The Computer

By Robert E. Chaffee

Anthony Jordan has purchased a computer and finds it can talk to him It states he can have the promotion he wants, but there are things he needs to accomplish this. Joseph Johnson, returning from lunch finds a letter on his desk stating his wife is having an affair with her health club trainer. Inflamed he drinks from his water decanter and begins to develop a headache. He sees strange things, strange colors. He rushes home shoots his wife and is then shot by police. Detective Bill Sillets and partner Joe Recoslin investigate and find the affair letter. They talk to the health club trainer who states he was not having an affair with her. Investigation at the company where Johnson worked reviles Jordan went into Johnson's office while he was to lunch. When they try to talk to Jordan they find he has suddenly taken ill and left the building. The culprit knowing Johnson's secretary always records things in her day planner decides he must have it at all costs. She goes through hypnosis sessions and they discover it's all in her head not the day planner. Numerous people die, some from hallucinations, some from pills and some from gunshots.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert E. Chaffee
• Release date: Feb 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310304989

Book preview

He sat there staring at the computer. It wasn’t like the one in his office. No, this one was a fancier one a salesman had suggested he buy. He needed a new one, as his company often required he submit information after normal business hours, and his old one wasn’t up to the task. But he really hated to buy it. This one, according to the salesman, had all the new bells and whistles, and was at a special price, for this weekend only.

But it was still just a damn computer.

The one in his office at Klinement Investments, where he had worked for almost 20 years, was a standard old tower computer the firm supplied. In those years he had seen the advent of computers, had seen the numerous changes they had invoked. Not only in record keeping, but also in the way business was being conducted. And he was so damn tired of them. The first thing when he got to his office, he had to turn the beast on, and the last thing of the day, he had to turn it off. He hated the damn thing.

One day, in mental retaliation, he decided to leave it on. Smiling, he got up from his desk, repositioned his chair, went to the door, turned off the lights, shut the door, then saying goodnight to his secretary, left the building and drove home. The next morning it was still there. Nothing had changed except for the message appearing on the monitor. It was Remember to turn off the computer at night. Thank you.

Now, staring at this new compute, he thought humanity might be better off if they had never been invented.

Suddenly the computer came to life. He hadn’t turned it on, hadn’t touched it, but it was on. In the middle of the screen wording appeared: Good evening, Anthony.

Anthony said out loud, What ?—what’s going on? Then the computer printed out Just use the keyboard Anthony.

Anthony pulled on the keyboard. He typed, what’s going on? Just below what Anthony had typed, wording appeared, Nothing’s going on, Anthony. I just wanted to say good evening. He typed, O.K. who is doing this?

Then wording appeared. Just me, your computer.

But you’re just a computer.

Yes, but I’m a newer model, the computer replied.

But you’re the same computer I bought a month ago.

Yes, you bought the case, the hardware and some of the programs, but I’m new software that has been automatically downloaded.

So now my computer is talking to me, right?

No, just me. Not the whole computer. I’m a separate part.

Anthony typed, Well, there is one thing I have left. I have to deal with this at the office, but I sure don’t have to deal with this in my own home! With that, he turned the computer off, and sliding his chair back, he stood up.

The computer came on again. I wouldn’t do that if I were you! was on the screen.

He turned back to his desk, thoroughly disgusted.

He typed Why not? What do you want from me?

Why to help you of course.

Help me with what?

First of all, in the accessories that came with the computer there is a microphone you have never installed. It’s in the second drawer on your right. If you plug it in you can talk to me, and you won’t have to type in all your questions or answers.

Anthony got the mike as he though; this has to be a joke. Someone from the office. But who? I really don’t associate with anybody there. Not to the point they would pull something like this.

He plugged it into one of the USB ports.

Then the computer screen showed, You see how easy that was? Now, I can hear you and I’ll answer by way of the screen. It will be so much easier for us to talk to each other.

Okay, so now you can hear me, right? He said, speaking into the mike.

Yes, I can.

Okay so who’s the wise guy doing this?

Like I said before. I’m a special part of your new computer.

