for hire

I was out to dinner with a bunch of Tom’s law school buddies. It was excruciating for me, as I never could keep my mouth shut at those things. Some people found it charming – well, one person did, but for the most part, people hoped I wouldn’t say exactly the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time.  I was your basic loose cannon. Goddess bless Tom for tolerating me.

A tax attorney named Karen told me how wonderful Tom was and how everyone there just adored him.  Then she asked me what I did for a living.  “Oh, I’m a researcher in the library at the Trib.”

“The Trib has a library.”

“Haha.  Yes, we do.”  I started explaining how it was like private investigative work – you know, piecing crime details together. “Sometimes,” I said, “I get to work on a very old homicide, a cold case. And sometimes, I get to work on a piece that really reaches my heart. I live for that. What do you do?”

I knew I’d regret that question.  My mind wandered immediately – something about Wall St. and investment bankers and I started wondering where the food was and where was the bathroom?

“So, pretty much, it’s a bore compared to what you do.”

“Oh, I don’t know.  News gets to be pretty routine after awhile,” I tried to comfort her.  Suddenly it was as if someone were projecting a short 8mm movie on to my third eye. Black and white.  Flashing lights.  I could see a car stopped on the shoulder of a highway.  Its  lights were flashing.  A young man was on the ground next to the car. It was not as if he’d been swiped by another car. The trunk to his car was open.  Something wasn’t right.

“I am so sorry.”  She seemed to know I knew.  “This was recent.”

She nodded.  “Last week.”

“Wow.  Okay . That’s why.  Gary, Gregg?”

“Craig.  My brother.”

“He was shot.  Robbery?”

“His car broke down by the side of the road and another car came to help him – only they didn’t help him.  They killed him.  He was approached from behind and shot in the head.”

“Unreal. How old?” I was feeling the other coast.  “Are you from California?”

She nodded.  “He was in Seattle, though. When it happened. He was 2 years younger than I am. 38.”

“A week ago? Well, he says hello.  He says he’s fine.  He’s a real chatterbox, actually.”

She laughed. “Yes, he is.” She patted her eyes with a napkin.  “I just came back from sprinkling his ashes on Mt. Rainier.”

My eyes welled up.  There was a lump in my throat. “My son is visiting relatives in Seattle right now and today he went up on Mt. Rainier. ”  She looked at me helplessly. “Well, my dear,” I said, touching her hand, “You have been through a lot.  If you ever need to talk, call me, okay? Or call Tom and tell him to have me call.  What’s your number? I’ll call it and that way you’ll have mine.”

“I’m sorry.  I couldn’t help overhearing,”  a handsome, prematurely gray lawyer – or so I thought – sitting next to me said.

“Not at all,” Karen said.  She seemed relieved that someone had broken the trance.

“I’m Norah O’Connell, Tom’s girlfriend.”

“Tom?”

“No problem. I’m crashing the party too.”

“I’m Sean,” he laughed. “Listen, I couldn’t help hearing the two of you talk.  I’m sorry, I’m Sean,” he said, extending his hand to Karen.

“Karen.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.  I noticed Norah was able to tune into your brother.”

“Yes, it was really beautiful,” she said.  “And unsolicited to boot,” she smiled at me.

“I try to keep my mouth shut at these things,” I said, looking down.

“Join the club, Norah. I’m a writer, a true crime writer. And I’ve kind of been blocked on this one murder and I’m wondering if you ever do your chanelling – is that what you call it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, do people ever hire you?  Because I would love to work with you.”

“I’m a researcher at the Trib,” I blurted out.  Let’s just get the journalism thing out of the way, I figured.

“Oh, I used to freelance there.”

“Okay, so I’ll work with you, but I don’t want anyone to know about it.”

“No problem,” he said, handing me his card.  I tucked it into my back pocket – not sure if I’d do anything with it.

The party was breaking up. I grabbed my jean jacket. In the right hand pocket, I felt something rubbery and bumpy. “What the hell is this?” I muttered.  I pulled out a lavender-tinged, glow in the dark frog with a suction cup bottom. I cracked up.  In all of the fumbling around the other morning, I’d grabbed a glow in the dark frog.  I joked with Ryan that it might help us see our way to the car.  Even in the dark, I could feel his eyes roll.  Anyhow, it made me laugh – so I’d stuck it in my pocket.

Of course, as soon as I felt the frog I heard Karen’s brother, a gorgeous, tall, dark curly haired man. “Give her the frog.”

“Good goddess.  She’ll think I’m nuts.”

“So?  Add her to the list, Norah.”

“I am not adding one of his law school buddies to the list.”

“Okay, please?”

“Please is not going to help.”

“Come on, I’ll do anything for you.”

“Oh, you better watch out for that promise.”

I could feel his love for Karen. My heart chakra was heating up the way it does when I feel love between two souls.

“Okay, okay.” I summoned up my courage and made my way to Karen.

“Okay, so I know this is going to sound like I’m nuts, but try to remember, I’m  a journalist.  And not that that makes me sane or anything, but I do try to stay grounded and objective.” I wasn’t even convincing myself.  Karen waited patiently.

“So, I have a message from your brother.  I’m sorry, what was his name again?”

“Craig.”

“That’s right. I’m sorry. You did tell me. Well,  Craig has been bugging me and he won’t shut up until I give you this.” I held out the glow in the dark frog.  “I am sorry. I know it makes like no sense, but I had to give it to you or your brother would have kept me up all night – chattering away. ”

“It’s okay.  Thank you,” Karen said politely.  I thought, thank the goddess she is humoring me.

A couple of days later, Karen called Tom and asked to speak with me. I was a little nervous, because I felt foolish still.

“Hey, Karen.”

“Is this the frog lady?” Karen teased.

“It is.  Do you want to give the frog back?  Because you can’t.” I teased back.

“I absolutely do not.  I wanted to tell you something really funny that happened that night.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Well, I came home from the dinner  and I went to open my emails and there was an email from one of our cousins.  He said he had been  looking for photos of  Craig and he’d run across  some really funny ones from a frog festival they’d been to a few years back. So he sent me a few of the pictures”

“Oh my god.”

“Yes, I thought it was so beautiful. I just wanted to thank you. So much, Norah. Really.”

“Sure. My pleasure. Truly. His too, I hope.”  We laughed.  “Hey, no offense, Craig, but enough outta you, baby,” I grinned.