Fourteen
There was definitely something going on at Mother’s.
There were a half dozen people sort of sitting on her lawn. There was a van out at the street curb and lawn chairs set up at various places. I was concerned, as there were no police cars or ambulances, but also, no reason that I could see for the mass of people. As I got nearer, I noticed that the van had an antenna protruding from its roof, a powerful looking one at that! I increased my pace and got within a few yards of the place when one of the men noticed me, jumped up, looked at me and shouted, “There he is!”
Everyone started running towards me. I thought that they were the bad boys from Baltimore, and I began to run back the way I had come. They began to outflank me, some were quite young and in pretty good shape. One young blond stud seemed to gain on me effortlessly and drew up next to me. I stopped and got ready to fight to the death, but I couldn’t catch my breath, so I just stood there, awaiting my doom. It presented itself in the form of a microphone.
The young man said, “Really, Mr. Coffman, we just want a word or two with you.”
I sat down, still gasping for air. What would a person with a microphone want with me? He waited solicitously while I searched for a combination of oxygen, nitrogen and trace elements that would allow me to continue my existence, and by the time I got back to near normal, the rest of the group had caught me. I stood up, brushed myself off and tried to look presentable.
The blond man and a cameraman come forward, they did a few things, and I was finally able to ask, “What in the world are you doing, and why are you doing it with me?” The blond man grinned and stated, “You are now a celebrity Mr. Coffman. We have interviewed Jocko O’Reilly, Roy Mack, several cops, and we’ve all just been waiting for you. Have you been out of town working on a case? Would you care to discuss that case as well?”
It was all too much for me. My mouth must have been hanging open, as I knew that my tongue was getting dry, and it was suddenly difficult to swallow. This was my big break, and I was acting the fool. I excused myself, turned my back to all of them, and counted to ten, while attempting to put my thoughts in some sort of order.
I got a bit calmer, and turned to them, with what I hoped was my best smile. A lady came forward, brushed the reporter’s hair, straightened his tie and jacket, and looked doubtfully at me. I grinned, and she came forward and did the best she could with me as well. I had lost hair, nothing was cut evenly, I still had remnants from my burns, my eyebrows were singed, but I assumed it would add color to their story.
The young man did a sound check then turned to me, the cameraman at his side. “We are talking to Mr. After Coffman, a recent hero here in the small town of Hustle. Last Saturday night; he went into a burning house to rescue an undercover cop and another man, both victims of kidnappers. He also single handedly took down a known drug runner, who is unfortunately dead, and can’t help us with the details of this story.” He turned to me, “Mr. Coffman, would you care to tell us what happened this past Saturday night?”
“I didn’t do that much,” I began uncomfortably. “In fact, if others hadn’t been along and shown up to help, it would have gone very badly. I owe a lot to the police in Hustle.” “Yes, but you are the one who went into the burning house, after dispatching a hardened criminal and rescued the two men trapped inside, is that not so?”
“Yes, but I had lots of support.”
“Granted. Granted.” He paused, looked at the camera, and continued.
“Our unlikely hero is a new Private Investigator in Hustle and has been working out of an office in a 2nd hand store. I assume you’ll be getting a more upscale office now?” He grinned as if we were in on an inside joke. All of a sudden, I didn’t like him.
“I have no plans on moving to any scale office, I am happy at Roy’s, and that’s where I can be found in case there are future interviews.”
Pretty boy made a motion to cut, and the camera went off.
“I guess that’s it, we’ll wrap it up elsewhere.” The group left without a thank you or further looks at me. That suited me just fine. The next time I rescued someone, I would remember their attitudes. Big city snobs.
I went back to Mother’s, unmolested by the news crew, even though they were all still milling around the yard, cleaning up their detritus. I noticed they picked up chairs, books and associated gear, but that pop cans, wrappers and other paper trash were still lying about haphazardly. I began picking up the trash, and one of the crew began to help in a hangdog sort of way. He brought an armful of trash to me, and handed it over apologetically. I smiled, and he smiled back, leaving with a wave of his hand. I trudged up to Mother’s door, and she met me there with a trash bag in hand.
