Lost Hours Read online

  “So, what was she doing on our street?”

  “Why didn´t you ask her?”

  “Why… because it hadn´t dawned on me. Till now. She was here with you, right?

  “Here? What do you mean? Have you gone nuts?”

  “No, don´t treat me like a loon, Joana was here: yes or no?”

  “No!” he exclaims defensively. “Look. I had a shitty day today too. By the way, thanks for asking. I´m going to bed.”

  He leaves a half-eaten slice of pizza on the table and heads for the bedroom, leaving me with a million questions. I look at my wedding ring and the only thing I want to do is throw it out the window, hoping it will fall into one of the drowned manholes. It´s a hell of a storm, thunder, lightning, the works.

  PAUL

  Thursday, October 19, 2013

  If I started to compulsively count the hours and the minutes like Paula Hawkins does, I´d say it´s four minutes past midnight when I get to my apartment.

  Ana hasn´t been by, not even to get her stuff.

  I sit on the sofa running my hands down my face. I get up to fetch a bottle of brandy I´ve had stowed away since forever under the kitchen counter and pour myself a stiff drink. I feel it rasping my throat, my eyes itch and I feel my brain getting flushed. I think. I visualize.

  My mental tread leads me to the scene of the crime. Broken glass, blood. The killer probably broke the glass partition with a heavy object, which we´ve been unable to find. The corpse, with its slit throat. I shiver, thinking about how horrible those last minutes must have been before he died. More blood. Not a clue. Not a single print that´s different from the victim´s or the hundreds of people who have been in that meeting room over the last twenty years since the agency opened.

  Charlotte, his wife. The madness and suffering in her eyes, the pallor of her skin and drug saturated body, causing the horrible convulsions and uncontrollable tremors. A spasm in the arteries feeding her brain, leading to a coma. I don´t think she´ll walk away from this one, but I hope she does. And I hope she won´t have long term effects - which I doubt. –

  Paula Hawkins, the redheaded goddess who told me the victim tried to abuse her. That same night, he is murdered. I try to imagine the situation, try to visualize as she tries to get his hands off her. Trying to get away from his lips and his tongue, his glare.

  Then I think about them together, affectionate and happy. I feel the same rage coming on as when I walked into the room and caught Ana with her muscular, bearded, heavily tattooed lover. It´s been barely twenty-four hours. I expect I´ll have to change the sheets, and take another swig of the brandy. I light a cigarette and let the smoke dissipate into the living room.

  I walk into my study and turn on the computer. I google Paula Hawkins. There´s nothing. None of the hundreds of women and girls with that name on Facebook, twitter or other social media is her. I´m not surprised she doesn´t have a social network, I don´t either, and never will have. I like the idea that there are some people in the world who want to salvage their privacy. I wonder why she told me Parker had gone mad, as if he were under the influence. The drug tests - to my surprise - came out negative. Did he have some other kind of problem? Which kind? Some mental illness?

  I go over the files Steve sent me. Parker didn´t have a family. His father died in a car accident when he was twelve. His mother got sick two years later and committed suicide at the New York Psychiatric Institute, on Riverside Drive. The boy was sixteen and had been living with his elderly aunt and uncle. Paranoid Schizophrenia. It´s very likely that Parker inherited it and maybe that´s what pushed him to act the way he did with Paula.

  I grab my cell phone and without knowing what I´m after, I dial her number. I´ve had five drinks. The minutes, the seconds, they slip through our fingers, I think, remembering Paula´s obsession with time. I am feeling the effects of those drinks.

  She answers on the third ring, regardless of the fact it´s so late.

  “Hello?”

  “Paula, sorry about the hour. It´s detective Paul Tischmann.”

  There´s a prolonged silence on the line. She didn´t sound like I´d wakened her when she answered. I can hear the pinging of the rain on the windowpane over the line, and a movie in the background, a woman talking to herself.

  “I´m sorry it´s so late,” I repeat, “but I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Sure, what is it?”

  “Parker… sorry, Josh. Did you know he didn´t have a family?”

