Finding Spring

by B. E. Baker

  “I bet Cynthia's car is pristine.” Why did I say that? Am I comparing my car to his girlfriend's? Ugh. I wish I could retract my words. That should be his next invention, a word retractor. I bet it would sell a gazillion copies. One to every single person on earth for starters.

  Jack turns toward me slowly, and I keep my eyes on the steering wheel until motion distracts me up ahead. Billy's car pulls out of the lot, and I click my seatbelt into place.

  “Cynthia drives the nicest car her daddy could afford to buy her, and it’s clean whenever she makes time to take it for a detail. It’s a mess the rest of the time, because she doesn’t lift a finger to clean it up herself.”

  “I bet it looked perfect next to your Tesla.” That's it. I need to duct tape my mouth shut.

  “And... I need to sell my Tesla now.” Jack buckles his seatbelt. “You better go, or we'll lose him.”

  I slide on a pair of sunglasses and pull forward.

  “You're going to sell your Tesla and buy what? A Subaru?” I pull out behind Billy with a smile on my face.

  We follow Billy right back to Jimmy Johns. He's only inside for a minute before he emerges with his black insulated bag. We follow him to a dozen other delivery stops and back again. Nothing suspicious happens, unless doing his job with a smile qualifies.

  Miracle of miracles, I manage not to say Cynthia’s name again.

  “I'm guessing his shift ends sometime soon,” Jack says. “He mentioned at some point that he has a second job he works in the evenings. Maybe he's uploading from my key logger for extra cash. I doubt he's paid much to deliver subs.”

  I hope Billy does whatever he's going to do soon. I can't keep driving all over forever. At some point I'll need to take Jack back to the office and leave work to pick up my son. Finally, at four fifteen, Billy leaves Jimmy Johns without any bags to deliver.

  I inhale sharply. “Oh, maybe he's headed to meet whoever he's downloading the information for.”

  “Or he could send the data remotely,” Jack says.

  Which is, of course, more likely. A face-to-face meet would be moronic. Even so, I hope for it.

  We follow him to a Chuck-e-Cheese parking lot. Jack looks sideways at me. “Uh, this is odd.”

  “Did he mention what his second job might be?” I ask.

  Jack shakes his head.

  “It may be time for us to confront Billy.”

  Jack hops out of the car before I've even cut the engine. I have to run to catch up to him after I lock up.

  “Wait up.”

  He turns toward me and shakes his head. “You don’t need to come along. Just wait in the car. I promised I'd keep you safe.”

  Billy turns toward us, all five foot three of him, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open.

  “I think I'll take my chances,” I say.

  Jack grins. “Suit yourself.”

  Billy snaps his mouth shut before greeting us. “Uh, hey guys. What's up? I didn't figure you two for Chuck-e-Cheese fans.”

  “We know about your key logger,” Jack says.

  Billy's eyes shift to me, clearly hoping I'll explain what Jack's saying. “My what?”

  “I think Jack meant to ask you what you're doing at Chuck-e-Cheese.”

  He scratches his head. “I'm Chuck-e.”

  “What?” Jack asks.

  “You know, I’m the mouse. It's my second job. I don't get enough hours at Jimmy Johns to cover the bills.”

  “You’re the mouse,” Jack repeats.

  “It's actually kind of fun,” Billy says. “The kids love me. If it didn't get so hot in that suit, I'd quit the delivery job and do this full time.”

  Uh huh. So maybe Billy isn't our guy. “Do you know what a key logger is, Billy?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “Are you locked out of the building or something? Because I swear, I didn't touch anything. I couldn't even find that Jim guy. I had to leave the extra sandwich with the front desk guy.”

  “Look here, Billy. You may not understand what exactly you're doing,” Jack says, “or you may just be playing dumb, but either way, we know you're downloading data when you drop off sandwiches. If you're doing it for extra money, I even understand what got you started. Money gets tight and people get creative, but this is theft. I need you to confess everything you know, or I'm going to have to involve the police.”

  The color drains from Billy's face. He stumbles back a step. “Mr. Campbell, I would never steal anything from anyone. If things got that bad, I’d move back in with my mom. I swear.”

