Solitary - 6. Chapter 6

“I’m Mira Banerjee,” the woman introduced herself to Elena and Don. “What’s probably more important is I’m Jessica Timmons’ partner.”

“Oh, thank god,” Don blurted out. Then he winced. “Sorry.”

They all laughed, and then Mira Bannerjee went on.

“I’m sure I have some information you need.”

“Yes,” said Elena.

“Though possibly not the most important – where she is.” She smiled again. “But let me show you something first.”

She took an envelope out of her purse, unfolded the letter, and handed it to them.

M,

I’m fine.

I love you.

Ann

“Who’s Ann?” Elena was the first to ask.

“That’s Jessica,” Mira Banerjee explained. “She kind of hates the names Jess and Jessica – claims they’re short for Jesse, a man’s name and the father of Biblical King David.” She paused. “She’s not fond of Timmons, either – short for son of Tim or Tom and obviously also a man’s name. Though it can come from Tiomon, a region in Ireland which was Anglicized from St. Aubyn. She’d go by Ann St. Aubyn but says that sounds like a romance novelist.”

Mira Banerjee seemed amused at their stunned expressions. “I told you I knew a lot you didn’t want to hear.”

“Thank you,” Elena was again first to reply. Don was still recovering. “It actually tells us a lot about Jess that we wouldn’t have thought to ask.”

Don faintly nodded but quickly added, “Is she all right?”

“She was when she wrote this,” they were told. “That was this morning. At least, it was on the dining table when I came into the kitchen. She’d obviously slipped into the house during the night, though I don’t know when. I sleep well, and our bedrooms are upstairs.”

“She didn’t stay?”

Mira Banerjee shook her head. “If she had, I would’ve asked her to call.”

“Do you have any idea why she left the hospital?” Elena went on. “You do know she was there?”

“I’m still finding things out. A friend texted me last night about the nursing home – she’d seen it on the eleven o’clock news. But I was asleep by then so didn’t get the text till this morning.”

“It was on the news?” Don asked.

Elena was also surprised. “I missed it, too. Though I get most of my news online.”

“That could make three of us,” Mira Banerjee agreed. “But when I tracked the piece down, it was less than a minute, mainly used to get attention, and only on one Springfield station. A cook had been stabbed by a waiter in a local nursing home, and the anchor almost seemed to think that was funny. Then there was a picture of Ann from her high school yearbook and one of the guy from his. They both lived in Waldron growing up, but he went to prep school, and their names weren’t mentioned. Though you could see them under their photos.”

“Did you go to the hospital?” Elena asked. She thought that a natural question, but Mira Banerjee stalled.

“If I’d gotten the text last night, it would’ve already been too late and... Well, Ann’s parents don’t know me, and last night wasn’t the time to make introductions.” She quickly followed up. “They know about Ann’s interests, but we sometimes play a game called, ‘Let Me Count The Ways,’ adding all the ways our relationship could upset them. Starting with the fact I’m almost ten years older.”

“I wouldn’t have known,” Elena admitted, and Don might have said the same but knew it wasn’t allowed by guys.

“Thank you,” Mira Banerjee replied. “I met Ann when she was twenty-four, and I was thirty-three. She was the hospice counselor for one of my friends – mentors – and Ann was so kind – and mature – and of course beautiful...” She didn’t finish that.

“I’m not sure we’ve seen clear photos,” Don confessed.

Mira Banerjee smiled.

“Do you have any idea when Jess came home last night?” Elena continued.

“Not really.”

“Do you remember when you went to sleep?” Don asked.

“As I said, by eleven – my usual.”

“And you didn’t wonder when she wasn’t home?”

Mira Banerjee laughed. “There is no normal for us. Just as neither of us worries if we haven’t heard from the other all day. We try to text – which is easier than calling. But we both get busy.”

“Are you also a counselor?” Elena questioned.

“No – an engineer. Biomedical.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to presume.”

“At least, it didn’t come from me,” Don joked, which made them all laugh.

“Were you even thinking it?” Mira Banerjee gently poked back.

“No – actually, I was trying to work out a schedule. If the news piece was on at eleven, and that’s when Jess – Ann –”

“I sometimes call her either,” Mira Banerjee assured him. “Partly because she works under both names.”

“I’d like to go back to that,” Don replied, “but first...” He hesitated. “Well, if she was just coming out of her drugs and spoke with her parents soon before eleven – because that’s when they got home – and they mentioned that the TV was on in her hospital room – that may’ve been when she heard it.”

“Or a nurse could’ve told her,” Elena suggested. “Trying to chat – ‘Hey, I just saw you on the news.’”

“The friend who texted me didn’t even know it was Ann. The photo said Jessica Timmons, but the girl looked so familiar our friend thought she might be Ann’s sister.”

“Is there any reason Ann would leave after seeing herself?” Don asked.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out this morning. I called the hospital because I needed a context for her note, and they said her family already knew and had been there. So the news piece wouldn’t’ve surprised them.”

“But you didn’t know what happened?”

“I still don’t, really – little more than Waiter Stabs Cook. And I was surprised that was news.”

“Reporters need to pay rent.”

“And when I called the hospital, I discovered she’d checked out. That at least made sense of her note. But they also said a missing person’s report had been filed.”

“You must’ve called after nine,” Elena put in. “Because that’s when I spoke with them.”

Mira Banerjee nodded. “Actually, I called several times – trying to put things together. And I know this isn’t my business, but has he been arrested? Because if he hasn’t, that may be why Ann took off – she’s afraid of him.”

