Chapter Three
Perfect
Day One- 4:40p.m to11:38p.m.
I wish we have a real office. The address on my name card points to my family house since dad works from home. However, I work from my flat and the heater barely exists. It isn't much warmer than outside and I need to don on my heavy coat. However, despite all the cold comforts, I have broadband and dad isn't exactly cruising on the digital highway yet and thus, for that mere difference alone, my dingy flat far surpass the old Tudor.
Soon, though, I'll be up there with my dad, taking on international cases and getting discounts and freebies just by introducing myself as "Hardy, Frank Hardy." It's good to have a goal.
I have grabbed Ursula's details from the internet and am logged into UB's network to gain access to the administration department. I used to work there on a part-time basis when I was still an undergraduate and I was given access to students' records because I was the one doing data entry, that sort of routine chore. After I have left the job, they still haven't changed the password and have neglected to delete my log-in ID. I have long decided not to let them know about my surreptitiously awarded privilege.
Honesty's such a rare virtue nowadays.
"Baby…"
Shocked, I turned slightly to find Callie hovering over me after setting a mug of hot, aromatic coffee beside my notebook. She wraps her arms around my neck and starting pasting butterfly kisses on my cheeks.
"You've been working since you came back. Let's cuddle. I miss you."
I won't be the saint and tell you that I haven't' felt the stirring of lust. My friends often look up to me as a man on his way to sainthood because I attend church two times more often than them annually. However, I look upon myself and see only a hypocrite when it comes to matters of faith. I know the teachings of my faith and I am forever wearing them on my lips. The private truth is that I have made so many compromises that some sinning no longer twist my stomach up with guilt. In my teens, I may have felt a little bad about a little B&E to obtain evidence. Now? I justify it as a necessary evil. Am I right? My guts remain staunch on this subject.
Turning away from my precious notebook, I glance up at her. She leans over and kisses me on the lips. I pull away to hurriedly finish my task.
"Tempting… let me finish up something first."
She pouts and disentangles herself, bringing a spare, folded chair to sit next to me. As I vapidly scrolled down the page on the screen, she leans her head on my shoulder and asks me dully.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking at students' records for a Lenny who takes French."
"So you won't take long right?"
"Nope, five more names to go… here it is- Keith Joshin and Lenny Cranell…. Darling, pass me my PDA."
She grabs my PDA from her side of the work desk and hands it to me. I jot down the details and, when I have finished, she took the liberty of shutting down my notebook.
"It's cold. We should cuddle." Clasping my hand and she stood up purposefully, attempting to drag me to my springy bed, "I am tired."
I leave my PDA on the table and struggle up, blood rushing down my calves to my feet as I had been sitting for far too long. I hobble along after her, pins and needles shooting up my left thigh. She let go of my hand, plops down on my bed, and extends out her hands to me.
"Hold me, stud." She grins flirtatiously. I lunge at her playfully and we fall back onto the bed, bouncing against each other to the rhythm of the creaky springs. She giggles as I brush aside the loose strands of honey blond hair covering her lovely face- yup, I am literally a breath away from Heaven. If only Ican let her know just how much she means to me.
"I love you." I whisper, sounding a little harsh because I am suddenly overwhelmed by emotions. She plants a soft kiss on the tip of my nose.
"I love you too."
"We look ridiculous, wearing our coats."
"Blame your heater."
"I've got thick blankets…" I drawl, arching my brows suggestively, "And I believe since I hadn't been working out regularly recently, my body fat just went up a few percentages."
She giggles again and pushes me away. We aren't going to win any awards for gracefulness in shedding our coats, however, we don't give a damn. Soon, we are hiding underneath my wool blanket and quilt. Spooning her protectively, I nuzzle her left earlobe, knowing that she is about to drift to sleep.
"I love you, Callie."
She tilts her head back slightly and smiled dreamily into my eyes. I kiss her forehead and watch her as she snuggled back under the covers- watch her until her rhythmic, deep breaths lull me too to sleep.
I manage to make an appointment with Julian Woolsthy. We agree to meet for late dinner, to Callie's displeasure. She left for home and I guess her parents must be surprised to see her home early on a Sunday. I absolutely adore my girlfriend- she cares enough to be peeved whenever I can't be with her but because she cares about me more, she knows in these times, my job comes first. I rather have an honest expression than a pretentious smile.
In the end, she will let me go. She knows too she cannot do anything about it- I can't do anything about it.
We have arranged to meet at a new steak restaurant too insignificant to name. In this hip part of town by the river, restaurants turnover rates are high because the rental rates are astronomical. To pay for the rent, the prices of the items have to be relatively matched and thus, when the quality cannot cut it, the restaurant is destined to die a fast death.
The new place isn't half-bad but it isn't fine enough for the area. Because it is new, customers are naturally few. Bayportians are not exactly adventurous when it comes to taste and to infant restaurants great disadvantage, the elder generation with more spending power and time for fine-dining have almost indestructible trust in long-standing establishments. Making ourselves comfortable at a corner booth, I hand the waitress the menu after choices are made.
