The Unprintable Big Clock Chronicle Read online

  “Oh, Lucy, everyone feels like that,” I began, and joined them at the table. “You just have to look at all the good things. Just think: you're doing really well in your master's program. You've got a great apartment...” Even though this pep talk was as trite as they came, I still strained for more material. “...you have lots of cool Christmas socks—the best collection I've ever seen. Right, Amy?”

  “Yes—you certainly do have a variety,” Amy agreed, trying to be helpful.

  “You know, they used to call me 'the Bobby Soxer' in high school,” Lucy informed her.

  “And hey, you've got your health,” I added, assuming that was true, “plus, you're a sweet, kind person...really, you have lots of things to feel good about, Lucy!”

  “Thanks,” she said. “Maybe you're right. I guess it's silly to get depressed.”

  “Do you want to stay for dinner?” I said. “It should be ready soon.”

  “Okay, great.” Lucy was beaming again. Reaching for a piece of bread, she added, “Caitlyn, I don't know what I'd do without you. Sometimes I get so tired of eating alone.”

  Chapter 14

  On Monday evening, I showed up at the clock building just as the Spotless Find van was pulling into the parking lot. I knew this shtick was getting old, but I had a brainstorm over the weekend. The first time I had tried to get information from Maria, she'd shut me down. But that was back when she didn't know me, trust me, or want me horning in on her gig. Now that she liked me a little better, and realized that I was hardly a threat to her job, she might actually open up more.

  The night got off to its usual start: Maria handed me the bucket and was about to split off in her own direction. But then I stopped her. “Wait—I was wondering if I could shadow you a little tonight. Just to see how everything's supposed to be done. I don't think I'm really doing as good a job as I should.” Of course that was a massive under-statement. (Glad Maria didn't insult my intelligence by correcting me.)

  “Um...okay, I guess,” she acquiesced.

  When we were dusting and polishing furniture in the conference room, I made my move. “Listen, Maria, I was wondering,” I began casually, swiping a dust rag around absently. “Remember the break-in here a couple of weeks ago? We talked about it last week. Some supplies were stolen?”

  Just as she had the first time I'd brought it up, Maria tensed her shoulders. Her face was implacable as she said, “I told you, I don't know nothing about anything.”

  “No, of course not. I know you weren't even here that night,” I assured her. Then decided to change my direction. “But...I was just curious if you've ever met any of the employees here. Has anyone ever been working late while you were cleaning?”

  “Why?” she asked, sounding guarded but also confused about the connection.

  “Well, I guess I'm used to seeing people, you know, around at the offices I clean—but here, we never see anyone working late. Except for Bill, that one time,” I recalled. “Have you ever met anyone at Metropolax?”

  “Mr. Sachs has been here late before,” Maria said. “And Miss Suzie sometimes.”

  “Suzie Diamanti, really? What was she like?”

  “Very nice. Always if I saw her, she would smile and stop to talk for a minute or two. Nice lady,” Maria said approvingly.

  I nodded. “When Suzie did work late, what did you see her doing? Sitting at her computer or...?”

  Now Maria gave me the side-eye. Quickly, I tried to downplay my inquiry. “I was just curious what they do at this company anyway.”

  “She was mostly on the phone, I guess,” Maria told me. Then she shrugged, clearly ready to move on with her evening. “We should finish up in here and get to the kitchen.”

  “Wait—one more question. When Suzie was here late, was anyone else with her?”

  Maria shook her head. “No...never. That's why it was strange that night—”

  Her voice broke off. Abruptly, she shut up.

  “That night...” I echoed, hoping she'd pick up the thread.

  She looked up at me, her expression serious. “We should clean the kitchen now.”

  “Maria, what were you about to say?” I pressed, and lightly tapped her arm. “About that night. You can tell me.” It was clear now that Maria was holding in a piece of information; maybe she'd slipped right now because subconsciously, she wanted to tell someone. Or perhaps she was just caught off-guard by my random badgering. Either way, I was determined to prod it out of her. “You guys didn't come to clean that night, right?”

