Cindy's Story

By Duane L. Martin

After her temper led her to walk out on yet another convenience store job, Cindy needed to find herself a new job fast, otherwise she'd end up broke and living on the streets. After discussing the situation with her apartment manager, he informs her that he has a brother who's been looking to hire an assistant. The only problem is that he's a private investigator, which is a career field that she has no experience in whatsoever. Still, she was pretty much ready to jump at any opportunity. It was a chance at not only quick employment, but possibly a whole new career that would get her out of the convenience store business once and for all.

As it turns out, being a private detective isn't as glamorous as they make it look on television. It comes with certain indignities and moral issues that she'd never really considered before. Not only that, but her new boss, Frank, seems to delight in going out of his way to piss her off. The only thing he seems to enjoy more than pissing her off, is complaining about how horrible her coffee is. Still, for some reason that she can't seem to figure out, he also goes out of his way to help her succeed in any way he possibly can.

While Frank can be terribly passive aggressive, he's nothing compared to his sister Kayla. She's like a nightmare on wheels, with no empathy, and no filter whatsoever. You never know what's going to come out of her mouth next, but it's a safe bet that it'll be something infuriating. When your temper is already the stuff of legends, having to deal with someone like her, without the encounter ending in a murder rap, requires a tremendous amount of willpower.

The one thing that Cindy has going for her is that she's got a super high aptitude for the job. All she needs to do in order to succeed is to work hard, learn how to control that legendary temper of hers, and most importantly, learn how to make a decent cup of coffee. The first two are relatively simple. The third...not so much.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Duane L. Martin
• Release date: Aug 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370443031

Duane L. Martin

An avid reader since he first discovered the Hardy Boys books in the second grade, Duane L. Martin spent years being educated by some truly great authors.In 2013, after years of dreaming about writing a novel of his own, he finally hit upon a story idea that would ultimately turn into the 22 book Unseen Things series. Currently, aside from the series, he's also published two standalone novels. Cindy's Story, which is a humorous private investigator novel, and a superhero story called The Accidental Hero, which is both humorous, and quite dark at times.Aside from his writing, Duane is also a musician. He took his first bass guitar lesson in 1987 and has been playing bass ever since. He also plays some guitar, and a little keyboard and some percussion as well, with a particular focus on hand drums. As he's always been a great lover of music, he often has it playing quietly in the background while he writes.Born and raised in Northern California, he would later move to Idaho, where he lives the quiet life of a relative hermit with his wife Sharon, and their two dogs.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Cindy!  I thought I told you to mop up that milk!  Hurry the hell up and get it done already! her boss yelled at her.  It seemed as though he was always yelling at her for one thing or another.  She hadn't been working there for too awful long, but she'd learned early on to just tune him out when he got like that.  Unfortunately, in spite of the small amount of tolerance she'd built up for dealing with his crap, on this particular day it seemed as though he was going out of his way to just wear away her last nerve.  She needed the job, because with a job comes money, a place to live, and food to eat, but she didn't need it that bad.  Convenience store jobs were a dime a dozen.  She knew that for a fact, because she'd been through four of them, including this one, in just in the past year alone.  In her mind it was never really her fault when she had to walk out of a job.  It always seemed like the root causes were things that she had no control over, though most often it would come down to two specific things.  Either the boss was a total douche, or they wanted her to work insane hours, and then fill in for people who called in sick on top of it.  One boss in particular had sexually harassed her by grabbing her ass one night while she was stocking the shelves.  The end result of that one was a black eye for him, and an unemployment check for her.

This particular boss was a short, stocky guy with wavy brown hair, and glasses that always seemed to be crooked no matter how often he straightened them.  It was his uniform pants that really got her though.  She often laughed to herself at how high he wore them.  Every time she saw him, all she could think about was that old Nick at Nite commercial...The Pants That Ate Fred Mertz.

Unfortunately, he also had a case of little man syndrome.  Much like the mighty chihuahua, he'd bark, snarl, and growl at his subordinates to make up for his lack of height, and feelings of inferiority.  It was a shame, because this particular place was nicer than a lot of the other places she'd worked at.  If it wasn't for him, she might have been able to survive at this one for a while.  As it stood presently, all she really wanted to do was to shove a mop handle up his ass and use him to mop the floor.

Hey!  I'm talkin' to you.  Are you even listening? he demanded.

