Gene's assistant greets Zandra the next morning at the office downtown.
"You must be the cleaning lady," the assistant says from the reception area in front of a thick door marked G.C.
"Sort of. Is Mr. Carey in?" Zandra says and sets her small, black suitcase down.
"He called in sick, but he said you can still clean the office."
Maybe I picked the wrong ditch weed this time.
The assistant unlocks Gene's office. Zandra goes inside and moves to close the door behind her.
"I hope you don't mind my privacy," Zandra says.
"Of course. Mr. Carey said you were a special kind of cleaner," the assistant says and returns to the reception area.
Zandra's normal roster of props stay inside the suitcase. She goes right for the digital camera hidden up her sleeve. A quick scan of the office shows it's not going to be much use.
The office didn't have much to begin with, but now it's down to a table, chairs and a locked filing cabinet. The paperwork, stacked high during yesterday's visit, is missing. So are the computer and generic supplies. Even the crystal dish with peppermints is missing.
Zandra takes her time reviewing what little is there. Nothing pops out at her, which is alarming in its own right. She snaps a few pictures for good measure. Then she burns a sprig of actual sage from the grocery store to keep up appearances. Hums her muffin recipe in Latin for the assistant to hear.
She wonders if she'll have better luck at Gene's home given he's sick, but something tells her the odds of that happening are low. A twist of the doorknob confirms it. Locked.
Zandra knocks a couple times for the assistant. They're polite at first, then more urgent when she doesn't get a response. She waits a few minutes in case the assistant stepped out for a spell. Then a few more. And more. The knocking only makes her knuckles hurt. It's no use. She's locked in.
Zandra's mind rationalizes the situation. It's probably an honest mistake. Gene removed anything remotely sensitive from the office for the "cleansing." Makes sense. The probably assistant left for errands. Mere coincidences? Maybe. But this isn't just anyone. This is Gene Carey. It wouldn't surprise her if this were intentional. What kind of assistant leaves the office while it's being "cleaned" by someone like Zandra?
She walks to the window and looks down. It's quite a drop, and the window is locked anyway. The desk phone is missing, too. And Zandra is probably the last person on Earth to not carry a cell phone.
Someone will find her eventually. Resigned to her wait, Zandra reaches for a cigarette to pass the time but stops. The room needs to smell like sage.
They'd better hurry up.
And not just for the cigarettes. Being in this room reminds her of that time. The memories sizzle back to the surface like a deep rash.
David. Where did you go, David?