“So we delivered to Bindings, and what happened?”
“They said it wasn’t theirs. Refused delivery. Harvey made the delivery, said it confused the heck out of him, but they were insistent.”
Weird. Still, it had to be someone who knew Bindings was a client, even knew their account number (which was printed in neat capital letters in the appropriate box).
“Nice signature.”
“No kidding.” Chicken scratch. It looked like a real signature. Frankly, there was no need to make up a name if your handwriting was that bad. Damned if I could figure out what it said.
But so far Kara had had no luck in matching the signature to the names for any Bindings employees we knew.
“What is that, an S?” I would classify the handwriting as twitchy cursive. The first letter seemed to have a tiny loop at the top, with a larger loop below. S was a good guess. I suppose D, maybe even R. They may as well have just scratched an X in the signature box.
“Sott? Maybe Scott?”
I glanced at the original bill of lading. Short would be a stretch (excuse the pun). I could see the S and the T, but the rest didn’t match up. I shrugged, and Kara agreed.
“Maybe if I pull the Bindings file, we can try to match up a name in the file with the signature?”
I’d endured less pleasurable lunch hours, so I was open to the idea.
“Okay.”
And that’s how we spent the next fifteen minutes, with one of us reading names from the correspondence in the file, and both of us examining the signature to see if it might be a possible match. Boring, to be honest. But it had the advantage of causing Kara to shift her seat next to mine, so we could both look at the signature at the same time.
In the process, I noticed her perfume. A blend of Obsession, I think, with a hint of orange and flowers, and her own natural scent. That smell conjured up images that were causing me to shift in my chair every minute or two.
“Did they change receptionists?”
I missed that, and had to ask her to repeat herself. She turned, and whispered it into my ear with a smile on her face. I shifted again in my chair, and started to wonder about how I was going to escape this room without experiencing serious embarrassment.
“Uh, the one I met was a redhead. Thirty-ish?”
“Uh huh? Hot?”
I could feel the heat rising under my collar, then creeping up the back of my neck to my ears. God help me, but I was pathetic around women.
“She was attractive.”
“Yeah. Well, I think they may have changed receptionists. The one I knew was a brunette. Boobs the size of watermelons?”
I smirked. “Don’t recall seeing those.”
“You would have recalled them. Believe me. Her name was-,” she referred to one of the older bills, “Dianne Morgan.”
“OK.” I leafed through the pages until I found one of the most recent. “Yup, looks like they have a new one. Mary O’Connell.”
“Galt.” She pulled the bill of lading from the top of the pile to look at it again. “You think it might be Dr. Galt?”
“Naw. That was an S.” I glanced at the original bill, now in her hand. Huh. I had taken the cursive letter at the start of the surname as an S, but it could be a G. A little too casual on the final loop, letting it round out rather than including the point of the G. And the horizontal line crossing the two letters at the end — that could just be sloppy as well.
“Might be. Galt. Huh. But we have a copy of his signature in the file, don’t we? “
“Yup.” She leafed through the second folder, then pulled out a letter on Bindings letterhead, original signature in pen at the bottom. “That’s what I thought. Not even close.”
“Maybe a family member?”
“Could be.”
That was interesting. “I think it’s time for me to pay a visit to the good doctor.”
I helped Kara sort the paper and put it back in the files. Then the two of us headed back to the offices. On the way, we ran into Harold.
“Hey Harold. How’s the day?”
“Looking good, boss. Though-,” he lowered his voice, leaning towards both of us. “The young fella’s been on a bad run. Just terrible.”
Sounded like the curse ring was continuing to haunt Jamar. I nodded my thanks to Harold, and headed into the lunchroom.
“Oh no! What happened?” Kara was staring at a cast on Jamar’s wrist. I was more worried by the bags under his eyes and the way they looked red and watery. I was sensing despair.
“Fell down the stairs in my apartment building. Decided I shouldn’t risk the elevator, so I tried the stairs. Three steps, slid on some gravel or something.” His voice was monotone to match his expression.
“Did you break it?”
“Broke two bones. Doctor says I may not get full motion back.”
Shit.
“C’mon. Let’s take a seat.” I took his arm and lead him into the conference room. Kara headed into the kitchen to get him a coffee.
We sat, and it felt to me as though I was facing a condemned man. The slump in his shoulders, lifelessness of his eyes. I had a bad feeling Jamar was giving up.
“You’ve got to hang in there. We’ll find a way to deal with this thing.”
He leaned forward then, one eye on the door, and I realized he was watching for Kara. With the barest of whispers, he said “This thing is killing me, man.” His eyes welled up, and his voice cracked. “I can’t live like this.”
There was the faintest of sounds from the hall, and Kara rounded the corner, two bottles of water in hand. The look on her face told me that she had heard at least part of what Jamar had said. Enough to hurt.
I sighed and leaned back in my chair. The ceiling above me was standard industrial — a drop tile grid of two foot by four foot panels. Fire, mould and sound resistant. Speckled dots on a white background, a star-filled night sky in negative.
This was turning out just great. First day the boss has a heart attack. Now, after a few weeks of constant insanity, one of my drivers was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. At this rate, I would destroy Clay’s legacy by Canada Day.
I needed a solution for Jamar, a way to deal with that damned ring. And yes, I believed that Jamar’s ring was cursed. I believed that anyone who wore that ring was subject to some sort of power or influence which attracted the negative, sort of like one of my old girlfriends. Which meant we needed to find a way to protect him, to shield him from its influence.
I continued gazing at the ceiling as I mulled this over, aware that both Jamar and Kara were now openly staring at me. I turned the issue over and over in my head, looking for a solution. But I could see only one route out of this mess. So I turned back to Jamar and leaned forward, right hand out-stretched and palm out.
“Hand it over, big guy.”
“What?”
“The ring. Give me the ring.”
“What! No, Donnie!”
At least Kara seemed concerned for my well-being. That was a good thing.
“Listen. Everything I’ve seen suggests I may not be as susceptible to this kind of thing as you guys are. I’m figuring I should be able to take it from you without being affected by the curse.”
For the first time in a long time, I could see a glimmer of hope in Jamar’s eyes. I waggled my fingers, gesturing for him to pass me the damned thing.
He paused, then in a quick gesture tugged at the band. When it slid off into his palm he looked startled, as though unable to believe it had come off. The three of us stared at it, this innocuous lump of metal that had caused so much pain. I gestured again, and he dropped it into my palm.
I admit I experienced a moment of dread. Wouldn’t have been the first time I regretted acting on a hunch.
Jamar sagged, as though he had just crossed the finish line in the New York Marathon.
“Feel anything?”
I glanced at Kara, who was watching me like I was clutching my chest.