Herb's Dilemma
Herb arrived back at the office after yet another "I'll call you" sales call. Having to keep up appearances, he stopped by Jennifer's desk. Today she was stunning in red, with blonde hair piled. "Did I ever tell you—"
"That I could be a model? Three times since yesterday, Herb. I'm a little busy."
As there was no clever comeback for that, he went to his desk and set down his convenience store coffee. The newspaper was as he'd left it, open to the cultural section. Crosswords helped pass the time while waiting for a call back. An ad caught his eye.
Want to see more of your dream girl? Won't give you the time of day? There's no pill for that, but we do have a guaranteed gadget. J P Parallax Fine Curios.
Herb jotted down the number and address. Might as well see what this was all about. It was in the neighborhood of his next sales call anyway. He threw his coat over a shoulder for Jennifer's benefit, but she wasn't even looking. "I'll be back at one if anybody calls."
On the phone herself, Jennifer made a careless wave. "Noted, Herb, noted."
He waved to Dr Fever in the sound booth on his way to the elevator, having no mind to let him in on the joke. Letting Jennifer know would blow the whole deal—it there even was one.
A few minutes' drive brought him to a two story block house downtown, which had a corner entrance between poster plastered windows. An overhead bell rang when he went in, and if he smelled incense, he was outta here. Instead, it smelled like a library: old books and musty carpet. The occult shop had a scifi feel in this case. Some unidentifiable objects lay under glass. Others hung from hooks too high to reach.
A man came down the central stairs wearing a white Nehru jacket. His high forehead sported graying temples. "Let me guess. It's a woman."
"You must be Parallax," Herb said. "Am I that obvious?"
"What shall it be? Love potion, charm, knockout drops?"
Herb colored. "Hey, I don't wanna go to jail here."
The man studied him. "Then you'd simply like to see more of the lady. Something like X-ray glasses."
"Come on." Herb did a pooh-pooh hand wave. "You can't even get those in cereal boxes anymore."
"Then I have just the thing." From one of the glass cases he removed what looked like a box of tin foil. "Come with me." He stuck the box on the wall, where it clung. "You'll see it move, so don't be alarmed." He went through an arched doorway. Seconds later, the box moved a foot or so, extruded a thin white paper bag. Parallax came out, minus jacket, wearing a T shirt.
"Tear the perforation off and look inside," Parallax said.
A series of photos showed the man removing his jacket. "Amazing!" Herb blurted. "All I do is stick this on a wall?"
"The right wall. You have to know roughly where the lady is on the other side. Quite reasonable for fifty dollars."
Too reasonable. "Where'd you get this?"
"The lost kingdom of Atlantis. Parallax, actually, is an old Atlantean name."
"How do you stay in business with prices like this?"
"I aim to please," Parallax said with a knowing look. "And there may be . . . adjustments required."
Thursdays always found Jennifer at the fitness center pool. Herb had gotten a trial membership a long time ago, just to watch her come out of the pool, so he knew where her dressing room was. When the portentous day arrived, he stuck the box on the wall in the service corridor side. Anyone who saw it would figure it a thermostat or something.
It began to move, and Herb pretended to be moving it in case anyone came by. The box arrived at a target and made whirring sounds. Lots of them. Then it put out a rather thick paper bag. Heart thudding, Herb hustled his treasure out to his car and locked it in the trunk.
At home that evening in his den, he agonized nearly an hour with his hand on the perforation. But he couldn't make himself open it. How could he face Jennifer day after day, and her not even knowing?
Next morning, his banter with Jennifer was a little strained. Today she was in yellow with black heels and belt, with hair down. She usually gave him sympathy flirtation if she sensed something was wrong, but he just wasn't on his game. Time dragged, and it wasn't even ten before he had to get away.
"Herb?" Jennifer called. "Where will you be if anyone calls?"
"Rectifying a mistake."
Minutes later at the occult shop, Herb waited for a customer to be served, then confronted Parallax. "I can't do it. Can you buy this thing back?"
Parallax grinned. "You haven't looked? The photos are spectacular."
"What?!"
Parallax touched a blue gem on a necklace. "This captures images from your box and transfers them to mine. I see what it sees, I feel what it feels. I'll agree not to publish them on the web for five thousand."
"Now I see how you stay in business." Herb ground his teeth. "I'll see what I can do."
"Twenty four hours." Parallax walked away.
Herb waited until noon, sailed past Jennifer in search of Bailey. He led her to a stock room, handed her the packet. "Bailey, I want you to notice this packet is sealed. Will you open it?"
She tore off the perforation, took out the first picture, assumed a look of horror. "Herb, how could you do this?"
"Is it . . . uh, Jennifer?"
"You know it is, you creep! You'd better find yourself a cheap lawyer to match your suits!" Bailey clutched the bag protectively. "Maybe you'd better leave and not come back."
He did just that, not venturing back until five, when he knew Jennifer was the last to leave. He could hear her typing down the hall. She must be doing better that a hundred a minute on the keys. Fueled by anger, no doubt. He took a deep breath and went in, waiting just inside the door.
That innate sense of being watched caused her to turn around, wearing a stricken look. "Why, Herb? Is that all I am to you?"
"Of course not!"
"Then why?"
"Because I'm the office clown. But you gotta believe me—I never looked. Bailey can attest to that." Herb went to his desk to fetch the cursed device. "This thing detects motion through walls and takes pictures. I got it at an occult shop. Do what you want with it."
She continued to search his face, like women do, looking from one eye to the other as if one held the truth.
Herb looked left, then right. "Don't let this get around, but your friendship means more to me than some cheap thrills. You gotta believe me, Jen. You just gotta, or I can't show my face here again."
Something in his tone got through. "I believe you."
His brow wrinkled in amazed relief. "You do? Wow, Jen, you're really a special gal." The old cockiness was back. "So—"
"No."
Herb grinned. "Right." He gave a thumbs up. "See ya Monday."
He decided to call the bluff of Parallax. It could still all go horribly wrong, and the only way he'd know was to show up Monday morning and see if Jennifer threw a phone book at him. Yet all appeared normal, except for dirty looks from Bailey. Maybe she'd never get past it. Herb sat at his desk and took out today's itinerary. On top was one of the photos, just a little bit racy, before the real undressing began. He turned an amazed look to Jennifer, who was looking at him sideways, pleased at her little joke.
Around eleven she took a call. "It's for you, Herb. The police."
He forced himself to pick up the extension. "Hello?"
"Herb Tarlek? We'd like you to come in and make a statement concerning the murder of one J P Parallax."
"Murder?" Herb stood up, attracting unwanted attention. He settled down. "Surely you don't think—"
"You're not a suspect. Whoever did this was strong as Superman. The guy looks like somebody took a sledge hammer to him. He was bashed in a hundred pieces."
Herb promised to come right down. He had a crazy thought. "Jennifer—what did you do with that crazy box?"
"I took a hammer and smashed it in a hundred pieces."
