Lost Identity Read online

  ‘No, said Stephen, laughing, ‘I told you it’s nothing like that … we just need to talk.’

  ‘Yeah, right … talking first is good,’ she said, eyes sparkling with mirth.

  ‘No, really I—’

  ‘And here was me thinking that it was me you had the hots for.’

  ‘Honestly, I’m just … oh, maybe I’ll have another cup of tea while I wait.’

  ‘You got it.’

  Chapter 14

  ‘It’s not exactly the height of luxury,’ said Carla, as she led Stephen up the stairs to her second floor apartment.

  And it wasn’t. The front door opened straight into a tiny living room furnished with an old, saggy couch upholstered in faded brown fabric; a wooden rocking chair; and a small, plastic-laminate-topped dining table, with two chairs. The paintwork was faded and patchy, and the dark grey carpet threadbare in places. And yet the place was clean and tidy, with little feminine touches such as a vase of fresh flowers on the table and a row of small soft toys sitting obediently alongside each other on a shelf on the far wall, bookended by a couple of framed photographs – presumably of her family and friends.

  ‘The landlord won’t spend a cent on the place,’ she continued, ‘but if I complain he just says to move on if I don’t like it. Says he can get someone else in a heartbeat. And the truth is, he’s probably right … I honestly don’t think I could find anywhere else for the price.’

  ‘It’s … homely,’ he ventured.

  She stifled a laugh as she dropped her handbag onto the couch. ‘You’re a real bad liar … Stephen, is it?’

  ‘Yes … or at least, I think so.’

  She cocked her head to one side, drawing her eyebrows together, creating attractive little vertical crinkles in the skin above the bridge of her nose. ‘You think so?’

  ‘It’s a long, and frankly very scary, story,’ he sighed – ‘one full of holes. But I’m hoping you can maybe help me to fill in some of those holes’

  ‘I’ll do my best, but first things first. You hungry?’

  ‘After that monster cheeseburger? You must be kidding.’

  ‘Well, I don’t have time to eat while I’m working, so I’m starving. I’m going to fix myself something right now. Make yourself at home while I do that, and then we can talk.’

  ‘Any chance I could take a shower or a bath? I’ve been in these clothes for quite a while and I’m feeling pretty grubby now.’

  ‘Sure but do you have anything to change into?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Wait a minute.’ She disappeared into the bedroom which led off from the living room, reappearing a couple of minutes later with a small pile of clothes, which she laid on the couch. ‘Here … some boxer shorts, socks, and a tee-shirt. I’m afraid I don’t have any pants, so you’ll have to stick with those you have on.’

  Stephen raised his eyebrows. ‘You keep spare sets of men’s clothes here … just in case some random guy shows up looking for a shower?’

  She laughed. ‘They’re my old boyfriend’s. He left a few things behind when I threw him out.’

  ‘You threw him out? I guess I shouldn’t ask why.’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s no big secret – he was screwing one of the other girls who worked at the diner.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ said Stephen, a little taken aback at her forthright response. ‘It wasn’t … er, María, the girl who was working there tonight?’

  ‘No, María’s my friend … we look out for each other. The other bitch left after I confronted her. Anyway, that’s history … he’s long gone now. Good thing I didn’t get rid of all his clothes, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘I guess so,’ replied Stephen.

  ‘Mike was a big guy like you, so hopefully the clothes’ll fit OK.’

  ‘Thank you … I can’t say how grateful I am.’

  ‘OK, well … bathroom’s down there,’ she said, indicating a small hallway which led off from the living room.

  He gathered up the clothes and made his way to the bathroom. He was gratified to find that, in spite of its almost antique appearance, the shower worked well, with a plentiful supply of hot water delivered in powerful jets. He luxuriated for at least ten minutes in the soothing stream, almost allowing himself to believe it could wash away his troubles.

