Dead to the World
Part 1
By Auntie Pasta
Synopsis: Gary disappears for a few weeks and reappears dead.
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Everyone has to face death eventually. Even the guy who gets tomorrow's paper today. Who knew it would be this soon?
Marissa was scanning the books when the call came in. Naomi Lewis, the new partner at McGinty's answered it. "Could I speak to Marissa Clark, Please?"
"May I ask who's calling?" Naomi asked.
"Douglass Phelps," the man replied. "From the coroner's office. I need Ms Clark to come down and identify a body for us."
A knot grew in Naomi's belly. The third of their trio of business partners, Gary Hobson, had been missing for almost two weeks. His mother was so worried that not half an hour before she had called to announce that she and her husband, Bernie, would be there in less than two hours.
"Marissa's blind," she explained. Marissa got a puzzled look on her face upon hearing that. "I don't think she would be of much help."
"May I ask who you are?"
"I'm Naomi Lewis," Naomi said. "One of Marissa's business partners."
"Then you know Gary Hobson."
"Yes," Naomi affirmed. "He's my other business partner."
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this," Douglass said. "But his body was pulled out of the river this morning. It's been there a couple of days."
Naomi went onto automatic pilot. "Thank you sir," she said. "Marissa and I will be there as soon as we can." The phone receiver fell from her hand and she began to cry.
"Naomi," Marissa asked. "What's wrong?"
"They... need us... to come down... to the coroner's office," she explained between sobs. "They pulled a body... out... of the river... and... they need us... to identify it."
"God, no," Marissa prayed quietly.
"They think it's Gary," Naomi finished.
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No words were exchanged between the two women as they waited to see the county coroner. He came out of his office and gestured to Naomi who took Marissa's arm and followed. He didn't say a word until they stood in front of a wall of cold storage units.
"He doesn't look too good," Phelps said as a warning then pulled open the drawer.
Naomi looked down at the body, covered with a sheet and swallowed. Phelps folded the sheet away to show that the body was indeed Gary Hobson. Naomi burst out crying and Phelps quickly re-covered the body with a sheet.
Marissa's cheeks were wet with tears when Naomi turned to her. "It's him, isn't it?" Marissa asked.
Naomi swallowed a sob. "Yes, Marissa," she said simply. "It's him."
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Three days later
Naomi stood in her dark blue suit just be hind the bar with her back to it. The pub was empty, closed, and waiting for the dinner that would be served after Gary's funeral. Off in the kitchen, she could hear the cooks preparing the meal, having offered to make it for free. Naomi stood still, as if staying in that position would bring her friend back. Her eyes were glued to the framed photograph that stood on a shelf behind the bar.
It had been taken just two days after the bar had reopened. A fire had gutted the kitchen and office but thankfully left Gary's home upstairs and the main room of the bar intact. The insurance would only pay an eighth of what they were supposed to and the bar was in danger of being shut down forever. There had just been no money available to keep it open.
Then the paper had led him to her. Naomi was crossing the street when the heel of one of her new Faragami pumps had gotten caught in a crack. Her foot was tightly buckled into the shoe and she couldn't get it loose—with or without the shoe. Suddenly, this man with strong hands grabbed her and jerked the shoe free—leaving the heel behind in the crack. The next thing she had known, she was standing on the sidewalk in the strong arms of Gary Hobson.
She had yelled at him at first, pushing him away and insisting she could have gotten herself loose, then chewing him out for the broken shoe, taking it off and throwing it at him. She could tell when he stalked off that he thought she was just a spoiled rich girl. But she had been poor most of her life, only inheriting her fortune from the lawyer who had arranged her adoption when she was just two days old.
She had run after Gary, apologized, told him that she had just had a bad day. She didn't really care about the damn shoe, had just needed to vent. "I'm sorry I vented on you," she had told him.
He had taken the apology in a dignified manner and started to walk away again, the newspaper in his hand. She stopped him to ask him to lunch—on her and he accepted. By the time they finished eating, Naomi had bought herself 33% of McGinty's bar, pending the approval of Marissa, Gary's business partner.
By the end of the summer, the pub was up and running again and Naomi was falling for Gary's boyish charm. Of course she couldn't stand that he was always in a hurry to get somewhere. She didn't understand, didn't know about the paper. One day, at Marissa's insistence, Gary told her, showed her, the paper. And suddenly, Naomi understood. Their fighting all but disappeared over the next few days, and Naomi grew to love him even more.