  “Yes, his parents died in a car accident.” She answered dispiritedly and somehow insecure.

  “Well, the truth is his father died in a crash when he was twelve. His mother committed suicide in a mental institution when he was sixteen, she was a paranoid schizophrenic.

  Again silence. Paula had turned down the volume on the TV and must have gotten closer to a window. The sound of the rain pounding relentlessly on her window came clearly over the line.

  “Wow, I didn´t know anything about that,” she finally answers, “that´s why he acted like that, why he was like that, as if he was crazy. Is it possible he had It too?”

  “It´s very likely. It wasn´t drugs. He probably inherited the condition from his mother.”

  “Thank you so much for letting me know. Paul, could we meet tomorrow?

  “Sure, what time works for you?

  “When I get off work, say about six.”

  “If it suits I can meet you at the cafeteria in the DIC building.”

  “I´ll be there at five past six.”

  “You and precise time, Ms. Hawkins…” I laugh.

  “Good night Paul.”

  “Good night, Paula,”

  I hang up the phone. What have I done? That was totally unprofessional. I just ignored all the rules about police investigation in the book. Never tell a third party, never involve them in any of the procedures. I take another drink.

  The phone rings. I look at it hoping it´s Paula, but the screen shows Ana´s name. I let the answering machine take the call.

  “Paul, pick up Paul. Pick up. Please, I need to talk to you. You must be as busy as always… I can picture you working all hours on another murder. Tomorrow I will stop by to get my things and I would at least like to explain why I did it. You were never there, Paul. And I wanted you, I needed you. I love you but…”

  End of message. What a whore! «I wanted you», she says tearfully. Then the sobbing stopped her from going on. She feels guilty and impotent. There´s nothing she can do so I will forgive her, so I will let her come back and live like a queen off my sacrifice.

  When you love someone, you don´t go off to bed with the first person that comes along. When you love someone, you try to talk things out and fix the problems before being unfaithful. When you love someone, the time the other person spends away from the house doesn´t matter; the important thing is to live intensely each moment the person you love shares with you.

  Of late, Ana had been absent, distracted, distant from my world. To tell the truth, it had been a long time since our relationship was over.

  CHAPTER 5

  PAULA

  Thursday, October 10, 2013

  With the phone still in my hand, I get distracted by the sound of the rain on the window. I smile mischievously.

  I feel very pleased by the detective´s call. Listening to his steady, deep voice over the line, so self-assured and friendly, brings back a sense of much needed stillness.

  This whole affair has been very traumatic, though I´ve tried to face it with as much aplomb as possible so it won´t affect my life.

  I keep thinking about my casual encounter with Joana and remember that in a week she will have an exhibition at the Fitzgerald Gallery on Wooster St. I wonder if I should go. Should I go with Matthew, as always? He will probably be too busy with his freelance work, as usual.

  Then I think about Josh and what Paul told me: Paranoid schizophrenia. These two words feel like knives stabbing my heart. Little or nothing, that´s what I kne
w about Josh. Now I realize how little we really know about the people around us.

  I lay the phone on the table, turn off the TV and head for the bedroom.

  My intentions are to give Matthew a gentle back-rub and make-up for our little fight, but as I open the door, I find Matthew is not there. I can feel my cheeks burn and without realizing it, take my wedding ring off my finger and throw it across the room. I don´t want to see it ever again. I hope it gets lost forever!

  Matthew has left the house. I get the shivers thinking he´ll probably spend the night out. He might spend the night with her.

  PAULA

  February of 2004

  Any place, any time was perfect to make love. Josh and I had a literally turned into two animals that needed each other constantly. We were addicted to each other´s bodies. Always ardent and sweaty when we were with each other. When he penetrated me so hard and looked passionately into my eyes, he made me feel like a goddess. Our joining was perfection.

  At work, we tried to act normal, but our lascivious glances and coy smiles gave us away. We worked late every day, which gave us the perfect excuse to stay at the office when everyone else was gone, and do it on top of the copy machine. God! I loved that man! I loved him with all my heart.