  When Jack steps toward poor Billy, his eyes flinty, I imagine how Billy must feel. What if he's innocent? Because if he's dissembling, he's very convincing. Jack's a big guy, and it’s clear he works out. He towers over Billy, who looks like he’s going to wet his pants and roll over to show his belly any second now.

  I put one hand on Jack's arm.

  “I think you may be intimidating the wrong person,” I say.

  Jack turns confused eyes toward me.

  “I saw the key logger light up,” I say, “but Billy wasn't the only person in the room.”

  Jack shakes his head. “You said the network was called ‘delivery.’”

  I nod. “I did, but what types of things would you call a Bluetooth network, if you didn't want anyone to pay attention to it? Delivery. UPS. FedEx. Common, generic words. Something unlikely to arouse suspicion. You certainly wouldn't title it with your actual name. I might have jumped to an erroneous conclusion.” I drop my voice to a whisper. “Billy doesn't seem like much of an operative, but someone else does. Someone in the room when I saw that network makes at least as much sense as Billy.”

  Jack swallows hard and his shoulders slump.

  “Uh, do you guys still have questions for me?” Billy shuffles his feet across the pavement toward the entrance to Chuck-e-Cheese.

  I shake my head. “No, Billy. We're sorry if we startled you with our misunderstanding.”

  He bobs his head enough times that I start to worry about him.

  “You can go to work,” I say. “I promise we won't bother you anymore.”

  “Good luck, s- s- sir,” Billy stammers. “Finding out whoever is stealing from you.”

  I take a step back toward my car, hoping Jack will follow. He doesn't. I turn and call over my shoulder. “How long did you date Cynthia?”

  He frowns at me, but he finally takes a step toward my car. Progress. “I don't know. A few months.”

  “Was it when you were inventing your last thing? The first idea that got stolen?”

  He nods slowly. “The end of that, yes.”

  “And you mentioned she still comes around sometimes even though you broke up.”

  He clenches his jaw.

  “How often? Like every week or two?”

  He shrugs, his eyes clouded. “Maybe.”

  “In spite of your repeated refusals?” I lift one eyebrow.

  “I might have slipped in my resolve once or twice.”

  I close my eyes. “So she's been around fairly often.”

  He groans. “How could I be so stupid?”

  “In my experience, men's stupidity is usually directly related to a woman's beauty.”

  He climbs back into my car, but his eyes don't meet mine. He clearly needs a minute to process this turn of events, so I put the car in gear and head for the office. Jack doesn't stop me, and he doesn't say another word the entire ride back.

  7

  Paul

  I’m a complete idiot. I've been wracking my brain for months, subjecting employees to background checks and invasive security measures and all along, I was the problem. The girl I was stupid enough to date and then moronic enough to continue to allow into my life has been stealing my ideas and generally ruining my life.

  I knew she wasn't a good person. She annoyed me from the beginning, but like Gerty said, my stupidity was directly correlated to the beauty of her face. The only thing I did right was confining Cynthia to knowing me as Jack. I met he
r as Jack, at the sushi place closest to SITB’s office. I never told her my real name or took her to LitUp, thank goodness. I shudder to think what she could have stolen from me there.

  Meanwhile, my older brother's been dying to set me up with his perfect fiancé’s sister. The one I was too prideful to meet. If she looks anything like Mary, she's beautiful in a much more natural way than stupid Cynthia. What kept me from meeting her?

  Pride. Which is basically another way to say I'm a moron.

  After Cynthia, the girl I've been most interested in is sitting next to me. An employee. Dating her would be only marginally less boneheaded than dating a scheming socialite. I whip out my phone and text Luke before I can change my mind.

  I'M READY TO MEET MARY'S SISTER. SET SOMETHING UP.

  I ought to tell him about the train wreck of my startup and beg for his help, but I can't quite bring myself to do that yet. Maybe I can still salvage it on my own.

  GREAT. WHEN? Luke texts back.

  I'm up to my eyeballs with the launch of our new car battery, and I barely have time to shower with the patent nightmare at SITB. I should tell him sometime after the wedding. I could ask for her phone number so we can text a little beforehand. Except that's a weak move, texting someone back and forth. No, I need to make some kind of tangible step toward something good, something that might be real. Something with someone who isn't a mistake.

