Invisible Crime
Kevin Gong
Joel Narach stared at the walls surrounding his tiny office. There was nothing particularly
exciting about them. One was adorned with a picture of a sun-filled beach -- a place
he'd much rather be, if he could afford it. Which he couldn't. The other walls were all empty, much like his wallet.
He sighed and leaned back in the swivel chair behind the tired old desk in the middle
of the room, propping his legs on top of the stack of tattered magazines he had been
reading for the past couple of weeks. Looking at the door of his office, he read
the sign backwards through the window -- Joel Narach Investigating Services. It should
have said Joel Narach, Private Investigator, he thought. At the time he had made
the sign, Investigating Services has sounded more professional. Now, he thought
Private Investigator would have been better -- it makes you sound like a tough guy.
The roar of a truck rumbled by the office. Off in the distance a police siren screamed.
Joel began to stroke the stubble on his chin that was beginning to form a beard.
He tried to listen to the siren as it came closer and closer to his office. Then
it began to fade. He strained his ears to hear it, but all was silent. Dead silence.
He turned his wrist and squinted at his watch in the dim light. Midnight. He got
up, switched off the light, and opened the door, half-expecting, half-`hoping, to
find a client standing in front of him. Instead, he had a clear view of the empty street
in front of his office. He closed the door behind him, still musing over the sign
on the glass. His apartment was only two blocks away, so he walked. Across the
street he could see a gang of teenagers just sitting on some steps, smoking. He turned
his head back toward his own side of the sidewalk, and continued at a brisk pace.
He finally arrived at his apartment building -- a dull, three-story creaking building.
He often wondered what the people in the room above him were doing. Sometimes he didn't
want to know.
After methodically opening the front door, climbing the steps to the second floor,
sliding down the hall to his room, and opening his door, Joel was thoroughly exhausted.
After closing the door, he made sure not to turn on the light. He threw the window open, stripped of his clothes, and collapsed onto the bed. Just before he drifted
off into sleep, he thought he heard the ceiling creak...
* * * * *
Ring.
The early morning sunlight streamed through the window and filled the room.
Ring.
The sound of early morning traffic buzzed outside of the open window.
Ring.
A fly buzzed around the room three times, circling the motionless body on the bed,
and shot out of the window.
Ring.
Joel Narach was, much to his disappointment, awake.
Ring.
Joel Narach realized the phone was ringing.
Ring.
As he said aloud, "How do people get my apartment number?", he picked up the phone
and sputtered a muffled "Hello?"
"Hello. Mr. Narach? I'm sorry to call you so early in the morning, but I'd like
to talk to you as soon as possible" The voice on the other end sounded like it came
from a stuffy businessman.
"Yeah. What is it?" Joel managed to mumble in the general direction of the speaker.
"Well, it's a little difficult to explain over the phone. I'd like you to come over
here, where I can explain it better."
"Where exactly is this "here" place?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Mr. Colloway. I represent the Dalton Construction Company.
My company would like to hire you, and I'd like you to come over to our main office
as soon as possible so I can give you the details."
"All right. I'll be there in about an hour."
Click. What a rude person, thought Joel as he threw the phone back onto its hook.
Oh well, business is business. If it would pay rent, he'd do it -- whatever it
was.
Joel jumped out of bed, eager at the prospect of his first case in what seemed like
an eternity, but what was actually only three weeks. After taking a hot shower,
he put on his private investigator look, as he defined it -- a gray suit, white shirt,
navy blue tie, and, of course, a gray felt hat. He grabbed a half dozen stale donuts
from the kitchen table, took a munch at each, and discarded the remains in the sink.
When he looked in the mirror, he realized he had donut crumbs all over his face.
After he wiped them off, he realized why they had stuck so well -- he had forgetten to
shave. He grabbed his electric shaver, turned it on, and said to himself, "If this
cuts me, I'll sue the company." It didn't.
He flew down the steps and out the door of the building, coming to a sudden halt at
the sidewalk.
"Where's my goddamn car?!"
He suddenly remembered that, due to an increase in boredom lately, he had been walking
home from his office. He sighed. Then he walked the sunny streets to his car in
front of his office. When he got there, he got sort of upset. He had forgotten
his keys.
* * * * *
"Mr. Narach, you're a little late -- it's been two hours."
Joel winced. "It's Narach, as in spinach, not Narak." He let that sink in. "I just
had some car trouble." He waited for a reply. Mr. Colloway stood there looking
at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to continue. "So, what do you want to
hire me for?"
