Elgin’s Trial
By Mr. J.
Chapter VIV: Of Snow and Dirt
Matt wades through a blanket of white snow crunching under his Sperry topsiders. He frowns regretfully, ruing his decision not to stop by his apartment and change out into something more rugged than black lace tops. If he were in a more puckish mood he’d consider sending his employer the bill should he feel the need to get a new pair. He zips up his jacket to insulate himself from the chill air, chuckling at his decision to put reckless ambition before vanity.
He cranes his head back towards the trail of lights festooning City Hall, a trio of red green lights bathing the infrastructure in a mixture of pastel colors. A snowman stands off to the side, guarding the building and its occupants from assailants unknown. Between deadlines covering a rambunctious City Council and pissing away his paycheck at the local pub, he finds it hard to believe that the year is nearly at an end. He rubs his chapped hands to ward against the cold, wishing he was knocking back tall boys with his buddies than chasing down what amounts to a crank’s lead.
Still he marches through the bitter cold. He struggles in vain to search for his source. The descending darkness makes it difficult to see much of anything except the glare of streetlights nearby. In any case he’d only met the woman once, in the garage that fateful evening when he watched helplessly as Joanie was gunned down. He went on a binge several days afterwards, purging his soul with alcohol and cigarettes, questioning why he cowered near one of the nearby trusses than rescue her. In the end, it was Joanie’s sacrifice that made it possible for today to happen in the first place.
Exerted breaths pierce the calm. He tries to fathom what a person could be doing besides standing around that could be so strenuous at such an hour. Whatever it is, it certainly can’t be anything good, not by Bostonian standards. For a split second he considers calling the police—someone could be hurt, or worse
“Hello?” He calls out. “Anybody there?”
His elbow connects with bone. Embarrassment takes over as he apologizes repeatedly to whoever is out there hoping that the New England chill hasn’t frozen whatever is left of their good will.
“A little help please?” Tracy cries as she stretches out her hand.
He grips her, pulling her to her feet. As she steps into the light, he notices for the first time her delicate cheekbones and chiseled nose. He hardly noticed her the first time around, but there’s no overestimating her beauty now. Supermodel beauty. She’s probably got more than her share of offers. But she’s out of his league, and he knows it.
So much for being a reporter for the Globe.
“Thanks.” Tracy brushes the snow off her jeans.
“I thought you were an animal in heat.”
“You and every peeping Tom out there.” Tracy laughs it off. “It’s called yoga. Ever heard of it.”
“Yes. I wasn’t raised in a cave.”
“I thought I’d stretch my hamstrings while you took your sweet time getting over here. Aren’t you guys supposed to be real punctual and everything?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Matt blows her off. “So what is it with you and Divinex that you dragged me down here?”
Keys jangle as Tracy reaches in her pocket for something. He squint his eyes. It could be anything, a note, a business card, even a knife. He’s had more than his fair share of run-ins with folks who turned out to be anything but what they claimed when he was younger. He thanks his stars that fate and divine intervention allowed him to progress this far. And he isn’t taking chances.
She hands him a mini-tape, snug in its plastic tape. He glances at the label. ‘JEREMY 11-3-17’ .He furrows his brow.
“Who’s Jeremy?”
“My fiancée. He killed himself six weeks ago.”
“You made me dirty my shoes so you could hand me a tape?!” His voice is incredulous.
“No. Joanie was right when she told you about Divinex. But even it needs a stooge to do its bidding. Jeremy was the head of the legal department at the company—the youngest ever. In reality he was a glorified notary public who signed off on everything Divinex did, including the mind control program.”
“So he blackmails them and kills himself, and one day you just find this laying around? How convenient.”
“I know how it looks.” Her voice softens. “But you have to trust me on this.”
“Why should I trust you? You could be one of them. You could just be inserting yourself into the story to feed misinformation for all I know.”
The keys jangle once again.
“I thought you would say this.” Tracy presses a manila envelope into his hand.
“What’s this?”
“Schematics, white papers... It all came with the tape. They confirm everything I’m saying.”
Matt sighs.
“I don’t know what to say.” He hands her his business card. “Goodnight, Ms. Elgin. If you hear anything more about this...mind control program, please be in touch.”
Skylights pierce the darkness as he walks back to his car, lighting up the nearby athletic field in a white light. Why they’d be running lights in winter makes little sense.
“Wait!” Traces voice echoes. “There’s something you need to see!”
“What now?” Matt growls.
“Jeremy and I used to run laps down there” She points toward the track. “When we were younger. Some days he’d pick me up from school and we’d just run in our clothes. Those were the days. Do you have someone like that in your life, Mr. Lewis?”
“The only thing I’m married to is a bottle of Jack.”
“I’ve noticed.” She steals a glance at his out of shape frame. “Perhaps you should take up running?”
“Running? I can barely walk up the steps on my own.”
Matt rubs his reddened hands together, eager to get back to the warmth of his cramped apartment.
“So what do you say to a partnership? Aren’t you tired of four alarm fires and meaningless press conferences?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Then think harder.”
As they part ways, Matt glances at the festive lights strewn about City Hall, feeling as though he’s just fallen through his very own rabbit hole.