  Maria shook her head. “No, but...I saw Miss Suzie's car here. In the parking lot.” She lowered her voice, even though (presumably) we were the only ones here. “I was on my way home and I had stopped at the drug store for my son's medicine,” she explained in a hushed tone. “I took a short cut through the square, and out the back exit of the parking lot. Suzie's silver Mercedes was here. I remember thinking that it was late to be working—it was after eight-thirty. There was another car, too, parked next to Suzie's.”

  That snapped my attention, tight like a rubber band. “Another car?” I said. “What did it look like?”

  “It was a dark car. I don't know. I didn't think much of it, until the next day when Ingmar told us about the robbery and...then I remembered.”

  “Did you tell Ingmar? Or the police?”

  She recoiled, as if the mere idea were repellent. “No—no, no, no. I do not like the police. I never get involved with the police.” Maybe she realized how severe her tone had been, because a moment later, she softened it with a brief explanation. “Caitlyn, I have friends over here...maybe some of my friends would get into trouble...if I talked to the police. The police might find out about them, and then they'd have to go back.”

  “Go back where?” I said, confused.

  “To El Salvador.”

  Don't think I'm dense—but I finally understood. Maria's reluctance to open up had more to do with immigration concerns and the aversion to law enforcement that followed.

  “Also,” Maria added, “I did not want to get Miss Suzie into any trouble. Always she was nice to me.”

  “And you have no idea who the other car belonged to?”

  She shook her head.

  At this point, Maria decided we'd had enough togetherness for one evening and insisted we split up. She said that she would take care of the rest rooms, but first she'd stay behind to clean the kitchen. On my way to dust the offices, I thought about what I'd learned. Not only had Suzie Diamanti been at the clock building on the night of the robbery, but someone else had been here, as well.

  I know what you're thinking—Metropolax wasn't the only company renting space in the clock building, and that dark car could have belonged to someone who worked on one of the other floors. Technically, that was true. However: Maria had said this dark car was parked beside Suzie's. Since the lot around the building had designated parking spots for each company, it stood to reason that whomever had parked right next to Suzie in the Metropolax section, had done so because of some affiliation with the company, or at least an affiliation with Suzie.

  I thought back to remarks made by Bill, and his colleagues, James and Kendall. It seemed that everyone was focused on Jennifer Agnor as the prime suspect of that bizarre break-in. I already knew that Suzie's and Jennifer's simultaneous departures were not sitting well with me as coincidence. So I couldn't help returning to a theory I had put forth to Bill last week, at the Metropolax Christmas party. What if Suzie and Jennifer were in cahoots?

  If both women had been involved in the robbery, there were still fundamental questions that remained. Why had they done it, why hadn't they taken more items, and why did both of them now seem untraceable and unreachable?

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Selected Bill's number from my Contacts list and texted him the following message:

  hey, quick question for u. kinda random.

  Within twenty seconds, Bill texted back.

  Great to hear frm u-what's up?

 
; what kind of car did Jennifer A. drive?

  huh?

  i'll expln latr why...but do u know what kind?

  It took him a full minute and a half to answer.

  Jennifer didn't have a car. She was usually dropped off + picked up by some guy.

  What guy?

  No clue.

  I guess Bill was over this conversation, because the text he sent me ten seconds later read: Out with friends now, can't talk. Call u latr.

  Gee, why did I have the feeling he wasn't going to call? But I couldn't really blame him for shutting down my questions. Surely, without its proper context, this line of conversation sounded pretty lame and uninteresting.

  Disappointed, I stuffed my phone back into my pocket and considered this new wrinkle. If Jennifer did not have a car, then the dark car next to Suzie's that night couldn't have been hers. On the other hand...it could have belonged to whatever boyfriend was driving Jennifer to work each day. The three of them could have been in on it...