  TOMORROW, I finally text back. After all, sleep is overrated, right?

  I’LL SEE IF SHE’S FREE, Luke texts back. I’LL LET YOU KNOW.

  I put my phone back in my pocket. We're almost back to the office.

  “We think it's Cynthia.” Gerty's voice sounds wobbly. “But we won't know until we have evidence.”

  She's right, of course. It could still be Billy. Or neither of them. Maybe someone we couldn't even see was standing outside the door. We need to get proof, especially since I really doubt my socialite ex stole my ideas for herself. If she really was downloading, she's got to be working for someone. Which means she was probably paid to be my girlfriend in the first place. Which Gerty must have figured out already, but she's too polite to mention out loud.

  I shudder. I need a hot shower right now, but I know that's a silly compulsion. Water won’t clean away the dirty feeling I’ve got.

  “Any ideas on how we can get that evidence?” I ask. “I'd rather do it sooner than later. We have a patent hearing next week to sort this preliminarily.”

  Tiny furrows appear in Gerty's brow. “If it's her, the evidence would be on her phone right now from the latest download. If I could clone her phone, we could prove she was stealing information. As to the buyer, I'd think you could force her to confess that information in court once the judge hears Cynthia placed a key logger. We might even find the information we want on her device, if she doesn't realize we cloned it.”

  I nod. Gerty's bright. Brighter than I expected from such a young person, and a brand new hire at that. If she hadn't discovered and surrendered the key logger to me herself, I'd heavily suspect Gerty right now. I hope I’m not being blinded by a pretty face again.

  “We need her phone?” I ask.

  She nods, her eyes on the road. “I think you need to take her to dinner tonight. I can walk you through how to clone her phone.”

  The idea of taking Cynthia out and pretending I'm interested, especially now that we know she was probably a plant, causes bile to rise in the back of my throat. But my anger surpasses my disgust. I'm ticked enough to do whatever it takes. I dial her number.

  “Jack,” she practically purrs when she answers. “I knew you'd want to hear me out, once all those people were gone. We've always been so much better one-on-one.”

  I grunt. “I thought you might want to grab dinner with me tonight, just the two of us.”

  “Of course I do,” Cynthia says. “I've been craving Drift.”

  Cynthia only eats fish, so we went to Drift a lot. “Sounds great. Meet you there at seven?”

  “Perfect. I'm so glad you called, Jack.”

  I can't bring myself to lie and say the same. “Uh huh. See you then.” I hang up.

  Gerty pulls into a space in the parking lot outside SITB's office and turns to face me with an earnest look. “Okay, how much do you know about the cloning process?”

  Hold up. “Wait, you aren't coming?”

  “On your date?” she asks. “Uh, no. Besides, I'm busy tonight. But I can walk you through what I know about it.”

  “How am I even supposed to get her phone?” I ask. “It's not like that's a normal thing for me to do. I'm not a snoop.”

  “I'm sure you’ll think of something.” Her smirk annoys me.

  “That's it? It's nearly five, so you're clocking out and I have to fend for myself?”

  She sighs dramatically. “You're a big boy. You got yourself into this mess. . .”

  “Maybe I did.” My voice sounds a little whiny, which probably isn't helping my case. “But when you get right down to it, we don't know whether it is Cynthia for sure. I could really use a little help from someone who already knows how to do all the tech stuff. Plus, I might need your testimony at the hearing or it'll sound like a lover's spat.”

  “Blech,” she says. “I want nothing to do with you and your girlfriend's drama, frankly.”

  I grit my teeth. “I dumped her a really long time ago. It's been a rough couple of months though, and she's been persistent, okay? Look, I'm not perfect, but I'm not the villain here. I really need your help to figure out the identity of the real bad guy. Cynthia's way too dumb to mastermind something like this.”

  “Or maybe she's been playing you and she's actually a Harvard grad.”

  I lift one eyebrow. “She thought limes turned into lemons. And if you left the lemon for long enough, into a grapefruit.”

  She snorts.

  “She also told me she was so upset that Tom Cruise didn't win when he ran for President.”