I'll get to it Chuck!  Jeez, you asked me to stock the candy bars.  Make up your damn mind! she said irritably.

Well, do the milk first.  We don't need any god damned lawsuits.  You know how people are nowadays.  They don't even hit the fucking floor before they got a lawyer on the phone.

Fine..., she said with a huff as she threw down the candy box she was holding and headed back to the janitor's closet to get the mop and bucket.

As she approached the spill, she looked at her reflection in the glass door of the refrigerator she was standing next to.  She'd always been considered pretty, though she was never one of the hot girls who always seemed to have life handed to them on a silver platter.  She was taller than average, though not overly so, and she'd always been quite proud of the naturally athletic shape of her body.  Her below-shoulder length sandy blonde hair was looking particularly nice today as well...at least as far as she was concerned.  Not that anyone else would notice.  She'd been single for a while now, ever since her last boyfriend dumped her for some big breasted, redheaded slut-whore who worked at a sports bar downtown.

She smiled to herself as the words slut-whore passed through her mind, but then she let out a heavy sigh as she started swirling the mop around in the spilled milk, which probably wouldn't have spilled at all if Chuck would have just taken it back from that homeless woman nicely instead of yelling at her and trying to grab her for the cops.  It broke her heart listening to the woman's three-year-old son cry as he chased them out of the store, screaming like a homicidal maniac at them all the way out past the gas pumps, and well into the parking lot.

God, he can be such an ass, she mumbled to herself as she picked up the mop, squeezed it out in the bucket and then placed it back in the spill.

Hurry up with that! Chuck yelled in that grating, obnoxious voice of his.  Normally she'd have just blown him off, but that nerve he'd been working all day finally just snapped.

You know what Chuck?  Fuck you, that's what!  I'm done with this crap!  I quit! she said, surprising even herself with the ferocity of her words as she threw the mop down and stormed toward the door.

What the hell are you talkin' about?  You can't quit in the middle of your shift! Chuck shouted at her.

Watch me, she said, giving him a dirty look for just a moment before she threw the door open and walked out on yet another job.

As she approached her car, she noticed the homeless woman holding a sign at a parking lot entrance down the street, while her child stood there holding onto her leg.  Without even thinking, she walked right back into the store.

Oh, changed your mind did you?  Well, it's too late.  You're fired! Chuck said angrily.

Without even a word to him, she headed straight back to the refrigerators, grabbed a jug of milk and then slammed the refrigerator door closed before she headed up to the front and threw a few dollars down on the counter.

You know what?  Keep the change...ass hole, she said as she walked out once again without another word.

She knew Chuck would be watching her until she actually drove away, so before she got in the car she set the jug of milk on the roof and flipped him the bird for a good five seconds without even looking in his general direction.  Once she was sure he'd seen it, she grabbed the milk and climbed into her vehicle with a satisfied smile on her face.

Once she'd pulled out onto the street, she headed down to where the woman was standing and pulled into the parking lot.  As soon as she got herself turned around, she headed back out and slowly rolled to a stop right next to the woman and her child.

Here, she said as she handed her the jug through the passenger window.  And here's twenty bucks.  Go and get yourselves some food.

You?  But why? she asked in disbelief as she took both the milk and the money from Cindy's hand.

Because, you're having a hard enough time in life as it is without gettin' chased around by some convenience store jerk off with crooked glasses and high-water pants.  I'm really sorry you guys are in this situation.  I wish I could do more.

No...my god, this is more than generous.  Thank you so much.  I don't even know what to say, the woman said.  Cindy could see that she was starting to tear up, so...not wanting to embarrass her or anything in front of her child, she decided to make a hasty exit.

Good luck you guys.  I hope things get better for you, she said.

God bless you, the teary-eyed woman said as she pulled her child close and rubbed the back of his head gently.

Yeah well, if he ain't helping you, then he sure as hell ain't gonna help me, Cindy said.  Anyway, you hang in there.

Thank you, the woman said just as a car pulled up behind Cindy's and honked the horn.  Her first inclination was to reach out the window and flip the guy the bird, but she had bigger things to worry about at the moment.

Since there was really nothing left to say, she gave the mother a little wave, and then pulled out into traffic, heading back to an apartment that she might not have for much longer if she didn't figure out some way to pay the rent sooner rather than later.

