on one of the chairs. A half-empty bottle of chardonnay and a single dirty wineglass stood on the table beside Donna’s side of the bed. Michael checked the glass carefully. There was lipstick on the rim. It appeared that Donna was drinking alone.

“She may not have known about the laptop,” Michael whispered to Jennifer as he continued to walk around the room. “I think Donna was just looking for some cash we think Alex hid somewhere in the house. If she found the laptop instead, she may not know what’s in it unless she was able to figure out his password.”

“Wow,” Jennifer exclaimed, “how much did Alex hide?”

Michael felt a twinge of concern over the question. He wasn’t about to tell Jennifer that the amount Alex stashed away could be millions. After all, he thought, how well did he know Jennifer? For that matter, how well did he really even know Donna?

“I don’t know,” Michael answered, doubting Jennifer believed him.

“It doesn’t matter to me, Michael. I was just curious.” Her tone turned curt. “Maybe the laptop is somewhere else in the house, particularly if Donna doesn’t know about the AI stuff. Maybe it’s just lying around there somewhere.”

“It’s possible. I’ll take a quick look, but I need to get out of here before Donna gets back and finds me in her bedroom.”

Michael was becoming more unsure about whom he could trust. Donna had, after all, mentioned to him that she had looked through the house for Alex’s hiding places. Michael was still surprised, however, that she had completely ripped up Alex’s massive closet and already had it totally rebuilt. It all seemed a bit too much and too soon.

He continued to look through the mess in the bedroom, carefully replacing each black lace bra, pairs of black stockings, purple thongs, garter belts, Spanx, and other lingerie to where he found them, but there was no trace of the laptop. He could smell Donna’s Chanel perfume as his fingers touched each intimate item. Feeling like a voyeur, Michael rifled through her drawers and armoire.
It’s like Frederick’s of Hollywood in here
.
Lots of panties but no computer
, he thought as he left the bedroom.

The light reflecting from the outside street lamps illuminated enough of the hallway so that Michael could see where he was going. He wasn’t sure why he was so concerned about the lights since his car was parked right outside anyway. If Donna did arrive back home while he was still in the house, she would recognize his car and know he was there. He would have to explain that he dropped over for some reason. He knew that he could never acknowledge that he had been in her bedroom.

He entered Alex’s den, turning on the overhead recessed lights. The room looked much as it had when he met there a few days earlier with Donna and the two Lesters. His eyes immediately focused, however, on Alex’s desk. There was something new: the brushed silver laptop with the Apple emblem sat on the top of the desk, next to Alex’s other desktop unit.

Beside the laptop was a yellow legal pad filled with numbers and letters. Michael studied the notations. The page was divided into two sections, one titled “UN” and the other “PW.” Underneath each column were hundreds of various potential user names and password combinations of names, numbers, and letters. The handwriting was not Donna’s. It was clear that someone was trying to figure out Alex’s user name and password in order to gain access to whatever was on Alex’s laptop. Michael noticed that many of the combinations were well-educated guesses, including numerous variations of “121354,” “117247524,” and “5149149,” which represented Alex’s birthday, social security number, and street address.

Michael sat at his brother’s desk and opened the laptop, waiting for the home screen to appear. He understood Alex’s fascination with the Apple. It was a sleek, finely crafted machine. Suddenly a bright blue screen appeared with the logo of the New York Yankees off to the right, alongside a photograph of Alex, George, and Pete, three generations, on the beach in Miami. Finally, a series of icons appeared.

Michael’s eyes passed over the twenty icons neatly displayed in four symmetrical rows of five. The first one to catch his attention was a miniscule image of a pretty blonde face. As Michael brought his face closer to the screen he recognized the blinking blue eyes. They were the eyes of Jennifer Walsh. This was likely the “private porn” he had promised to erase.
I’ll keep that promise, eventually,
he thought to himself, aware that he was now sidetracked.

But as he moved the cursor to her image, another icon caught his eye. It was a small gold cross, antique or Eastern Orthodox looking. This had to be what he was looking for. He clicked on it and typed in the user name, “57chevy,” and password, “triplecrown7,” Jennifer had given him at lunch.

Slowly a new scene unfolded on the laptop screen. It was Alex, seemingly alive, smiling broadly, sitting behind the very desk Michael sat at right at that moment. The camera zoomed in. Alex’s eyes stared right back at Michael as though they were speaking to each other across the dinner table. It was a miracle and bizarre—but real.

“My God, it’s you,” Michael said.

It was as though Moses had parted the Red Sea. The camera zoomed in even closer, and Alex’s voice answered back, “No shit. I must be dead.”