FATAL SECRETS
By Terry Gibson

Chapter 1

			

To someone on a boat, it looked like two couples on the patio watching the gulls on a warm and sunny afternoon, in quiet conversation over drinks. Not an ordinary patio, this one was part of the glass-walled executive wing of the major employer in East Bay, a town of less than five thousand. Neither were they two couples. It was a staff meeting, a secret one, but for NorEl, of extreme importance even so. Sonya Fischer, as secretary to the President had brought irregularities to the attention of Harry Newcomb, who in turn suggested that Carlo Palmer ask his secretary Dina Mitchell to join them. On the surface, not an earth- shaking event. To these four, they were staring at catastrophe. "So many minor setbacks have already impacted the status quo," Harry summed it up. In the unbalanced budget they had already established it as a recent problem. "We never ran into this while Gwen was with us," Sonya said. "You have nailed it," Dina said. As a long-term employee, Dina had seen people come and go. "Gwen Green was on top of everything that went on here, nothing and nobody could get past her high standards." "I guess it is human nature," Carlo sadly said, "to appreciate people after we have lost them." "We loved her even before." Sonya surrepticiously caught a tear so it could not fall. "I have been needing to say some things for weeks now. Gwen was my mentor when I first joined you here; she made me welcome. She showed me the personal skills that create teams working together. You remember I was just a file clerk when I started, but she showed how to help others do their jobs when needed, and I am sure that I would not have been promoted out of the secretarial pool without knowing that." Harry smiled. "Best decision we ever made." "Thankl you, but it was Gwen who had made it possible. Such a good friend... Sorry," Sonya found a tissue, shaking her head, "I don't know why." "I do," Dina said. "Picture of efficiency, she was much more than our eagle-eyed control over expenditure, unsmiling except when with closest friends." "No-nonsense all the way, a walking warning against waste!" "Sure Harry, but that was her secret! Like the strict teacher with the softest heart, that is not appreciated until years later." Carlo was right. "We all knew about Gwen's quick and subtle wit. Her comment could leave us puzzled, knowing from experience it was probably hilarious if we caught it." "I saw it ripple though her audience one day," Gina added. "Just a few words. No reaction, and Gwen went on like the farmer, having planted the seed." "I think I was there. Later, suddenly like a bulb switched on, meaning hit. The sudden cough hiding a chuckle could not hide heaving shoulders. Like infection, a muffled giggle showed that Gwen's delayed action comment had caught someone by surprise." Sonya blew her nose. Should happy things make us cry? Such a gentle person, completely at peace within and with the world, happy, yet very much aware of the position of trust that she held. They had gone silent. "We are talking about Gwen as if she is dead." The motorboat that passed covered the need to speak when they had nothing to say. Two others conveniently followed. Harry Newcomb broke the silence. "I refuse to believe that Gwen will never return." "I know. Even after police could find no clue," Sonya got busy looking for something in her purse. "Even after Gwen stopped coming to work, I kept expecting to see her hanging her coat in the closet in the--" A sob caught her. It was a strangled "morning." "Sonya, we miss her too." There had to be a happy explanation, Dina did not say; she did not want to be accused of being in denial. She changed her plans, that's all-- The mad scramble to find excuses was interrupted by Carlo. Much as he sympathized, this was not getting them anywhere. "Nevertheless, we must at least temporarily, have someone in that position." Harry agreed. A discussion followed, to reveal or not to reveal. The ad was published with amazing speed. Their advertising brought several good and some not so good. Almost before two thoughts could connect, a likely candidate had been hired. Shawna Elliott. Accounts had certainly gone missing, in short, a mess. Sonya had already agreed to help Shawna feel comfortable with them. She'd know secretaries would be her first contacts to find who needs what, and to set up an agenda.

*

Shawna Elliott was facing a day that would change her life. "Coloured lights? Do you see them?" After the past few months, Chi-Chi her chihuahua was used to being scooped up and asked philosophical questions. "There in that spruce tree. No, outside the window, still draining its shower.... See them?" Chi-Chi looked at her instead. "No no, out there in the tree!" Droplets clung to needles in slanting rays of the morning sun . "Oh well." She patted the small head. "The water acts like tiny prisms, splitting the light." While they danced with red, yellow, and blue in light gusts of wind, she said, "Chi-Chi, you are going to be good while I am gone. Fresh water, OK? Don't eat all this at once!" She lingered for a last look. How beautiful they are! she thought. It feels so good it has to be an omen that all at last is well! She was wrong. Shawna thought her letter of welcome put events at her previous job behind her forever. Those events had caused the end of a once-proud family company and her own move to this distant town. She did not know that the fatal secrets she had not been told, waited. She dressed quickly, adjusted the clip in her long wavy hair, and then, eager to meet her new colleagues, left secure in the start of a new life. At twenty-six, she was the one chosen from the many applicants for the Office Manager position at NorEl, a major electronics company. She would shine, fully qualified, eager to succeed.