When she pulled up in front of her building, she saw the manager heading over to the dumpster to unload some trash.  She was twenty-four, and he was maybe forty or so but for some strange reason she always felt like they could be friends.  Like, actual friends, that would hang out and do fun stuff together.  It seemed like they were always on the verge of taking that step, but for whatever reason it just never happened.  His wife took him for everything in the divorce due to the fact that, unbeknownst to him at the time, she was sleeping with his lawyer.  That's how he ended up as an apartment manager.  The job came with a rent free apartment, which gave him a chance to get back on his feet again, both personally, and financially.

Hey Mr. Clarkson, she called over to him with a bright smile and a wave.

Hey Cindy.  How's everything goin'? he asked.  He was pretty tall at just over six feet, and was obviously in great shape.  He didn't seem to have lost any of his hair yet either, which was still a rich brown color, though ever since his divorce it had started graying just ever so slightly.  The way he looked, it was easier for her to think of them as being closer in age than they really were, which is why she'd always sort of thought of him as more of a friend than a father figure.

About as well as can be expected I guess.  Listen...I uhhh...

What's the matter?  Is something wrong? he asked.

Well..., she said, cringing nervously as she spoke.  I kinda sorta lost my job today.

Oh Cindy, come on!  That's the fourth job in the last year, isn't it? he said, giving her a stern look.

Yeah, but it's not my fault!  I had really good reasons for all of 'em.  Don't worry though, I'm gonna get on finding another one as soon as I get up to my apartment, and I'm not gonna stop until I find something.

Well I'm sure you'll find something soon enough.  You're a smart girl, he said with a pleasant and encouraging smile.

I hope so, she said, forcing herself to return his smile, even though she wasn't really feeling all that hopeful about her prospects.

You know what your problem is?

What's that? she asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.  Criticism wasn't exactly something she was in the mood to hear at the moment.  Fortunately, that wasn't what he had in mind.

Your problem is that you keep gettin' jobs in those stupid convenience stores.  You know they always turn out bad for ya.  Why don't you try doing something else this time? he suggested.

Like what though?  I don't exactly have a sparkling resume, and my marketable job skills don't really amount to much, she said sullenly.

Well, my brother Frankie's been talking about hiring an assistant for a while now, but he's never bothered doin' it.  I could give him a call if you want, and see if we couldn't just maybe shoehorn you in there.

What's he do?  What kind of work is it? Cindy asked.

I know this is gonna sound kinda cheesy, but he's a private detective.

Seriously? she asked, cocking her eyebrow a bit.

Yeah, seriously.  I always feel kinda weird telling people that, but hey...it's a respectable job, right?  Anyway, he was literally just saying the other day how he could use an assistant to handle some of the leg work and what not for him so he could focus on the more important stuff.  Think you'd be interested in giving it a shot?

Would it pay enough for me to cover my rent, and all my other bills? she asked.  That's all I'm really worried about at the moment.

Beats me.  He never tells me what kinda money he makes because he's probably afraid I'll ask him for some.  I mean, one small loan I didn't pay back when we were kids, and he acts like it scarred him for life or something, he said, chuckling a bit at how ridiculous it sounded.

You know, it might be a nice change of pace actually.  I'm sick of workin' all these crappy ass convenience store jobs.  Should I call him, or will you just have him call me when he's not busy? she asked.

I'll have him call you.  I think he said he was gonna be on a stakeout today, trying to catch some guy cheating on his wife so she can file the divorce papers.  Apparently the guy only meets up with his girlfriend during the day, so he should be free to call you this evening if that's all right?

Yeah, that's fine.  I'll keep lookin' for other jobs in the meantime too, she said for no other reason than that she wanted him to know that she was on the case.

Hey, if you're a little late with the rent, then you're a little late.  You've been a good tenant, and you've always been good about paying your rent on time, so I can probably float you for a month if I have to, but I won't be able to go longer than that.  I do have to do my job ya know.

I know, and I really appreciate it, she said, flashing him a smile that was both warm and genuine.

Anyway, you just get yourself settled into something, and then you can get caught up with the rent once you get some money coming in.  We'll work it out somehow, even if you have to pay a little extra for a while to make up the missing month.

"You really just saved my life!  Thank you so much," she said as she lurched forward and wrapped him up in a grateful hug.

