Addiction - Chapter V

“…Real soon… Real soon.”

“Sir?”

I was back in the land of the living, so to speak. Well, sort of living. Another meeting with my board of directors and some talk about my health and my plans for the future. All led by that greasy Curtis. I wonder why I keep him around sometimes. I know more about him than I do about almost anyone else in the office, but he still makes me wonder…

“Sir?”

Laura was back by my side. Fortunately, she was also aware of what Curtis was like, and she had ended the meeting early and told everyone to remember that they would have the same meeting at the same time on the same day…online. I’m more than a little thankful for how far technology has taken us (no speaker phone nonsense); I’m also thankful for Laura…

“I was just…recalling something.”

“I see.” She put her pen down on the conference table. “I thought that you might have wanted something.”

“Don’t we all?”

She just smiled. She was always good at reading my moods, and she picked up her planner without a sound.

“Well, sir, you have had the meeting for the week, so you are free. There is the appointment to check your blood and see if the poison has passed cleanly through your system.”

I leaned back in the ergonomic chair I was now forced to use. “It has…”

“Sir…”

Okay, Mom, I thought.

“I will go in for the check up. Anything else?”

Laura looked over the screen in her hands and then stared out the floor-to-ceiling view.

“There is nothing…official here.”

“Wonderful.” I stood up, loosened my tie and looked at the door.

“But you do have a visitor.”

I turned on her. Nothing about this sounded like it would be pleasant. “Unofficial?”

“It is a detective, so very ‘unofficial’. He said that his name is Graham Morris and that he has some information about what might have happened to you.”

This was not going to be pleasant.

“He knows who I am, I suppose?”

“He does, and I reminded him to the point where he said that he could not ‘play games with a secretary,’” and that he had to speak to you alone.”

Her anger was clear and I liked to just imagine how she responded to this so-called authority.

“Of course he does. Let’s take care of this and then I will try to enjoy the rest of what is a strange week.”

“Of course. I should be there?”

I was already at the door when I laughed. “You should. Let him say what he has to say.”

I knew where she put him and I almost continued laughing when I saw him.

If you saw the reception area, you might wonder why we even bothered to have a main conference hall for our big galas and receptions. It was a huge open area with natural and artificial light in competition to see which one could illuminate the area best. On this particular grey day, it was the warm light that came down on the form of this detective who was probably taken straight out of a 1970s sitcom (never watched many of them, but I heard about one called “Barney Miller” that seemed to be just in line with his look). In reception, in our ergonomically-perfect seating area, he was flipping through a company newsletter. He did notice me when I walked in and stood up with a smile.

“Detective…”

“Ah, yes. The man we all want to meet.”

I shook his hand, and immediately thought of that show: cheap suit, ugly tie, raincoat that looked like it should have been sold off with the rest of fire sale. He did seem old enough to know what he was doing here. Thin, tall, with that hair that seemed to want to leave on a permanent vacation. I was a little baffled that he was here by himself.

“Let’s find a room.”

“Ah, okay.”

With a key card, I opened one of our “special doors” and noted how impressed he was. I mean to say that this is one of the rooms in our office that would not detect unless you held the card, felt the slight buzz, and then watched a portion of the wall open up and allow you into a room you could not imagine being there.

“Ah, that is… That is very damn impressive.”

He stood there as the light slowly grew, revealing a couch, one round table, and four chairs circling it. I kept standing, but I did press another button, revealing drinks and snacks in another part of the wall. “If you like…”

He wanted to take a cup of coffee, but he stopped himself. “Ah, so impressive…”

And now I looked him up and down.

“You have something important to tell me…”

He sat down on the couch, smiling a bit, but with his face and his feelings moving in two different directions.

“How long have you been taking drugs, sir?”

At least he did not try to use my first name, as if we were old friends.

“Why does that matter?”

He took a mint from the bowl I had forgotten about and leaned back on the grey of that rounded cushion.

“Sir, no one wants to put any pressure on you, but you have to wonder why you have not been thrown in jail or at least interrogated by the police before. Not even a fine on your record.”

I stared at him.

“Are you really a detective?”

“Ah, indeed. I am.” He stood up. “I am most certainly one, just not with the regular boys in blue. Private cases only.”

Now, I had it figured out.

“Ah, someone hired you.”

“Indeed.”

And now it was time for both of us to just stand there and stare at each other for a moment.

“Detective, I am a drug taker, not a psychic. And I am also a very busy man, so if there is nothing else that you want to tell me…”

I could see the mint moving in his mouth as he reached into that ugly raincoat and took out a card.

“This might make things a little clearer.”

It did not, but it did make me pay attention.

It made me pay a lot of attention...

Real soon...

*

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