What a Week!

"Why don't you tell me a little about yourself? Like growing up, your family, what you like to do in your spare time, going to school, your job, what your home in Minnesota was like, whether you like cats or dogs, your favorite color, and anything you have strong feelings about."

That drew a smile and just the start of a chuckle. "I went to school in Minnesota, all the way from Kindergarten through grad school. In high school I was on the swim team, and I fooled around a little with gymnastics but I wasn't coordinated enough. In my spare time now I go to the gym to work out, just to keep myself in shape, and I enjoy hiking when the weather is good. My parents moved here to be near me, and also of course to get away from the cold winters in Minnesota. What else did you ask?"

"Your favorite color?"

"I like blue, as you can see from this old sweatsuit. How'd I do? Did I pass the test?"

"With flying colors, whatever that means. I guess the color that's flying tonight is blue. For both of us. Is Jenkins Engineering your first employer out of grad school?"

"Yes. It's an interesting job. I'm exposed to all the intricacies of engineering design and analysis and testing, even though I don't know how to do any of that. My part in it is to make sure that everything that goes on in our project is within our budgetary guidelines and that we are not only on schedule now, but also that our forward projections show that we'll finish on schedule. I'm finding out that it's not like building a house, but more like creating a whole new technology. It'd be like building a house if first you had to invent wood and nails and concrete, and also saws and hammers and trowels.

Our client wouldn't have contracted for this work to be done by an engineering firm if they had any idea how to do it themselves. So the client is eager to see progress and anxious to have the whole project finished, but at the same time they're uneasy because they don't understand what our engineers are doing. In terms of the technology, this is out in the wild blue yonder, so there are a lot of surprises and we have to look to the client for decisions that nobody knew they'd have to make, back in the beginning. That means changes in what we've got to do, which means well documented change orders, to keep from blowing the budget and losing money on a job that ought to be profitable. To soften the blow I have to gather up good news from the engineers and send out glowing progress reports to keep the client happy with our progress. Our engineers get impatient with the need to keep communicating as we go. They'd far rather be left alone to do their work. Putting them in solitary confinement until they're done would make them happier than having me hovering at their elbows.

So an important part of my job has turned out to be getting along with people in house who don't see any need to have me there at all, and presenting our client with problems that make them uncomfortable and getting them to agree to contract changes to take care of those sticky problems. I can smile when there's nothing to smile about, and dump unwelcome ideas in people's laps and get them to accept them."

"It sounds as if this is a lot different from what you were led to expect when you were in school. Are you happy with your work, or do you wish you'd gone into something else?"

"Oh, I like it. It's challenging but there are satisfactions that come from organizing some of the chaos, and getting approval of things that our people were afraid the client would balk at. I'm finding out that to do the job right I have to put in a lot of hours, but the salary is about fifty per cent more than the next best job I was offered. They warned me in the beginning that at times I'd have to put in a lot of time to get the job done. It's not as if I have a lot of other things to spend my time on.

"The downside is that because the work is so different from anything I've done before or anything I learned in school, I feel a little insecure. I should just let myself feel satisfied with the things I've done well, but something inside doesn't let me feel comfortable with that. I find myself using the success of the project to measure my self worth, which is stupid of me because that makes my value dependent on the work of a lot of other people. So all that gives me something to fight with myself about.

"This week has been tough. Long hours, hard work, lots of frustrations. I was already feeling pretty down when I walked out of work, and the relief I felt because it was Friday was about the only positive emotion I'd had all week. Then I got to the street corner and that punk snatched my purse from me. I felt just about destroyed."

"I wasn't going to bring that up again, but since you did, what do you plan to do about canceling credit cards and all that?"

"I have all my cards photocopied, front and back, and the copies are in my desk at work. As soon as I get there I need to start making phone calls."

"Would you like me to take you there, so you can get all that done this morning?"

"I guess so. It'd work out well because the office will be about empty so I won't have any distractions. I can get into the building all right because I have my ID badge. I have my copy of the police report, so I can refer to the number on that. If I could get that out of the way today it'd be great. But won't that interfere with your plans?"