Hey, just don't tell anyone I'm doing this for you, or everyone's gonna expect me to float 'em at different times.  I don't mind doin' it for you, but some of these people are really gonna take advantage of it if I start making it a regular thing.

I won't tell anyone.  You have my word, she said, holding up three fingers in a scout's honor sign.  "All right, I'd better get inside.  Thanks again for being so understanding, and for the lead on the job."

It's all right.  Oh, and if you see Mrs. Henderson on your way up, tell her she needs to clean that damn cat box.  The whole hallway reeks of cat shit, and the other tenants have been complaining.  I told her to clean that shit up two days ago, but she still hasn't done it, and now she's avoiding me.  I'm starting to think she actually likes that smell, he said with a disgusted look.

Well, she is a little bit out there, so it wouldn't surprise me in the least.  Anyway, I'll tell her if I see her.  See ya later, Cindy said with an amused look as she turned and trotted happily toward the stairwell that led up to her apartment.

See ya, he said, smiling to himself as he watched her go.

When she got upstairs she could smell the offending odor immediately, and as she approached Mrs. Henderson's apartment, both the smell and the look of disgust on her face grew more intense with every step.  Mrs. Henderson was a widow in her early eighties, and there were only two things in her life that made her happy.  The first was her cats.  She had three of them, though she used to have about seven.  Unfortunately for her, when Mr. Clarkson discovered she had so many cats in her apartment he had to force her to get rid of at least four of them, and even leaving her with three was stretching the rules since they were only allowed a maximum of one small pet in their building.  It broke her heart to have to get rid of them, but to Mr. Clarkson's credit he did help her to find good homes for them.  Unfortunately, that left the other three little shit machines there in the apartment with her, and apparently they took their job extremely seriously.  Cindy often imagined them having little break-dancing parties on the litter box while they flung their poo everywhere, which amused her to no end.  Judging by the smell that was permeating the hallway however, she was starting to think that her whimsical little fantasy probably wasn't all that far off the mark.

The second great joy of The Widow Henderson's life was watching Wheel of Daddies on the Maury Povich show.  She'd get so intense when Maury was about to read the DNA results that any casual observer might think that she actually died and went stiff right there in front of the television.  As soon as the results were read however, she'd get fully animated once again and start cackling with laughter at the reactions of the guests.  Sadly, other than Maury and her cats, she really didn't have much of a life.  Cindy would take her over some food every once in a while if she happened to make too much for herself, but aside from that and the random encounters in the hallway every now and then where the lonely old woman would talk her ear off for an hour or more, she never really saw all that much of her.  She was one of those great neighbors who pretty much keeps to themselves, which was why Cindy was sort of hoping that she wouldn't have to be the one to mention the litter box thing to her.  Unfortunately, her already bad day was about to have one more little annoyance added to the pile, because just as she was about to open her door, she heard Mrs. Henderson's door open up just enough for the chain lock to stop it.

Oh, gosh darn it, she grumbled through the crack as one of her cats shot out into the hallway.  As soon as it saw Cindy standing there by her door, it trotted over to her and wrapped itself around her leg, purring loudly while it relieved itself of its excess fur.

I got it Mrs. Henderson.  Hang on, she said as she picked up the cat and walked it back down the hall to the old woman's apartment.  Just as she got there, she heard the chain drop, and then the door opened up wide.  The absolute wall of crap smell that slammed into her right at that moment was enough to cause her to start dry heaving as she held out the cat.  Here...take it, quick!

Well thank you dear, the old woman said as she took the cat from her.  Oh Fluffy, you're such a bad kitty!  My little escape artist.  Yes, that's a bad kitty.  That's a very bad kitty.

You know, I always wondered why you called her Fluffy, Cindy said.  She's not fluffy at all, so where'd the name come from?

What's that sweetie? Mrs. Henderson asked, cocking her ear in Cindy's direction so she could hear her better.

The name...Fluffy, Cindy said, only a bit louder this time.  Why'd you name her Fluffy?  She's not fluffy.

Oh!  Well, ever since she was a kitten she's made the cutest little fluffy poopies, she said as she continued to bounce the cat up and down like a baby.

Why the fuck did I even ask? Cindy mumbled to herself as another wave of smell hit her.  The old woman had an oscillating fan running in her apartment, so every time it would swing over in the direction of the door she'd get blasted by yet another wall of stench that was truly testing the limits of her gag reflex.

