Carla: Book One - Michael

CHAPTER THREE: CARLA'S CUBE

I studied Carla closely for the next few days, and saw nothing strange. Of course, I put all the events of the past behind me, and went on with my life. There is no point worrying about things that are not there.

So one particular morning, I was having a lazy time in the office. As it gets close to Christmas, things start to slow down a bit, especially if the i's have been dotted weeks before. It is a nice feeling to actually start the holiday before the holiday, and that is what I had effectively achieved.

Sheila brought in the daily newspaper and a second cup of coffee, this time with a scone on the side.

'Thanks so much Sheila,' I said, one eyebrow raised as she placed them on my desk.

'Why do I feel like I'm being softened up for something?'

She arched her eyebrows at me.

'What do you think? Of course I'm buttering you up. Now that you know, better make sure my Christmas present is worth the 300 plus days I've spent doing all that.'

I shook my head in mock despair.

'Oh Sheila! For one moment I thought we had something going there. My poor heart lies broken.'

She laughed.

'This lady here has broken a number of hearts, Mr Grace. Yours surely isn't the first!'

Giving me a salacious wink, she pranced away.

I smiled as I picked up the newspaper. Sheila Melendez was the best secretary I'd ever had. I had worked with her for only two years, and she was not just my secretary, but had also become a friend.

I scanned through the newspaper quickly. Same old cheap sensationalism as usual. Suddenly I stopped.

Within 5 minutes I was heading downtown to the Rockeville police department.

It was a small police station, and quite a busy one, with all the drunks, petty thieves, and prostitutes being hauled in or released in droves.

The receptionist there was a grumpy young woman who had probably gotten out of the wrong side of the bed, or even better, fallen out.

'What or who the fuck are you looking for Mister?'

I looked around for a moment, wondering whether I was the one she was talking to.

'Excuse me?' I said politely.

She repeated the words slowly as if talking to a retard.

'Whaat oor whoo the fuuck are youuu loooking fooor Misterrr?'

I looked at her for a moment. I realized there was no point getting annoyed.

'Detective Andrew Wells.'

'Do you have a fucking appointment with him?'

What was it with this lady and swear words?!

'No, but he came to discuss a case with me a week ago. I just remembered something I wanted to share with him.'

She shrugged and shoved across a book.

'Wharrever. Put your fucking details down here and then taking a fucking seat.'

I was still muttering angrily to myself ten minutes later when Detective Wells showed up.

He ushered me into his office, a questioning look on his face.

'How are you doing Mr Grace? What brings you to this part of town?'

I threw the newspaper on his desk.