Curiosity Part Twelve

The last hour of the day crept by.  I don’t know if it was because I was waiting for the roof to fall in or for someone in a suit to escort me from the building.  My mind kept dancing between two extremes.  The first was scared stiff for obvious reasons.  The second, and more insane thought, was actually excited.  It felt like I was in a real spy movie and having grown up with an older brother, could really appreciate the intensity of the situation.  Only when my mind began to run away with the crazy story did I remember that I was the main character and I was not guaranteed a happy ending. While this may be common sense for the rest of the world I seemed to be having problems remembering that fact.  And the fear was back.

            When five came there was a steady stream of men and women leaving through the front door.  I sat there quietly, head bowed, not daring to look at any of then.  Which of these lovely people sent me the letter?  Their shoes made hardly a sound on the carpeted floor and after I heard the door finally swing shut did I lift my head.  It was three minutes after five.  I bent down to gather my things from beneath the desk and as I grabbed for my purse I felt a cord.  I ducked my head below the desk and saw the cord was attached to the top of the inside of the desk.  I followed it with my fingers down to the floor where it disappeared into a tiny hole in the carpet.  The cord, I soon learned, was a microphone cable.

            I held my breath and sat up, taking my purse with me.  I walked as casually to the door as possible.

            The letter, I thought, should have mentioned the desk having ears.

Curiosity Part Eleven

It wasn’t very long.  I even flipped the paper over to see if there was more but the typed words were confined to the middle of the front page.  This is what it said:

“The walls have eyes.  Keep your nose out of the fire and it won’t get burned.  This is your only warning.  Asking questions is not wise.”

At this point I had to wonder whether the paycheck was worth it.  The letter was very threatening and reminded me strongly of a mafia movie.  What was the big deal?  Part of me was less afraid and more upset that the letter wasn’t more revealing.  The only thing it confirmed was that I was, indeed, dealing with something sinister here.  As scary as that thought could be, I was now more intrigued than ever.  My eyes fell on the first few words on the paper: “The walls have eyes.”  It sounded like an awful horror movie, but even terrible horror movies are detrimental to the people inside the story as cheesy as they may be to audience.

            I began to search every square inch of the walls.  I stayed in my seat so as not to cause suspicion for whoever was watching.  To be even more cautious, I would only look for a few minutes before I would break to look at the magazine on the desk.  Surely, if I was being watched, it wasn’t nonstop.

            After half an hour of Dick Tracy worthy sleuthing, I managed to find a discrepancy in the room.  Just above the front door I discovered a crack in the paint.  It was very subtle but after staring at it for several seconds it became painfully obvious.  For such a pristine lobby any kind of oddity would have been more than out of place.  The only trick now was figuring out what to do about it.  It was when a tiny flash of light came from the crack in the wall that the situation took on a new meaning to me. 

This was serious.    

Curiosity Part Ten

At first I thought it was the mail man coming late, but it wasn’t.

            “Ms. Rollings?”

            My head shot up to find a lady who looked not much older than me, with an envelope in her hand.  She looked at me inquisitively and I nodded.

            “That’s me,” I squeaked.  It had been awhile since I’d spoken.

            She approached the desk and handed me the envelope.  I took it with an almost shaking hand.  I had never received mail here and couldn’t honestly remember telling anyone the address.  The lady paused.   It seemed she was waiting for me to open it.  It had, go figure, no return address and, interestingly enough, just my name in typed letters.

            “Which courier do you work for?”  I asked, observing her plain collared shirt.

            The lady smiled.  “A small one,” she answered curtly and turned to leave.

            At that point I was mad.  I was tired of unanswered questions and being ignored.

            “Excuse me!”  I said loudly, a shortness in my voice that could no longer be masked.  “Can you answer my question like an adult, please?”

            The lady turned to face me, her short blond hair like stone in the wind.  For a split second I wondered how much hair spray she used but was cut short by her answer, her real answer.

            Her tone crawled up my skin and made me wish I had kept silent.  “Why don’t you open that envelope and read your letter, Ms. Rollings.  I daresay you’ll find it more helpful than me.”

            It was only after the door swung shut behind her that I was able to breathe again.  My eyes floated down to my hands still clutching the mysterious paper.  I couldn’t bring myself to open it.  Ignorance, I was learning, was not only bliss but turning out to be a safer way of life.  What was crazier was that I still didn’t know anything.  Could someone be in danger for their mere endeavors even through lack of accomplishment?  I hadn’t done anything…really.  Maybe the letter wasn’t a threat.  Maybe that lady was just naturally rude.  I took a deep breath and slit open the envelope.