She didn't know if he loved her back. He had had a bad divorce and another relationship later on had ended badly. Marissa had explained that he was wary of women and why. Naomi was a patient woman. She could wait. Now she wished she had told him how she felt.
"You ready?" Marissa's voice broke into her thoughts.
Naomi looked away from the photograph and back at Marissa. The blind woman looked dignified, as she should, in stark contrast to Naomi's nervous wreck. "I'm ready," Naomi replied then looked back at the photograph.
Gary stood between Marissa and Naomi, a rare smile on his face. Gently, Naomi touched the glass over his face then moved to walk at Marissa's right, her left taken by her guide dog, Spike.
"I'm ready," Naomi repeated, not knowing whether she was trying to convince Marissa or herself.
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The sky was crystal clear with only wisps of clouds sailing by. Today was one of Chicago's rare windless days. The graveyard was silent and still except for the group of people who stood around the coffin.
Lois and Bernie Hobson, Gary's parents, sat in chairs, numb with grief at the death of their only son. Around them stood Gary's friends. They made a pretty good-sized group. Naomi had read once that the only amount of riches that mattered when you left this Earth, were the amount of people who mourned at your funeral. If that was true, then Gary Hobson must have been the richest man on Earth.
Besides Marissa and Naomi, there was Chuck, a boyhood friend and former partner at McGinty's, and his wife who's name Naomi never caught. There was Erika, her ex-husband, Mike, and their son, Henry. Patrick Quinn stood near Erica, but alone, hair askew, eyes red. Just behind Erica and her ex was Nick Sterling, Philanthropist doctor who had taken a liking to Gary when he was dating Erika. According to Marissa, Gary hadn't treated the man too kindly—Gary had been jealous of Nick's involvement with Erika.
Then there was Regular Joe, the former quarterback of the Chicago Bears, and his wife. Gary had saved his marriage. An admiral from the Navy base stood to one side with a young woman whom Naomi suspected was his daughter. Marissa told her that Gary had impersonated an officer to save his life.
The service ended and Naomi watched as a woman came up to Lois and Bernie to offer condolences and a hug. Naomi remembered her from some of Gary's pictures as his ex-wife, Marcia.
There were others, faces of people that Gary had helped at one time or another. Slowly, the crowd thinned out and began to dissipate. Naomi knew she would see them later at the bar.
Tears in her eyes, Naomi looked up across the graveyard. A man was placing lilies on a grave past a small grove of trees and she watched him for a moment. He stood over the stone for a minute, looking at it, then turned to the funeral group. He was too dark for Naomi to accurately see him, his dark fedora pulled too far down over his face, but he seemed familiar.
By the time Naomi made her way through the crowd and to the grave, he had gone. She looked down at the tombstone to read the name. Lucius Snow. 1920-1995. The lilies lay at the base of the stone, just under the name.
Naomi started to turn away, intent on getting in the limousine with Gary's parents for the return trip to the bar, when a soft sound made her turn back. There, in the snow at the base of the stone, was the orange tabby that hung out at McGinty's. Naomi turned back and picked the animal up, thinking that he might have hitched a ride somehow with her and Marissa, not knowing his true acquaintance with Gary, and walked back to the waiting group.
The lilies moved in a gentle breeze that had come up.
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The hustle and bustle of the pub was in stark contrast to how the scene at the graveyard had been. People were talking, laughing and remembering their friend Gary. Naomi rushed around making sure that everyone had everything that they needed until Lois pinned her down.
"I need you to do me a favor," Lois said.
"Now?"
Lois nodded. "I don't want to go up there," she said. "But someone needs to go get the food out of his refrigerator. It's been in there at least two weeks, since Gary disappeared."
Naomi nodded. Part of her would be glad to get out of the crowd. "I'd be glad to," she said.
Now, standing at the door, Naomi found that she couldn't get up the courage to go in. Finally, she found it and pushed the door open.
Inside, everything was still as Gary had left it... had it really been only two weeks ago? It seemed longer. She turned right and went into the small kitchen area. Inside the fridge, most of the food was OK, but the out of date jug of milk had to be dumped and there was something strange in a container that she didn't even want to try to identify.
Halfway through her perusal of the fridge's contents, she heard a thump, meow at the door. Puzzled, she went to investigate and found the orange tabby sitting on a copy of the Chicago Sun-Times. With a sudden thought, Naomi realized that this is how the paper must have come every morning.