  It couldn’t – but by the time he had dried himself off and changed into clean clothes, Stephen was feeling a whole lot better. He returned to the living room, where Carla was just finishing off a toasted sandwich.

  ‘Beer?’ she said, standing up and taking her plate over to the kitchen – which was really nothing more than an alcove off the living room with a sink, a cooker, a small fridge, and a couple of wall-mounted cupboards above a short length of laminate-topped work surface.

  ‘I could murder one,’ he replied, the casually-uttered words bringing back, with a jolt, the shocking memory of Doctor Holt’s violent demise.

  Carla, however, seemed untroubled by his remark. ‘OK,’ she said, opening the fridge and grabbing two cans. She popped the ring pull on her own can, while handing the other to Stephen as she sat down alongside him on the ancient couch. ‘First some ground rules …’ Stephen looked at her enquiringly. ‘I can’t get involved with the cops in any way, shape, or form.’

  ‘Because?’

  ‘Because I came here from Mexico illegally, and I don’t have the proper papers or anything.’

  ‘And you’re worried you might get deported?’

  She nodded. ‘But it’s not just that … I’ve got mixed up with some very bad people. If they were to get even the slightest idea that I might be grassing on them, they’d really hurt me … or worse.’

  Stephen gasped, involuntarily, at this revelation. He took a couple of seconds to find his voice.

  ‘But how? I mean what happened?’

  She suddenly clammed up. ‘I don’t think I should tell you any more … for your sake and mine. Let’s just agree that the police are off limits, OK?’

  He found it difficult to believe that this woman, who had already shown him considerable kindness, was some sort of hardened criminal. On the contrary, she seemed to display a vulnerability which made him want to help her, distracting him a little from his own desperate situation. This was not the moment to pry though.

  ‘OK,’ he agreed.

  She nodded, her mouth set in a thin, straight line. ‘So what do you want to know?’

  ***

  It was over an hour later. Carla, had recounted the events which had taken place in that darkened alley, filling in the gaps between the fragmented memories that Stephen could recall and explaining how she had called 911, and administered CPR.

  ‘I dreamt about it,’ gasped Stephen. ‘I saw your face …right in front of mine … I felt your breath filling my lungs … I felt the weight of your body pressing down on me …’ He fell silent for a moment before looking directly into her eyes. ‘You saved my life.’

  She held his gaze for a brief moment before casting her eyes downward. ‘I couldn’t just leave you there. I … well, I just did what I could until I could hear the ambulance coming.’

  ‘I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you, but well … thank you for what you did.’

  She gave a nervous-looking smile, seemingly embarrassed by his fulsome display of gratitude. ‘So what about you? Just what sort of trouble are you in, exactly?’

  ‘Well, some of this is going to sound pretty unbelievable but … well, here goes …’

  Stephen told her everything he could remember about his former life and the recent events which had shattered it, including the mysterious dates in the diary, the baffling behaviour of his wife, the shadowy people who were after him, and the horrendous murder of Doctor Holt.

  Carla listened in stunned silence. ‘That’s quite a story,’ she said. There was no irony or disbelief in her voice – just shock and puzzlement.

  ‘And still, none of it makes sense,’ he sighed. ‘But something you just told me mi
ght help.’

  She tilted her head to one side, drawing her eyebrows together, creating those attractive little vertical creases just above the bridge of her nose. ‘And what would that be?’

  ‘The briefcase: I have no recollection whatsoever of what it contained. If I can see what’s inside, that might provide some answers.’

  Her face fell. ‘I’m afraid it’s not here.’

  ‘But, I thought you said you picked it up.’

  ‘I did, but it was locked.’

  ‘So we force it open. Where is it?’

  ‘I asked my friend, Sylvia, to look after it for me. Those two guys who tried to …’ – tears welled in her eyes, but she fought them back – ‘well, one of them’s dead now, but the other knows where I live. If he knew that I had the briefcase …’ Her voice tailed off.

