Paid Lunch Break

About Me: I am a private investigator. If you are conjuring images of a sexy lady bursting into my office begging for help, you will be disappointed. Hell, I don’t even have an office. Work is not steady, and monthly rent and bills are quite unforgiving. I spent most of the morning searching the seats of my car for loose change and scraped up enough for a gas station hotdog and soda.

Quick survival tip: There are no rules about how many condiments one should put on a hotdog, so I go for broke. If properly stored, the stuff can last for years. The kids behind the counter are not paid enough to care; they have seen much worse.

So there I was, sitting in my car, with the door open trying to slurp through my ketchup, mustard, and relish soup to find the meat byproduct, meanwhile, thanking the fates for the shade. Using the A/C means using gas - something I really can’t afford. Rather, my car uses “4-45 A/C” (4 windows down while cruising at 45 mph).

As I reached the dog under the soup, I heard breathing. I looked up to see the face of a kid breathing at me from the other side of my open door. I have nothing against children. They are a wonderful accessory for any park or school playground. Some families even look better with them. But my car is not something that is enhanced with an external child attachment.

“Hey mister.” He wheezed.

I ignored him. The child was between me and food. This was not a wise place to be; once these hotdogs get cold, one could use them as a club.

“Hey mister.” He said again. “Hey mister. Mister! Hey!”

Great, he’s stuck in a loop.

I looked him square in the eye to let him know that I knew he was there, then took a bite of the dog to say my food was more important. It worked. He stopped.

“What?” I asked with my mouth full.

Slowly the kid revealed a small black notebook and handed it to me. As soon as it was in my hand he let go and jumped away.

“I was paid to wait here until I saw a guy eating in his car with the door open.” The kid whispered. “So I gave it to you. You got the black book and I get to keep the money. Bye.”

He ran off as fast as he could.

This left me with a hotdog in one hand and a little black book in another. A kid was paid money to give this notebook to me. This was one of those top dollar brands. The kind used for journals or things too important to leave on a computer.

Curiosity got the better of me. After wiping my hands on my jeans, I carefully opened the journal. In it were beautifully handwritten pages in a different language. Nothing I could understand. I saw some detailed sketches that looked like maps, and some rather impressive drawings of people. This was obviously a notebook that was poured into with great care and might have high sentimental value.

What caught my attention was a page halfway through with an address and a set of numbers just below it and a key taped to the page. Upon closer inspection, the key looked like it was for a safety deposit box; and the logo looked familiar. Coincidentally, the address might be about a block away. I got up, and closed the door. Why waste gas when it would be faster to walk?

Five minutes and 45 ounces of soda later, I was standing in front of a bank. I hastily made my way inside. The cool air hit me as I entered and I felt that I should really take my time and enjoy it as much as possible.

I realized I have as much luck as I have money. None. Here I was, in a rather upscale bank, looking woefully out of place. Several people were looking at me like I hadn’t washed my jeans in three weeks, which was completely untrue. It has been only two weeks! Doing laundry costs money, and I make sure I do full loads.

I looked out of place enough that a security guard advanced. He had a look of irritation that he needed to get off his stool to do something. He was coming to let me know that was in the wrong place. I wanted to enjoy the A/C a bit more, so I turned to face him.

“Ah good.” I said as casually as I could. “Expedient service. Just what I like. Could you please show me to the safety deposit boxes?”

I held up the key. This was more than enough to overload his thought process. He came to a dead stop five feet away with a blank expression. I envisioned a little imp in his brain consulting a manual for how to proceed. It was time enough for me to pass.

“Ah yes. Over there.” I said in the same casual tone, and gave him a clap on the shoulder. “Thank you. Keep up the good work.”

Wasting no time, I walked toward the vault area. Of course, the security guard is only for show. He gives the illusion of safety. The real security is the secretary, a deadly cross between a pit-bull, an AI, and Drill Sargent. The boss is in charge of the business, but the secretary keeps it running. When people have questions, they go to the secretary. If someone isn’t performing up to standards, it is the secretary who files the reports. It is the secretary that will defend the doors with an ice-cold stare and a whip like tongue to point out all your shortcomings. God, I wish I could afford one.