*

As secretary to the Head of Personnel, it was up to Dina to set it up. She checked last details in the Executive Lounge overlooking the lake, and paused to admire the view. Unlike most people she had not lost interest in the familiar, for something was always happening. A canoe this time, single occupant, expert with the paddle. Rolly Menard, returning from fishing. One of the nice things about a small town, Dina thought, is that everyone is known by name. Dina called Rosalie. "Are you free?' "Yes, Ross knows." "It'll take a half hour of his time. Do urge him to join us." Dina clicked off and called the rest of the secretaries on the select list, Elaine, Christy, Shirley, and Sally, with invitations for their bosses.

*

Rolly Menard had arrived at his dock, and greeted his wife Jeanne as he pulled his canoe up on shore. "Got a beauty, but the season wasn't open yet." "So you tossed it back." "Of course." She smiled. "Phantom fish are fast to fillet." Together they climbed the hill to the house. "Grass is getting long." "I'll cut it. Ya know, I worked a lot of long years for the privilege of cutting my grass before noon on a workday!" "And you don't miss working even a little bit." He took out his pipe, checked at it still had enough in it, and ritualistically, lit it before he said in a puff of smoke, "I don't miss the shipping department, but kind of wonder about the new guy who replaced me." "Why is that?" Another thoughtful puff of smoke. "I don't know why, but I have a funny feeling about him." "You weren't the one who hired him." "No." "Do you have a reason to say that?" Rolly drew on his pipe and opened the shed door, ready to take out the lawn mower. "I don't know. Ok, it has been less than three months, and you remember how loyal Sandra was, and how she really needed the job." "So?" "She's gone. No one knows where. Gone." The lawn mower was ready to go but moving nowhere. Rolly knocked out his pipe on the cement walk, and put it empty, into his pocket. "Maybe he insulted her? Overweight and all?" Jeanne knew something strange was still coming. "He has a new clerk, all long nineteen-year-old legs and pouty lips, and eyes that could etch glass." "Don't tell me. All glamour, attitude...?" "Worse. Up to something. Frankly I am concerned about Sandra." When the mower sprang into life, grass took the punishment of his thoughts.

