"Thank you, sir, for granting this interview," began the ass kissing young reporter. "Since you're retiring as CEO of one of the area's largest employers, our paper wants to feature you in a article in the Sunday edition."
"I understand that. I'm just afraid that there isn't much to interest your readers," I responded. "We are successful because we make a superior product at a competitive price. I really don't think that's a corporate secret. Most successful companies follow that formula."
"What I was looking for was a human interest angle, sir," replied the kid. "I want to know things like how long it took you to rise to the top of the company. Were you ever discouraged? How long have you worked at Norris Enterprises? Did you start at the bottom and work your way up the ladder? Was there any turning point in your career that you can point to as the day you knew you would assume leadership of the company, or was it a gradual thing?" quizzed the whiz kid.
"You're serious aren't you? I guess you're too young to remember the business climate in 2009. It was a very difficult period, as you may have read in some history books. You probably think dinosaurs walked the planet ten years ago," I mused. "You'll learn that time tends to slip away. Actually, I vividly remember the day I realized I was destined for success with this company, like it was yesterday and not ten years ago.
"The story isn't going to be what you might be expecting, so just sit back and I'll try to reconstruct events as I remember them. You have a few minutes, don't you?" I asked as I leaned back in my chair and thought about that spring day so long ago.
The ringing of my cell phone woke me. By the time I found where I had dropped my pants on the floor the previous evening, the ringing had stopped. A quick glance at my cell told me that I had missed seven calls! I had gone to sleep after Leno's monologue. The clock on the nightstand showed it was just a few minutes after six AM. Something had to be up to get so many calls between midnight and six!
The last call had come from my boss' home phone. I punched in the number and waited for an answer.
"Hello, Frank?" answered what sounded to be an agitated Marge Larson. "I'm glad you called back! There's hell to pay around here. You'd better get home as soon as possible. My husband, your wife, and your wife's brother-in-law are in the hospital. They'll recover, so don't worry about them too much, but you need to get back here and help me clean up all the shit that went through the proverbial fan."
"What the hell are you talking about, Marge?" I demanded. "Why are so many people in the hospital? Was there an accident, or a bombing? What happened?"
"I only wish the reason were so mundane, Frank. I have to leave for the hospital, then visit my lawyer's, and finally get to the plant and see if I can figure out what the hell is going on. I wish I had been paying more attention to the business lately."
"Roberta knows the situation fairly well, Marge. Let her take care of the business while you concentrate on more pressing matters," I suggested as my mind struggled to make order out of the information Marge had disclosed to me.
"Oh, yeah, Roberta! I forgot to mention that she's in jail. I have to go now, Frank. Just try to get your ass back as soon as you can. I need you here!" urged Marge as she terminated the call.
I checked out of the motel and pointed my car toward route 81 north. As I drove, I tried making some phone calls to determine what was going on at home. My wife and sister-in-law didn't answer their cells. My wife's parents professed no knowledge other than that my wife and their other son-in-law were both in the hospital. Both my kids were living in the Washington DC area and wouldn't know any more than I, if that much. I arrived back in my home town almost three hours later with no further knowledge of the situation.
I walked into the hospital at nine AM and went immediately to the desk. I soon discovered my wife had been treated for a broken nose and a concussion. She was now under observation, whatever that meant. She smiled weakly when I was shown into her room.
"Frank! This is all a huge mistake, Darling. You have to believe me," she began.
"Well that's really good news, Tessa!" I replied sarcastically. "I guess the rainbow colors around your face and the fact you were unconscious for half an hour or so fooled the medical staff here. They mistakenly thought something had happened to you. If it's an error, we may be able to get a big malpractice settlement. Let's go home."
"No, Frank, that part wasn't a mistake. I have a concussion and a broken nose. I'll have to have surgery once the swelling goes down. The mistake was what happened with Jeff," she revealed, before slowly adding, "and Jack."
"That pretty well explains everything, Tessa," I acknowledged. "You're all fucked up because of a mistake, as you put it that involves my boss and your sister's husband. Can you possibly anticipate any questions I might have, answer them, and prevent us from doing this the hard way?"
"I can guess some of the things that you could be wondering about, Frank, but I'm still recovering from a concussion and don't think it would be a good idea to talk too much right now. I'll be better soon and we can discuss everything then, okay?"
"I see that all that time working for a law firm is paying off in spades, Tessa," I snapped. "You just rest up. While you're at it, maybe you'll dream up some sort of story that will explain everything to my satisfaction, and probably demonstrate that you're a helpless victim of some sort of conspiracy."
I was too angry to remain in the same room with my wife. I had already learned that she, my boss, and her sister's husband were all taken from my house by ambulance the previous evening. Add to that the fact that my immediate superior at work, Roberta, was arrested and hauled off to jail at the same time, and also from my house, created feelings of anxiety and concern I couldn't shake. Was I paranoid to worry about such trivial matters? Then she tells me that she's too fragile to tell me what the fuck went on last night, in my house?
As I reached the lobby on my way out of the hospital, I was stopped by a man in a suit. He flashed me some sort of ID with a lot of small print I couldn't read without my cheaters. Even though I'm a bit far-sighted, I could easily tell the guy was a cop of some kind. Things were getting more interesting every minute.
"Mr. Barker?" he began the questioning. "Could I ask you a few questions? You have some time, don't you? You can't take your wife home for a few hours, can you?"
"By almost any definition, you just did," I replied with irritation. "Will that be all? Or are there more?"