  Once I asked him to go with me to one of my friend Joana´s art shows. Most of my friends would be here and it would be the first time they saw me with Josh. This would show we were serious.

  For the occasion, I chose a vintage style navy blue dress and tan flats. Josh was taken aback by the change.

  “Where´s my femme fatale?” He asked laughing.

  “She stayed at the office” I replied as I slid into a raincoat matching my shoes. “I’d forgotten how comfortable it is not to wear high heels!” I laughed.

  We almost decided to stay at his apartment making love instead of looking at Joana´s paintings. Josh got really turned on by that dress and I let him finger me in the hall.

  “Wait, wait… stop Josh…”

  “Come on… just a little more…”

  “I promised her we would go… stop…” I moaned with pleasure.

  “You want me to stop?” He asked his bright blue eyes wide and playful, lustful.

  “Not really,” I answered biting his fleshy lips, “but I did promise. We will leave soon and I will be all yours for the rest of the night.”

  “You´re so wet… Do you think you can wait?”

  “And you?” I asked, wrapping my fingers around his rock-hard erection.

  Joana was a well reputed artist and a tireless traveler. Her exhibition was crowded with some very peculiar people. Walking into the gallery, you could breathe in the art. Her abstract painting filled each corner of the room, contributing to create an air of casualness to the sober, austere, decoration of the place.

  A waiter offered us champagne and we walked, hand in hand, around the gallery admiring the paintings, though our minds were fixed on one word: Sex. Actually, two words: Wild Sex. It was becoming an obsession for both of us.

  “You came!” exclaimed Joana, as Josh and I exchanged playful glances. She had been talking to a pair of young, heavily bearded guys who seemed startled at being left so abruptly. It looked like Joana had drunk a bit too much bubbly.

  “I´d promised,” I said, winking at her, “let me introduce Josh Parker.”

  “Josh. Pleased to meet you! Paula has been raving about you.”

  “It´s a pleasure Joana. Love your paintings” Josh complimented her with a boyish smile.

  “He´s so handsome!” Joana whispered in my ear. Josh obviously heard. He smiled and lowered his hand to my butt, caressing it shamelessly.

  As Joana told us about her projected travels to Paris for the next two presentations, an amazingly attractive man joined us. Green almond eyes, partially hidden under a shock of auburn hair, studied me. He had a beautiful smile and charming dimples on his cheeks, very manly with a well-cared three-day beard. He had an athletic build, much like Josh, but he was taller and therefore more imposing.

  “Matthew. You´re leaving already?” Joana slurred a bit, as she placed her hands on his strong shoulders.

  “Sorry, I have to be at an appointment at seven thirty tomorrow morning.” He looked at me curiously.

  “I´m so rude!” apologized Joana, “this is Matthew Hawkins. Matthew, this is Paula and Josh.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Matthew took my hand gently.

  I felt a surge of electricity as his skin touched mine, curious and magical at the same time. I looked sideways at Josh, hoping he wouldn´t notice my blushing as I was introduced to my friend´s friend.

  “Likewise,” I answered almost in unison with Josh.

  “It irks me that you look at others with desire Paula…” Josh whispered hotly in my ear as we made love furiously in the gallery’s bathroom.

  PAULA

  Thursday, October 10, 2013

  Although the meeting room where Josh was killed is still cordoned off, there are no policemen working there anymore. The blood had been cleaned and no doubt the glass partition would be replaced soon to make it look like nothing had happened.

  The atmosphere is still tense. It´s impossible for all the employees, with their multiple tasks and responsibilities in the numerous advertising campaigns, to concentrate on their work. That includes me.

  “Paula. Can you step into my office for a minute?” I´m surprised by Samantha´s voice as she stands at the door to her private office. There´s a sad, troubled smile on her face.

  I walk into the spacious, stately office. The large glass table at the center is covered with papers. Chaos has taken over our boss; her countenance is strange and saddened.

  “Without Josh as idea man, the latest project has been canceled.” Samantha informs me dispiritedly. She signals me to sit in one of the ample black leather seats in front of her desk. “Would you like a drink?” She asks pulling a bottle of whisky from a recessed mini-fridge.