Still Mr. Colloway was silent and motionless. Joel raised his eyebrows. Then, as
if he had been engrossed in some deep thought, Mr. Colloway said "Um. Wuh? I was
just contemplating how silly you look wearing those clothes in 90 degree weather."
Joel stared at his prospective employer.
Mr. Colloway turned around and went behind his desk. "Anyways, I guess I should start
explaining what I want you to do." He sat down. Joel, assuming he didn't have the
courtesy to offer him a chair, sat down himself. He whipped out a pad and pencil
and turned his attention to Mr. Colloway.
"The reason I called you is very simple. One of our employees, Mr. Henry Amber, is
missing. He's been gone for almost two weeks now. He told no one of any vacation
he was going to take, or if he was going to quit. It's really very strange. The
reason we're trying to find him is that we need him. He was one of our best managers, and
we're going to start a big project this week. Without him, we'll never get it started
on time. If we don't find him, we'll have to find some highly qualified person to
replace him, and we'll still have to show that person the ropes. What Mr. Amber was
doing was very specialized. It will take weeks or even months for a person to approach
his expertise. We can't afford that. We realize now that it was a mistake to allow such a crucial job to fall into the hands of just one person, but it's too late to
change that now.
You're probably wondering why we've hired you. Well, we want this to be kept fairly
secretive. If we contacted the police or a large detective agency, word might spread
around that one of our top employees was missing. Then our competitors might try
to pick him up. And the people we're starting this job for would probably back out,
knowing we couldn't finish the job on time without him."
"What does his family think about the situation?"
"He doesn't have one. No one else knows that he's missing except a few high-ranking
employees like me. Everyone else has been told he's on a vacation."
"Hmmm. That means I won't be able to get much information out of his co-workers,
will I?"
"We hope you can. We realize the situation it puts you in. That's why we want you
to work undercover. We'll arrange for you to get a job that will put you in close
contact with those who worked with Mr. Amber. We're hoping they might inadvertently
give you a clue as to where he might have disappeared."
"But that would mean I would have less time to go out to work on the case!"
"We understand that, too. We want you to make the job seem as real as possible.
That means you'll have to stay the whole time, then work on the case after work during
the night. We know this will be an inconvenience, but we have the money to pay you
and we're willing to do so." Mr. Colloway let that sink in.
"Exactly how much is that?" Joel countered, still skeptical.
"Two thousand dollars a day, for up to 14 days, with a thirty thousand dollar bonus
if you find him within the next 3 days."
He wasn't skeptical anymore. He tried to suppress a stupid-looking grin from smothering
his face. "When do I start?"
* * * * *
Joel Narach started that day. Mr. Colloway went around, introducing him as a new
employee who would help Mr. Amber as soon as he got back from vacation. Most people,
Joel noticed, didn't seem to enthused by Mr. Colloway. They all gave him a hard
stare whenever he spoke. He didn't seem to notice, though. He'd talk right through you
-- as if you didn't matter. It was like he was reading a prepared speech. And he
was oblivious to the audience.
After lunch, Joel got to go around without Mr. Colloway leading him by the neck.
All of the employees seemed fairly friendly. They all seemed to praise Mr. Amber
whenever his name was mentioned. They weren't very much help, though, other than
the fact that they all lead to the point that Mr. Amber didn't seem to have any obvious enemies.
In his office were pictures of him with several of his fellow workers. Short, sparse
hair. About in his mid-30's. Five-ten, lean, with a pair of steel-rimmed glasses. Joel filed this away for future use and began to look through the mess of papers
left on the desk.
He stacked all of the stuff he couldn't understand -- stuff he assumed was a part
of Mr. Amber's job -- into a corner of the office. There was absolutely nothing
left after that operation. That's strange, thought Joel -- this guy must be pretty
dedicated to his work. The only thing that wasn't covered with diagrams was the company's
latest financial report. Joel began to skim through it. Not very interesting.
Click. Fifteen minutes to five. Joel decided to leave a little early and try to
get something done on the case. After all, they were paying him. With a thoughtful
stroke of his chin, Joel wondered if he was getting paid for both jobs.
Wham! The sun hit Joel Narach with a blinding flash. After a moment to recover,
Joel continued on through the parking lot towards his car. He was almost there when
an employee slammed open the door to the Dalton Construction Company, with Mr. Colloway
standing in the hallway. The unidentified employee was ranting and raving at the
calm, blank Mr. Colloway. After a short while, he slammed the door in front of
the still-calm Mr. Colloway. With that, he stalked off in Joel's direction, not
even bothering to look at Joel, but keeping his head down, walking right past him. Joel called
after him as he passed. "Something wrong?"