*

All who were coming had assembled except John and Chip. Shawna arrived, embarrassed to see so many important-looking people there. Drat, she fretted, I should have worn something more serious. Casting her eyes around the room, she reeled in another uncomfortable fact: even the secretaries are better dressed! As she sat in the chair-of-honour, and with unaccustomed effort, composed her face into a pleasant smile, she scolded herself, No! I will be myself! My work will prove my value! Dina called them to order with "Let's get started!" She waited for the conversations to cease. Smiling her friendliest smile, she said, "We are here to welcome our newest member in the executive wing, Shawna Elliott." Polite clapping and some "Hello Shawna" and "Glad you're with us..." "Shawna comes to us from Toronto--" Low groan. "Come now, people-- She has her MBA as well as experience in the field, and I am sure, with your cooperation, she'll help us reduce confusion with integration of the technical, shipping, and secretarial areas." Dina paused and looked pointedly at the groaner. "If you have any issues concerning Toronto, please take them up with me directly." A muted "sorry" was heard. Elaine and Sally sent three silent cheers to each other. They had taken too much heat already. "Shawna, I will introduce all the heads of departments, because you are here to work with their secretaries to organize and make their work easier--" The introduction of all the bosses "so you'll recognize them," left Shawna lost. The best she could do was memorize faces, and match names later. Her own speech was over before she had time to make a fool of herself, and her "So happy to be here" was made genuine by a radiant smile. "Ed, please see me after this meeting." It was blandly spoken but many in the room knew why Dina would follow up. Chip had come from Toronto, and the "blowhard" was not generally liked. Ed's work area was near him. Sonya's mind had wandered after Shawna admitted she had an MBA. Visceral fear had strangely taken over, a knowledge that something was very wrong. Her thoughts ricocheted from 'Is Shawna in danger?' through 'What really happened to Gwen Green?' and skittered around the fact that really 'Shawna doesn't need to know' to a realization: 'We didn't know for weeks Gwen was in trouble, not until the police investigation.' Chilled to 'Maybe we should warn Shawna?' Stopped there, held her captive: "What if something happens to Shawna? Too?" Thoughts crowded each other, nudged aside; It was happening so fast the fears rode piggyback, blended, separated, all in minutes. The discussion period pulled her mind out of its storm and let her think more rationally, remembering. Then she lost track again. Her thoughts were wordless but in the feeling, the awareness, the reality of their meaning could have been: 'We could not assume Gwen's permanent loss. Nobody was keeping track, no one was watching, Such a sense of futility in that, a heavy feeling. Everyone knew things had gone out of control. At last the saddest part: Gwen was my friend, a happy person. Sonya's mind went back to a month ago, the day Gwen Green turned up missing. Punctual, dependable, conscientious Gwen had not phoned, had not arrived at work after her three-week vacation. Like in a personal TV documentary, she relived that terrible day. Dina had raised the alert. "Have you seen Gwen?" Nightmares begin normally. A stack of urgent stuff on her desk waited for attention, but no Gwen to deal with it. "She's always early, no. Not here." Sonya picked up the phone and called as many people as she could think of, with no result. Between calls she asked, "What does Carlo say?" "He's in a meeting with Harry just now. I went in with coffee. As my dad would say, 'Not a smile in a carload.' I've never seen two men so pale." "Her family knows nothing?" "No, they are very upset. I wish they had told us. The police found no record that she was even on her flight. Her seat was reported vacant." Sonya was speechless, feeling sick. Gwen would never do that. Never. "They gave her seat to a man on standby." Her heart fell. "Maybe... Maybe she got on a different flight?" Dina's smile was wry. "They are checking that and we hope for good news. I really have little hope." "Or--" Impossible as it was-- "Maybe she just changed her mind and is visiting someone else?" Sonya sighed. "There just has been no news. Her mother said Gwen's name is on the Missing Persons list, and nothing else has surfaced." "Nothing in the papers yet." The media have not published the news, strangely enough. Odd. Had someone asked them to keep it quiet? In any case, still no one has news of Gwen, she thought. Is it because it would be hard to get applicants if it is known the previous incumbent may be-- Sonya recoiled from the word. Dead. It stopped the train. Sonya surfaced; the discussion still continued. So did the feeling of anxiety, of pain almost, the sense something was perilously wrong. Or, Sonya thought, is my sick feeling about John? She didn't dare give it the substance of words, when all her words these days ended with death. He has looked so sick, granted, so down, and not with us to meet Shawna. But then, Chip wasn't either...small comfort as that is. Noticing that the meeting was over, Sonya pulled her thoughts back from the edge of fright, and tucked away its tentacles. When they were filing out, and all others had gone back to whatever they had been doing, she said, "Shawna, I'm Sonya, and if you'll join me in the cafeteria over brunch maybe I can answer any remaining more personal questions." "Yes! Please, is there a map of this place, a floor plan?" "Yes, I'll get you one. We can label it together." It felt good to be with someone so vibrantly alive as they walked north past Dina's desk in the main lobby where she also acted as receptionist, toward the seminar room, across from which sat Shawna's new desk. A nice desk, Shawna saw, a comfortable chair, attractive decor, a large leafy plant growing under lights on the other side of a glass brick wall. "I can get to like this office!" Shawna remarked, recalling the crowded cubicle she had before. Prestige and Position calmly stated themselves even at a glance. "And that, I presume, would be Mr. Newcomb's office?" "His suite, yes." "Ah." "I wish you could have met Nellie Wheating," Sonya said, smiling. "She's the reason this company grew at all, and still a dear friend of mine." "She should be a director?" "No, she's a senior citizen now, long retired. She is as much the reason for our existence as she ever was." "I would love to meet her." "You soon may. Let's find a table in the cafeteria!" They left together, two attractive women, twenty years apart in age.

