Stacy Matthews - Dear Mary 01 - Think Twice Before You Order (6 page)

June 10
^th

Dear Mary,

I must have slept harder than I thought. I didn’t think I had
slept at all but the next thing I knew, Charlie was knocking at the door. I’m
sure I looked like hell, but he was nice enough not to come right out and say
it. It was already eight o’clock so while I took a shower, Charlie made us
breakfast: eggs, bacon, toast and coffee, the usual.

When we finished with breakfast Charlie said he knew Grandpa
kept most of his important papers in a small safe, and he wanted to see if
maybe we could find the name of the agency Grandpa used. Charlie pulled the
safe out of the closet, and then he pulled out what he called a “pick set,” a
set of tools used to pick locks. One was bent at the top like an Allen wrench.
He put the bent one in first on the right topside of the lock, and put the
straight one right below the first, the next thing I knew, the safe was open.
We took the papers out of the safe but the only things in it were the title to
the house, car, and insurance papers. We did find the marriage license, but no
paperwork as to what company or agency Grandpa used. We made our way back to
the kitchen and got some coffee to go. Seeing as how it was after nine, we
needed to get a move on.

Charlie wanted to take his car, so we headed out to the
driveway. I opened the front door and there sat his pride and joy. A candy
apple red 1965 Ford Mustang, completely rehabbed inside and out. He had the
seats, dashboard, door panels, and landau roof recovered in tan leather. 
He was so excited to show me everything he had done; he was like a little kid
with a new toy. He found the car at an auction about fifteen years ago but
never really worked on it until after his wife died. I think it helped him work
through a lot of his grief. I was hoping he would let me drive, but no such
luck. We jumped in and headed towards Dr. Niemeyer’s office on the Plaza. It’s
about half an hour from the house. Silly me thought Charlie might let me drive
part of the way so I could see for myself how well she handled, then he could
take over before we got to the Plaza. Charlie said he really didn’t like anyone
else driving his car.

He also apparently doesn’t like silence in the car. I learned
quite a bit about the Plaza. It was designed by a man named J.C. Nichols, who
was a developer in the area back in the early nineteen hundreds. When the Plaza
was first developed it was a small shopping area with a few stores. It
resembled a small Italian village with its stucco buildings and red tile roofs.
Now it is fifteen blocks of the most expensive shops, restaurants, and office
space in town.

If you think of the fifteen blocks as a square, the roads
that make the outline of the square are the only roads that have any
stoplights. There are no stop signs or stoplights on any of the streets inside
of the square, and the pedestrians have the right of way. It’s quaint and still
a very popular place to shop in the Kansas City area. There are numerous
hotels, homes and lofts that outline the square. They have a lighting ceremony
every Thanksgiving Day Night that kicks off the holiday season and it has
gained national attention. Literally hundreds of thousands of people turn out
for it every year. It is quite impressive.

We were lucky and found a parking spot in front of Dr.
Niemeyer’s office. We took the elevator to the second floor and went left down the
hallway. His office was much smaller than I imagined and very plain. Maybe it’s
just me but when I think of a counselor’s office I imagine it to be cozy and
homey; lots of overstuffed furniture and books, things that would make you feel
comfortable enough to tell someone your problems. This office was small and
impersonal, almost institutional looking. There were two straight-back chairs
and a table with a few magazines on it, and straight in front of that is the
counter where the receptionist sat.

When Charlie and I walked in, there was no one in the waiting
room, and the receptionist was on the phone. We casually looked around as we
waited for her to get off the phone. I did notice that she didn’t take her eyes
off us from the minute we walked in the door. She was a stern-looking woman.
She had dark hair that was pulled back in a tight bun. I wouldn’t call it a
uniform that she had on, but if that was an outfit there’s a lot of room for
improvement.  “Can I help you?” I couldn’t help but notice that she
sounded a lot like that cartoon character Natasha that said “Moose and
Squirrel.” I was going to ask her to say Moose and Squirrel, but she didn’t
look like she had a sense of humor. I introduced myself and told her I was
looking for my grandfather and Tatiana. She looked at me with a blank face,
almost as if she was looking through me and not at me. She finally said patient
information is confidential. I reiterated that I didn’t want patient
information; I wanted to know if they knew where Grandpa and Tatiana might be.
She said she would have to check with the doctor, and disappeared down the
hall. I think she walked around the corner and stood there, but what do I know?
She returned in less than a minute. She said she had checked Tatiana’s file and
the only family listed was Mr. Graham. They only keep information on the
patient’s immediate family. She also checked with the doctor, but he had no
idea where they might be. That was the only information she was going to be
able to give us and that was probably too much.