“After,” she glowed, “it’s been so exciting. Paul’s article was in the paper yesterday, and the phone hasn’t stopped ringing, and the reporters have camped out. I went to see Jocko, and he’s doing well. It’s so exciting!”
She went in with the trash and busied herself in the kitchen. I went into the living room and sat down to relative peace and quiet.
I was tired, and nodded off. A bit later, my shoulder was being rubbed, and I turned to look and see what was bothering me. I looked into a pair of large green eyes. It was Soot. I didn’t move, it was so unusual to have him doing anything interactive that I just sat there and stared back at him. He rubbed his whiskers into my shoulder and paused occasionally to see what effect it was having on me. This continued for several minutes and then the spell was broken as Paul entered the room.
“Hey After, did you read my article? They even used my name. Lots of times the editor will overwrite the writer’s name, especially in an early effort.”
“No Paul, I didn’t, but the after effects of your article caught up with me on the front lawn a bit ago.”
Soot scooted.
Paul sat down, visibly excited. “I haven’t got a full time reporting job yet, but they did say I could go out and do a few local color stories!”
“That’s good Paul,” I murmured sleepily, “I’m glad I was of assistance, but I owed you anyway, for the work you did on that ‘Green Frog’ flyer.”
“Have you read the story yet?”
“No, I didn’t even know about it till I got home.”
“I’ll get it for you,” he said and he raced out, bumping into the coat rack and excusing himself.
There was nothing else to do, so I turned on the TV and began watching the 10 o’clock news. It didn’t take long; my story was the third, right after something the President had done and a ribbon cutting by the Mayor. The smarmy blond reporter was camped on Mother’s lawn, talking about the ‘reluctant hero’, then there was footage of me running away, followed by me gasping for air. There was absolutely none of my interview, and all he said was that I declined comment on this case or any other cases. That was it, hardly a scoop. I was thankful for a few things though. I was not truly recognizable in the piece, so if it had been broadcast in Baltimore, the bad guys there would not be able to follow up on it. Also, the story was completely removed from why Felicity and I had even gone to Baltimore, so she wasn’t even mentioned. I felt safe about that.
Paul returned with the paper, and we were front-page center there. No picture of me, just one of the burnt down shack. Jocko was mentioned, of course, as was Lieutenant Howard and Jocko’s friend, Greg. Roy and Grits got a line or two. The rest was about me, where my office was located, and how I came to the aid of my friend on the force. Felicity was not mentioned, so once again, I felt good about the news not reaching Baltimore. I looked up at Paul and told him I thought it was a wonderful article. He beamed back at me, then said that this was my copy, he had several others. He then surprised me by taking the paper from me, then autographed the piece, right over where his name appeared.
“You never know, I might become famous,” he said.
“You never know,” I agreed. I didn’t mention that even if one should become famous, it wasn’t always a good thing! That just about finished up the day for me. I had a lot of things to do over the weekend and decided that I would need an early start, so I trudged up the stairs, undressed and slipped into bed, thankful that things hadn’t gone worse for us in Baltimore. I was going over everything that had happened the past few days and I thought I had a glimmer of an answer floating around near the periphery of my consciousness. It either wasn’t ready to be held onto, or I wasn’t willing to grab it and get a good look, for as my mind sent tendrils out to clutch at it, the nebulous thought wafted away in smoke, and I fell asleep.
Morning came as usual, and that is always a good start. I got to the bathroom before Paul had a chance to trash it. I showered and shaved, even threw a little salve on the few spots that needed more healing. A thought came to me that I might be a few days over on my rent. I also had to get my office telephone hooked up and get my answering machine on line. I felt that I needed to strike while the iron was hot. I also thought I’d run by the newspaper and place an ad for my services. My problem was that this all took money. I was reluctant to take from the thousand I had stashed in my sock, but I was able to rationalize it by calling it a loan to myself, and that I’d repay it right away with my new riches that were sure to come my way shortly.