The employee, a large man of six feet, perspiring crazily, turned to look at Joel
for the first time. "You're that new employee, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am."
"Well, don't try to fool me. I know what you're doing. You're going after Mr. Amber,
aren't you?!" Joel, thoroughly confused by the tone of this man's voice, sputtered
and said nothing. "I can tell. Well, I hope you and that disgusting Mr. Colloway
creature both end up in the electric chair." And, with that, he stalked off yet again.
Joel, now even more confused, did nothing to try to stop him.
* * * * *
That night, lying awake on his bed in his apartment, Joel tried to sort out the day's
events. After work, realizing that he had no idea where to look for clues, he had
simply gone straight to his apartment, trying to cool off. Now it was almost midnight, and he had gotten basically nowhere on the case. And so he tried to settle his
mind and think about things in a rational order. Was there something I missed? Mr. Colloway -- he doesn't seem very pleasant, but
he seems harmless enough. Two thousand dollars a day harmless. Now why would a
successful employee with a promising career like Mr. Amber disappear. Let's see
-- he could have been killed somewhere. He could have been kidnapped. He could simply be on
vacation and forgotten to tell anyone. Or, he could have quit his job without bothering
to tell anyone. None of these things are very plausible. What could it be?
Joel searched his mind and found nothing. He searched through the day's events.
As he began to drift off to sleep, he thought he heard the ceiling creak again.
* * * * *
Early the following morning, Joel set out to the Dalton Construction Company yet again.
He wanted one more look around the place. The first thing he did was go to Mr.
Colloway and ask about the incident in the parking lot.
Mr. Colloway was seated in his chair, facing the window, overlooking some kind of
report. As Joel walked in, the chair swung around slowly, the occupant wearing his
ever-present businessman look. "How are things progressing in your case?"
Joel wanted to say "You mean, did I have any luck?"
, but instead he said "I've looked through his office and I found nothing. I wanted
to take another look around the building to see if I can pick anything up."
Mr. Colloway started to talk again, not seeming to take into account what Joel had
just said, not that it had meant much. "Remember, you'll get a bonus if you find
him by tomorrow. I suggest you might talk to his fellow employees and try to find
out where his usual hangouts are, and the like." Before Joel could argue, he continued.
"I realize that I told you before to try to keep it a secret, but this is really
important to us. Take a chance. Be careful, but find out what you need to know.
If someone catches on, tell us and we'll talk with the employee and try to explain the situation
to him."
Not being able to think of any arguments, Joel said meekly "okay" and slipped out
of Mr. Colloway's office. Joel went into Mr. Amber's office to think about the case
a little more before diving into the employees. He wanted to know what approach
to take. How can I find out about Amber without his employees knowing I'm looking for him?
His mind drew a blank. He placed his legs up on the desk and tried to relax in
order to think. He almost fell down as his legs had fallen on top of the company's
financial report. As the report slid under Joel's feet, it landed on the floor,
with a page open. Joel picked it up and began to look absent-mindedly at it again. The Dalton Construction Company, thanks to improved worker efficiency, better design
and planning, and an overall commitment to excellence, has completed its most successful
year in history.
Scribbled over this sentence, in a bright red marker, was the single word -- Ha!
. Joel almost fell again.
* * * * *
Joel was cool. He was calm. He got what he needed to know out of Mr. Amber's fellow
employees -- without them knowing he was looking for him. As he drove towards the
first place on his list -- a restaurant, he looked back with pride on his statements.
I'm new to this area -- can you tell me a restaurant I could try; perhaps someplace
Mr. Amber goes to?
It worked very well.
The restaurant was a respectable-looking place. Nothing out of the ordinary. Joel
didn't care, though -- as soon as he got in he began asking questions about Mr. Amber.
When was the last time you saw him? If he comes in, will you please call me? I'm
an old friend and I'm only going to be in town for a few days; I'd like to see him
again.
The restaurant hadn't seen him in about a month. The next place on the list was the
library.
Joel was nearing the bottom of the list as the sun fell over the horizon. He now
approached a beach Mr. Amber used to walk across often. Joel, beginning to feel
exhausted, took off his shoes and walked across the sand in his bare feet. He began
to think to himself that he would never find Mr. Amber. His apartment had been checked by
Mr. Colloway -- not a thing; he had actually had the room vacuumed out, but to no
avail. Now Joel had gone through almost all of his old hangouts. What was left?
