Some Research On Green Mountain

 

(It's such a short story so far that I am posting all of it. )

I’m doing this old school, I thought, watching the sign painter finish the gold lettering on my office door window. “Nikita Rosen Agency.” I had the hat and the suit. “Professional, Personal Spook.” The small letters. If you can’t have fun with it, what’s the use? I’m on the second floor above the Vintage Café. That’s where I got the idea for the lettering.

I had business cards made. “You have a question you can’t answer? Maybe I can help!” Phone number and official email address.

Bit and character parts suited me well. I was not the kind of woman you notice in a group. Stealthy. It helps a spook to be invisible, but just solid enough to handle material objects. OK. Five eight, brown hair, blue eyes, light skin. I blend right into the scenery.

Apparently, my parents were big jokers. They came up during the N. Khrushchev era. As University Art School students in the late 60s they were lefties, as would be expected. Maybe they thought N.K. was cute. They were Jews but didn’t know how to go about it. So, they joked around a lot, had long hair, painty clothes and did as they wished. Nothing was better than a practical joke. They are still like that. Boomers.

Enter their best joke of all. At home they called me Nikky. At school they called me Nik. It did not go well for anyone who said Nikita.

This is the part of the story where I am looking for work. I put a discrete ad in the University paper. I built an old-fashioned looking website. I told the old babes in the apartment building I was looking for snoopy work. That ought to get the news out there.

I furnished my office with old style oak office furniture. Nothing much, a desk, large, a wooden office chair. Chair for the client, a bit cushier than mine. The usual electronic devices. A file cabinet, even if it never gets used. A lamp. Two framed prints on the walls of local scenery. I had time to get them adjusted just right on the wall. I thought, “there is something missing! A big old black rotary phone on the desk.” I made a mental note. I sat there some more. Minutes ticked by. No phone rang. No email binged in.

I went home. My cat, a fifteen-pound tabby named Richard, looked askance at me. Somehow, he always knows if I am running short on money. Not sure why he cares. He received a can of pure grain free chicken gloop. I had one of those bagged salads that comes with its own dressing and several packets of crunchy things. I would rather skip dinner than cook. Maybe if I had someone besides Richard to cook for things would be different.

Next morning, leaving my apartment building, I remembered that I wanted that old style phone. I didn’t have a landline, of course, but I might get one.

I was standing in the local thrift pit staring at a row of rotary phones in the colors of all eras when my cell phone rang.

*** 

Pulling it out of my pocket I glanced at the screen. It was Steve Shaw, anthropology prof up at the U. I had nearly married him last year, but we were still on speaking terms. Prof and student fraternization. Fraught with drama.

“Hey, Steve, wuzzup,” I whispered into the celly. Nobody in this old junk store needed to know what was up beside me.

“Nikky, I have a weird little problem I thought you might be interested in. Where are you? Can you talk?” quacked Steve from the mobile speaker.

“I’m in Value Village, hang on. I’ll check out and call you from my car.”

I grabbed a serious looking black rotary number and headed up to the check stand. I gave the worldly wise manbun type at the counter my debit card and he charged me 4.99 and tax. Then he handed me the phone in a carrier bag. It’s tough to be too cool to ask questions. Well, I didn’t help him out there.

I drive a Little Boy Blue 2014 Mustang. It stands out in a parking lot, always. I take very good care of her. I always name cars. Elise. Yup.

“So, Steve,” I said, settling into the driver’s seat, “what’s your weird little problem. Is this a professional call?”

Sounding a little cool, he said, “sure, if you want it to be Nikky.”

“Great, you are client number one Steve,” I chirped happily.

“I need to know something. I can’t know it officially or have my department even know that I do or don’t know or even if that I have heard of the question,” said Steve in a rush of words.

“That really nails it down Steve. Tell me more. Your secrets are safe with me.”

“I sent six students up into the Baker National Forest, up the Green Mountain forest-service road. They were supposed to be researching a site up there and they saw something. Something I don’t dare notice, but I have to know. What they saw was seven feet tall, female, with an infant clinging to her back. If these kids are pulling my leg, I’ll mangle em. They could get me fired and laughed at for the rest of my life, if I even admit I know what they are alleging.”

“How may I serve you, Steve? What do you want me to do about this?” He couldn’t see the silly grin on my face, now, could he?

“Well, Nikky, I thought maybe since you’re a chick investigator now you might be able to get close to this bush woman BF mom thing. I feel like an idiot even saying those words,” muttered Steve. “I’ll pay.”

I glanced at my own face in the rear-view mirror. Did I see a trace of wolfishness there? Surely not!

“Go armed Nikky,” said Steve. I could see an expedition coming up. I was already figuring out what to take up on Green Mountain. I knew my way around a handgun. No problem there.

“I have two questions Steve. One, did this creature seem hostile in any way. Two, what if I can’t find her? I will still have to charge you for my time and the mounting of a safari. Are you willing to take that chance?”

“She was picking berries. She was handing them over her shoulder to the kid, whatever. She was carrying a crude basket and had quite a lot of blackberries in it. When my kids, if this is even true, burst upon the scene, she laughed at their shock and wandered slowly uphill,” said Steve. “They didn’t dare follow her.” 

“I’m good for it, whether you succeed in locating her or not. If you do, though, I want good photos, maybe some video if you get a chance. This has to be for sure if it is at all.”