Canary
by Michael Crane
Smashwords Edition
© Copyright 2010 by Michael Crane
Cover photo provided by istockphoto.com/GlobalP
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Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author
This is a work of fiction. Names and places are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
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The gig I had at the bookstore was pretty sweet, I won’t lie. I had finally found a job where I wasn’t constantly watching the clock minute after minute, wondering when quitting time would arrive. Yes, there were customers who were a pain in the ass to deal with sometimes, but being surrounded by great heroes of literature like Hemingway, Yates, Steinbeck, Bukowski, Vonnegut and so on really made everything else bearable to me. While it was true that many of the greats had long since passed on, their spirits still remained and their stories lived on. There was something undeniably soothing about that, and I could really care less if anybody understands that or not.
There was a phone call for me while I was working at the register a little before quitting time. I picked up and it was Brooks, my boss. He wanted to see me in his office. I had some high school kid who was working part-time cover my station and I went to the office that was in the back of the bookstore. It was a tiny little room with blinding white walls. Almost like something you’d see in an interrogation room, only smaller and more claustrophobic feeling.
“Sit down,” he said to me. I closed the door behind me and took a seat in front of his desk. He was a pudgy little man with this awful looking pencil-thin mustache that looked like it didn’t belong on him. It looked fake, but I doubt that anybody had ever brought that up to him.
“Everything alright?” I asked. This was the first time that he had called me into his office, so I figured something was up.
“Not really, sad to say,” he said. He didn’t look angry. He looked like he was troubled by something and didn’t know exactly how to react. “Anderson, I like you. You’re a nice guy.”
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”
“You’re a great worker. Always on time and never give me problems. However, we do have a situation.”
“Situation?”
“There’ve been some CDs and DVDs that have gone missing,” he said plainly.
“You mean like somebody’s been stealing?”
“Exactly right, Anderson. Exactly right.”
I shrugged. “Customers?”
“No, no. It looks like this has been going on little by little every day, and I suspect that it has to be somebody who works here.”
“You think I’m that somebody?” I asked. The walls felt like they were blinding me more than when I first walked in. It wasn’t a guilt thing, because I knew I hadn’t stolen anything. I was feeling uncomfortable, though, because I knew what was coming up.
“My honest opinion?” he asked. “No. You’re a straight shooter, Anderson. I don’t think you’d stoop down to something like that.” He was silent for a moment and he leaned forward while folding his chubby pink hands on the desk. “However, I think you may know who it might be.”
I wasn’t sure about the rest of the staff, but this one guy who worked at the bookstore, Arny—his name was actually Arnold, but he preferred Arny—I knew for sure was stealing things on a daily basis. There were a few times that I had witnessed him take a few CDs or DVDs here and there, but I never brought it up to anybody.
“Why would you think I’d know who it is?” I asked.
“Just a feeling I get. You’re here enough to know what goes on.”
“Yeah, but I don’t really pay attention to anybody else here. Don’t really talk to anybody.”
“Anderson, please, don’t make me do this. I know that you have to be covering for somebody. Maybe it’s because you’re friends, maybe you’re in cahoots. I don’t know.”
“I’m not in cahoots with anybody.”
“Then, tell me who it is.”
The room felt smaller and I had to stop myself from fidgeting around with my hands and feet. I really didn’t want to be in that position. Yes, I knew who was the culprit, and while I honestly didn’t give a flying shit about him either way, I was no squealer. That was a different time in my life, and I really had no desire to re-visit it.
I shrugged. “I’m sorry. I really have no idea who it is. You’re going to have to believe me.”
Brooks looked down at his desk and sighed. He rubbed his horrendous mustache. “Dang it, Anderson. Why do you gotta do this to me? I’m in a tough spot here. I have to answer for what goes on here! If you don’t tell me who it is, then I’m gonna have to let you go, and I don’t want to do it, mind you. I think you’re one hell of a worker, but I know you’re not telling me something and if I gotta do what I gotta do, I’ll do it.”