June: The Jostled Jaywalker

The front door was still locked.  At least I hadn’t been careless enough to leave it open.  I searched every one of the clear office cubes to be sure no one was under the desks, although I don’t know what I would have done if I’d found someone; I was unarmed except for a paperweight I’d picked up from the first office I visited where I also deposited the errant staple remover.

Since I’d closed the door to Lester’s office after I turned off his radio, I couldn’t tell if anyone was inside or not, so I eased the door open again and looked inside, holding the paperweight tightly in my hand.  The room was apparently still empty, but I searched thoroughly this time - even under his massive desk.  I had a momentary fright when I brushed against his raincoat hanging on the bentwood rack, thinking at first it was a man.  Oh, Lord, I thought, after I saw what was really there, what would I have done if it had been a man?  Apologized or whammed him in the face with the paperweight and worried about apologizing later?

Calvin’s suite of two small rooms was the most forbidding place in the whole building - mainly because I’d never been in there before and didn’t know what to expect.  I opened the door quickly and turned on the lights.  The oft absent senior partner’s office appeared to be disused and empty.  It was obvious he had better things to do with his time than hang around the offices of the business that bore his name.  But wait!  There was a noise coming from his inner office.

“Mr. Calvin?  Is that you?” I called.

Mr. Calvin was either not there, or he was deaf, or he was - well, perhaps he just didn’t care to answer.  Or maybe - and I chilled at the idea - it wasn’t Mr. Calvin at all.  Dracula came back into my mind’s eye.  Somehow that old blood sucker was an easier notion to deal with than that of a modern criminal with a knife.

The noise continued - a low crackling sound.  I took a deep breath and walked slowly into the room, but not before I’d armed myself with a small statue of a horse and rider from Calvin’s bookcase, holding the piece of brass at the ready to smack whomever - be it Drac, or a burglar, or, heaven forbid, Mr. Calvin himself.

The room appeared to be as empty as everywhere else seemed to be.  A radio, not unlike that in his partner’s office, emitted static and nothing else.  It had obviously been tuned to a station that goes off at night fall.

I breathed a sigh, not so much in relief, as in preparation to get on with my investigation.  I had heard a noise, hadn’t I?  And if I heard a noise, it must have been made by someone - or something.  A rat?  Surely not.  So if it was someone, they were still here - unless….   It was possible that one of the agents came in the front door, grabbed something off his or her desk and left before I could see him.  That must be it.  There was no one in the office except me.

But just in case that wasn’t the answer, I figured I’d better finish scouting the office before I stuck myself back in that vault.  Finding out the worst is probably no scarier than fearing the worst.  One way or another, I wouldn’t feel easy until I had a look.

I walked cautiously back to that area in the rear of the building where the rest rooms were located, opened the door to the Ladies’ room and peered in.  No one appeared to be there.  I walked inside and searched, even opening the two stall doors.

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