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IT WAS MONDAY MORNING and Charlotte was sitting in her office with the lights off, a habit that somehow made her first hour at her job, when she was often one of the only people in the building, more tolerable. It was almost like being at home. She’d get a cup of coffee, take off her shoes and sit cross-legged in her office chair, and actually get some work done in peace. She was snacking on a packet of crackers and updating her holiday party planning spreadsheet when she noticed a dented black Honda Accord slowly casing the nearly-empty parking lot.
“I know that car,” she said to herself, pausing mid-chew to get a better look. It was only a quarter to six, so the corners of the parking lot were still dark. Only the middle of the parking lot was lit by a couple of looming, overhead streetlights.
As the car went around again, Charlotte caught a glimpse of the tiny, peeling Ask Me about hosting a Makin’ Miraculous Memories Scrapbooking Class at Your Home! sticker on the back bumper that she used to absentmindedly notice on a daily basis. It meant one thing: Shelly was back.
She watched as Shelly’s Accord slowed to a stop beside her own Corolla. Sensing that Shelly was up to no good, Charlotte grabbed her phone and keycard, and went racing down the hall to the backdoor. She opened it just in time to see Shelly keying her driver’s side door. Instinctively, Charlotte snapped a photo of the action.
Shelly looked up when she saw the flash, gasped, hopped back into her car, and sped away. Charlotte managed to capture a few more images of the scene. She was in her stocking feet and didn’t have a coat on, so she turned to go back into the building. As the heavy door was just about to close behind her, she saw Shelly returning, speeding around the icy, slippery parking lot in squealing, dangerous loops.
Charlotte ran to her office, grabbed the dusty phone directory off the shelf in the corner, and called the Windy Pines police department.
“Hello?” asked a sleepy woman’s voice.
“Hello,” Charlotte said breathlessly. “Is this the Windy Pines Police Department?”
“It sure is.”
“This is Charlotte Smyth. I’m calling you from O’Leery Snowboards. We’re that big factory on the edge of town that used to be a paint factory.”
“I know where you are, Dearie. Is this an emergency?”
“Well, sort of. My former co-worker is harassing me. Her name is Shelly Arnoldson. She just...”
“If it’s an emergency, you ought to call 911,” said the dispatcher. “This is the general information number.”
Charlotte peered out her window at the parking lot. Shelly was gone and all was still and calm now.
“You can’t just help me?” asked Charlotte.
“If you’re in imminent danger, you need to hang up and call 911.”
“I’m not in danger. Our building is locked and this person no longer has access to come inside, but she just keyed my car.”
The dispatcher yawned. “Sounds like a personal dispute that you two may be able to settle between yourselves.”
“It’s not a personal dispute. I mean, yes, it’s personal, clearly, but it’s one-sided. She just destroyed my personal property and I think she would have done something to me if I’d stayed outside.”
The dispatcher said nothing.
“Are you still there?” Charlotte asked.
“Either this is an emergency and you need to call 911, or, if you don’t feel it’s that serious, you need to work it out yourself.”
“You can’t send an officer over here to look at my car?” asked Charlotte.
“So, did this friend of yours scratch it?”
“She’s not my friend, and I’m not totally sure what she did to it.”
“Okay?”
“Are you going to send someone over here to help me?”
“You really want that?”
Charlotte hesitated, feeling less and less sure of herself.
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
“You think it over, Sweetie. Anything else I can help you with?”
“No thank you,” said Charlotte, hanging up just as the factory workers’ cars began pulling into the parking lot. She watched as they all filed into the building and the parking lot grew calm again. Then she put on her coat and shoes, grabbed her keycard and phone, and went out to inspect the damage.
BITC was scratched into her door.
She snapped a photo of it and stood there staring at it for a long, cold moment as tears of frustration ran down her frozen cheeks. She reached in her pocket for a tissue and felt her car keys. This made her decision for her. She got into her car and drove to the Windy Pines police department, parked right in front, got out, and strutted up to the front door with renewed conviction. She reached for the door and gave it a yank. It didn’t budge. Of course it didn’t. It was only 6:41 in the morning.
Welcome to Windy Pines PD! We are here to serve you! Hours of Operation: 10 am – 3 pm Monday - Thurs. Friday open from noon – 2:00. Interested in supporting the Police Men’s Meet Raffle? Contact Sue Hedford. read the misspelled, handwritten sign taped to the inside of the door.
Charlotte waited until she was back in her car and had driven around the block before letting loose on a bottled-up swearing fit. By the time she got back to work, still a half hour before her boss was due to arrive, she was totally composed.