salesmen to get their lying done. Then they go ask for forgiveness on Sunday to start the week off fresh, until they start lying again on Monday.”
Gwynn laughs. “Sounds like your dad was a wise man.”
“Not so much book smart, but he was wise to the ways of the world.”
Soon, a salesman is free and comes walking over to us. “What can I do for such a nice-looking couple on such a fine day?”
Gwynn blushes, and I don’t tell him any different.
“I’m looking for a secondhand car,” I explain, “to get me back and forth to work. I want to pay cash, and the budget is low.”
This limits his options considerably, and he leads us to the rear portion of the used-car section. It doesn’t take me long to pick one out.
“I know she doesn’t look like much,” the salesman says, “but she runs like a charm.” He’s right. It’s an older model Chevy; the paint has faded, and rust is starting to appear in spots. But when he starts it up, the engine runs smooth, and the four-in-the-floor and nice stereo system are additional selling points.
The six-hundred-dollar price tag seals the deal. I’ve never cared much what a vehicle looks like, as long as it gets me to where I’m going. Dependability over beauty when it comes to a car for me.
* * * * *
On Monday night, imagine my surprise when Wertzel meets me at the time clock. He gestures with a finger pressed against his lips. “Mum’s the word, Deal Pickle. Come…I want to show you something.”
He leads me to a small room beside Layaway. Inside are a bank of security cameras, a small desk with two folding chairs, and two composition-size booklets lying on top. One of them is titled “Store Security: Procedures and Protocol,” and the other (somewhat thicker one) is labeled “Incident Reports.”
He takes me over to the last camera and hits a button that stops the current action. He pushes another, and the screen goes to rewind. He takes it back to early Saturday morning. The screen reappears with the date and time displayed in the top corner.
At first, it shows me working off the pallet in housewares, and then it scans over to the candy aisle. It shows a boy taking a candy bar from the end of the shelf and the upper shelf falling down upon his hand and something falling to the floor from underneath. Then, it shows Sherman coming up quickly and putting the object in the kid’s shirt pocket. By now, you can make out it’s a finger. He turns the boy and motions him toward the front of the store.
The screen goes blank. That’s it! There’s nothing more. It doesn’t show Sherman holding a knife or our confrontation with the mop handle and box of candy.
I don’t know how he did it, but I can smell a lawsuit coming down for Super Sale. I can’t believe what I’m seeing and tell him so.
“What is this bullshit, Sherman?”
He gives me a wicked weasel grin. “I don’t know what you thought you saw that night, but this is what happened. I was startled when you came at me with that broom handle.”
His mentioning of this tells me I’m not losing my mind.
“I know what I saw. Keep your distance from me from now on, Sherm,” I warn him before storming out of his office.
Instead of going back to the warehouse, I go up to the front office. Frances is at her desk doing paperwork.
She looks up. “Mitchell, it’s good to see you back. Are you feeling better?”
“I was until Wertzel replayed that video.”
“I know…such a tragic accident. But there is good news. They were able to reattach the boy’s finger.”
“What the video shows isn’t how I recall it at all,” I tell her.
She puts her pen down. “The mind can play tricks during a traumatic event. Sherman and the boy confirmed what the video shows.”
I feel like I’m in an episode of the Twilight Zone.
“Super Sale could be wrongfully sued,” I try to explain.
“I’m glad you have the company’s interests at heart, Mitchell. But that’s why they carry good insurance, and the boy’s going to be fine. Oh, the company is having a safety seminar next week on the proper way to reposition shelving when stocking.”
What’s the use? “Well, I guess I’ll get to work.”
“Was there something you wanted to add, Mitchell?”
“I think it’s been covered.”
“Be safe out there,” she tells me as I pull the door closed.
* * * * *
Robbie is all wide-eyed when I come to the back. “Damn, Mitch, what happened Saturday night? After I finished my skid, I came to check on you. That’s when Frances told me you went home sick. Then later I hear you take off after Wertzel with a mop handle and something about a boy getting his finger cut off. It’s like WWIII has been going on around me, and I’m in a different world.”
“All I’ve got to say is watch that guy when you’re around him.”
“Don’t worry about that. I go out of my way to avoid him.”
I smile at Robbie and clap him on the shoulder. “Let’s go see what we have tonight.”
In the overstock room, we find many buggies of clothing that have not gone out. Usually, the day crew deals with clothing, but they have gotten far behind. Robbie and I volunteer for the assignment. It’s a change of pace. That’s where Frances finds us, in the men’s department, when she comes walking up with Sherman and another guy.
She introduces him to us as Dillard Stein, a new associate of Sherman Wertzel’s. “He will be assisting Mr. Wertzel in his duties.” The new guy sticks out his hand and speaks to Robbie and me both. His eyes seem to be in a constant state of amazement, and though he talks with a slow drawl, his mind wanders as he struggles to keep up with the words spoken.
I’m thinking he’s not the brightest bulb in the pack.
He’s a big guy: almost a head taller and probably eighty pounds heavier.
I’m thinking Dillard’s neck size and his IQ run pretty close in numbers.
I’m hoping he’s a nicer guy than Sherman Wertzel, but I’m afraid that’s why Sherman brought him on—he could be easily influenced.
Frances takes him away, and I look at Robbie and say, “Now there’s a crime-fighting duo, the Weasel and his cohort Dullard.”
Robbie laughs, and we get back to work.
* * * * *
Rest of the work week goes pretty smooth until Saturday night and Sunday morning. That’s when I have my second encounter with Sherman Wertzel.
Robbie