I'm sorry? the old woman said as she cocked her ear once again.

Nothing.  Don't worry about it.  Hey, listen.  Mr. Clarkson said he wants you clean your cat box.  Some of the other neighbors have been complaining about the smell, she said loudly.

Smell?  What smell? she asked as she sniffed the air a few times.

Oh god, Cindy said with a slight huff.  I think you're so used to it that you just don't smell it anymore, but it's really bad Mrs. Henderson.  You're gonna have to do something about it.  If you don't clean it up, people are gonna start complaining to the owners, and then you'll probably get thrown outta here, and so will Mr. Clarkson when they fire him for letting it go for so long.

Oh...well, he's such a nice man.  I don't wanna cause him any trouble you know.

I know, but you're really gonna have to get that done today, Cindy said.  Just then she spotted the cat box in the background.  The way the crap was piled up on it, it made her think of that scene in Close Encounters of the Third Kind with the mashed potatoes.  This is important.  This means something, Cindy thought to herself as she pictured the cats all hovering around it, each of them using a spoon to form it up into the shape of the mountain where the UFOs would land.  With an amused look, she quickly excused herself and headed back over to her apartment.

Oh...are you going so soon? the old woman asked.  It's been a while since we've had a nice little chat.

Sorry, she called back over her shoulder.  Can't do it today Mrs. Henderson.  I'm waiting for a call about a job.

Awww, did you lose another one dearie?

Yeah, but I got a good feeling about this one.  It's something totally different from what I've been doing, so cross your fingers for me.

I will dear.  Good luck!

Thanks! Cindy said, smiling over at her as she shoved her key into the lock.

All right, let's get you back inside, you bad girl you, the old woman said as she walked back into her apartment and closed the door.

Cindy wrinkled her nose in disgust as she stepped into her own apartment.  As soon as the door was closed, she took a deep, cleansing breath, and then let it out slowly.

Oh my god, fresh air at last! she said as she walked over to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.  So...what's for dinner tonight?  Let's see here...I got a few tomatoes that are all wrinkled up and saggy like Mrs. Henderson's tits.  Oh, and then there's the week-old hamburger helper leftovers.  I could have that I guess if I wanna spend the rest of the night in the bathroom.  Jeez, I really need to do some shopping.  I guess I'll just have to put it on a credit card and hope for the best, she said with a frown.  Ahhh...fuck it.  I guess I'll order myself a pizza.  Might as well get the extra jumbo size too so I'll have some leftovers to munch on until I can get to the store.  Actually...screw it.  I think I'll just go to sleep for a while and try to forget about this shitty ass day.  I'll order myself a pizza later on when it's closer to dinner time.

Shutting the refrigerator door, she turned and headed off to her bedroom, flopped herself down on the bed, and then laid there staring at the lamp on her night stand for about five minutes or so until she finally fell asleep.

*   *   *

It was just after seven that evening when her cell phone rang.  She jerked up from her drool-soaked pillow and looked around wildly for her phone.  She didn't know what time it was, or even what day it was.  All she knew was that she had to answer that phone, because that was her ticket to a continued income.  As soon as her brain started functioning just slightly more efficiently, she realized that the ringing was coming from under the pillow next to hers.  Quickly she thrust her hand under it, grabbed the phone and brought it up in front of her, tapping the screen to answer the call just a split second before it went to voice-mail.

Hello? she said as she reached up to wipe the drool from her face with the palm of her other hand.

Hey...

Oh, it's you, she said with an irritated sneer.  What do you want Bobby?  I thought you'd be busy playing with your new pair of tits or something.

Come on sweetie...

Sweetie???  Don't you dare fucking call me that after what you did to me!  I was so damn good to you, and you rolled me over for that stupid bitch with the fake tits! she practically shouted.

They're not fake! he said, but then he realized what he'd just said and cringed as he slammed his palm against his forehead.

You know what?  I don't even care.  I don't care about her, and I don't care about you anymore either.  Goodbye Bobby...

No no no....come on, just wait a second.  Please...

What? she asked, growing more irritable by the second.

Look, I'm sorry.  I don't know what I was thinking when I left you to hook up with her.  I was just being stupid, and I'm sorry.  I just...

So basically what you're saying is that she dumped you already and now you wanna come crawling back.  Does that about sum it up? she asked.

Uhhh...