This one was maybe five foot, on a good day, with heels. I don’t pretend to understand the laws of nature but somehow the shorter they are, the meaner they are. Maybe some kind of law of inverse ratios or something equally scientific. And this one had me in her sights.

“And just WHERE do you think YOU are going, young man?” she snapped with emphasis on the ‘where’ and ‘you’. Somehow ‘young man’, when directed towards me, was an insult. She was actually trying block me from advancing. I had her beat by a good foot and change, and was easily twice her weight. But this was her territory, which left me at a disadvantage. I had to play by the rules of civilized and cultured people. No brawling here.

As she advanced, each heel-step echoed through the room. Each click reminded me of elementary school, hearing a teacher approaching. But I had my hall pass, in the form of a key. I held up the key as if it were a cross fending off a vampire. And… it worked. She stopped.

“Follow me.” She snapped, and gestured to her desk. “I’ll need the account number.”

I rattled the number from the notebook and gave my best, innocent smile. The slight sniff she gave told me she wasn’t buying it for a second. She spent a long time reading something on the computer. For all I knew she was playing solitaire just to stretch out the time.

After what seemed like forever, she got up and jerked her head to indicate I should follow. She took me into the vault. We walked up to the box and both put our keys in. She opened the door and pulled out a small metal box. She placed it on the table and walked back to the door.

“Take as much time as you need.” She said as she closed the privacy door behind her.

I took a deep breath. This was it. I opened the box and looked inside. It took a few moments to register what I was seeing. No gold. No jewels. No piles of important paperwork. Just a doll, lying on an envelope. The doll looked to be very old and handmade. The colors had faded over time, and a few stitches and a button eye were missing.

Under the doll was an envelope, sealed with wax. I knew that I should not break that seal. I pocketed the items and closed the box. I meandered out, sucking in my last seconds of A/C.

I walked back to my car in silence, pondering what was so important about a doll to have it locked up and why someone paid a kid to have me get it. My thoughts were interrupted by a loud dispute beside my car. Just my luck, I would need to engage in order to get away. As I approached, I saw a rather large man and an old lady yelling at the kid who had interrupted my lunch.

The lady was yelling in another language, broken up by bits of bad English. The man was doing his best to translate for the old lady. The kid was yelling back in Spanish. Interesting.

The kid saw me and pointed, still yelling in Spanish. I admit that I don’t know much Spanish, but I do know a few phrases, and he was using all of them. The man turned to look at me.

“Is this your car?” he shouted as he pointed.

“Yeah.”

“The kid says he gave you a notebook. Is that true?” He shouted.

“Maybe.” I answered back.

“It’s not yours.” He shouted again.

“Okay, calm down.” I said in a non-threatening voice. “There is no need to yell, I’m right here. I don’t know what the problem is but yelling isn’t going to....”

I was interrupted by the old lady yelling at me in the same unknown language. I looked at her confused. Then I looked at the man. When I turned to look at the child, he was gone.

It figures.

The large man spoke to the old lady and she calmed down.

He then took a deep breath and did his best to calm down as well.

“This is my grandmother,” he started. “She and my grandfather came here to have a new life. Through the years my grandfather kept a journal. He would write advice, observations, and ideas. He added newspaper clippings and photos. Over the years, he filled several notebooks.

A few years ago, he knew his end was near and he made everyone in the family promise not to read his last journal until after he passed. He also made it clear that I was to be the first to read it. My grandmother agreed to meet me here so she could give me the journal, and hired the child to run ahead and give me the journal. She knows I always enjoy stopping here for a few minutes of quiet and a treat.

She did her best to describe me, but her English is not good. The child did his best. He thought you were the one to give the journal to.”

I reached into my pocket, pulled out the journal and handed to it to him with reverence. A look of relief came to his face as he accepted it.

“I honestly thought it was for me.” I said in a sad voice. “I found the key and went to get the items.”

“Key?” he asked.

I revealed the doll and the grandmother burst into tears and started speaking quickly. This was the doll she had brought with her from her homeland. She forgot all about it!

I handed her the envelope. She looked at the seal and broke it and read the letter inside. Then she whispered to her grandson. They spoke for a few minutes. He thanked me and shook my hand and offered a reward.

I have no idea what was in that letter. But I earned 20K for helping a family find a lost heirloom during my lunch break.