Don tried not to laugh. “Unfortunately, it’s a bit more complicated than that.” He paused and then tried to say it gently. “Ann started the fight. She was choking him and almost broke his neck.”

“Oh.”

Elena and Don waited for Mira Banerjee to absorb that, but it seemed she couldn’t. “Getting back to the other thing you mentioned,” Don carefully went on, “why does Ann work under two names?”

That seemed to bring Mira Banerjee into focus. “Well, for one thing her degrees – for that matter, all her official paperwork – is under her birth name – Jessica Ann Timmons. But since she started college, she’s gone by Ann – except with her family.”

“That must be confusing.”

“Not really. It’s less complicated than my name – which I’ve simplified several times since I’ve come to the US.” She said what must have been the original then smiled. “People just destroyed that.”

“I’ll bet it’s tough even written out,” Don admitted.

“You should see it in Hindi.”

After they laughed, Elena again put them on track, this time explaining what they’d learned from Ann’s mother. “Her phone number. License numbers. VIN. And one of her credit card numbers.”

“She only has one,” they were quickly told. “Plus an ATM card.”

“Do you know which bank?” Don questioned, and that was answered, too.

“But she does almost everything online,” Mira Banerjee continued. “And unfortunately I don’t know her accounts or passwords. Actually, we keep most of our money apart. It’s my house, and she gives me something towards that each month. But I make more than she does.”

“Social workers can’t earn much.”

Don was quickly corrected. “Hospice counselors do pretty well – she makes two-thirds of what I do.” Left unsaid was that she also did fine.

“What would you do in an emergency?” Don went on. “To get into her accounts?”

“That’s a good question,” Mira Banerjee admitted. “One I don’t think we’ve considered.” She hesitated. “I’m suddenly not very helpful, am I?”

“You’ve given us a lot,” Elena assured her. “And if you can just tell us where she works...”

“Downtown – an agency in Northampton. I can give you its name and the street, but I don’t know the exact address.”

“That should be easy enough to find,” Don said as thanks.

“Is there any reason you didn’t come in before now?” Elena eased on. “I’m sure if she’d still been in the hospital...”

“If that were true, I would’ve been there immediately. But I had her note saying all was well, so I wasn’t worried. Though now... well, I’m just confused. I don’t understand why this happened or why she’s gone. I really thought she was afraid of this man.”

Elena and Don shook their heads. “He’s strapped to a bed and couldn’t touch her if he tried.”

“And there are no charges? Those could scare her as well.”

After they confirmed there weren’t, Elena asked, “Do you have any idea where she’s gone?”

This time, Mira Banerjee shook her head. “There are so many places – so many women’s networks everywhere, and they ask nothing in return – I’m sure I’m not telling you anything. And a lot of these places are designed to help battered women, so they’re good at keeping secrets.”

“Is there any one in particular?”

“Not really. We’ve both volunteered at several.”

At that point, Mira Banerjee seemed to notice the wall clock and double checked the time on her phone. “Is there anything else that I can help with?” she nearly apologized. “I really have to go. It’s a bad drive to North Amherst on any day.”

Realizing they were about to lose her, Elena and Don quickly asked for any numbers or other information they’d possibly need, and again thanked her for her help. Walking her to the front door, Elena posed one last question, “If Ann was doing so well financially, why was she working two jobs?’”

Mira Banerjee simply laughed. “Now that’s an easy one. College loans.”

Back at their desks, Elena and Don reviewed their notes, making sure each understood the other’s and piecing together their case for Owen. “We have a reasonable report,” Elena soon told him, “but we’re not sure we want it circulated.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Too many holes,” Don groused. “For example, if you were trying to get away from a hospital in the middle of the night, wouldn’t the first person you called be Lisa?”

Owen grinned. “Unless I’d done something really stupid. Then I’d call you.”

“You think this is that? Don asked. “She’s embarrassed about the choking?”

“It’s possible.”

“But why did Mira Banerjee wait all morning before coming to us?” Elena went on. “Is it possible they needed time to put together a story? And if she simply couldn’t come in sooner, why didn’t she call?”

“Did you ask her?”

“Yes – and she said there were too many questions and too much to explain.”

“What do you think?”

“Well, she asked twice about charges,” Don pointed out. “If any had been made. Both times against the guy. She said – possibly claimed – that Ann – Jess – might be scared.”

“That’s logical, too,” Owen allowed.

“But could all this turn into a political mess if charges were made?” Elena continued. “Or could Jess Timmons be less afraid of Kye Cooper than she is of being arrested?”

“Those could also makes sense.”

“Plus, there’s been nothing online or on the news about charges,” Don noted. “Rob checked. So Mira Banerjee almost had to come to us for information – or Jess Timmons did, and she obviously didn’t want to. And all this time, Jess could be safely tucked at home, in their quiet house in Montague – not missing at all.”

Owen seemed to consider their thoughts and then slowly began his reply. “It would be very hard for either of them to press charges. And if a lawyer for either side tried, I’d tell them to think very carefully about it.”

Elena and Don agreed. “That’s why we feel we should hold the report,” Elena summed up. “This seems very personal, and if it blew up into sexual politics, it could hurt them both. Also, that doesn’t seem like our concern.”

Owen seemed to consider that, too. Meanwhile, Ike – standing quietly in the doorway – prompted, “I think they’re right.” When the three of them turned toward him, they realized Jae and Rob were standing right behind.

“Then that’s it,” Owen decided. “Let’s wait and see what happens.”

“And not even tell the TV stations about the missing person’s report?” Elena pursued.

“Definitely.”