  More shocking revelations. Just what the hell was Carla mixed up in?

  ‘I was scared,’ she continued, ‘of what they might do if they found out I had taken the case.’

  He placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. ‘So can we get it back from your friend?’

  ‘Not tonight,’ she said. ‘Sylvia works nights – she’ll have already left for work by now. Look,’ – she sounded a little hesitant – ‘do you have somewhere to stay tonight?’

  ‘No, and I’ve used up most of the cash which the nurse lent me.’

  ‘OK … I only have one bedroom, but you can crash on my couch for tonight if you like.’

  ‘Are you sure? I mean you’ve already done so much for me.’

  ‘Well, I figure I kind of owe you,’ she said, smiling. ‘If you hadn’t come to help me, you would never have wound up in the mess you’re in right now. And as for me … well, I just don’t know what would have happened.’

  ‘Then I guess we both sort of helped each other.’

  She nodded, offering a small smile. ‘Get a good night’s sleep, and then I’ll take you round to Sylvia’s tomorrow to get the case.’

  ‘You’d really do that for me?’

  ‘Well, as it happens, I have a day off tomorrow, anyway, and it’s such a weird story … I’m kind of intrigued to find out what’s going on.’

  ‘But these are really bad people. I don’t want to get you involved in something dangerous.’

  She stifled an ironic laugh. ‘I’m already involved with bad people … and something dangerous.’

  Again, she had alluded to some awful situation in which she had become entangled but, still, Stephen judged that it wasn’t the time to ask questions. Instead, he just responded to her generous offer.

  ‘Well … if you’re sure …’

  She nodded, smiling. ‘I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket. The couch is right there … just don’t try creeping into my room in the middle of the night. I may be skinny, but I’ve got a mean right hook.’

  He raised both hands, palms-outward in a defensive gesture. ‘Scouts’ honour,’ he said, smiling.

  Ten minutes later he was fast asleep. In spite of everything swirling around in his mind, exhaustion had finally taken over.

  Chapter 15

  The next morning, he woke with a start. It was still dark outside but the digital clock, which nestled between the soft toys on the shelf, cast a faint red glow across the room. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he checked the time: 4.57 a.m. He groaned and slumped back down. Why on earth had he woken so early?

  And then it came to him: he had remembered something important. It was almost as though his brain had been working on the problem in background mode as he slept, and then, once it had found the answer, shouted inside his head, ‘Wake up – I have something to tell you!’

  He was eager to share what he had remembered with Carla, but bearing in mind the early hour, and her stern warning the previous evening, he thought better of going into her room and waking her. Instead, he lay back in the darkness, trying desperately to build upon this latest recollection. Eventually, as the soft light of dawn began to suffuse the room, his reluctant memory banks gave up another vital snippet of information. By the time Carla emerged from her room, some two hours later, bleary-eyed, in baggy, pink pyjamas, hair all awry, he was bursting to tell her.

  ‘I can’t function until I’ve had my first coffee of the day,’ she protested, as Stephen began gabbling away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he replied, ‘it’s just that I’ve remembered something, and—’

  ‘Coffee first,’ she insisted. ‘You want one?’

  ‘OK,’ he sighed, ‘I guess it can wait a few more minutes … but do you have any tea?’

  She drew her head back, giving an amused frown. ‘Afraid not … never touch the stuff.’

  He smiled. ‘Coffee then … white, no sugar.’

  Ten minutes later, they were sitting, side by side, on the couch, each nursing their steaming cups.

  ‘So what is it then?’ said Carla. ‘What have you remembered?

  He set down his cup on the upturned wooden box which served as a coffee table. ‘I’ve remembered what I’m supposed to be doing today.’

  ‘You have?’

  ‘Yes – I’m meant to be meeting with Professor Mandelson again this morning.’

  She put her hand to her chin and her forehead puckered in a thoughtful frown. ‘Thursday March 9th,’ she mused. ‘Isn’t that one of the dates in the diary?’