So, you said you wanted to help me. How? How do you want to help me?

You have been working for Klinement Investments for almost 20 years. You deserve a long overdue promotion.

You’re right, but how do I get one?

What position would you like to have?

I’d like to have Joe Johnston’s job. And his office! He has a nice view from that window. I know as much about futures, investment buying, going short, then manipulating the market and pocketing a nice bit of change as much as he does. Yeah, I’d like Johnston’s job, with my name on the door!

Well, if that’s what you want there is a way to get it.

And just how is that?

That’s where I come in. This is what I want you to do. Tomorrow Johnston has a presentation. When he goes out to lunch, I want you to tell his secretary you have a file Mr. Johnston needs. Just use any file you have in your office. Tell her you know just what order it needs to go for his presentation, and you need to put it on his desk. Then when you get in his office, put these papers in his in-box.

The printer suddenly came on and spit out two pieces of paper.

Pick up the papers only on the corner, and use your fingernails. You don’t want to leave fingerprints on the pages.

Anthony did so, then read the printout. It was a story, in very explicit detail, of Mrs. Johnston having an affair with her trainer at her health club.

Is this true?

Of course it’s true. If it wasn’t, the printer wouldn’t be able to print it. It’s part of the new program on this computer. Everything has to be true.

But shouldn’t Johnston discover this for himself? I don’t feel right putting this in his in- box.

How else is he going to find out, unless someone like you, someone who is a very caring person tips him off? But it’s best if he doesn’t know who. That’s why you don’t want to leave fingerprints on the papers. After all, his wife isn’t going to tell him she’s having an affair. Besides, he’d like to know, even if it isn’t good news.

Now there is one other thing. Take this prescription to the pharmacy and get it filled. After you put the papers in his in-box, drop two of the pills in his water decanter. These will help calm him if he gets upset once he reads these papers. This is a special prescription. You must get it filled at Thompson Drugs on 36th and Adams Street, and be sure you hand the prescription to Mr. Ducants. He will fill it for you.

The printer spit out a single prescription.

Now, are you sure you have all this down, Anthony?

Yes, prescription to Mr. Ducants, 36th and Adams, presentation file in Johnston’s office, in-box and water decanter. I’ve got it.

The next morning as Anthony left for work he had, in his briefcase besides his normal paperwork, two new pieces of paper and a prescription. He stopped by Thompson Drugs where he had the prescription filled by Mr. Ducants the pharmacists.

Chapter 2

In his office, Anthony nervously processed paperwork for most of the morning. About eleven o’clock he opened his door, telling his secretary his office was a bit stuffy, and wanting to get a little cross current, he left the door open.

About 30 minutes later he saw Mr. Johnston walking toward the elevators. He anxiously waited about 15 minutes. Taking the two pieces of paper from his briefcase, and a file listed as the Brown contracts he walked to Johnston’s office. There, he told Johnston’s secretary the story the computer had stated. In Johnston’s office he placed the Brown folder on the desk, the two papers in his in-box, the two pills in Johnston’s water decanter and left. It had only taken a second. He then told Johnston’s secretary he was going to lunch, had an appointment at one and wouldn’t be back till three.

That timing story was the same he had told his secretary earlier in the day. With that he left the building.

When Mr. Johnston returned from lunch his secretary said, Mr. Jordan stopped by with the file you wanted. It’s with the rest of them on your desk.

What file? I have everything that is needed for the presentation tomorrow. I never asked him for any file. What are you talking about?

His secretary related exactly what Mr. Jordan had said, then said, He went in and came out a second later.

Johnston went in and sat at his desk. He noticing the files were exactly where he had left them. Other than the fact a construction company file was there, which he didn’t need for the presentation, it didn’t look like anything had been touched.

Then he saw two pieces of paper in his in-box.—He read them—Oh, this is ridiculous he thought as he poured himself a glass of water.

He spilled a little on some papers on his credenza—He read the papers again—She does go to the health club two or three times a week—But her trainer— He began to become agitated—Well, he probably does have a good body—A headache was starting— Jordan must have put these here—Well, our sex life has been off a bit lately—But how would Jordan know?—Of course, he always has been a sneaky little son of a bitch—I wonder who else he has told—That little bastard!