  Just then I recalled what Kendall had said about Jennifer dating a married man. Someone she'd never referred to by name. Could he have been the owner of that car? Either way, I was now absolutely convinced that Suzie Diamanti was key to the events that occurred the night of the robbery—though I hadn't sorted out the details of those events—and with that in mind, I went to dust her office first.

  At first, it seemed like a waste of time. As I'd noted the first night I'd seen it, the room was mostly empty. Her computer equipment was still on the desk, along with a cardboard desk blotter that was naked, because the calendar page for December was missing. There were no plants or photos or remnants of the person who'd once claimed the room for her own. I walked around the desk two or three times before I remembered something important. At the staff Christmas party, hadn't Bill mentioned that Suzie's resignation letter had been handwritten, instead of typed? That she hadn't submitted in person, but rather had scanned and emailed it?

  Now I eyed the scanner still sitting on the desk. It was the same model that we had in the Chronicle office. That wasn't unusual; it had been a very popular model (back in 2005). Like many scanners, this one had a laser printer built in, and a “Recopy” feature that allowed you to print off a Photostat of the last image saved in the scanner's memory.

  When I stepped into Suzie's office, you might have thought I was going to try to guess her password. That I would try a few random words until I finally, magically, stumbled upon the right one, and was able to log in to her computer. Nothing would please me more, if real life were like the movies. In the movies, the protagonist would usually try three random guesses, and on the third try, get it. In real life, people didn't choose obvious words for important pass codes. More likely, they chose a combination of half-words, phrases, and numbers. In real life, short of advanced computer knowledge, there was no way to guess another person's exact password—much less a total stranger's.

  That being said, now I wouldn't have to waste our time with such an absurd mission. I could use the “Recopy” feature on the scanner to print a copy of the last item that had been scanned. I switched on the scanner and pressed the button. Within a few moments, the gray screen read: “Warming up...please wait.” In another minute, there were the mechanical noises of a printer coming to life. Paper began feeding through, face down on the scanner.

  Anxiously, I held my breath. I snatched the paper, flipped it over. Just as I had hoped, the last item that had been scanned on Suzie's machine was her resignation letter. Wow, I thought as I read it. I wondered why Suzie had bothered to go to the trouble of writing this up and scanning it to HR—since, based on the content, she obviously didn't care about professional appearances much.

  I was still absorbing the words when a loud explosion burst from somewhere, and startled the hell out of me. Caught by terror, I jumped in place—then fled from Suzie's office, still clutching the paper in my hand. “Maria?” I called out. “Are you okay?” I had no idea what the noise had been. I only knew that I was suddenly very afraid.

  When I couldn't find Maria in the kitchen, I checked the bathrooms. I knew she'd said she would clean those next. Just as I pushed open the door to the ladies' room, fog flooded my eyes and a loud, unrelenting hiss filled my ears.

  It took a few seconds for logic to break through, and I realized that what must have happened was a steam pipe had burst. Waving my hand to clear my vision, I entered the bathroom cautiously. Halfway across the tiles, I finally could see it—a fat pipe that lay against the wall was exhaling steam in the corner, gasping and wheezing like an old man. “Maria, are you in here?” I said, though I had the feeling I was alone.

  Suddenly something caught my eye—an image on the mirror. I squinted at it as I walked closer. “Oh, my God,” I said to myself, feeling a profound sense of disbelief. There were words on the mirror. It seemed surreal; the message was frightening. Someone had run their finger on the glass at some point, and now, only the fog from the steamed-up bathroom made it visible. Worse, I had a sinking feeling I knew who it was.

  SOX KILLeD Me, the mirror read. And then the lights went out.

  Chapter 15

  “Oh my God!” I yelped.

  Sheer panic took over; there was no clear thought for those first few seconds. I couldn't see my hands in front of me. When my eyes adjusted to the darkness, they refocused, but saw only hints of shadows.

  I suddenly thought of the cinematic cliché I'd watched play out a dozen times: the heroine calls aloud, “Hello? Anyone here, hiding in the ominous darkness...? Yoo hoo...?” Even though this wasn't a movie, I found myself becoming one of those ridiculous women. “Hello?” I called. “Someone?”