  ‘Yes, it is … but I can’t see why this particular meeting would be so important when the dates for the other events this week – or even the conference itself – aren’t highlighted.’

  ‘And the second date in the diary is months away – July, isn’t it?’

  He nodded.

  ‘So,’ she continued, ‘that date obviously can’t be anything to do with the conference.’

  ‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘I’ve been racking my brains to try to figure out what the connection might be, but’ – he hung his head, sighing in frustration – ‘it’s no use.’

  ‘So are you going to go to your meeting with the professor this morning?’

  He gave a wry smile. ‘After the last episode? I think any shred of credibility I might have had with Professor Mandelson is well and truly shot to pieces. And, what’s more, I’ll bet you anything you like that the other guy who’s impersonating me will be there.’

  She nodded, pursing her lips. ‘So what are you going to do?’

  He locked eyes with her. ‘There’s something else – after my meeting with Professor Mandelson, I’m supposed to meet Emma for Lunch at the Delano Hotel. Around one, I think.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’ she repeated.

  ‘I’m worried sick about Emma. I know for sure now that these are really bad people. I’ve no idea what they are up to, but they must be forcing Emma to go along with their plans – whatever those plans might be. Having seen the way they murdered Doctor Holt without hesitation, I’m terrified what could happen to her.’

  Carla nodded, thoughtfully, her face creased in a concerned frown. ‘So what … I mean how are you going to—?’

  ‘I need to get her on her own … so that she can speak freely and tell me what the hell’s going on. If she’s going to be at the Delano today, maybe I can try to get a few minutes with her alone.’

  ‘Hmm … well, what about your briefcase?’

  ‘I don’t need to be at the Delano until around twelve, so could we go round to your friend’s place this morning?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not in the morning. Sylvia works in an all-night club; she’ll only just have got home; she’ll be asleep until this afternoon.’

  Stephen felt a twinge of irritation – he needed to see what was in that briefcase. However, he had to admit that Carla had already gone out of her way to help him, and he certainly didn’t have the right to complain.

  She must have picked up some change in his facial expression, for she seemed, somehow, to sense what he was thinking. ‘Look, why don’t I drive you round to the Delano, where you can try to catch Emma on her own, and then take you roun
d to Sylvia’s in the afternoon?’

  Any annoyance he had felt evaporated in an instant. This girl really was going above and beyond anything he had a right to expect.

  ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’m not entirely sure what I’m mixed up in, but whatever it is, it’s not your fight. I really don’t want to drag you into it.’

  She smiled; it was an attractive smile, softening her somewhat angular features. Stephen could certainly see why she was – according to her friend, María – very popular with the regular male customers at the diner.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ she said, ‘I have no intention of getting involved. All I’m going to do is take you there and hang about while you try to speak to Emma. Anyway,’ she added, her expression more serious now, ‘considering what you did for me back in that alley, and what it’s now cost you, I think it’s me who has dragged you into something you didn’t deserve. The least I can do in return is to try to help you now.’

  There it was again … just what was she mixed up in?

  ‘Carla,’ he said, ‘you’re obviously in some sort of trouble yourself. Do you want to talk about it?’

  A shadow flitted across her face. ‘I … I don’t know.’ She stood up, gathering up the cups and taking them over to the sink. When she turned around he could see the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. ‘I’m going to get dressed and fix us some breakfast … then, maybe …’

  Stephen didn’t push her; if she wanted to share her troubles with him, it would be best that she do so in her own time, and her own way.

  ***

  ‘Can I show you something?’ said Carla, once they had cleared up the breakfast things. She walked towards her bedroom, beckoning Stephen to follow.

  Curious, he stepped into the room after her. She pulled out, from alongside her closet, an artist’s easel. Bending down, she also retrieved a canvas, stretched across a wooden frame, which she placed on the easel.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked, standing to one side so that Stephen could see it properly.