How could
telling
us if the knew
where Grandpa and Tatiana were violate patient confidentiality? Grandpa and
Tatiana had supposedly been spending so much time with the doctor I found it
hard to believe they had no idea where they might be. Charlie assumed Grandpa
had told Tatiana about me, but now he wasn’t sure. It ran across my mind that I
should tell this Natasha knock-off how rude she was, and if she hadn’t been so
scary looking, I would have. Charlie grabbed my arm and headed towards the door.
I couldn’t tell what Charlie was cooking up, but I thought for sure it was
going to involve going back into that office. I brought to his attention that I
thought Natasha could beat the crap out of me. He assured me that we weren’t
going back in there, at least not while anyone was there.
             

Was he suggesting a break-in? Break-in sounds so against the
law. I don’t have a problem doing it, I would prefer we call it something more
intriguing like “Operation Moose and Squirrel.” I asked Charlie if he had been
on a lot of operations. He said he had been on his share but my security
clearance wasn’t high enough for any more information than that. What a funny
guy.

We went back to the car and headed towards home. He said he
would get everything we needed for tonight, and he would pick me up around one
o’clock. That’s in the a.m.! He told me to be dressed in black. I had to go
shopping; I didn’t bring anything black. I jumped into Grandpa’s car and headed
out. It was kind of nice driving around town listening to the radio. It was as
if I had never left. Isn’t it funny how certain things trigger memories?
Something as simple as driving around listening to your favorite station makes
you feel like you’re a teenager again. The only things missing were Valerie and
Stephen. I got to the store and bought everything I needed. Shirt, shoes,
pants. If it was black and fit I bought it.

I have to tell you Mary I’m very excited. I’ve never gone on
an operation. I’m just praying Charlie remembers how to do this. I know it’s
been a while since he’s been on one of these; I’m hoping he remembers
everything that needs to be done. I wonder if he’s ever been caught before, or
if he has a back-up plan in case we do get caught? I need to ask him about a
backup plan. I’ll let you know how everything goes tomorrow.

Talk
to you later

June
11
^th

Dear Mary,

Well I have to say I really thought Operation Moose and
Squirrel would be a lot more exciting. I thought there would be more cloak and
dagger, at the very least some sneaking around. It didn’t start off well to
begin with. I decided to make some snacks and drinks to take with us. I had no
idea what an “operation” consisted of but I didn’t want us to get hungry or
thirsty while we were doing it.

I heard Charlie pull into the driveway so I went to the
kitchen and got the sack of snacks and drinks, and then locked up the house.
You should have seen the color drain from Charlie’s face when he saw me with
that sack. He did tell me he liked my outfit before he asked what was in the
sack. He then explained to me the difference between an operation and a
stakeout.  Now I would rather do stakeouts, you get to take food with you
on those. I put the food back in the house, and we made our way to the office.

Even though it was late there were some people walking around
and sitting out on the patios of the restaurants that were still open. Charlie
parked by all of the other cars; I couldn’t believe it. We casually strolled
down the sidewalk to the building. The front doors were locked but Charlie got
us in with no problem. We took the stairs, it was only four flights and good
exercise, and then into the office. We went into the back to find the files;
with Charlie’s unlocking skills he was able to unlock the file cabinets in no
time. I asked him why we had to dress in all black if we weren’t even going to
sneak around or do any kind of spy stuff. He said it was because that was all
he had clean, and he knew once I saw the way he was dressed, I would want to be
dressed the same way. He thought he would save a step and tell me that’s what I
had to wear, smart man.

As we were looking for the files on Tatiana, we noticed that
most of the clients were women. We both thought this was a little odd so we
took out several of the files and began reading them. Charlie took photos of
all the files with the smallest camera I have ever seen. It had to have been
something he used at work, very spy like; that made me feel a little better. We
couldn’t find anything on Tatiana. Nothing, not a chart, a bill, or progress
notes. We made sure we put everything back as we had found it and left. We went
back to the car and headed for home. I couldn’t believe it; my first operation
and no one noticed anything. Now I know why people say, “I didn’t see anything”
when asked about a crime that has just occurred. No one pays attention. Two
people dressed completely in black strolled down the street, opened a locked
office building, then an office. We went through file cabinets and took
photographs, and then let ourselves out of the building. Not one person
noticed, never gave us a second look.

It was very disappointing.

When we got back to the house it was around two thirty in the
morning. There were a couple of lights still on in Mrs. Ruby’s house; enjoying
one of her refreshments I’m sure. I told you she doesn’t sleep. I thought about
taking a picture of her with Charlie’s little camera, but I had no idea where
Charlie had put it. I went into the kitchen and got out a couple of the
sandwiches I had made, along with a couple of our own refreshments. Charlie
went to the computer room and did his magic. When I walked into the room he was
printing out something. He had enlarged all of the files so they would be
easier to read. We skimmed over the files to see if there was a common thread.
There wasn’t any one thing that stood out except that most of the patients were
women, and a fairly large number of them were from different countries. Now I
don’t know anything about investigating people, but I thought this was odd.
Remember Natasha? She’s the doctor’s wife, and most likely the woman everyone
had seen and thought was Tatiana’s sister. It seems the good doctor and his
wife kept meticulous records on everything except Tatiana. Including e-mails
and letters from someone named Tyler Moran. All of which were in a foreign
language. Charlie thought we should contact some of these patients and see if
any of them would talk to us. I am getting a feeling that we have stumbled onto
something much bigger than we thought.

