Read You Think You Know Me Pretty Well aka Mercy Online
Authors: David Kessler
You Think You Know Me Pretty Well aka Mercy (25 page)
Nat couldn’t fail but smile at the District Court judge’s attempt at levity. He wasn’t sure if most rabbis were failed comedians, or most comedians were failed rabbis.
“Yes, I know, I’m sorry but—”
“Oh don’t apologize. You’ve got a client who’s due for execution in a few hours. You’ve got the right to do whatever is necessary within the law.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Basically what we’ve now been able to obtain are bank statements showing that Dorothy Olsen opened a bank account in London a few days after she vanished. More important, however, these statements show that she made a series of payments to the Finchley Road Medical Centre in London. This went on for more than a year
after
she vanished.”
“May I see these bank statements?”
Nat handed them over to the judge. The judge looked at them and noted the transactions highlighted with a green highlighter pen. But there was something about these statements that troubled him.
“These look like computer printouts.”
“Oh they are.”
“So these are not originals – and they’re not bank-certified copies?”
“No, they’re new printouts. You see, Dorothy Olsen used internet banking—”
“Did they have that in those days?”
“It’s been around since the eighties but it took off in the mid-nineties.”
“How did you get these?”
“From Dorothy’s online account.”
“The bank gave them to you?”
“No, Your Honor. My boss’s son – David Sedaka – is a computer expert and he was able to – ”
“He hacked into the bank?”
“Not exactly, Your Honor. Hacking directly into a bank’s computer system is quite hard. But when the bank provides online banking to its customers, the weak spot is the customer themselves. You can’t just hack into a bank’s computer, but the bank offers online banking to customers and David Sedaka was able to obtain her user ID and password and, armed with this information, he was able to log on to Miss Olsen’s bank account in England.”
“That was highly illegal and could result in federal charges.”
The judge sounded like a teacher lecturing a student who had just been caught cheating in an exam.
“We know that, Your Honor, and David Sedaka has indicated that he accepts responsibility and is ready to face the consequences. But in the meantime, the evidence exists and it
does
present the case in a whole new light.”
“If the State was here, they’d no doubt be arguing the fruit of the poison tree.”
“With a man’s
life
hanging in the balance?”
“They can be ruthless at times,” said the judge with a smile.
“The question is, are you?” asked Nat.
“How do we know that this actually was Miss Olsen making the payments? Maybe this was some form of post-mortem embezzlement. She could have already been dead.”
“The payment went out to an established and respectable medical center. They’ve already confirmed that she went there for an abortion and – ”
“Hold on a minute! This wasn’t for an abortion!”
“We know that. And it could even be that the account
was
being milked by someone else. But that in turn could mean that she died during the procedure and they covered it and then milked her account.”
The judge looked irritated at this.
“Now we’re back in the realms of speculation, aren’t we?”
“Okay, I take your point, Your Honor. But the one thing we can be sure of is that money was leaving her account –
which she opened in England
– for more than
a year
after she was supposedly dead. And that suggests that she was alive during that period at least – while at the same time
choosing
not to get into contact with those she would normally have been in contact with.”
“
Suggests
it, Mr. Anderson, but doesn’t
prove
it.”
“True. But it does present the case in a radically new light, Your Honor.”
After his father’s unexpectedly harsh reaction to his hacking into Dorothy’s bank account, David decided to return his attention to the computer and the deleted data from the hard disk.
From the feedback he had received, it was clear that the poem he unveiled had caused quite a stir, notwithstanding his father’s initial skepticism. The consensus now was that this was Dorothy’s expression of rage toward Clayton Burrow. It had even enabled Alex to get a confession out of Burrow for the rape of Dorothy Olsen, although he still denied murder.
So it made sense for David to try and unearth the rest of the poem. It was obvious that the verse was just a
fragment
of a poem, because it had no title. Normally a writer, even an amateur, would give their literary work a title and, even if it was on their own computer, would add their name as the author.
The fact that there was nothing before or after the verse relating to it, suggested that it was a fragment from an earlier save, not the final version. But where was the rest? It was probably there, it was just a question finding it. He thought about the words for a minute.
You dragged me before the mirror
And ripped the clothes off of me
Forcing me to face the fact
That I am not, that I am not
The thing that you want me to be
Presumably the whole poem was written in that style. But he was a computer scientist not a linguist or a poetry expert. How could he search for a particular style? How could he describe the style in a computer program?
Then it hit him. The verse was addressed to someone referred to only as “You.” The rest of the poem was probably written in the same style. So the trick was to write a program that would look for two or more instances of “you” in close proximity! He could create a search application in C++, the very powerful, high-level language used to create fast-running programs.
In a matter of minutes the search program was running and the master program was feeding it text from the sectors of the disk platter considered to be the most likely candidates for the rest of the poem.
