I’M NOW AT the Koffee Karafe on King. Lots of alliteration there. I’m pretty familiar with this place. I spent an entire summer in here a while back. Much has changed. They’ve pared down the menu since I was last in here. Now it’s mostly baked goods and coffee. Extensive selection of syrups at the counter, though. I guess if you like your java with three pumps of hazelnut, this could be your place.
I’m drinking the dark roast. It’s in a white porcelain cup with the logo on it. It’s a little weaker than I remember, but it’s fine for now.
I should see if Lacroix is around. He’s always fun when I’m feeling low. Makes me feel better about myself to see him struggling with fashion and social skills. He thinks he’s an alpha male. Acts like it too. Truth is, he’s a big nerd.
Feels like this town is full of nerds. Must be all the software companies and universities. And maybe it’s modern culture—maybe quirky is the new normal.
I followed up with the wife, and she told me he’d developed a few new patterns. Besides the late nights and overnight trips, he’d started dressing more stylishly, trimmed his thinning hair, talked about getting in shape, joined a gun range. Said he’d bought a fancy new hand cannon. My description, not hers. It was a .357 Magnum revolver. Nice gun … if you’re a renegade L.A. cop from the 1970s.
There were also some mysterious phone calls he’d said were wrong numbers. And he’d started locking his phone, so she couldn’t check on who the calls were coming from.
This was all good information, especially the part about the gun. It meant he’d been receiving training and had to have a Restricted gun license. I followed up with the gun club to make sure he was a member. They won’t let you join unless you have a license, and you can’t legally buy a handgun unless you’ve got a place to shoot it. It all checked out, so it was unlikely this was a sudden impulse buy, but a planned new hobby for Jim.
But that didn’t mean he was cheating on his wife. Unless the other woman was a firearms instructor. Or owned a gun and a club membership.
I went to his office on the second day and he wasn’t in. That was a problem for me, the guy who was supposed to be watching him. His car was gone, and everything appeared to be business as usual with his company.
I re-donned my courier outfit and came in with an old Amazon box I’d turned inside out and covered with a fake waybill. The receptionist was happy to see me again. I asked if Jim was around, and said I had another package for him. She pointed at his office and said he wasn’t in, but she could take it for him.
Taking the opportunity, I flirted hard, said I’d just pop it over to his desk so she wouldn’t have to trouble herself. It worked, but I figured I might have to buy a dinner later in the week. Whatever, it was worth the access.
Jim’s office was nice for what was a glorified cubicle. I made an exaggerated point of putting the package down on his desk, then quickly scanned everything I could. He had one of those insurance company calendars on his desk—the kind that was just a pad of paper with the month on it, mounted on plastic-coated cardboard. This week had several appointments occupying it. Most were just names of towns in Ontario. I snapped a picture of the calendar with my phone, then hustled back up to the front. While I went, I passed another empty cubicle, likely the desk of the female salesperson he was so friendly with. I grabbed her name from the cubicle nameplate. Let’s call her Wendy.
At the front desk, I asked the receptionist about Wendy. She spoke of her with a little vitriol. Sounded like they didn’t get along.
Apparently, Wendy was a new sales rep who had been with the company for only a couple of months. No one knew where she was, either. The receptionist found it strange that both of them were absent from the business.
I asked the receptionist about the different towns in Ontario from the calendar. She seemed unsure about them. Maybe they had clients in one or two of them, but they didn’t seem very familiar to her. And she dealt with invoices and accounts receivable, so she’d know about them. But she hadn’t seen any recent invoices.
Maybe they had vendors in those towns? Sure, she said, but then why would either of the sales reps go out to them? That tracked.
So, with the promise of a dinner sometime the following week, I had some of the information I was looking for. I just had to wait for tomorrow to follow Jim. I knew roughly where he was headed, and I knew enough to put gas in my rental car.