Dead Center

Chapter 5: Everything In Its Right Place

Orifice practiced his smile in the rear view mirror. Sly with a small hint of angry. He slammed Millie's door to alert the Johnson's of his presence, apologizing under his breath. Mr Johnson looked up from his coffee.

"Holy Joe."

"Mr Johnson." he said, smiling slyly. "Your tax."

"My tax..." he said, nodding.

Orifice could smell his coffee — cheap. Probably instant.

"It's two months overdue."

"I know," his eyes were back on his coffee ", it's just that Bettie lost her job and Mr Porter, down by the farm, he, uh, he don't seem to need me much anymore now that he's got a harvester. So things are real hard, you know?"

Orifice smiled. "Mr Johnson, tomorrow we will be turning off your water and gas. In two weeks we'll be taking you to court and in three weeks we will start ceasing your assets.What I would suggest is, get new job and pay me my money. Understood?"

Mr Johnson nodded, still staring at his cheap, processed coffee. Orifice patted the man on the head and walked back to Millie, laughing under his breath.

***

The high pitched wail of Wayne Shorter's saxophone blurted through the van's speakers as Friedrich sped down the main road. Oh, how he hated jazz. He swore to himself for the fourth time today. The tires squealed as he turned right, kicking the van's tail out. He chipped the paint as he grazed the gate of Robert's house. He cursed again. He tried to calm himself but he couldn't. Everything was out of place, he was meant to have burnt the file by this time, it was meant to be ashes. The van came to a slippery halt. He swung open the door jumping out onto the stoney gravel. He failed to gain the appropriate traction and soon he was on the floor, stones sticking into his backside. From her window, Catherine watched the German man clamber to his feet, dust of his coat and swear very loudly. He strode to the door, scowling. She opened, smiling.

"Mrs. Wilson, there seems to be a file missing from the collection you gave me." he said, adjusting his tie.

"Yes, Mr. Cullum, I found it just after you left. I'll get it for you." she could practically smell the relief on him. What was so important about this Empty Cot Experiment anyway? She went over to the table to pick up the file.

"Here you go, Mr. Cullum."

"Oh, thank God. I was so worried it had been," he sifted through the file's contents, "lost." 

He was terrible at faking a smile, but Friedrich tried his best anyway.

Friedrich ran back to the van. He got in, slammed the door and drove away, prickly keyboard notes screaming through his speakers.

***

The three men stood for a while and stared at the fire.

"Did she read it?"

"What?"

"Not you, Joe. Friedrich!"

Friedrich took of his headphones. "Yes?"

"Did Mrs. Wilson read the file?"

"I don't know, possibly."

He placed the headphones back over his ears.

"What day is today, Pastor?"

"Tuesday."

"Which is what?  Pink Floyd day?"

"No, Weather Report day."

The pair stared at Friedrich. The purple headphones looked out of place on the yellow-haired German. He had no emotion on his face, but they knew what he was feeling on the inside: utter disdain.

"Friedrich!" the Pastor was now waving his arms to get his attention.

Friedrich removed the headphones once again. "Yes?"

"If she read the file—"

"Then it wouldn't matter," he said curtly, "Robert cyphered every word of it." 

The headphones went back on.

"So he has to finish the album before six?"

The Pastor nodded. Orifice shook his head.

"What are you smiling about?" asked the Pastor.

"When I was younger, I sort of wished I had OCD. But now, now it doesn't look too glamorous."

"Why would you want a mental illness?" asked the Pastor.

"Beethoven, Darwin, Einstein. They all had OCD."

"So you thought it would make you more intelligent?"

"No, I thought it would make other people acknowledge my intelligence."

The Pastor nodded. "Makes sense."

Friedrich looked at his watch and swore for the seventh time. He ripped off the headphones and flung them into the fire along with the portable CD player he had ripped out of his pocket. He now had a permanent scowl on his face.

The Pastor leaned close to Orifice's ear. "I see what you mean."

The two laughed while the angry German eyed them in confusion. The fire devoured the pieces of plastic and metal. The file was ash by now. The three men watch the last newspaper clipping dissolve in the flames before walking away.