With that resolved, I raided the sock drawer for three hundred dollars, got dressed in clean jeans, new socks, my new shoes and a nice button shirt, with all of its buttons. I had noticed that most of my shirts now had all of their buttons, and I suspected that Mother or the fossil had gotten tired of my threadbare looks and had decided to ‘improve’ me. People had been trying to do that for me all of my life, with very little success, but I rarely held it against them.
It just takes some people longer than others to recognize a lost cause.
I grabbed another fifty bucks from the sock and went downstairs for breakfast. I was the first there, so I followed my nose into the kitchen and found Mother humming away busily. I greeted her and handed her one hundred and fifty dollars. One thing I like about Mother is, she doesn’t say unnecessary things. She just looked at the extra money, smiled at me, and I knew we were square. I went into the front room and sat down, preparing my stomach for the goodies that were sure to be there soon.
It wasn’t long before all of the other house members arrived.
Even James deigned to share the morning with us. They all greeted me, congratulated me on yet another adventure, and we all traipsed into the dining room for breakfast. I asked Paul if he and Niki had anything going over the weekend, and he said that he thought they might hit a movie. That reminded me that I was to call Gloria about the very same thing, and I made a mental note to do so immediately after breakfast.
Ummm, that was a yummy breakfast, even James was impressed.
He generally wolfed down whatever was on the table, and didn’t comment one way or the other. He remarked about the exceptional taste today though. French toast with cinnamon and powdered sugar.
Fresh blackberries and cream, fresh farm bacon, the thick type. Fluffy scrambled eggs, toast and marmalade. As you know, I don’t drink much coffee, but it smelled even better than usual. I stuck to my skim milk instead. I also had seconds…well thirds actually, but why let anything go to waste.
Feeling suitably stuffed, I went to the phone and I fished the doughnut shop’s number out of my billfold. I ran across the numbers I had scrawled from Felix’s lock box as well. I have tons of pieces of paper in my billfold, unfortunately, none usually resembles money. I was determined to change that, maybe beginning next week. I found Gloria’s work number, and called the shop. She answered.
“Hi Gloria, this is After.”
“After!” she squealed. “I’ve been reading about you in the paper, and you were on TV last night. I told my ‘rents about you, and that I know you. They thought it was way cool!”
“I take it that ‘rents means parents?” I asked, in my uncool way.
“Yes.” She giggled. “I keep forgetting how old you are!”
I was four or five years older, tops! I let it pass.
“I was calling to see if you were still up for that movie?”
“Oh yes, I want to see this French film. It’s an old one; we can get in for a dollar apiece! I’ve always wanted to see it, and it’s here in town!”
“Is it in French?” I asked, my heart sinking. I hate French movies, probably had a Country sound track too.
“Of course silly, or else it wouldn’t be French! Don’t worry, they’ll have subtitles, or I can translate it for you. I know French, I’ve had two years of it in High School!”
Her enthusiasm was underwhelming. I had one year of Latin in High School, and the only thing that made it worthwhile was sitting behind Sissy Knowles, and watching her beautiful long hair. I never knew what the point of learning a dead language was. People told me that it would help me learn other languages, but I couldn’t even keep up with English. Between words like ‘rents and the unfortunate way people were misusing ‘myself ’, I felt that even 1970’s English was a dead language.
“OK,” I said, “how do we want to do this, I don’t have a car.”
“I’ll just come and get you! How about 6:30 tomorrow night?”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“OK, I’ll see you then, I need to get back to work now!”
“Bye,” I said, and hung up.
That was taken care of. Now it was time for me to go run some errands. I went upstairs, brushed my teeth and what was left of my hair, and went back down, and then exited into the beautiful morning.
I felt pretty good today. I wasn’t any nearer to finding Felix, but felt that I was getting near to finding out why he was gone. I felt that those numbers could lead to a bank account, and if I could find out the status of that account, I might be able to discover the status of Felix. If there was no activity in the account, I was pretty sure that there was no activity with Felix either. On the other hand, if money was moving around, and it truly was two million dollars, then I was sure Felix was alive and well, but wasn’t going to be found anytime soon.
