By The Book

Annie is a would-be author and I am her character. She is driving me crazy because she wants me to solve a murder but she doesn’t know who I am.

Annie’s days are spent staring at a computer screen in the office of the Globe Insurance Company. It’s a large office with rows of cubicles upon cubicles in an ugly concrete box of a building . The few plants and pictures only serve to highlight its dreariness. Her supervisor is a gaunt, humorless woman with beady eyes named Ms. Oliphant who pounces at the least excuse.

“Hello, earth to Annie. Daydreaming again? Is that report ready yet? I need it for the meeting this afternoon.”

“Annie, what is taking you so long?”

“You need to leave fifteen minutes early for a doctor's appointment? Isn’t that the second time this month?”

You get the idea. The staff refer to her as the Elephant. Annie escapes to spend her lunch hour scribbling ideas for stories on a legal pad. She usually hides in the stairwell of the fire escape so that she can avoid her co-workers’ questions when she’s writing. They don’t seem to mind the tedium of the job. A bit of office gossip, a few nights out at the club and they’re happy enough. They think Annie’s weird but harmless.

This cold, wet Saturday is typical. Annie sits down to write. I start off as a femme fatale who leads a glamorous, high-flying life. I enjoy being dressed up in designer clothes and driving fast cars, but since Annie’s never mingled with the rich and famous, she quickly runs out of ideas. I’m stuck in a slinky red satin dress at a cocktail party in a penthouse apartment with marble floors, overlooking the sparkling city lights below. I go to powder my nose and trip over the feet of the murder victim who is halfway hidden in the cloakroom. I have no idea why I am there or who the deceased is. Annie tears up the page in frustration at this point and goes for a long walk. At least she’s getting some exercise while I am spinning around in her head, waiting for her next epiphany. We are on our second circuit of the park when a large muddy dog suddenly bounds out of the shrubbery and leaps onto Annie, knocking her over. Its owner runs up, out of breath.

“Buddy, come here at once,” she pants fumbling to grab the dog’s leash. “Wait, is that you, Annie? I am so sorry. Are you alright?”

Annie gets to her feet, brushing mud and leaves off her coat.

“Hi, Shea. Nice dog. No harm done.”

Shea works in the same office as Annie, but Annie is such a solitary creature that they barely know each other. The dog wags his tail furiously as Annie gingerly pets him.

“He’s full grown but he's still goofy. We’re starting obedience classes next week. Do you have time for coffee? My treat. It’s the least I can do. There’s a dog friendly café over there.”

I am so glad that Annie smiles and agrees.

They make their way over to the café. Buddy subsides in bliss as Annie rubs his ears.

“What were you doing walking in this weather?” Shea asks. “I wouldn’t be outside if it wasn’t for the mutt.”

Annie looks down shyly and I hold my breath. She has so little self-confidence.

“Don’t laugh. I was looking for inspiration,” she finally says. “I’m trying to write a book. A murder mystery.”

“Why would I laugh?” says Shea. “That’s cool. How far have you got?”

“Not far,” Annie says with a sigh. “I have a female detective. She’s beautiful and sexy and tough as nails. She comes across a murder at a fancy party that a lot of rich, famous people are attending…and now I’m stuck. I don’t even know who the victim is or why he was killed.”

I’m stuck too. I can’t go slinking about in red satin forever.

Shea frowns and sips her coffee. She takes a deep breath.

“Can I be honest?”

“Please,” says Annie. “I need all the help I can get.”

“I think that idea’s been done before. Don’t they say you should write what you know? What do we know about how the other half lives? We wouldn’t be at the Globe with old Elephant breathing down our necks if we did. She threatened to send me to HR the other day for being late. I told her I was trapped for thirty minutes in the elevator when it broke down again and she could check with the CEO who was also there if she didn’t believe me. She didn’t even apologize. In front of the whole office too. I could have killed her. What? Did I say something?”

Annie is beaming and I smile.

“I think I just found my murder victim. Don’t look so worried. I mean for my book.”

“That’s a relief,” Shea says, laughing. “You’re so reserved that no one really knows you and they say the quiet ones are the ones to watch out for.”

“I don't know why I'm trying to write about the high life. I have no idea what it’s like to be wealthy other than reading People magazine. I bet you’re not the only one that the Elephant has upset. I don’t wish her any harm, but people like her make enemies."

"I wonder why she's so bitter,” Shea says. “Was she ever married? What happened to the husband? I could see her being like one of those spiders that eats their mate. So, you have your victim. But what about your detective?”

I am on tenterhooks. Maybe I’ll finally get out of this dress. Annie takes a deep breath.

“Here goes. Tell me if you think this is crazy. Could you or I solve a crime?”

Shea rubs her chin and thinks.

“You, maybe. No one notices you’re there most of the time, but you’re sharp as a tack behind that mousy exterior. I’m too loud and scatterbrained.”

Annie springs to her feet.

“Thank you, Shea. You’ve been a huge help. So glad Buddy knocked me down or we’d never have had this conversation. See you on Monday!”

Annie waves at a bemused Shea and rushes home, barely pausing to hang up her coat before sitting down at her computer. Several hours later, I know who I am. I’m plain, shy and awkward. My coworkers barely notice me until the day our tyrannical supervisor is found dead at the bottom of the stairwell. It’s assumed to have been an accident until I uncover clues that the police have overlooked. I am much happier than when I was vamping around in red satin. You want to know what happens next? Read the book.