"Mel, you flatter me. I'm one of those engineers you were talking about who would be comfortable working in solitary confinement. Five days a week I'm buried in my work, and it's like living under a rock. Then on Saturday mornings I crawl out and look at the sunshine, and ask myself what I feel like doing to unwind. Whatever it is, I just do it and let it clear my mind so I can relax a little. Bachelor life isn't anything like married life, and since that didn't work out all that well for me, I now have my unplanned, unscripted weekends. Almost anything that doesn't hurt is okay with me. Maybe I can deliver you to where you work and go off and browse through an art museum while you take care of your phone calls. I'll give you my cell phone number and you can call me when you're almost finished, so I can be there to pick you up. Think that'll work?"

"That'd be great. I'm imposing on you, but I don't have a lot of choice. As humbling as it is, I really have to depend on your kindness because I'm so totally helpless."

"Suppose we get your phone calls taken care of, then swing by your house and make sure it didn't get broken into last night. You really ought to get the locks changed. We can call a locksmith and have him meet us there. Another thing is that we ought to go to your bank so you can get a new ATM card. Most banks around here close at noon on Saturday so we'd better do that first. And the DMV - better give them a call and see what their Saturday hours are."

"You're right again. What's wrong with me? I'm the one with the degree in management. My mind is in such a mess that I couldn't manage a trip to buy a loaf of bread. I ought to be thinking of these things and organizing a plan. And you, Pete, you're telling me that your Saturdays are completely unstructured, yet you're the one who's mapping out all these things that I need to be doing. What's with that?"

"Just rising to the occasion, that's all. Chalk up forty per cent to the old saw about 'A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do,' and sixty per cent to going all out to impress a beautiful young woman. In other words, some of it's the way I was brought up, and the rest is pure testosterone."

"Oh!"

"Oh, I'm sorry if I shocked you with my explanation. I'm just being honest. But don't worry. I won't attack you or take advantage of you. You're still safe with me. I'm the same person this morning that I was last night, and you made it through the night all right."

"Well, yes, I see what you mean. But I wasn't expecting that any kind of sexual overtones would, um." Long pause. "What I mean is, well, oh, I don't know what I mean. Forget I said anything at all."

"I've made you uncomfortable again, haven't I. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Let's just get ready to travel and go take care of your errands. I'll try to be more diplomatic."

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SATURDAY AFTERNOON

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By mid afternoon we were at a good stopping place. Mel had gotten a new bank card, called all of the companies that had issued the cards she lost in her purse, followed up with confirmation by email, and got a replacement driver's license. All the locks on her house were re-keyed so that the old keys wouldn't let anybody in. We hadn't had any lunch, so I declared that it was time for a break. Three blocks from her house we found Barney's Pub, and went in for a sandwich and a beer.

Mel sat back in her chair and let out a long sigh. "Oh, it's so good to have all that taken care of. I'm sorry that I've been such a pain. You've been a life saver, Pete. With the house all locked up again, I can pack up my stuff and get out of your hair now."

"I'm sure you're eager to sleep in your own bed again. But before you go dashing for home, I think we ought to talk this over."

"What's to talk about?"

"Your house. Look, I don't know very much about burglary. I have a varied resume, but it doesn't include breaking and entering. I suppose that going into somebody's house and stealing their stuff is business as usual to some people. Finding that the keys won't work would probably be a disappointment to a professional thief, but I don't know whether it would stop him cold. If he'd gone to the trouble to travel all the way across town to your house and had his mind made up to clean you out, I'm not sure that the keys not working would stop him. Why wouldn't he just go ahead and break something to get in, and go ahead as planned."

"But how could he get in?"

"I doubt that he'd do anything out in front, where he could be seen from the street and the houses nearby, so maybe he'd go around the back and punch out a window or whatever."

"Oh. But I'll be in there."

"Exactly. That's what I'm leading up to."

"You mean he'd come into the house with me in there? But why?"