  Gerty's mouth drops, and then her mouth shakes with suppressed laughter. “Ted Cruz, Tom Cruise. Potato, poh-tah-to.”

  I laugh.

  Gerty taps her lip. “She could have made that stuff up to convince you.”

  “She thought the Eiffel Tower was really called the Awful Tower, and she called the end zone in football the ‘in zone.’” I let the last one sink in. “Do I need to go on, or do you believe that she's not the mastermind?”

  “I believe you, but I've lost a little more respect for you.” Gerty smirks.

  “Which means I'm probably not convincing you to cancel your plans and help a desperate guy out?”

  She sighs. “I'll see if I can work something out, but even if I can, I'd have to meet you there.”

  “Fine,” I say. “That's fine. It's probably better anyway. I'll reserve two tables, and make sure one is out of the way. Actually, it shouldn't take you too long to clone a phone, right? Maybe you can bring your date along. He'd be a good cover for you.”

  She frowns, and her eyebrows furrow again. I want to reach up and wipe that frown away, but that would be weird, so I clench my fist instead. “Or not, but if you want to bring him, that's fine. That's all I'm saying.”

  “You're assuming my plans are a date.”

  “Aren't they?” I hope they aren't. I don't want her to have a boyfriend, or worse, a husband. Even though I shouldn't care. I clearly fall for all the wrong women. Not that I'm falling for Gerty. At all.

  “I'll be there at seven,” she says. “Ready to clone Cynthia's phone, and with a date for cover.”

  I nod. “I really appreciate it. This is really above and beyond. And maybe we better exchange phone numbers, in case we need to check in at the restaurant.”

  “Good idea.” She rattles her number off and I save it. Then I do the same.

  She clears her throat.

  “Yeah?” I ask.

  “Not to be rude, but if I'm going to pull this off, I better start shifting things around.”

  “Right. Absolutely. Of course.”
She needs me to get out of the car. I open the door, but I pause because I don't want to leave her. I don't want to eat dinner with Cynthia while Gerty's eating at the edge of the restaurant with her boyfriend. I open my mouth to ask her out for real for tomorrow. Besides, I’d rather know now if she's got a boyfriend. It would be better to know.

  Except tomorrow I'm supposed to be going out with Luke's soon-to-be sister-in-law. Maybe.

  A setup I agreed to because I'm a moron and a bad judge of character, which is exactly why I can't ask Gerty out. I force myself to climb out of her car and head for the office. I ought to make sure the whole place didn't burn down without me or Nancy around to hold things together.

  I should be looking forward to confronting Cynthia and tracking down my thieving competitor. I should be excited to meet a great girl tomorrow night for dinner.

  Except I keep thinking about sky blue eyes and light brown hair. When I reach my office, I sink into the chair and lean back. My phone buzzes.

  BAD TIMING. TRUDY'S BUSY. MAYBE IN A FEW WEEKS.

  I should be upset, or at the very least I should feel annoyed. I finally want to meet Mary's baby sister and she's too busy for me? Instead, all I feel is relief, because right or wrong, Mary’s little sister isn’t the woman I want to take to dinner tomorrow night.

  8

  Trudy

  My phone buzzes in my pocket before I can pull out of the parking lot. I check it before leaving, since I never ever text while driving.

  Mary texts, YOU FREE TOMORROW NIGHT? I KNOW YOU SAID NO LAST WEEK, BUT LUKE AND I REALLY WANT TO SET YOU UP WITH PAUL.

  Is she kidding? How could I have been clearer?

  BUSY. SORRY.

  ARE YOU REALLY BUSY? Mary asks. IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE A DATE, BUT IT WOULD BE NICE IF YOU KNEW EACH OTHER BEFORE THE WEDDING.

  I’M SLAMMED. NEED TO STUDY. WORKING. PLUS KID. PLUS JOB.

  IT'S A SATURDAY NIGHT. TROY WILL BE ASLEEP. WE CAN COME OVER TO YOUR PLACE.

  ONCE HE’S ASLEEP, I’LL BE STUDYING. AND I WANT TO PLAY WITH TROY ALL DAY. I'VE MISSED HIM EVERY SINGLE DAY WHILE I’VE BEEN AT WORK.