If Walls Could Talk

 

If Walls Could Talk

 

            George Landis had a PhD in quantum physics and was well respected in his field. George worked for the past three years on a project that is colleagues thought of as, to put it bluntly, crazy.

His funding from the Department of Homeland Security had almost dried up when he had his “ah ha” moment. This came while listening to a book on tape while stuck in traffic. Suddenly the words had become garbled, then went on like this for several seconds and then returned to something he understood. He hurried back to the lab, as fast as the traffic would permit.

He had been trying to prove his theory that that sound waves are trapped in inanimate objects, much like they are on a piece of recording tape. Up till now he had never gotten anything that even passed for an intelligible sound.

His last experiment consisted of a fresh partition of drywall set up near the coffee break area for five days. It was then brought back to the lab to be “listened” to.

The apparatus to do this listening consisted of a highly modified MRI and a high-end workstation computer to control and decipher it all. Although the partition had been in place for five days all he was able to hear was a garble of sound, sort of like a saturated audio tape that bleeds through from the other side.

He suddenly realized that if he were to isolate the top most layer with the MRI as opposed to the full depth of the drywall, he might have better results.

Better was an understatement. There were voices and words. Not digital quality, more like a bad phone connection, but they were there.

His department head would be thrilled with the news. Dr. John Walter was the most supportive of any of his colleagues. In fact it was John that had helped get his last funding from Homeland Security.

George picked up the phone and dialed John’s cell number. It rang several times and then went to voice mail. George hung up, he wanted to share this with someone, and then it hit him. He would go home early and surprise his wife. Early he thought, if you can call 9:45 p.m. early. It was much earlier than he had been coming home, if he made it home at all. Some nights he would just sleep in his office and not see Annie for days. That was all over now. He had proved his theory. The grad students could tweak it while he wrote a scholarly paper on the subject.

As he pulled into the driveway of his house he saw the lights on in the bedroom on the second floor and downstairs as well. He didn’t really think much of it. He wasn’t sure what hours she kept anymore.

Coming through the front door he yelled, “Annie, I’m home and I have some fantastic news.”

No reply. He went upstairs thinking she was watching TV in bed and didn’t hear him. The bed was still made and no sign of Annie. He was beginning to worry. Her car was in the driveway, so she was home. “Annie!”, came his shouts now. “Annie where are you?” he thought.

He headed downstairs. Annie’s sitting room was a small room at the back of the house on the first floor. It had bookshelves on two sides, a large south facing bay window with a door beside it. The remaining wall was still blank, having been recently replaced due to a leaking pipe. He still hadn’t gotten around to hanging her pictures; they lay stacked against the wall.

As he entered the room a wave of relief came over him. There she was, asleep in the recliner, a book in her lap and a drink on the stand by her chair.

“Annie,” no reply.

“Annie?”, a bit louder this time, still nothing. It was then he realized she wasn’t breathing. He dialed 911 and got her on the floor and started CPR. He was quite certain that this was useless but continued until the EMTs arrived.

That had been two months ago. It had been ruled a suicide, after they found the note beside the glass. “It's over. I cannot go on like this.”

It was only half of a sheet of paper, no signature, but it was her hand writing. The police also found her sleeping pills mixed in her drink.

Her sitting room had remained empty and quiet since that day. He could not bear to go in there. There were the pictures stacked against the wall were still waiting to be hung.

His funding had run out as well as any interest he had in the project. George went through the motions of shutting down the lab. They had given him ninety days to do it.

For two months he had tried to figure out why Annie would kill herself. Things had not been that bad at home, or had they? He had not been there a lot in the past three years. They had talked of going on an extended vacation as soon as his research was completed or the current funding ran out. What would have made her take her own life?

An idea came to him that evening just as he was falling asleep. He reached over to the bedside table and jotted down a reminder note and went to sleep.

He actually slept for seven hours straight. The first good nights sleep he’d had since it happened. He woke refreshed, with a clear head and a clear purpose.

He was on the phone to Robinson Builders, the company that had replaced the drywall in his wife’s room. He was checking to see if the drywall could be taken out mostly intact. He got through to Dan, the owner. Dan said “Yeah, it can be done, but it won’t be cheap. I can get two of my guys over there by the end of the week.”

It was Tuesday now, that gave him four days to make all of the necessary arrangements. He called the lab and told them to stop tearing down the equipment. In fact get it back up in running shape by Friday.

George knew that when Annie was trying to work through a problem, she was apt to talk to herself. The first time he had noticed he had walked past her sitting room and seen her pacing back and forth carrying on a conversation. He had thought she was on the phone. On his way back, he noticed she had no phone and was keeping up both sides of the conversation.

Later when he asked her about it she just giggled and said, “I can figure out a problem better if I hear both sides of the argument.”

That problem had been how to lay out the back flower garden. If she had been talking to herself about the flower garden, he was sure she would do the same before committing suicide.