Yeah, I thought so.  You know what Bobby, I'm worth more than that.  I'm not some backup chick you can come running back to every time you wander off and then suddenly find yourself alone again.  You want someone like that, then you need to find someone with a hell of a lot lower self-esteem than I've got.  Now, I'm expecting a call...from a guy, so this conversation is over.  I'd say have a nice life, but after what you pulled on me, I honestly don't give a shit whether you do or not.  See ya, she said as she pulled the phone back around in front of her.  Just as she was about to tap the end call button on the screen, she heard him trying to say something, but she went ahead and tapped it anyway.  After what he'd done to her, she didn't really care what he had to say about anything.  She'd rather be alone than to be treated like that by anyone.  Unfortunately, just as she was thinking that to herself she looked over at the mirror on her dresser.  She had pillow scars all over the side of her face, and there weren't two hairs on the left side of her head that were pointing in the same direction.  It occurred to her then that she probably would end up alone if she kept waking up looking like that.  As if that wasn't bad enough, she started picturing herself at Mrs. Henderson's age, living by herself in an apartment with a bunch of feces spewing cats, and a television full of random baby daddies.

Fortunately for her she was spared thinking about it for long, because suddenly her phone rang once again.  Thinking it was Bobby calling her back to beg some more, she let out a huff and tapped the screen to answer the call without even looking at the display to see who was on the other end.

What the fuck do you want now? she practically shouted into the phone.

"Well I did wanna talk to you about a job, but if that's your attitude...," the voice on the other end said.

Oh my god, please!  I'm so sorry!  I thought you were someone else!  God, please don't think I'm always like that.  I really need this job, she pleaded.

"Well, I didn't offer you a job.  I just said I wanted to talk to you about it."

Ok, so let's talk.  What do you wanna know? she asked.

Nothing, he said flatly.

Oh...ok then, she said as a hollow feeling opened up in the pit of her stomach.

Show up at my office at eight in the morning so I can see what I'm dealing with, he said.

Really? she asked hopefully.

Did I stutter?  Be here at eight.  Not one second after.

Where's your office? she asked.  Suddenly the call ended, and she looked at her phone awkwardly for a moment.  Ok...so what the fuck was that about?

She stared at herself in the mirror once again, and then crawled out of bed and headed out to the kitchen after a quick stop at the bathroom to wash her face and brush the tangles out of her hair.  A few minutes later she had a pizza on the way, but that call from Mr. Clarkson's brother was really bothering her.  Why didn't he tell her where to go?  She thought about calling her landlord to ask him where his brother's office was, but she didn't want to get him involved.  This had to be some sort of a test, and she didn't want to cheat by asking his brother for the answer.  Grabbing her laptop, she did a quick web search for private detectives in the local area.  Soon she had numerous tabs open in her browser, each with a different agency's website.  Unfortunately, not a single one of them had a Frank Clarkson listed.

What the fuck? she mumbled to herself as she tried a different search, which also proved to be fruitless.  Ok, seriously now...this is pissin' me off something fierce.

Several searches later, she was still coming up empty.  It was then that she had the idea to search just for his name, and finally she made some progress.  She managed to find a few Frank Clarksons in town, but which one was it?

A half an hour later her doorbell rang.  Quick as a wink she opened it, and for a moment she was rather shocked by who she saw standing there.  It was the pizza she'd ordered, but the guy holding it didn't look like some teenager who was just looking to make some extra spending money.  The man was tall, and looked to be somewhere in his later twenties.  His eyes were deep and penetrating, and he was sporting about a week's worth of facial hair that matched the average length brown hair that was parted to the side and swept over his forehead.

Here's yer pizza lady, he said as he handed it to her.

Hey, thanks.  Here ya go, she said as she took the pizza from him.  She'd already paid for the pizza itself online, so she handed him a couple of bucks as a tip.

Thanks.  Say uhhh...it ain't none of my business, but I think someone might have died in that apartment down the hall, he said glancing down the hall for a moment before he turned his attention back to her.

Oh...yeah.  That's just Mrs. Henderson.  She always smells like that, Cindy said with an amused look.

Well that's kinda nasty.  Anyway, you have a good night.

You too, she said, smiling to herself as she closed the door.

She ate two pieces of pizza while it was still hot, but by the time she got frustrated enough to give up on her web searches, the rest of it had gone completely room temperature.

