Брендан Дюбуа - Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 51, No. 7 & 8, July/August 2006

I’ve thought and thought about it, and I’ve decided I’m to blame for Ellie’s heart attack. Because somebody thinks it was he who went to the gendarmes.

I’d like to know what the French do with murderers these days. They used to use the guillotine and later, Devil’s Island, but I don’t know what they do with them anymore.

Maybe they just keep quiet. And settle it among themselves.

Copyright 2006 DeLoris Stanton Forbes

“I know there’s been a problem or two, sir, but...”

Theodore Oscar Alan Dewey, Bail Agent for the Twin Brothers Bail Bond company, was in the middle of rationalizing to Mr. Cletis Johnston, sole proprietor of said business, why once again he, Theodore, had failed to live up to the high achievement expectations of the firm. And further, as he expounded on his side of the matter, he hoped that his few minor mishaps and miscalculations over the last several months would not be reflected adversely on his annual employee evaluation, which they were now in the process of conducting. As Theodore well knew, a bad rating could be murder to his career.

“...but I am doing the best I can under the current circumstances,” he continued.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” replied the proprietor.

In this precarious moment of profuse perspiration, Theodore ran his left hand — the one with the now permanently rigid pinky finger sporting a two-carat yellow diamond ring — over his pale balding head to squeegee off the excess moisture gathered on his crown. The resulting shadow displayed onto the proprietor’s rich mahogany desk from a baby spotlight in the ceiling gave the appearance that Theodore had suddenly grown a horn from the top of his head. This intriguing illusion, formed by the juxtaposition of head and uplifted pinky finger, caused Theodore to pause in place as his mind drifted over into a search for the proper label for this strange silhouette overlaying the executive desktop. After a moment’s contemplation, his brain finally progressed along the word path from “eulogy” to “unicorn.” It was at this point that the proprietor’s telephone began to beep.

Theodore quickly closed his mouth and shifted his attention away from the aberrant image of the one-horned beast outlined on the mahogany surface. As Theodore saw the situation, any distraction in the current evaluation process was a saving grace. Thus, he immediately took three steps backward to give Mr. Johnston a semblance of privacy. The irregular shadow abruptly disappeared.

Two minutes later, Mr. Johnston hung up the telephone, leaned back in his executive leather chair, and stared off into the dark recesses of the inner sanctum’s high ceiling. As though deep in thought, he tented his long ebony fingers under the point of his chin.

Theodore observed quietly, hoping not to draw unwanted attention to himself.

The clock on the wall ticked off the minutes.

In time, the proprietor slowly began to stroke the silky black sides of the long bandido mustache that adorned the almost Oriental features of his midnight face.

Recognizing this familiar gesture for what it was, Theodore realized the firm had just taken on a new case, a difficult one, and therefore he, Theodore, was being granted a temporary reprieve on his recent failings. The employee evaluation was forgotten for the moment.

“That was my old friend the precinct captain calling from a cell phone untraceable back to him,” murmured the proprietor. “It seems there was a strong-arm robbery at the Computer and Software Exposition at the Bay City Convention Center this morning.”

The office grew quiet again.

After several minutes of listening to more silence, Theodore’s curiosity prompted him to venture a question. “Somebody stole a computer at gunpoint?”

Giving an almost imperceptible sideways shake of his clean-shaven head, Cletis Johnston fixed his gaze on Theodore as if seeing him for the very first time. “It wasn’t a computer the robber took.”

“Oh,” replied Theodore, who up until now had been mentally picturing a man dressed in a black ski mask and tan trench coat running away from the scene of the crime while juggling a monitor, minitower, and keyboard in one hand, and a large automatic pistol in the other. “So what did he steal?”

“A secure digital memory card.”

“You mean like I got for my new digital camera? Those cards aren’t too expensive. The guy should just buy a new one.”

“In this case,” said the proprietor, “the card had a much larger memory, and it contained the full program for a new operating system that the Nouveau Software Company planned to demonstrate at the convention. A program to revolutionize the computing world.”

Theodore rubbed the bulbous tips of his short, almost webbed fingers over the stubble ends of his black, pencil-thin mustache as he tried to grasp the magnitude of the problem.

“Pardon me for asking, sir, but how did the robber pull off this theft?”

The proprietor arched one eyebrow. “According to the precinct captain, it was a highly professional operation. Someone disabled all the security cameras in the convention center at the precise moment the courier with the memory card, and his armed guard, entered the vendors’ hallway from the parking lot as they headed toward the arena floor. Whoever planned this had the timetable for delivery, the exact route of the courier, and the power schematic for the security system.”

“So, the thief stands to make a lot of money from this memory card?”

“That was his intention...” began the proprietor as he rose to his feet. With a deft, open-palm movement, Cletis Johnston smoothed flat the bottom half of his bright yellow silk tie against the backdrop of his pale blue shirt. The yellow tie, held in the upper middle with a black pearl stickpin that harmonized with his midnight skin, was surrounded by a new suit of shantung silk in a light shade of summer beige. Above all this, the proprietor’s long drooping mustache gave the impression of a Caribbean pirate.

“...but, I think the Twin Brothers Bail Bond firm is the one that stands to make the money here, Theodore. Especially if we do it right. Seems the thief was caught inside the convention center; however the memory card was not recovered. Now the Nouveau Software Company is offering a huge reward for the safe return of their property... But perhaps there is a greater financial return for us if we sell the card and its program to the highest bidder. In any case, I believe it is in our best interests to take on the captured thief as one of our special clients. That way, we can find out what he did with the secure digital memory card.”

It was at moments like these that the interior of Theodore’s stomach dropped an inch or two. After all, the firm had gone the bail for several special clients who had met with timely accidents. Some had fallen from airplanes, or encountered rampaging taxicabs while crossing the dangerous streets of the city — albeit in all fairness it should be noted that the about-to-be deceased were walking outside of the painted crosswalks. Other clients had gone swimming at sea without the appropriate flotation devices, or had somehow otherwise managed to take up temporary residence in the county morgue. And in the end, it was the Twin Brothers Bail Bond Company that had made an extraordinary profit upon the demise of their clients.

But it wasn’t the fate of the clients that bothered Theodore. Nope, it was his own self he was concerned about. Once again, Theodore had a fair idea which bail bond employee was about to end up on the pointed end of the stick. Therefore, his forehead now tilted toward the floor.

“What do you want me to do, Mr. Johnston?”