With this on my mind, I managed to find the telephone company, and entered the building. It was located in downtown Hustle, which was comprised of two blocks of red brick and white stone buildings. There were parallel parking places along the main street and the places were generally only half full. The major shopping activity was in a little strip mall out by the supermarket, and at the local Wal-Mart. Most other businesses had closed in the past five years, so the locals told me. They all cursed the day Wal-Mart came to town, but managed to shop there enough to put most of the other shops out of business.
As usual, one of Hustle’s finest citizens was manning the front desk. Instead of the bubble gum chewing switchboard running Niki at the Herald, this specimen was a geeky looking kid who was built like a stick with a black, frizzy haircut. He looked like a walking qtip.
I am not the best looking guy either, so I was totally willing to cut him some slack on that account. I stood there for well over five minutes as he busied himself reading something apparently quite important. I cleared my throat a few times, and I finally got his attention. He looked up, clearly annoyed that someone would enter a place of business and might require some assistance.
“What ya need?” he asked adenoidally.
“I need to get a telephone,” I replied.
“They got them at Wal-Mart,” he said, and went back to his reading.
“I guess I should have said that I need to have a phone line put in at my office,” I said patiently.
He looked up again, favoring me with his manly look, “You gotta call a number for that.” I was astonished. “You don’t do that here?”
“Nope, it’s an automated number, or ya can do it on-line.”
“What’s on-line?” I asked, afraid of the answer. I envisioned myself crawling up a telephone pole to find a telephone line.
“By using a computer!” he half shouted, now clearly annoyed.
Ahhh, yes, I was caught up now. I have no need for a computer, so I have never been online. Just another of life’s little pleasures that yet await me.
“So,” I ventured, “Do you have the number here that I can call?”
“Nope, it’s in the phone book somewhere.” He went back to his reading.
I edged closer to him; he was reading a comic book! I got angry then and snatched the book from him, leaving him astonished and mouth agape. “Hey man, give that back to me!”
It was Wonder Woman, why wasn’t I surprised? “The world will just have to wait for Wonder Woman to save it until after I get a few questions answered.”
“Well, hurry up. I’m pretty busy around here.”
“OK, for one thing, I need the number to set up a new phone line.”
“I told you, it’s in the phone book somewheres, maybe near the front.”
“OK, get one and show me where.”
“Man, we don’t have any around here. I looked for one a few weeks ago, but there aren’t any.”
“Just what is it you do here anyway?”
“I don’t know, man, you’re only the second person to come in here since I’ve been here. A whole month maybe. I am supposed to help people with their problems when they come in. The other person was a pizza delivery boy, but he was in the wrong building.
Some guys can’t get a real job,” he snorted in a superior manner.
I thought that was a pretty snobby thing for him to say. I know several pizza delivery people; they take their lives into their hands whenever they deliver. Never know when you’re going to deliver to a crack house or a home filled with PMSing females. Either one could be fatal.
I tried again, “So, I call a phone number, give a person much like yourself my information, and then they are going to have someone else come to the address, set up the line and I’m in, right?”
“That’s how it’s supposed to work. Actually, I’ve never seen anybody that does that. I don’t really know how it works. Maybe it’s already set up, and all they have to do is throw a switch somewheres.”
He leaned his head closer to me and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, “You know, everything is already wired. Everyone is already being bugged. Nowhere is safe. They come at you at night and stick computer chips under your skin. I check myself every morning, so far I’m clean.”
I didn’t know what to do, but it was definitely time to leave. I tossed the comic book back on his desk, and walked to the door, wanting to get out of there before some of whatever he had rubbed off on me.
I got as far as the curb, when I couldn’t help myself. I went back in and said, “You know, they say that there is something in the blue ink they use in comic books that makes you more susceptible to hypnosis. That way they get you at night, and suggest that you don’t really see where they inserted the computer chip under your skin.”
I was gratified to see him turn pale, and toss the comic book aside. He then thought about what I had said for a few more seconds.
I saw him go very blotchy, whereupon he got up, and raced to the rest room, presumably to throw up. I was hoping the government would turn off their surveillance cameras for that little scene.
