Dulcie
was hurrying home in the rain. She had volunteered to work a second
shift at the factory because the overtime pay offered was so much
higher than her regular-shift pay.
By
working overtime, she had broken her rule to never have to walk home
at night. She lived in a dangerous neighborhood. The rent was low
because the tenant vacancy was the highest in the City. One welcome
consequence of the high crime rate was that at any time of the day
and night, there were police officers visibly nearby investigating a
crime. Law enforcement officers were always an assuring presence,
even though she never knew of a time when they arrived before or
during a crime.
She
rented an apartment on the third floor. She did not inform the
landlady she had sublet to another person. If the landlady knew, the
rent would be increased.
Jennifer
was her roommate. Jennifer worked at the same factory as Dulcie.
Neither Dulcie nor Jennifer could have afforded to pay the rent on
their own. Dulcie had no doubt that other tenants in the building
were operating as she and Jennifer were.
She
reached the building. The rain was falling heavier. The sidewalk was
crowded with persons hurrying along. That was not a safe
circumstance.
In
that neighbourhood, the more people there were on the sidewalk, the
greater the probability was of a criminal assault.
Dulcie
quickly unlocked the street door, and entered the building. She had
arrived safely. She was definitely going to celebrate with Jennifer.
There
was no elevator. She walked up the stairs to the third floor. She
heard a lot speaking and walking about as she neared the third floor.
She paused a few seconds, considering if it would be wiser to retreat
and wait in the foyer on the ground floor. She remembered Jennifer.
In
that building, she and Jennifer worried more whenever one of them
came home to an empty apartment.
When
Dulcie reached the third floor hallway, she saw uniformed police
everywhere.
Do
you live here, lady?
Yes.
What
number?
Thirty-two.
Okay.
Come along. I will escort you.
What
happened, officer?
The
investigation is in progress, lady. I am not allowed to give out
information. Once in your apartment, please do not leave without our
permission.
All
right.
When
Dulcie entered the apartment, Jennifer was not there. The worrying
began, instantly.
Dulcie
proceeded to change her clothes in her bedroom, in preparation to
prepare a meal in the kitchen.
In
her bedroom, when she removed her drenched coat, an object fell to
the floor. She thought it might have been something of hers. She
moved it aside with her foot, as she completed changing into dry
clothing. Some of her wet clothes she hung up in the bathroom; some
in the hallway closet. She noted, in passing, that Jennifer's coat
was not hanging in the hallway closet.
She
went to the kitchen. After she had finished eating the food she had
prepared, she remembered the object on the floor. She went into the
bedroom to look for it.
She
found it. It was in a cloth pouch. Her interest was piqued because
she knew she did not own anything in a pouch. She took the object to
the kitchen table.
She
untied the pouch. She was speechless. She had put the object on the
table.
It
was a round red jewel encased in a metal rim all around. Dulcie
suddenly was having difficulty breathing.
The
jewel looked expensive. It did not belong to her. That somebody in
the factory slipped it into her pocket, was highly improbable. Her
coat had been in her locker. Only a worker and Management had locker
keys. Then, who? Where?
On
the crowded sidewalk under cover of rain and night? That thought was
frightening. The criminal who had slipped a stolen item into her
pocket would find her.
She
desperately wished Jennifer were there to help her think of how to
handle the situation.
Should
she go to the police? She dismissed that option because the police
were already in the building investigating a crime. If she reported a
crime in the building while they were investigating another crime,
she was likely to become a suspect in the first crime.
She
could dump it in the dumpsters at the edge of the parking lot at the
back of the building. She and Jennifer had perfected throwing garbage
in bags into the dumpsters from their third-floor apartment.
That
solution caused the problem of what would she do if the person who
had slipped the jewel into her pocket, confronted her for its return?
She
returned to the police option. She heard the front door lock being
opened. She quickly hid the object in her pocket, and went to the
front door. Jennifer?
Yes.
I'm
happy you made it. Did you take the overtime?
No,
Dulcie. I was arrested and taken to jail. That's where I am coming
from. Perhaps I will lose my job, Duls.
Dulcie
was overwhelmed in sadness. Come, eat, Jennifer. I made something for
you.
Thank
you. Let me change. Jennifer went into her bedroom.
Dulcie
sat at the kitchen table, in tears. When Jennifer explained her
situation, Dulcie was afraid matters would become impossibly worse.
Jennifer
sat opposite Dulcie at the table, and both of them ate the food
Dulcie had prepared. They ate in silence, until they had finished.
They spoke when they were drinking their beverages after their meals.
When
I saw the police here, I thought it was because of me.
They
were here when I arrived, Jen. They wouldn't tell me why they are
here. Why were you arrested, Jennifer? At work?
At
work. Somebody reported they saw me steal something from a coat that
was on one of the benches in the locker room. Factory Security
searched my locker, and me. They found something suspicious in my
locker, and so they turned me over to the City Police. They arrested
me and took me downtown to jail. The Factory lawyers came and got me
released on bail. I'm not to leave town until the investigation has
been completed.
What
is the object you were supposed to have stolen?
I
have no idea. Factory Security and the City Police searched me. They
say they found something suspicious, but they haven’t provided
me with details. That’s why the Factory lawyers could get me
out on bail.
Do
you know who accused you?
No.
It has to be a worker. Only workers are allowed into the locker room
where that coat was supposed to be on a bench. I am sorry, Dulcie.
The police officer at the jail said it's possible the police would
come here to search.
Dulcie
had a mild attack of heartburn. She ran to the bathroom. Jennifer
waited, in remorse. Dulcie returned to the kitchen table.
You
think they will search my bedroom, too?
I
asked the Factory lawyers. They said it would help me if you allowed
them, but that they could do nothing against you if you refused.
Dulcie's
predicament worsened. A police search of her place would put her at
serious risk; but if she refused, she would increase suspicion
against Jennifer. She believed entirely that Jennifer was not guilty
of any crime.
Jennifer,
unwittingly, helped both their plights.
Dulcie,
whoever is trying to frame me, will be certain to search the
building's dumpsters. We have to not dump our garbage, for weeks. Or,
you ready for this?
Ready
or not, Jennifer, just say it.
There's
a factory dumpster on our way to work just before we get to the
locker room.
They
looked at each other, understanding, clearly, the logically next
idea. They smiled.
And,
sorry, Dulcie, you will have to do most if not all, on the sly,
because whoever at the factory is framing me, will be watching me
closely. If I still have a job at the factory.
There
was a long silence. Dulcie spoke slowly, and silently, and very
worriedly.
We
haven't done anything to be in trouble with the police, Jennifer. Our
real worry is if all this reveals to the landlady that you live here.
Jennifer
smiled. Dulcie was perplexed. What? You don't think we will be in
trouble with her if she finds out?
Dulcie,
when at the police station I gave the police this address as my home,
they became excited, almost. They have had this building under
surveillance for about a year. All the police presence here now, is
probably because of the landlady. You and I know that most of the
sixteen apartments in this building are vacant. The police think they
are not. The police think the landlady is running an illegal
immigrants operation. You and I are probably the only legal tenants
in this building. The landlady is thankful she can use us as proof
she has legal tenants who are true-born citizens. Duls, because the
landlady mentions us and this apartment so often as legal tenants,
you and I and this apartment 32 is well-known at the Police Station.
Contact
Ezra (Unless
you
type
the
author's name in
the subject
line
of the message we
won't know where to send it.)