The next four days seemed to drag on for an eternity. When Friday arrived so did Dan’s two guys.

“Didn’t we just put this drywall up a couple of months ago?” one of them asked.

“Yes, I had a pipe leak and it ran down the wall, but now I need you to take it out as carefully as you can. I'd like to keep it in one piece if at all possible.”

The workers were able to get the drywall out in two large pieces. George then talked them into transporting the pieces to his lab, after offering them a hefty tip.

He had the drywall positioned so that he could scan it. At first he picked up nothing. Then as he probed, layer by layer, the voices started to emerge.

The first voices he heard were those of the two EMTs. He quickly went past them; he didn’t want to relive that any more than he already had. Next was a long section of relative silence, then Annie’s voice. He had known she would be talking. What he didn’t expect was the other voice. George listened with renewed interest.

Annie: “Well, you got my letter. I think it said it all.”

Male voice: “Can I have a drink? Can I fix you one?”

Annie: “Sure, why not, but you won’t get me drunk and change my mind.”

Male voice: “No my dear, I have no thoughts of doing that, I just wanted to make sure we were parting on good terms, after all I have my reputation.”

Annie: “I know John, and the fact that you could hurt my husband’s research, but it’s over and I can’t go on like this.

John: “Here let’s toast to the end of our little affair, bottoms up.”

Annie: “I’m tired now, please leave, and lock the door on your way out.”

John: “Sure, be seeing you.”

Sound of a door closing.

Silence.

Sound of door opening.

John: “Did you really think you could just dump me, throw me away like a used tissue? You couldn’t even do it to my face, had to send me a letter.”

Sound of paper being shaken.

John: “Well Miss Annie, when your precious husband finds you, you will have committed suicide. You already wrote the note; it’s just a matter of cleaning my glass, wiping away a few finger prints and locking up when I leave. I don’t think the police will investigate a suicide with a note, but better safe than sorry.

Sounds of movement and glasses clinking, door opening and closing.

Silence

George was in tears now, a mixture of sorrow and rage. How could John have done this? Annie’s only crime was infidelity and he could have forgiven her that, given time. There was no more time, John had seen to that. Now George would have to see to him.

His first thought was to throttle John with his bare hands, but that passed quickly. Then a plan started to form in that scientist brain of his.

He called detective Elliot who investigated his wife’s death. “Detective, this is Dr. George Landis, I don’t know if you remember me or not”

“Of course I remember you Dr. Landis, what can I do for you?”

“When my wife died, it was ruled suicide. Did the police check the note for finger prints?”

“Give me a minute to pull it up in the computer. I don’t think we did. Here it is, checked the prints on the bottle, the glass and the prescription bottle. No we didn’t check the note, why?”

George explained his research, in layman’s terms. Told detective Elliot what he had heard. Then told him his plan.

Saturday morning George called John and told him he had made a break through at the lab. Could he come right over? Reluctantly John came to the lab about an hour later.

“So what is the break through? I thought you were supposed to be dismantling the lab.” Looking around he saw no signs of the place being shut down.

“John, you’ve got to hear this.” And proceeded to playback what he had recorded earlier. John found the nearest chair and sat down as his knees buckled under him. Then he regained his composure.

“Are you mad George, why would you concoct such a story?”

“I may be mad, but I am not crazy. You were there that night and you gave Annie an overdose of sleeping pills in her drink.” “

“You have no proof, this side show attraction of talking walls will never hold up in court. Besides, only her finger prints were on the glass and the bottle.”

“Funny you should mention that. How would you know that? It was only in the police report and never released to the public.”

John stammered, “I just assumed.”

“You just assumed you would get away with it, you son of a bitch.”

“Now see here, I will not be spoken to like this.”

“You missed one thing though, your finger prints on the note, how did your finger prints get on a note that she had just written? Did you do it John? Did you?”

“It wasn’t supposed to end like this. I wanted her to leave you. I think that was the end for me. She wouldn’t leave you because she loved you, but I had my reputation to think of. Next year when the dean retires, I heard I was on the short list for his position, but not if this got out.”

“So you did do it, you killed Annie.”

“Yes, God forgive me, yes. If you repeat any of this I will deny it.”

“There is no need for that; did you get it all detective?” He slowly unbuttoned his shirt to expose the hidden microphone that detective Elliot had provided. “Detective Elliot has all of this on tape, real tape that is evidence in any court.”

John jumped up from his chair and grabbed George by the throat and began to strangle him. “You son of a bitch, you couldn’t leave well enough alone. I’m going to kill you too!” Just then Detective Elliot burst in and pulled John away from George.

“Dr. Landis, are you ok?”

Coughing and getting his breath back he said “I am now.”

The detective read John his rights and took him away.

The trial was fairly quick, he was sentenced to life without parole. Later on appeal he was sent to the state mental hospital for psychiatric evaluation. The doctors have a hard time getting him to talk. He keeps saying “the walls have ears.”