"Well, basically the same reason we go to work five days a week. This is his profession, the way he earns a living. But it's a risky profession, and long ago when he decided to make it his life's work, he must have made up his mind not to let anybody stand in his way. In other words, if he comes in and finds you there, he'll probably take care of you first and then go on and rob the house. You just wouldn't make any difference to him."

"Well, then what should I do? I don't have a gun to keep under my pillow, or even a baseball bat to club somebody with. I don't have any way to keep myself safe from attack. This is awful. Oh, Pete, I'm getting scared."

"All I can think of is that maybe I ought to stay with you for a few nights to help protect you, or else you ought to stay with me for a few nights. Really, that'd be the simplest, because we're right in your neighborhood now, so we could just go back to your house and you could get enough clothes to wear to work for, say, this week."

"All week?"

"I don't know. How many nights do you think we ought to give this guy?"

"Oh, this is awful. I don't know what to do. Help me, Pete."

"Okay, we'll compromise. Let's pick up enough clothes for three days, all right? I'll try to get Detective Vincent on the phone and talk this over with him. The police must know a lot more about burglars than we do. Maybe we ought to get an alarm system put in. I had one put into my house, but I paid a guy to do it because I don't know anything about that stuff."

"We have a security team at work. Maybe they know something about it. I can talk with them on Monday, see what they have to say."

"Okay, so Monday night you'll have information from your security guys, and I'll have whatever I can find out from the police, and we'll put our heads together and work out a plan. Right now we'd better get back to your house and pick up your clothes for work."

We emptied our glasses and went out to my SUV. I drove down Mel's street and was about to park in front of her house when I noticed a van in the driveway. "Do you recognize that van?"

"No. My parents have a Lexus, and it's parked in the garage. They took a shuttle to the airport, and they'll come back the same way, but not for two more weeks."

"Okay. I'm going down the street to park and call the police."

I went to the end of the block and made a U turn, then pulled up at the curb and called 911 on my cell phone. The 911 operator asked that we stay on the line until the police showed up. I drove slowly back past Mel's house so we could read the license number on the van and give it to her. Then we parked across the street beyond her house, and waited.

It was only about five minutes later that a police cruiser came up the street and parked across from us, and in my mirror I saw another cruiser parking a few houses back the other way. Mel had her keys out, and she took her new driver's license with her and went over to talk with the policeman who showed up first. I saw him punching something in on his dashboard computer terminal, and then he handed the license back to her and walked up to the front door with her keys in his hand. I looked back and saw the other policeman walking along the driveway, toward the back of the house. Mel came back to the SUV and got in, watching nervously.

The first policeman was inside the front door by then and we had our windows down so we could hear what was happening. All was quiet for a few seconds, and then a man's voice shouted. The first word was "police" but we couldn't make out the rest. Then it was quiet for maybe a minute, until we heard a gunshot. Immediately there were two more, close together. Then a pause, and two more close together. Then it was quiet again.

"I hate to tell you this, Mel, but I think they've made a mess of your house."

No sooner had I said those words than the cell phone, which I had laid on the center console and forgotten about, came to life again. The 911 operator asked, "Are you still out in front of the house?"

"Yes, across the street in my car."

"Good. Stay there. Whatever you do, don't go in the house. There has been a serious injury, and an ambulance is on the way. Keep this line open and I'll tell you what to do, but for now just sit there."

"What happened? We heard shots. Are the policemen all right?"

"Yes, but that's all I can tell you right now. In a little while you'll know all about it."

As she was saying that, I heard a siren coming from behind us. The sound got louder, and then died as an ambulance pulled up in front of the house and parked. About the time that the medics were getting out of the ambulance, I heard another siren coming from the opposite direction, and pretty soon an unmarked car pulled right up to the front of my SUV and parked. The door opened and Detective Vincent walked up to the SUV. He stuck his head in my window and asked, "Is the 911 operator still on the line?"

"Yes. Here, take the phone."