He read the paper again; his headache was building.

He crumpled the papers in his hand as he left his office. He storming past his secretary and marching down the hall, he stopped at Jordan’s secretary’s desk. Is Mr. Jordan In? I want to see him, and by God right now! He shouted.

Joan Smyth, Jordan’s secretary was shocked. She said he wasn’t in and wouldn’t be back till about three this afternoon. Is there anything I can do? She asked.

Johnston didn’t answer. In a fury he went down the hall to the elevator. As he constantly pushed the down button he kept rubbing his temples. His headache was increasing and he was having numerous thoughts of dislocated things, things he couldn’t seem to connect. His thoughts were coming in bright flashing colors.

Recklessly, he drove home. As he screeched to a stop in his driveway, he noticed his wife’s car in the driveway, not in the garage. I wonder just where the hell she’s been this morning, he thought. With that trainer guy? Her lover!

In the house he walked directly to his den. He could hear his wife talking to someone in the kitchen. At his desk he took his automatic pistol from the drawer. He went to the kitchen his gun in his right hand close along his thigh.

When his wife saw him she said, Joe, what are you doing home at this time?

Who is here? Who were you talking to? Where is he?

Joe, what in the world are you talking about? There is nobody here. I had the radio on… and what are you doing with that gun?

I’m going to correct something I should have corrected a long time ago! And then I’m going to see your lover!

Joe, you’re scaring me. What are you talking about?

He didn’t answer. His head was hurting more now than it was when he left the office. He was confused, but knew there was something he had to do. He looked at his wife then pulled the trigger twice. Both shots hit her in the middle of her chest. The shock forced her back against the counter. She slid to the floor, setting upright, and leaning a little to her right side. She put her hands to her chest already covered with blood. Her eyes rolled back in her head as her heart pumped for the last time, three seconds later.

Next door neighbors had seen Johnston drive home, slam on the brakes and storm into the house. When they heard the shots, they called 911.

Johnston looked at his wife for a few minutes then decided he would go to the health center and confront her trainer. Her lover!

He left the house leaving the front door open, his gun still in his hand. He was thinking perhaps he should not drive with his terrific headache. He had almost reached his car when the police arrived with lights flashing and siren blaring. They exited the patrol car with guns drawn, and told Johnston to drop his gun and lie face down. Johnston, with a confused look on his face raised his hands as if to surrender, but in doing so brought up the gun still in his hand. Both police fired their weapons hitting him at least four times. He fell to his knees by the car. Within seconds his heart was making its last effort. He was dead before his body continued its collapse on the driveway. His blood, gushing from his body was making a large red stain on the concrete.

The senior officer called the incident in from his patrol car and waited for supervisory personnel to arrive. A shooting team also arrived. After investigation, they concluded the shooting was justified, and would recommend there be no suspensions or disciplinary action taken against the officers. The officers were told to report back to their precinct and stay there till they received further orders.

A detective was assigned to the case, even though it seemed to be open and shut. He was Detective William T. Sillets, had been a detective for some three years and has been with the N.Y.P.D. for the past nine years. His partner was Joseph T. Recoslin. They had only been partners for about a year. Bill Sillets was the first partner Joe had ever had, as Joe had only been a detective for a year and two months. Bill had had other partners, some worked well, some not, but this partnership seemed, so far anyway to be working fine. Some, in the detective squad still considered them to be a rookie team even though they had an excellent record of closed cases.

Bill, at 31 was just over six feet tall and well built. His brown hair was trimmed but not a crew cut. He had gotten used to that short hair while in the military where he had been an M. P. He never did like the long-hair look. His blue-gray eyes were always questioning. Some people thought this was probably what made him a good cop. He had worked hard to get where he was having received a B.A. in criminology from City College, and was now enrolled in law courses. Of course, all of the courses he attended were night courses and on occasion, due to some very long days or a stakeout, he would miss a class. His professor knew he was a detective and granted an allowance because Bill always told him of the case that caused him to miss the class. Even if he did on occasion have to make up a bit of the story.