"So, Mr. Hardy, what do you want to know about Jenn?" Julian Woolsthy cut to the chase, tucking the napkin into his collar as he makes his query. I shrug and smile at him openly.
"Everything I guessed."
"That's what you investigators all want to know- everything," he shoots me with a short, cynical laugh, "Even you want to know everything, you'll have to be specified. I don't know where to start."
"All right, fair enough." I grin back, trying to keep it light-hearted. Julian doesn't appear like a hard to please sort. Fair-haired and blotchy-skinned with a dash of pepper on his sideburns, he seems under a lot of pressure. His hair has been raked through with fingers countless times until it is all mussed and greased up; his rumpled shirt and crooked tie somehow makes his designer suit look seedy.
"Has Jenn's departure taken a toil on your workload?" I ask off-handedly. Self-conscious, he gives himself a once over and smiles shakily.
"Yes and no. The projects she was handling had tapered off somewhat. It's my own work that's hectic and now, added with hers, even more so."
"I know. I tried to translate some stuff… well, from German into English, before- a paragraph took me half a day to get it as accurate as I could. Did Jenn always work late nights? What about her projects? Any sensitive information involved?"
Julian glances at me weirdly before sipping from his glass of water, "You don't ask just one question at a time do you? Well, I guess they are probably related. Yes, Jenn did work late nights before. However, in the recent months, she no longer did so. And all commercial projects are sensitive- it's only to what degree. Hers didn't hold information worth killing over."
"Patrick, her husband, said she kept late nights in the office." I probe. Julian sits up straighter, shrugging cavalierly.
"I don't know. Maybe she did and the reason why I never noticed is because I keep later nights, stuck in my little, stuffy office, isolated from the rest of my colleagues. However, I'm pretty sure her workload isn't that heavy in recent months- we need a French translator and there are not many around here so she had a lot of bargaining power. But yah, I was going home on some nights and I saw her car in the car park."
"So she's in the office?"
"Can't affirm." He looks past me, smiling gratefully, "There's our food. Let's eat first. Talk shop later."
Thankfully, he is a fast eater, as am I. In between bites, we make some small talk and he jokes about how once he had almost hired my father to spy on his ex-fiancée but couldn't afford the fees so he did his own spying instead to disastrous results. In truth, Julian is funnier than his harried expression suggests. I do not see any wedding ring on his finger and he seems to be single still. Maybe his work life is the main culprit to his bachelorhood in his late forties.
He is done as I am polishing off my last bite, and took the liberty of ordering a cup of coffee for each of us. As the waitress clears our plates, he hides his face behind a serviette and uses a toothpick to clean his teeth. After he is finished, I resume the task of "talking shop."
"Are you sure you haven't seen her in the office after work hours recently? And how recent was recent?"
"Hmm, a couple of months? Well, I did notice her dressing more fashionably though, wearing jewelry and stuff. Her church doesn't allow these things from what I've heard. I guess sometimes, when the rules are ridiculously confining, people tend to rebel more often than not. Can't judge though."
"But you saw her car?"
"Damn right I did. Maybe she parks there for free when she had something else to do nearby? You know how Bayport is with all these lousy parking meters showing up in every possible corner. Free parking lots are almost out of existence already. But in our office basement car park, all workers park for free. Hey, this joint is a couple of streets away from my office but do you see me driving here? I'll rather walk and save me some money."
"She has close friends in the office?"
"I don't know… maybe the Paula, the receptionist. And even then, I wouldn't say they are close. Paula likes everybody and Jenn had a smile for everybody. She used to be genuinely nice but after she married the pastor, talking to her is like listening to those annoying evangelistic tapes. I have nothing against people who 'spread the word'," He parenthesized, "But when it's too much, they can be downright pushy and annoying."
I chuckle lowly, knowing what Julian meant exactly.
"Then, suddenly, those evangelistic sessions stopped. I think it coincided with her dressing up more. Talking to her was normal- you know, how you would usually talk to colleagues who are not your friends- shallow, full of hollow laughter."
"When did this occur? When she stopped working late as well?"
"Kind of...I can't remember." Julian sips the coffee which just arrived, "We did this dinner in an hour and thirty-eight minutes. Quite fast, even for my assessment. Anything else you want?"
"Nope, that's enough. Thank you." I reply, genuinely grateful. Julian smiles, waving at me dismissively.
"You know, I will consider Jenn a half-friend… we had times when we confided into each other about work and stuff. I hope you get the killer soon and just lay this to rest properly."
I return home from the dinner with a lot on my mind- Jenn not working late nights but having her car in the office basement car park; Patrick thinking erroneously that his wife was at work when she wasn't. No one yet could tell me where she went. One of the more logical assumption will be that she is having an affair.
It doesn't take me long to figure out that the answer may lie with Lenny or Ursula. Or that they can piece the puzzle for me a little better so I can glimpse into Jenn's suddenly mysterious life closer. But it is late and I am tired. Tomorrow is Monday- another new day, another new week.