Curiosity Part Nine

It’s hard to evaluate something when you see very little of it.  I could not make any kind of assumption based on the employees when I rarely saw them.  My little experiment did help me realize that not all of them were stuck up and that some would be nice to me, if they could.  The question now that plagued me was why was verbal communication literally frowned upon?  What line of work disapproves of being friendly with the receptionist?  That would have been really nice to know when accepting the job.  Oh, yeah, by the way, no one will ever speak to you.  So if you’re a people person, expect disappointment. 

            But it was more than that.  I put my head on the desk and thought back to Bert’s warnings.  Those were sincere.  He said to be careful and not be too curious.  Being the king of vague, he would never say anything more. 

It was three in the afternoon and I hadn’t seen a delivery man all day.  It very seldom happened that there would be no packages or mail.  It might have occurred once or twice before in the short time I had been working there.  I decided it was time to try my detective skills.

            My eyes grazed the room that confined me.  What more was there to investigate?  There was no mail to poke through, no packages to peek in and no delivery men to interrogate.  Had I reached my dead end?  Something fishy was going on in this building and I needed to know what it was!  For my own sanity, I was desperate for some drop of information that might possibly eventually lead me towards a shred of a clue as to what was going on.

            My head found the table top again and I sighed aloud.  It was then that the door opened.

Curiosity Part Eight

Monday came and I decided against the yellow coat.  One, it would look ridiculous with the weather being so warm outside.  And two, I couldn’t find one anywhere.

            I spent the entire ride to work racking my brain for something clever to say that would solicit a decent response.  I remained in my seat but was determined to get more than just a hello out of the man from Friday.  When the time came I almost forgot to speak.  I hadn’t noticed before how young the man was or how well dressed for that matter.

            The door swung open and he stepped in flashing me a brilliant smile.  The words caught in my throat and he was already halfway to the secret door before they jumped out of my mouth.

            “Nice weather today, wouldn’t you say?”  That was not what I had planned.

            The man actually stopped, his smile gone.  His hand was raised to the key pad for the door when he looked at me.  My heartbeat faltered and I tried desperately to look casual. 

            “Actually,” he began, but before another word could come out, the front door opened.  An older man than he came in carrying a big black briefcase.  The younger man stiffened and hurried with the key pad to get through the door.  The older man gave a disgruntled snort and glared at the man as he disappeared.  I tried to smile at the older man but my face seemed frozen.  He looked past me as if I weren’t there right up until he pulled the door open to go through.  At that moment his eyes shot at me like arrows and remembering I’d forgot to breathe I suddenly gasped.  I wanted to die.  The man was gone and with him he took my confidence.  What was that about?  Was he upset at the younger man for speaking?  Was there a rule against stopping in the lobby on your way in?  Was it me?  Did he know something or suspect I was suspicious?  

Curiosity Part Seven

It took an enormous amount of self control not to tear into every package that decorated the counter that afternoon.  Maybe there was a way I could learn more without committing a felony.  Or at least, I thought, I can save that for a last resort.  My cunning nature had to be worth something in this situation.  Most of my friends were unsympathetic, especially the ones without jobs.  One friend actually encouraged me to get fired so she could have my job.  I decided, a little stung, not to share my thoughts with her anymore.

            My brother, who was married with a baby on the way, had some decent advice.

            “Go Dick Tracy.”

            “What?”  I said, nearly dropping the phone.

            He was already deep in explanation when I steadied the phone against my ear. 

            “…was only one of the greatest detectives ever!”

            I had no idea who he was talking about.  I told him that.

            He sighed very loudly.  “Have I taught you nothing?”

            “Apparently not enough,” I said.

            He spent the next ten minutes filling me in on how amazing Dick Tracy was and giving me the ins and outs of how to be a great detective.

            “Tact is everything.  Don’t let them know you’re interested or they will be on the defensive.”

            I took mental notes and grew more intrigued with every detail he gave.  I could be sneaky.  I could be sly.  I could be analytical.

            “Are you getting this, Shannon?”

            “Sure thing,” I said quietly, imagining myself in a yellow coat like Dick Tracy’s.

            “Don’t forget to be inconspicuous!” my brother said before we hung up.

            The question now was if I could be inconspicuous while wearing a big yellow coat or if that would blow my cover.