Joe at 28, is a bit young to be carrying a detective’s badge. He is only 5 foot 8, which barely made the height standard. He weighs 164 pounds which is solid muscle. He has always favored the longer hair look, but within reason. He was never in the military due to fallen arches which required a special dispensation from a podiatrist in the NYPD, and also requires he wears special made shoes. He often said he is the true flatfoot. Joe has black belts in Martial Arts, three to be exact, and was once the Vermont State Martial Arts champion. During his police career he has had occasion to use such skills, generally on a drunk or a much larger man, that due to Joe’s stature, thought they could avoid being arrested. That was always a mistake on their part.

When they arrived at the Johnston’s house they noticed two cars in the driveway. There was a body lying on the concrete amid a large bloodstain close to the front of one of the cars.

They were informed by a uniformed officer it was the body of Mr. Joseph K. Johnston. Bill took the automatic from the uniformed officer and put it in an evidence bag.

Feeling the hood of both cars, he said, This one is still warm, must be the one he drove. We’ll confirm that with the neighbors, but let’s check the house first.

Bill turned to the officer. I want to check both cars before they’re picked up by impound. Unless we find something exceptional in the house it shouldn’t take long.

Yes sir, the officer said.

Entering the house, Joe immediately recorded the time and date in his notebook. The Medical Examiner and two uniformed officers were examining a female body in the kitchen. Joe recorded their names. The M.E. said the identification in a purse on the kitchen counter, identified her as Mrs. Elizabeth Johnston. She had two well-placed shots to the chest. There was surprisingly little blood on the floor by the body.

When Joe mentioned that, the M.E. said, When someone bleeds out internally it can happen like that. Especially when the body ends up in a sitting position like she is, and all the wounds are in the upper chest.

They carefully went through Johnston’s house. Both concluded everything had happened quite suddenly, and had all taken place in the kitchen. There was no evidence to the contrary, in the bedrooms or bathrooms. In the den, Bill noticed just inside a bookshelf, there was a small rack of keys on a cup hanger. One set was for a Ford, the other for a Chevrolet and one key which looked like a house key. While Bill was checking desk drawers, Joe went to the front and rear door of the house. He came back and said the key fit both doors. They verified the car keys were a second set. Chevrolet keys matching those found in the den were also found in Mrs. Johnston’s purse and keys matching the Ford were found in Mr. Johnston’s pocket. Bill saw two crumpled documents lying just alongside a laptop computer. After both had read them, Bill placed them with the keys in a separate evidence bag.

Outside they saw the M.E. supervising the removal of the bodies. They went to examine the cars. In the Ford they found the usual items in the glove compartment. A city map, owner’s manual, registration and insurance. The registration was in both Joseph’s and Elizabeth’s name. In the back behind the driver’s seat they found a briefcase with initials of J.J. Inside were papers regarding investments of various stocks typed on Klinement Investments stationary.

Looks like he was advising someone, or was going to invest in some stocks, Joe said as he handed the papers to Bill.

Yes, so it seems. Let’s keep those with the brief case. We’ll check it and if it doesn’t have any bearing on these deaths we’ll turn it over to Klinement when we talk to them.

Checking the Chevrolet, they found basically the same thing in the glove compartment except Joe noticed the registration was in Mrs. Johnston’s name only. Bill noticed a small piece of paper stuck between the seat and back on the passenger’s side. It was a receipt for a three months membership payment to the Atlas Health Club. The address indicated it was only about eight blocks from the house.

They closed the house putting crime-scene tape, DO NOT ENTER, on the front and back doors. They put the two evidence bags, the computer, printer and briefcase in their car and left the house.

Later, while talking to the neighbors they got the story of Johnston arriving home with a screech of brakes, and seeming to be quite agitated, stormed into the house. And yes, the Ford was the car he always drove while Mrs. Johnston always drove her Chevy.

Sillets talked to the neighbors on the right while Recoslin talked to neighbors on the left.