As I left, I couldn’t help myself; I waved to all corners of the room, just in case! I went back to Mother’s and found the phone book. Sure enough, there were numbers to call; including all sorts of trouble numbers, new residence numbers and new business numbers. I wondered why they had more lines for trouble than they did for new business. It did nothing to allay my trepidations or assuage my fears. I was determined though, and I tentatively dialed the ‘New Business’ number.
It was busy. I tried again, and kept trying for five minutes. It finally rang, and a computer voice answered. It asked me for my existing phone number, and the area code I live in. I didn’t have an existing number. I thought this was for new numbers.
I hung up and dialed zero. The operator was pleasant enough, but she couldn’t help me. I told her that I had called the number and that they had asked for an existing number, which I did not have. She asked where I had called from, and I said that I had called from my landlady’s house. She asked if I had gone to the local phone company, and I laughed, telling her just enough so she’d get the picture. She was quiet for a bit, then suggested that I just make up a number when I called. I laughed at her, then realized she was serious. I thanked her anyway, and went back to the phone book, looked up the ‘New Business’ number and dialed it. Amazingly, it rang and the computer voice answered again. I made up a number, gave them a few more bits of information and was asked to hold.
A real person came on the line and informed me that there was no such number and would I care to give them the correct one. I admitted my error, and said that all I really wanted was a new business number. She gave me a different number to call and hung up.
I dialed that number, and a real person answered it as well. They took all of my information, and said that they might even have the line and jack installed by the afternoon. The real person then asked me how I got her number, as she wasn’t aware that it was listed. I told her that I got it from a local phone book, that it was scribbled in pencil next to the ‘New Business’ number. I didn’t want the telephone police to go after the operator who had given me that number.
She wished me a good day and hung up.
I took a deep breath, and scribbled the number in pencil in the margin next to the proffered number. I was beginning to get paranoid myself, or maybe it was because I knew I would never get that number again. The phone company would probably have it disconnected at the earliest opportunity, knowing that it was out there where people needing new services might actually have access to it.
Next stop was going to be the electronics section at Wal-Mart. I got out of the house, took a quick look for Harold Gibbons’ men, or a random telephone police truck. Seeing none, I ventured out and hoofed it to Wal-Mart. I know that there are loads of different phones and appliances to be had these days, but it hadn’t hit home to me how many options there were. I started looking at phones.
Some had built in caller I.D., some had speaker phone capabilities.
Some were made especially for computers; others had various strengths of signal. Some were to hook onto cable, some to a regular phone jack. I was lost. I went up to the kid at the counter, told him what I wanted. He asked if I wanted a ‘hold’ button. I told him that I doubted I’d ever have more than one call at a time. He directed me to a forlorn little box at the end of the counter and sniffed that he thought this one would do me fine. It was the last of the ‘old’ phones.
I asked, “Do you still have any with the dials on them? You know, the dials that light up?”
He looked horrified and emphatically denied any association, past or present with such an anachronistic piece of junk. I paid $21.95 for my antique and got out of there as fast as I could. He was doubtless calling the phone police as I left, and I wanted nothing to do with them! I got back to Mother’s without incident, went up to my room, retrieved my answering machine and got back to the street where I had an enjoyable walk to work. I arrived at Roy’s around one o’clock and found him sitting behind the counter, smoking a cigar and counting his money.
“Hey After!” he smiled at me. “The phone guys were here, did you order a phone?” “Yup, us superheroes have to be contacted from time to time.”
He had the graciousness to smirk at my joke and asked, “So, how did it go in Baltimore?”
I told him the story, and he was properly impressed. He was also relieved when I told him that I didn’t think they could trace us, as we didn’t write down our names, and Felicity had stolen plates.
“So, After, are you going to work tonight? Grits has a run and won’t be back till the middle of next week.”
I assured him that I would be working, and then I went in to hook up my phone. It took me awhile to figure out how to get the phone line going into the answering machine, and then into the telephone. I was also surprised to find out that both had to be plugged into an outlet, but I was gratified to realize that I could take my phone with me throughout the building, as it was cordless. I was suitably impressed with myself.
