entrepreneurial efforts.
William had moved so many times before he was ten, he was convinced there were only two kinds of people; his parents and all the other people he would never get to know.
It wasn’t that he was socially inept, he just hadn’t been around people long enough to understand how they thought.
He was sure he needed stability and security, the way some people need success. Yet, on his own, he took all manner of chances. This anomaly worried him. He wouldn’t have answered the ad, but he had no choice, he had received orders.
Computer Banking was his specialty.
At his first interview, he discovered he might be working for a company called, MYSTERIES UNLIMITED LTD. He admired whimsy, figured it was one of man’s greatest weapons in the on going war against middle class seriousness.
MYSTERIES UNLIMITED LTD. was located in the hills near Roosevelt Golf Course in the Los Feliz district. The building, a combination of Kremlinesque onion domes and Art Deco brick, had once been an exclusive Jewish boys school. The Mezuzah was still beside the entrance to the main building.
William thought about kissing it, but as a certified goy, figured it might be in bad taste.
The building was on five acres surrounded by a stone fence thicker than the Maginot line. Inside the gate were gardens, and more gardens: rose gardens, cactus gardens, a vegetable garden, even a Japanese rock garden.
The building was red brick, and leading up to the entrance was a pale yellow brick road. The significance was not misplaced.
He hadn’t seen any cables—telephone or power—coming in from the street and assumed they must be buried. Around the back, on a wing that extended into a grove of pines, were three satellite dishes and numerous antennae.
This is good, this is real, he thought. His perspective had been fading into the middle distance.
After ‘talking’ to Jenkins, he wandered off to lunch. He needed input. Maybe food would help.
When he came back, full of Thai noodles and Mexican beer, he was met at the entrance by a young woman of such stunning beauty he lost his footing and stumbled into a rose bush by the front steps.
He attempted to say something, anything, but it came out like a tape machine running backward. Verbal dyslexia.
She said her name was Charlie Lee and volunteered that she was the bosses daughter, that she sort of ran things while her father was away.
Her smile was open and generous. William was in love before he reached the first step.
‘Hire me!’ He was wondering how much he’d have to pay to work there.
Still incoherent, he followed her through a rather grand foyer, then left into a sunny, high-ceilinged office. On the door was a sign the said, CHARLIE LEE - LITTLE BOSS.
At her door he burst out laughing, louder and louder until his stomach hurt. He tried to apologize.
“I’m sorry, Miss Lee,” he gasped. “When I get anxious, I have this stupid reaction.” He tried to get his breath.
She looked at William with one classic eyebrow raised and an enigmatic smile.
“It was back there,” he pointed toward the front of the building, “you know, back there when I was falling in the rose bushes, I fell in love, but I didn’t realize it! That is,” her smile was much broader, “I wasn’t myself. Damn, that’s not precisely what I mean. Comprehending you was too much input, there wasn’t room for output, for anything.”
Her smile became a grin. “If this is some new employment gambit, I think I like it.”
“I thought I already had the job?” William looked alarmed. “Oh, Christ, I’ve blown it, haven’t I.”
“No. You have the job, but I’m supposed to tell you what we do and how we do it.”
She went over to her desk and sat down, as graceful as a ballerina, then pointed to a chair to one side.
“Would it be alright if we do the interview now?” she asked.
“Of course.”
He didn’t tell her he was prepared to work for nothing. Some semblance of sanity had returned.
She looked at him closely. “Are you paying attention, Mr. Tallboys?”
William wondered if it was possible for all the blood in his body to reside in his head at once.
“Er..ah...absolutely!” His voice rose out of control.
She looked doubtful. “All right, if you’re sure.” She paused.
“Generally, we solve mysteries. Specifically, we answer questions for money. Most of the time the questions are harmless. Occasionally,” her elegant eyebrows arched gracefully, “they lead to places where questions are unwelcome, even dangerous. Would you like a few examples?”
“Absolutely!” Fixated on her voice, his answer was still too loud. She looked startled.
William was as emotional as an aficionado at Horowitz’s last concert. He couldn’t bear the idea of the music coming to an end.
Her expression clearly said she wasn’t sure if his wrapping hadn’t come loose.
William tried to look attentive.
God knows what he really looked like. Joseph Smith finding the silver tablets? Einstein writing his famous equation? A gourmand with a years free pass to Tour D’Argent? He hoped she didn’t get the wrong idea.
William thought he really was a very ordinary fellow. He wasn’t.
She decided to go on. “Let’s see, innocent.”
She was so filled with the blithe spirit she hummed a little tune while she gathered her mental notes.
“Here’s one. A caller recently asked if George Washington really had false teeth made of wood.”
“Wow! Did he?”
She laughed. “I don’t know, you’ll have to ask Jenkins, or Baby Ruth, or Mr. Pillsbury. They’re our resident experts at that sort of thing.”
William snorted in disbelief. “Not possible! I asked Jenkins a question an hour ago and never got close to an answer.”
“You asked him about my father didn’t you?” She was defensive.
“Yes, I did. How did you know?”
“It’s the only thing Jenkins won’t talk about. My father did something for him, years ago; got him out of trouble. Mr. Jenkins hasn’t forgotten. He’s very loyal.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“No, there isn’t”
She was humming