It wasn’t long before he found another verse.
You crushed the hope out of me
Not in cold blood but angrily
And only when you died
Did I resolve the mystery
Of your vicious assault on my dignity
More words of reproach aimed at her tormentor.
David could see that this was not just the work of the same hand but probably the same
poem
as the other verse. This was Dorothy’s expression of anger and bitterness toward an enemy who had made her life a misery.
He had to tell his father. Again, he made his way to the office just outside the lab where he had left his cell phone. He had keyed in the number and was about to press the green button when something struck him. He put the phone down and went back to the computer. For a few seconds, he just stood there in front of the terminal, staring at the words on the screen.
“Only when you died… only when you…
died
.”
His father’s speculation was wrong.
“Only when you
dieD
.”
Past tense!
But Clayton Burrow wasn’t dead.
Whoever this poem was addressed to, it was
not
Clayton Burrow.
“Alex Sedaka’s office … hallo?”
Juanita put the phone down angrily just as Nat entered the office.
“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” he asked.
“Just spit it out, jackass!”
“They refuse!”
“The TRO?”
“Final?”
Nat took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly.
“Refused to grant it ex parte. But they’ve scheduled a full hearing for eight thirty. If we’re successful, they’ll grant a stay of execution. The DA’s been notified. We’ve given them copies of the bank statements, so hopefully they’ll see reason and agree to reopen the case.”
Juanita smiled but then frowned.
“I’m not sure with this DA. He seems to be using the case as a résumé builder.”
Nat went into the kitchen to make some coffee.
“Do you want a cup?” he called out to her.
“Yes … and make it strong.”
He started making the coffee for her while she carried on typing.
“So who was it?” he asked.
“What?”
“On the phone just now.”
“What?”
“When I came in. You were talking to someone.”
“Some idiot. They keep calling and hanging up.”
“Maybe there’s a problem with the line. Maybe they can’t hear you.”
“No, they keep hanging up after I speak. If they couldn’t hear me,
they’d
speak.”
“Maybe it’s the other way round. Maybe
you
can’t hear
them
.”
“
They’re
not staying on the line long enough to be talking.”
“So call them back.”
He was bringing in the coffee.
“I can’t. They’re withholding the number.”
“Oh really?” Nat was surprised now.
“That’s why I think it’s deliberate. I keep seeing ‘number withheld’ on the display when it rings and then, when I answer, they give me the silent treatment.”
“Okay, if they call again, let me answer.”
“Why?” she asked with a grin. “You think the caller’s a misogynist?”
“Or maybe just a gynophobe,” he replied, smiling back at her.
“Have you been taking one of those correspondence courses again?”
“Ha fuckin’ ha.”
When the phone rang again, she instinctively reached for it. As she scooped it up she noticed from the caller display that it was again from a withheld number. She quickly waved her other hand to alert Nat. He leaned over and took the receiver from her.
“Alex Sedaka’s office,” said Nat.
“We need to talk,” said a familiar voice.
Alex hadn’t made any further headway with Jonathan. He knew that Jonathan was lying, or at least holding back something. But he couldn’t force it out of him. He had to remember that Jonathan Olsen was the brother of the girl that his client had been convicted of murdering. Whatever new evidence there was to show that Dorothy was alive a year later, it didn’t prove that she was alive
now
. And whatever Jonathan knew, there was no reason to assume that he was wrong in blaming Clayton Burrow for his sister’s death.
But what Alex wondered was how much
Esther
Olsen knew. True, she and Dorothy were estranged at the time of Dorothy’s disappearance and hardly talked to each other. But they had still been living under the same roof. Could Esther Olsen have been so oblivious to what was going on in Dorothy’s life?
And the issue had now taken on a new urgency because of the deterioration in Esther’s condition. Juanita had told Alex that she was now in hospital and that she had been asking for him. So now he was driving to the Idylwood Care Center in Sunnyvale to visit her.
Dvorak’s
New World Symphony
blared out and David’s name flashed up on the display.
“Hi, David.”
“Hi, Dad. Quick newsflash.”
“What’s up?”
“More poetry.”
Alex smiled.
“Anything significant?”
“I think so.”
“I can’t read anything right now. I’m on the road.”
“Want me to read it out to you?”
“If you think it’s significant.”
“You tell me. First of all I found one verse earlier. It went like this: ‘You crushed the hope out of me / Not in cold blood but angrily / And only when you died / Did I resolve the mystery / Of your vicious assault on my dignity.’ Note the five-line pattern and note also how it rhymes round the sound ‘ee’ in four of the five lines.”
“Okay, you said that was earlier.”
“That’s right and I was going to call you right away. But
then
I noticed the line ‘And only when you died.’ That’s the bit that doesn’t make sense. Clayton Burrow is still alive.”