  “At eight twelve in the morning? No, thanks.” I answer with a nervous, stiff smile.

  She ignores me and fills a glass for herself. She begins to pace nervously while I wait for her to continue.

  “We´ll get over this. We still have five campaigns in progress, and the ones to come. We are not short on work, but we have lost an account worth millions. Do you know what that means?” I nod my head, fearing the worst: layoffs. Will I get fired?

  “I like you Paula. Your mind is as creative as Josh´s” she continues, “You know, you were his right hand, don´t you? I know you had an affair years back. I don´t care. Who hasn´t had an affair with Josh?” She blushes. It´s the first time I´ve seen the boss blush, and it worries me. “I know it´s been hard on you too. It´s been hard on all of us.” She says more to herself than to me as she picks up a framed photograph from her desk I had never remarked on. She stares at it with tears in her eyes, runs her fingers tenderly over it and shakes her head.

  She smiles at me.” That´s why I´ve decided to assign you Josh´s position. Starting today, you will be the agency´s head idea man. And we will add a zero to your pay. Agreed?”

  I can´t believe it. I´m paralyzed staring at Samantha. I don´t know what to say.

  “Paula? Do you accept the position, or should I offer it to Nicole? She will be pretty upset I didn´t offer it to her first, she´s been here longer than you.”

  “No, no… I accept, of course! It´s just that I´m a bit flustered, you know? Everything has happened so fast. I was the last person to see Josh alive and it pains me so…” She nods knowingly.

  She wants me to keep talking, but what I would like to know is if she knows about Josh´s disquieting past. The death of his father in a wreck, his mother´s illness, which he apparently inherited. I want her to talk to me about Josh. I need it. Did his drug problem get out of hand? Was he in trouble with the Mafia of something? Did I know the real Josh?

  “Samantha. Do you know who could have done this?”

  “No one at the offi
ce. I´m sure Paula,” she replies hurriedly, “ I know the people I work with, honest, responsible, intelligent and good people all in all. Somewhat competitive and ambitious, yes… but not to the point of slashing someone´s neck. As you know, we run all kinds of tests and interviews, including personality profiles.” She says without great conviction. We all know that those tests could be passed by five-year-olds.

  “Josh´s position was very important, Samantha, were there any rivals?”

  “Other than Henry Weissman of the Smith Agency… He and Josh were nominated for an important award. But believe me, Henry wouldn´t hurt a fly. I want them to catch the killer Paula, maybe more than you do. Deep inside I cherished Josh. With his strangeness and unknown inner world.” Samantha shakes her head and looks again at the picture on her desk. “But that is to be expected of a genius, right? That´s the way they are… different. They border on madness. And now Charlotte is laying in a hospital bed, fighting for her life… It´s madness…” She concludes, taking a deep swallow from her glass of whisky.

  “What do you want me to do Samantha?”

  “Take over two of the publicity campaign,” she responds as she digs in her drawer for the files, “a shopping center and a toothpaste brand. It´s no big deal, but it´s your chance to put yourself out there. Talk to the clients, ask them what they want and come up with something. Come up with a magical world in which selling is the main focus of your work. That´s what Josh used to say, right?”

  “A magical world…” I muse.

  I think about Josh. He´s dead and suddenly I feel him standing beside me, patting my shoulder, staring at me fixedly as he did when our affair started. I feel his tongue playing with mine, his breath, fresh and delirious, his lips on mine. I think I hear a whisper… but I don´t know what he´s trying to tell me.

  “Paula?” I rise, scatterbrained and lost, grabbing at the folders Samantha´s holding out to me.

  “Are you OK?” I nod. “Will you go to the funeral? It´s tomorrow at eleven.”

  “I´ll be there.”

  I walk out of the office, folders under my arm and return to my cubicle. Samantha´s watching me from her office, whisky glass in hand, while I look around the tiny workspace I´ve occupied for the last ten years. I will soon be out of here and in Josh´s spacious office.