There were only three other people on the beach. One of them was Mr. Amber. At first,
Joel didn't recognize him. As he got closer, though, it was obvious that it was
him.
Joel approached cautiously and sat down on the beach beside him. He stared off toward
the ocean. "I hear you disappeared, Mr. Amber."
Mr. Amber turned his head slowly looked at Joel for the first time. "Did Mr. Colloway
hire you?"
"Yes."
"I thought so." Suddenly, he sprang up, spraying sand all over Joel. "Well you can
tell him to go to Hell. That man is the most disgusting creature on this world!"
And, with that, Mr. Amber attempted to leave.
Joel managed to yell after him, "Wait!"
Mr. Amber turned his head, but his legs still pointed away from Joel. "What?"
"What are you talking about? I know he's not a great guy, but you seem really upset
with him. What is it?"
"Oh, so he didn't tell you? Well, that figures. He probably doesn't trust anyone
now -- not even his own shadow.
Well, I'll tell you what. That man is making millions by constructing office buildings
out of tinker toys. You see that building over there?" He pointed towards a ten-story
office building. "Dalton made that. It could fall apart any time now. One of these days Parkman and I will get enough evidence to confront him." The surf glided
past Mr. Amber's ankles as he departed from the beach.
* * * * *
The apartment wouldn't do this time. Joel sat in his office, thinking about what
Mr. Amber had said. Everything was happening so fast now. If I don't find anything out tonight, I'll tell Mr. Colloway I found him.
Joel searched back through the conversation. That man is making millions by constructing office buildings out of tinker toys.
He didn't know whether to believe that or not. One of these days Parkman and I will get enough evidence to confront him.
Joel blinked his eyes in the dark. Who's Parkman?
The sound of an airplane could be heard flying by overhead. Joel Narach made up
his mind. He leaped out of his chair, opened the desk drawer, grabbed a bag out
of it, walked out of the office, leapt into his car, and sped off toward the Dalton
Construction Company.
* * * * *
It was a fairly easy job breaking into Mr. Colloway's office. The files were even
easier to break into. Joel searched through the files quickly. He thought to himself
This isn't as bad as those detective shows. If I get caught, I'll get caught in with
the lights on.
He had shamelessly left all of the lights on. There weren't any security guards,
as far as he could tell.
After about fifteen minutes, he found something. It was a record of the construction
materials for a five-story office building. It listed standard materials, but the
prices didn't match those in other documents for the same building. Joel Narach
suddenly remembered oh yeah, who's this guy Parkman?
He assumed he worked at Dalton, so he looked into the personnel files. Park. Parker.
Parkman, Steven J. -- dismissed for treatment of mental disorders.
* * * * *
The hallway of the apartment building was musty with the smell of dead mice. Joel
knocked on the door. "Parkman! Open up. I want to talk to you." Silence. "Parkman!"
Joel thought he heard something rustle inside, but the door remained closed. He
reached for the doorknob and found it unlocked. He turned it. The room was lighted
only by the street lights outside and a few candles on a table. A disheveled man
sat scrunched up in a corner.
"Parkman?"
"Ho ho ho. I suppose you're here to try and take me away. Well, you're not going
to do it. I know you KGB agents -- I can take you." With that he charged Joel,
but stopped halfway and began to laugh. "Ha! I told you so. Would you like to
know something funny, old man? I'm gonna blow up that building 'cross the street. And everyone's
gonna blame stupid old Col-e-way." He walked by the window, but Joel could see only
the outline of the man he assumed was Steven J. Parkman.
Parkman stared in the darkness at Joel's face. "I think I'll turn myself in, now."
Joel felt relieved. "On second thought," Parkman began sounding delirious again,
"I think I'll blow up half the town tonight. And I'll start with that building 'cross
the street right now." He danced over to a corner of the room and pulled some sheets
to the floor to reveal what looked like a control panel for something.
Joel pulled out his gun. "All right, that's enough. Get away from there."
"I tol' you before I can take you." He charged Joel again, taking him by surprise.
They ended up in a tangled heap on the floor. Parkman began biting and slashing
at Joel. He was like a maniac. Joel began punching Parkman in the stomach, but
he kept on biting, scratching, and clawing at him. Finally, Joel found his gun again and
hit Parkman on the back of the neck. Parkman slumped, unconscious. Joel sighed
and rolled over onto his back. He looked dejectedly at his unfired gun. He pointed
the gun at Parkman and squeezed the trigger. Click. I never was too hot on bullets.
Copyright 1987 by Kevin Gong. Unauthorized duplication,
posting, or publication is strictly prohibited.
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