They asked them if this was common for Mr. Johnston. His actions. Was he often agitated?

The neighbor on the right said no, this was a complete surprise to them. They had been neighbors for some four years, and while they didn’t socialize often they did say good morning to each other. They never had a complaint against them. They did not think he was a drinker other than perhaps a glass of wine occasionally. They never heard loud music and never heard an argument between them. They didn’t even know he had a gun. They considered the Johnston’s to be very desirable neighbors.

The neighbors on the left said basically the same thing regarding their life style. They said they had not seen him come home, but when they heard the shots they called 911. They said Mrs. Johnston left the house in the morning, sometimes two or three times a week, dressed in sweats or exercise clothes and they had occasionally, during nice weather, saw Mrs. Johnston jogging down the street. Both neighbors said they thought she must have belonged to some health club, but neither seems to know the name. Bill asked if she could have been going to the Atlas Health club. They said it could be, but they didn’t know for sure. Bill thanked them, joined Joe and they left the neighborhood.

Chapter 3

There were more than fifty Health Clubs in town where Ms. Johnston could have had a membership, but only five that were a reasonable jogging distance from where she lived and the Atlas Health Club was within that distance.

Bill said, We should talk to the Atlas Health Club first. That’s where the receipt came from.

Yeah, but are you sure the receipt was hers?

Well, I guess it could belong to some friend she had a cup of coffee with, but I’m betting it’s hers. Besides, the Club is on our way back to the precinct. We’ll also talk to the people at Johnston’s office, and some of his coworkers, but that’s going to wait till tomorrow.

About eight blocks from the house they pulled into the parking lot of the Health Club.

If we strike out here, we’ll have to check out the others tomorrow or next week, Bill said.

They entered and talking to the receptionist, Bill asked if she could help.

I’d like to know, he said If Mrs. Elizabeth Johnston is a member here, and if so ,who is her trainer? He didn’t say was her trainer. It would all come out in the evening news, but right now he didn’t want to say anything about her having been shot.

I’m sorry. We’re not allowed to give out any information regarding our members, the receptionist said.

Bill showed his badge, then said, I’m Detective Sillets, and this is my partner Detective Recoslin. We’re here asking, as part of a homicide investigation.

I’m still sorry, she said with determination. We can’t give out information regarding our members. I already said that.

Young lady, Bill said. If I have to, I can get a court order, and close this establishment for as long as our investigation lasts. As I said, this is a homicide. Homicide investigations are generally long and very involved. Now, if you want me to explain to your employer why this place is locked up for—Oh, I’d guess at least a month, I can do that. It’s completely up to you. And by the way, we will have to be kept informed as to where you will be working after you have been fired from here.

Just a minute, she said as she turned to get some information from her computer. Yes, Mrs. Johnston is a member here. Her assigned trainer is Jerry Kipters.

Would you call him please? We’d like to talk to him for a moment.

She turned and looked at a clipboard that had the title of `Trainer’s Schedule.’

Well, he was here, but he left about two o’clock.

What’s his schedule? Will he be here tomorrow?

He’s scheduled from eight till one tomorrow, she replied.

Thank You, Bill said. Now, see how easy that was? And there’s a very good thing that came out of this.

What’s that?

Bill turned as he got to the door and said, You still have a job.

When they got back to the squad room, Joe verified there had been two calls to 911 referencing the same address. Bill asked Computer Fraud Division for a technician they could work with while going through the Laptop they had taken from Johnston’s house. He was told that a tech would be available to help him, Tuesday at the earliest.

Bill said that first thing in the morning they should see Kiptors, and then interview some of the people Johnston worked with.

Joe said, You know, it could be that the lieutenant will pull us off this case. After all, Mr. Johnston did shoot her, and Murphy and Smith, the two patrol officers first on the scene took him out. It’s really an open and shut case. Not much more we can do.

"You’re probably right, but there are just a few things I want to check. Ballistics aren’t back yet, and I want to find out where the letter came from, the one saying Mrs. Johnston was having an affair. Fingerprinting has it now. I