"Are you there, Lois? Yeah, Steve Vincent. I'll take it from here, so you can hang up. Your first one, isn't it? Good work, holding it all together like that. I'll tell Greg when I see him."

He punched the off button and handed the phone back to me. "Just stay here until I come back for you. It's going to take at least half an hour to get our work done in the house. If there hadn't been any shooting it'd be a lot simpler. The ambulance guys have to do their thing, and some people will come and take a lot of pictures and get fingerprints, and then we can get out of your hair."

"How would it be if we go down to Barney's Pub and wait there? Here's my card, with my cell phone number circled. Would that work for you?"

"Probably a good idea." While we were talking, an ambulance attendant came out the front door and stepped into the back of the ambulance. He came out and went back to the house, carrying a beige colored package under his arm. "Yeah, now that I've seen that, I'd say Barney's is an excellent idea. You could easily be waiting an hour, maybe two."

"Why, what'd he get?"

"A body bag. Well, there goes my golf game." He started to move away and then turned back toward us. "Why in the world would anybody be so dumb as to start a gunfight with a couple of cops? Cause of death is terminal stupidity."

Barney's was busier than when we left. We got a table and I got a white wine for Mel and a club soda with a lime squeeze for me. Jack Daniel's would've hit the spot but I was driving, and I figured we'd be there long enough to have a few refills.

If I had to describe Mel's condition in one word, I'd say numb. The reason I can say that with assurance is that I wasn't very far behind. I tried to make conversation, but my heart wasn't in it, and I doubt that she even heard me anyway. When she was halfway down in her wine glass, she set it down on the table and put her arms out straight in front of her, kind of like pushing the world away from her, and she shuddered. Then she relaxed her body and turned to me, as if she'd just noticed that I was there. "Pete, what a weekend! I feel awful about getting you involved in this mess, but I thank God that you're here with me. I'm calling in to work and telling them that I'm going to be out for several days. After all this, I need time to get myself back together. When we can get back into the house I'm just picking up casual clothes. In answer to your kind invitation to stay with you a while longer, I'll be happy to do so, and I thank you.

"My house - I don't know whether I can ever bring myself to stay there or not. I doubt that it'll be really haunted, but in my mind it will be. I liked that house, but it's going to be hard to go into it without thinking of that horrible man. I wonder if he's the same one who stole my purse. He left me feeling violated, and then he went into my house, where I'm supposed to feel safe. He must have had a gun, so if I'd been in there I'd probably be dead now. And instead of surrendering to the police he tried to shoot them. His mind was filled with terrible intentions, robbing and killing, when he died. If his spirit is lingering, it might be still angry and full of hate and greed.

Mel paused, and seemed to be retreating from our booth at Barney's to somewhere out in space where she could examine herself objectively. Then her words came out, rapidly, all in a gush. "I don't know if I'd like to live where that man died. I wonder if it'll feel different when I go back in there. Maybe I'll feel his awful thoughts and feelings. No concern for other people, just thinking of himself. Evil. That's what he was, evil. A violent, evil man. His intentions were evil and his feelings were evil and his actions were evil and that's how he died.

"I'm just glad it's over. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad he's dead. Is it wrong to feel that way? If it is, I don't care. It's how I feel. He made me feel this way. It wasn't my idea. Maybe I should think how he did me a favor, coming to rob me and getting killed by the police. He gave me, what do they call it on TV? Starts with a C. Closure? That's it, closure. But I still feel violated. Damned crook! Rotten, through and through!"

The torrent of words came to a halt and I sat there looking at her. There was nothing I could add to any of it. She had spilled all those words out, but they were honest words and she was certainly entitled to think and feel that way. I reached over and took her hand in mine. "I'm still here for you. Whatever I can do for you, I'll do it. But just as you were saying, the ball's in your court now. You'll have to come to grips with this, pull yourself together, feel what you feel and reconcile yourself with it. What you're doing, expressing your reaction to what happened, is probably the best thing. Just don't shove it all down deep, where it can come bubbling up later and make your life miserable forever.