*

"No hurry," Nellie said to her son William as they entered the lakeside restaurant. He smiled as he drew up a chair."My plane leaves in two hours." Nelie studied the menu. "Don't forget Islam. It may be 1980, but they'll be very strict-- no alcohol, no women." Nellie smiled, kidding him. "I do hope there'll be women at the company clinic, though. Without veils." "Aha, Young Company Doctor Wants Feminine See-nery." "Quit your kidding, Mom." William Wheating, M.D. was excited about his international posting. Even just the travel-experience would be great, but they would be part of a research team for the World Health Organization. As he put it to his mother, "The spread of a new dangerous communicable disease was first discussed last year, 1979. It attacks homosexual men, and is spreading rapidly." He paused. Nellie nodded. "I've heard of it. I doubt the life style gets approval there." "True. Other things too. The nurses, being women, will help us, because of traditional taboos. Theoretically there should be no cases among the women at all. Interesting to see how effective the strict codes of dress and behaviour would be." Nellie snorted. "There is no code applied to men. Is there a test for it?" "There are symptoms in later cases, skin lesions, Kaposi's sarcoma...I'll keep you informed," he said as he took a taste of his 'Fresh Strawberry Crepes.' "Oh this is really good! Try it!" "Mmm-hmmmm!" She took another bit with her coffee spoon, and asked, "What did they do to that jam? Fresh strawberries, obviously, but there is something else!" Thoughtfully, then: "It's minted! That's what it is, mint!" She called the waitress. "Is it too late to change my order to what he's having?" "Not at all. We get that reaction a lot." "Wonderful!" William's sigh of agreement hid his leaving. "I'll be back in a year for some more!" Both ate in silence as their minds travelled opposite paths, his toward the future, hers into the recent past. John would have enjoyed this, she thought. I am so lucky to have two such sons, so different, so far apart in age, she thought. It was almost funny: John, born in the first year of her marriage at nineteen, alpha, and omega, William when unexpected, in her forty-second year. Now he is a doctor. She smiled at the miracle of that. William noticed, and his raised eyebrows asked why. She evaded, with "John told me to give you a big hug at the airport for him. He had a meeting --" Poor John. . . . "Hello, Mom! Come in Mom--" "Oh sorry! I guess I didn't hear you." "I saw that. Look, I'll be back you know. Anyhow, I asked how 'Gizmo 32' was coming along." "Well, we got the prototypes back." Nellie drained her coffee. "Mass- produced, the chips will be cheaper." "Silicon chips?" "Itty bitty ones. Smaller than pollen grains." "And they work?" "You betcha!" Big smile. "Smallest yet." "The size of pollen grains, you said. Nobody will believe it." "That's fine. So I will just have to prove it to the right people I guess." "Mom, you've got to be the best inventor since Edison!" "Hush, William. But spoken like the loving son you are." "But Mom, prolific, anyhow. Like child's play for you to make ingenious devices, tiny, perfect, inevitable. "It only looks that way-- though I must admit this new one is different, a breakthrough." "How many of the 32 have you sold?" "Seriously?" she asked. "Yes." "Five. Many of the others became part of toys. Giveaways." "And you don't want anyone to know." William thought she was being unusually modest but she explained, "It's because I hope to sell the patent to a customer who needs to keep it top secret." "Military?" "Um, let's just say it's important." William remembered several other gizmos he knew about, amazing things that his mother had created, and how no one in town had a clue what ideas lived under his mother's silver-white hair. No idea at all! She said it was best that way and, as far as anyone knew, she just tended to her knitting.

*

All that "knitting" was for general consumption. At NorEl even the newest worker soon heard about the Brain Center, and about Nellie who had become legendary. Although many of them were grievously troubled now with the loss of both Gwen and Sandra, no one was prepared for what was about to happen.

*

1.

From Nellie's Notebook: 
 Epic Senryu: MANY KINDS OF LOVE 


A senryu is like a haiku, three lines, 5, 7, 5 syllables.
  This is a set of them.




 Sustained metaphor 
 in senryu: What is Love? There
 are so many kinds:

  Love is a brick wall, 
  assembled of strength, credence
  and calm endurance.

  Soft was its mortar
  of friendship, with foundation
  and binding presence.

  Time firming the bond,
  built brick by brick of kindness,
  trust and innocence

  It encloses friends
  with loyalty's confidence
  and independence.   

  If sometimes friends
  suddenly see their eyes glow,
  and incandescence 
  transforms their brick wall 
  to an edifice that stands!  
  Harmony! Cadence!

  Children come welcomed.
  They endure hardships, take them
  in stride, it makes sense.

  Strong in turbulence,
  it withstands belligerence
  and hostile offence.

  It lasts forever . . .
  if it is real.  If not, then
  it is just a fence.