Roy called in to my office, “Hey After, I have your new phone number here at the counter.”
I went to the counter and picked up a scrap of paper with my new business number on it. “The phone man said that you are to receive your bills here.”
I said, “That’s right, I figured I’d stay here until you toss me out.”
Roy laughed and said, “You know too much about me now, After, I’d just as soon have you where I can keep my eye on you!”
I thought that was fair, so I sat down and chatted with him a bit longer, picking up a few tips on antique glassware, and how to tell a repaired book from one that was still as fresh as the day it was bound.
It was getting near three o’clock and I realized that if my phone was ever going to ring, I needed to get that ad in the paper.
I told Roy I’d be back at six, and made my way out of the Shoppe, and headed toward the Hustle Herald building. I saw Niki as soon as I entered. She was at the switchboard surrounded by four good looking chaps, none of which bore any resemblance to Paul. I sauntered up and waited for Her Honor to notice me. She finally turned her head while laughing at an off color joke and asked me what I wanted. She didn’t recognize me at all.
“Have you seen Paul around?” I asked innocently.
“Paul?” she asked, equally innocently.
“Paul Grease, or haven’t you seen him since your cousin left town?”
She recognized me then, blushed then got a mean look in her eyes. She realized that she wasn’t fooling me, and the gloves were about to come off. Her lip curled back, and she said, “He’s back in the Obit area, where he’ll probably be till the day he dies.”
I nodded, then said, “Maybe that’s where he’ll end up, but just think, he might actually go somewhere, he did make the front page two days ago.”
“He did? Paul actually wrote an article on the front page?” She seemed impressed. “He sure did, don’t you read your own paper?”
“No one does,” she replied haughtily. She then shooed the hangers on away and asked me, “Do you think Paul has a future?”
I looked her straight in the eye, and said, “Yes, but not with you.” I walked away before she could stick one of her pointed fingernails in my eyes, and wandered back to the rear of the building.
I found Paul at a cluttered desk, and went up to him. “Hey Paul, how’s life treating the new reporter?”
He squinted at me, then exclaimed, “Hi After! Did you say ‘Hi’ to Niki when you came in?”
“I said something to her, can’t quite remember what. She told me where you are.” “She’s something else,” he said dreamily. “She’s off to visit someone this weekend, some relative or other, but she said maybe we can go out sometime next week.” “I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time. Listen Paul, I know you used to work with Ads, could you steer me to someone who’s really good at them?”
He looked doubtful, then said, “After, this is the ‘Herald’….there isn’t anybody good at ads here.”
“Oh sure,” I said, the truth finally realized. “Well then, how about someone who can at least take my order?”
“No problem, it’s kind of dead in this department anyway.”
I wasn’t sure if he was making a joke or not, so I followed him to another nondescript desk, where two young men were working, and he introduced me to them.
They both knew who I was and seemed like friendly sorts; they shook my hand and asked if I was recovering from my ordeal of last weekend. I assured them that I was and inquired as to how I might go about placing a Classified Ad. It turned out that both were very proficient, and they both had ideas that we were able to use. I placed an ad for two weeks, and told them I’d be back later if I wanted to change it or renew it.
“You don’t need to see us if you want it renewed,” one of them assured me, “Just pay at the front desk, and tell them we have it on file. Of course you need to see us if you want any changes.”
I thanked them and left, and as I was going down the hall, I looked back to say goodbye to Paul, but saw that Niki had gotten there first, probably to assess any damage I might have caused. Neither looked in my direction, so I left the building unscathed.
I still had enough time to get to Mother’s, clean up and make it back to Roy’s without any undue hardship. I got home just fine, spruced myself up a bit, and went down to supper. Meat loaf, mashed potatoes, beans, and salad were the courses this evening. I should have been gaining all sorts of weight on her food, but with all of my other activities, that just wasn’t happening.
Paul was a bit late, and as he sidled into his seat, he looked at me and grinned. “I don’t know what you told Niki, but she’s never been friendlier. She’s not going