Why the fuck can't I find this guy? she wondered aloud as she let out a huff and flopped herself against the back of the couch.  Wait a minute...

Picking up her phone, she brought up her speed dial menu and tapped Mr. Clarkson's name.

Hello?

Hey Mr. Clarkson.  It's Cindy.

Oh hey Cindy.  Did my brother call you yet? he asked.

Yeah, he did.  He wants me to show up at his office at eight in the morning, but he didn't tell me where it is.  I think he's testing me or something to see if I can find it on my own.

Sounds like something he'd do.  I guess I should have warned you about him.  He's a little...uhhh...jeez, I don't even know what word to use.

Yeah, I kinda got that already.  Anyway, I don't want you to tell me where his office is.  I just wanted to ask...is Frank his real first name? she asked.

Yeah, it is.  Why?

Because I've been digging around on the web forever now and I can't seem to find a listing for his office anywhere.  There's a few Frank Clarksons around town, but none of 'em are listed at any of the agencies, she said.

That's because he doesn't work for an agency.  He works from home.  He's got a home office he works out of, Mr. Clarkson said.

Well god damn it!  I spent all that time lookin'...

Want his address?  I'd be happy to give it to you.

Nah, it's ok.  Like I said, I think this is some kind of a test or something, so I wanna figure it out on my own.

All right, but don't screw around and miss out on the opportunity.  If you run out of time, just let me know and I'll point you in the right direction.

Ok, thanks Mr. Clarkson.  I really appreciate it.  Wish me luck, she said.

Good luck, and if he gives you any trouble, just let me know.  I'll smack him around for ya, he said with a bit of a chuckle.

He already has, as you can tell.  Anyway, I'll see ya later.  Thanks for the info.

Night Cindy, he said as she pulled the phone away from her ear and ended the call.

All right you pain in the ass.  You wanna see what I can do?  You wanna play your little games?  All right, I'll play.  Let's do this, she said to herself as she sat back down and started searching the local listings once again.

*   *   *

The next morning at exactly eight o'clock, she rang the doorbell at Frank's house.  A few moments later she heard some footsteps plodding toward the door and then suddenly it opened, revealing far more than she'd expected.  Frank was standing there completely naked except for the open bathrobe he was wearing.  He had a cup of coffee in one hand and looked as though he hadn't been awake for very long.  She couldn't help but to stare down at his well-trimmed crotch, and that's all she saw until he spoke and drew her attention back up to his face.

Come on in..., he said as he stood aside slightly so she could walk by.  It took a few moments for it to register, but as she looked up into his eyes, she suddenly realized that she'd seen him before.

Oh my god, it's you! she said with a look of surprise.

What's me? he asked through his morning funk.

You delivered my pizza last night!  I thought you seemed kinda outta place for a delivery guy.

And yet you took it.  You knew there was something off about me, and yet you took it anyway.  What if I was someone who wanted to kill you, and I poisoned your pizza?  You'd be dead right now instead of standing here staring at my junk, he said.

I wasn't staring at your junk!!! she huffed defensively.

Yeah, whatever.  Come on in.  You want some coffee?

Coffee would be awesome.  I was up all night trying to find out where you lived, she said as she stepped in and he closed the door behind her.

Looks like you did, he said.  So...how'd you find me?

Lots of web searching, she said as she followed him to the kitchen.  I couldn't find you at any of the agencies, so I asked your brother if Frank was your real name.  He told me while I was talking to him that you work from home, so I spent all night checking out the few Frank Clarksons I could find around town here.

So how'd you know this was the right place? he asked.  Coffee's over there, so go ahead and help yourself.  Mugs are in the cupboard.

Thanks, she said as she grabbed a mug and poured herself a cup.

So? he said.

So what? she asked.

How'd you know this was the place? he asked again.

Well, it was the middle of the night, so I peeked in the windows.  You have some old detective movie posters hangin' on the wall of your office, so I just put two and two together, she said, turning to smile at him smugly.

Heh...

What? she asked as her eyes involuntarily went down to his crotch once again.  Her eyes quickly shot back up though when he raised his hand and held one finger up.

Two and two equals four, but there's no reason to put 'em together when you can stop at one, he said.

What the hell does that mean? she asked, narrowing her eyes in confusion.

"What I mean is, you could have just asked my brother.  He lives in your building for Christ's sake.  You didn't even have to track him down