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.
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