Other than the mystery e-mails and letters, we didn’t find
anything interesting or informative in the files. They didn’t contain the
smoking gun we were hoping for. Charlie went home to get some sleep; then he
was going to take all of the files, e-mails and letters over to Mark’s. They
are going to run everything through the data bases Mark has access to, and see
if they can come up with anything on the names we did get. Then Charlie will
make a list of the patients and come back later. We will try to put them in
some kind of order and hope some of them will talk to us. Charlie is very
persuasive; I’m sure he’ll get them to talk.

Later

Evening June 11
^th

Dear Mary,

Charlie called and said having the letters translated was
taking a little longer than he and Mark expected. They hadn’t found any useful
information on any of the names. He was putting together the list of the
patient addresses. He thought it would be a good idea to rest up tonight so we
could head out early in the morning. That sounded good to me, so I headed to the
kitchen to find something for dinner. That’s when someone knocked at the door.

When I looked out the window you’ll never guess who I saw,
you know this never happens in New York. No one just drops by to chat. I’m
starting to realize how much I miss living here, and having people in your
neighborhood that actually care enough about you to check on you.

It was Mr. and Mrs. Dixson. They live down on the next block,
and Mrs. Dixson’s sister, Chub, lives a block over from the Dixson’s. You know
I’ve never really thought about it until now, but I’m sure Chub isn’t her real
name. Mrs. Dixson said she had seen me sidetracked every time I tried to take a
walk, so she thought it would be a good idea to come up to the house instead of
waiting for me to make it down to her.

I have to explain the Dixson’s to you. I can honestly say
they are one of the most unique couples I’ve ever come across. If you were the
sort of person that judges people by first appearances you would never guess
those two would be married.

Up first is Mr. Dixson. He looks like a man that works hard,
and he does. He spits his chew into an empty pop can, and if you can get a word
out of him, you’re doing better than most of the town. He owns a small pig farm
on the outskirts of town and seems to do well enough. The one thing people say
about him is that he is a very fair man in business as well as his personal
life. Even when business was down, he wouldn’t take a dime from Mrs. Dixson’s
father; that’s just the way Mr. Dixson is.

Now Mrs. Dixson is a completely different story. You can look
at her and tell she came from money, and a lot of it. Mrs. Dixson is always
dressed to the nines and looks like she stepped out of a magazine. One summer
Mrs. Dixson was visiting Mrs. Kelley four houses down from my Mom and Dad’s old
house. It had been cloudy, hot and humid all day, then the storm hit. The
tornado sirens started going off. The Kelley’s didn’t have a basement, so Mrs.
Dixson and Mrs. Kelley came over to Mom and Dad’s. Now keep in mind they both walked
the same distance, but Mrs. Kelley looked like she walked through the tornado,
and Mrs. Dixson didn’t have a hair out of place. It’s like she has an invisible
bubble around her. I have a feeling she wakes up looking like that.

Mrs. Dixson’s family was not pleased when she fell in love
with Mr. Dixson. Her father, Bud Benson, owned the tire store in town. His
plans had been to hand over the business to the man his eldest daughter
married. I would have loved to
have been
a fly on the
wall when Mrs. Dixson brought Mr. Dixson home and told her parents he was Mr.
Right.

I don’t know how Chub got that name, because she is anything
but chubby. Mrs. Dixson and Chub look a lot alike, but Chub has more of a model
look to her. As far back as I can remember
,
Chub
always had a lot of boyfriends, so Mrs. Dixson had to catch me up on all of the
latest ones. She said for the life of her she can’t figure out why none of them
had married Chub. It’s not that Chub hadn’t tried the traditional route; she
has been married five times. None of them seemed to stick, so Chub resigned
herself to the fact that she was meant to have boyfriends, not husbands. Chub
doesn’t have any children, and the Dixson’s have one son who is the spitting
image of his father. Not only does he look like his dad, he loves working with
his dad, so that pretty much ruled out the grandson taking over the tire store
for Mr. Benson. We talked for a little while longer, and she decided she had
caught me up on everything in her world. Before they left, she asked if I had
any dinner plans. When I said no, we were headed to the Dixson’s for a home
cooked meal. If this keeps up, I won’t have to do any cooking the entire time
I’m here.

Mrs. Dixson made chicken fried steak, green beans, homemade
biscuits, and the required taters and gravy. I swear I have gainedten pounds
since I’ve gotten here.

No wonder most of the men around here wear overalls; they buy
them big so they can just grow into them. All that food has put me in a
semi-coma.

Talk to you later