She picked it up with a sad look. "Sorry, pal," she said. "Gary's not here to read it." She placed the paper on the nearby table and started through the fridge again.
A soft breeze blew through the window, flipping the pages of the newspaper, but Naomi ignored it. The cat hopped up on the table and meowed, trying to get her attention. Naomi turned to scratch the cat's neck and glanced down at the paper.
The page to which it had blown open had a story on it that caught Naomi's attention. Reading through it, her brows came together. "Holy shit!" she exclaimed. Brushing the cat aside, she picked up the paper and headed downstairs.
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Marissa, Bernie and Lois joined Naomi in Gary's apartment when she showed them the article. "How could he have done this to us?" Naomi said. "I'll kill him."
"He's already dead," Marissa said with a smile.
"But that begs the question," Bernie said. "Why didn't he say anything?"
"Because he couldn't," Lois replied. "Not without putting us in danger too."
Naomi threw the paper down on the coffee table. "We may not have been able to act right if we had known," Naomi said as she plopped down on the couch next to Bernie.
"And I'm guessing that he didn't know that the paper would come today," Marissa added.
"During his funeral," Lois said.
"The only thing we can do for now is go downstairs and act natural," Bernie suggested. "Act like nothing's changed."
"Until the shit hits the fan," Naomi said.
"That's a good way of putting it," Bernie said as he stood. He took his wife's hand. "Let's go downstairs and act like mourning parents."
Marissa began to follow then turned back to Naomi. "You coming?"
"In a minute," Naomi replied. "I'll be down as soon as I finish with the fridge."
"You know," Marissa said. "I don't think that has to be done now."
"I need to do something productive," Naomi said.
"OK," Marissa replied. "I'll see you downstairs."
After Marissa had gone, Naomi shook her head. She picked up the picture from the end table; one like was in the bar downstairs. "You sneaky bastard," she said to Gary's image. Then put the framed image back where she had gotten it.
On the coffee table, opened to an inner page, sat the newspaper. The only headline that could be wholly read, was sitting on top. FBI fakes death of local businessman to flush out killer.
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Naomi threw out everything in Gary's fridge that smelled like it wasn't supposed to. Everything else, she put back where she had found it. She smoothed out her suit dress and put the jacket back on before picking up the paper and opening the door. At the top of the stairs stood the familiar man from the graveyard, his fedora still pulled low over his face.
An excited lump formed in Naomi's belly and she watched as he pushed the hat back to reveal his face. She covered her mouth to keep the squeal of delight from coming out and tackled him, sending him crashing into the corner where she hugged him tightly.
She couldn't speak for several minutes and Gary just held her until she pushed away and slapped him. "If you EVER do that to me again," she said. "I'll kill you myself."
Gary rubbed the spot where her hand had connected. "Well, good afternoon to you too," he replied. "You don't seem too surprised to see me."
"I got advance warning," she said hitting him with the paper.
Gary glanced at the paper. "I didn't know it would come here," he said.
"Obviously," Naomi said then grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him into his room. "You want to explain just how you got into this mess? The paper doesn't explain it in too great of detail."
"Long story," Gary said. "I'd rather tell it once than several times, so if you could wait for just a few minutes..."
Naomi shook her head in exasperation. "I'll wait." She looked up into his eyes. "Was that you at the graveyard?"
Gary took her hand and pulled her to the window. "Yes," he said. "I'll explain when I explain everything." Outside, two black cars parked in front of the building. "Give them a few minutes and we can go downstairs."
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Downstairs, several FBI agents handcuffed a man amongst the surprised mourners. They stood, waiting until they were given the green light to take him away but before they could, someone pushed his way through the crowd. Gasps of surprise could be heard as the mourners realized that it was the person whom they were mourning pushing his way through.
"You!" the arrested man exclaimed with shock. "You were dead! I saw you in your coffin!" He paused to look Gary up and down. "In that suit!"
"As a great author once said," Gary began. "'The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.'"
The lead FBI agent signaled for the suspect to be taken away. He turned to Gary. "I know that this wasn't much fun for you," he said. "But you have saved countless lives from a serial killer. Thank you."
Gary shook his hand. "You're welcome," he replied.
The agent took his leave and left behind an eerily silent bar. All eyes were on Gary. Gary cleared his throat. "Looks like a great party," he said. "What's the occasion?"
Laughter ensued and the party continued, but the atmosphere was more jovial than it had been before.
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