  Suddenly the lights snapped on.

  I whipped my head toward the door and saw Maria standing in the doorway, with her hand on the switch plate. “Oh, sorry, Caitlyn. I did not know you were in here.”

  “Oh my God, Maria!” I said, relieved and pressed a hand to my galloping heart. “I got so freaked out for a second. Why did you shut the lights off?”

  “I saw under the door that they were on. I figured I'd left them on by mistake. I just reached my hand in to shut the light off, then checked the men's room to make sure the toilet tablets didn't get stuck this time. When I came out, I heard your voice. Sorry,” she said, then pointed. “Oh, no!”

  I had momentarily forgotten about the broken steam pipe. While the lights were out, it calmed its noisy wheezing. Now it was quietly hissing, and my ears became aware of it again. “Did it just blow?”

  I shrugged. “I assume, yeah. What else could have happened? One of those natural disasters that come with antiquated plumbing and frigid weather, I guess.”

  Maria reached into her back pocket and pulled out her phone. “I'd better call Ingmar. He can come down and tell us what to do.”

  “Wait—um—right now?” I said, realizing immediately that I'd better bail out for the evening. If my supposed manager saw me here tonight, the whole proverbial jig would be up, and I might even get into serious trouble. “Okay, well, you do that and let's go wait for him in the lobby,” I said.

  Nodding, Maria pressed her phone to her ear and stepped out of the ladies' room, where there would be better reception. Meanwhile, I remembered what I'd seen on the mirror, right before the lights cut out. My pulse kicked up, as I unzipped my bag that was slung over my shoulder. By now, much of the steam had dissipated, and the fog was evaporating off the mirror. The message that had been scrawled across the glass was fading fast.

  With my digital camera, I snapped a few photos of the words anyway, and just prayed that the image would show up in the photo. Chills frittered up my spine as I looked at the lingering letters, rapidly becoming invisible again. Worse than the scare of the lights going out, was the impact of three simple words: SOX KILLeD Me.

  The message was in all caps, except for the small ‘e’s—the same two distinct features I'd seen on another piece of writing that night, which was still in my hand. The printout copy of S
uzie Diamanti's resignation letter.

  Once Maria and I reached the lobby, I turned to her and said, “Listen, do you mind if I just go? I'm on thin ice with Ingmar already,” I lied. “He really doesn't like me all that much, and...if he finds out that I happened to be on the floor where there was some kind of problem...I'm afraid he'll just fire me, or something. Please?”

  As usual, Maria looked confused by my personality, but willing to humor me. “Okay. We're done cleaning anyway...”

  “Thank you so much!” I told her. “Just don't even mention me to Ingmar, okay?”

  “No, of course not. It has nothing to do with you anyway,” she stated.

  “Maria, you're the best!” I said. And it was probably the first honest thing I'd said to her all night.

  I didn't take the usual ten minutes to warm up my car, but rather, chanced it after three. As I was pulling out of the clock building parking lot, I thought I saw a familiar face in a car across the street. It was hard to tell, because of the light snow dusting across my windshield. Squinting a bit, I put my wipers on, but as usual, they made streaks on the glass that blurred my vision even more.

  Abruptly, the car started up and pulled away from the curb.

  As the sleek dark sedan turned the corner and disappeared from the square, I wondered what Mayor Leonard Krepp was doing on this side of town. I was pretty sure that had been him. As far as I knew, Mayor Krepp's mansion was near R&D Labs, on the opposite side of Big Clock.

  Later, when I was bundled on my bed with Cappy in a thick swirl of blankets, I tried to wrap my mind around what I had seen tonight. I held a pad and pen on my lap, and hoped to scribble some sense into all the disparate details. The questions that persisted in my mind most were:

  How recently had the note on the mirror been written?

  Had it been a serious statement, or some sort of joke?

  Was the close timing of Suzie's “resignation” and the still unexplained burglary at Metropolax really just a coincidence?