His face was clean shaven, something that always surprised John. Then again, there was no rule that janitors could not look good. In fact, John would prefer that janitors actually took good care of themselves to look smart. A job is a job. A detective goes out of their way to look decent, and so should a janitor. They are both workers and honest taxpayers. John was just about wrapping up his observation when he noticed his fingers. There were two rings on his middle and index finger. The middle finger had a stone that was bright red. It was ordinary enough but what caught his attention was the index finger ring. It was a black stone, and a rare one at that. John thought hard and fast and then it hit him. That stone is one of the six famous ‘caliber’ stones. They are priceless and cost at least a hundred grand.
For a moment, John forgot about his current predicament with his career. He stared at the ring, with an incredulous expression, and then looked at the janitor with an inquiring expression. The janitor seemed to understand.
“Don’t worry, detective, I did not steal that ring.”
“I did not say that, Mr. Janitor.” said John.
“You did not say much, detective, but perhaps, you may wish to read this.” said the janitor. He dug into his pockets, and pulled out a rather expensive looking wallet. From that he pulled out a card and gave it to John. John’s expression became even more incredulous. The card had a name, ‘Samuel D Trine’. It did not say anything else, but John did not want the card to say anything else. Samuel D. Trine was the name of the owner of the office building, one of the wealthiest real estate businessmen in the city.
“I’ll be damned! You are...” said John, until he was interrupted by the janitor.
“Don’t tell anybody, detective. That is my little secret.” said Sam.
“Why would you, well, work as a janitor in your own building?” said John, now facing him, leaning on the other side of the elevator. Sam leaned on his side of the wall.
“That’s a long story. This is the job I started out at before I became lucky. My wife is of the opinion that I worked hard and smart. I still prefer to use the word lucky though.” said Sam.
“Yep. That is what makes people live. Luck and other things.” said John, still recovering from the shock.
“Something tells me, detective, that you are not happy. I am no psychologist, but I have seen that face on myself a lot of times. I see that expression in the mirror whenever I feel that things are not going my way. Tell me if I am wrong?”
“Well, sir, you are not wrong. I am in fact, in some kind of trouble. I thought this happens to only middle aged guys who have been stuck in the same job for more than a decade. Never figured it would happen to me after a little more than eighteen months. God, I am actually getting bored of the word eighteen.” said John.
“You know, detective, boredom does not follow the same time pattern for everybody. I have been in that place a lot of times. You know the best solution to this, detective?” asked Sam.
“At this point, Sir, I am willing to take any piece of advice. Especially when it is coming from someone like you.” said John, eagerly awaiting the suggestion.
“When I am in trouble, and I have been trouble a lot of times, I talk to my old man. I don’t know if you have any friends, detective. It does not look like you do. Even if you do, they may not be able to fully appreciate what you are going through. They may be biased with their opinions for a number of reasons. Your father though, he does not have to worry about that.” said Sam, in a voice that reminded John very much of his father’s voice.
“I think I will do that. Talk to my Dad.” said John. He was about to say something else when the emergency lights were replaced by regular lights. The elevator gave a little jerk and started moving down again. Sam and the detective both looked at each other and smiled.
“Looks like our little meeting has been closed by fate, detective. I wish you the best and hope that I have helped you out of your predicament.” said Sam, stepping out of the elevator.
“Thank you.” said John, more to himself than the janitor.
As he got off the elevator, the lobby receptionist lifted his hat and said hello. Russo was in no mood to return a smile, and continued onward to the main door. He stopped at the door, thinking about what he just did. About what happened to him in the elevator with the janitor. It was all getting mixed up like crazy in his head. He thought that conversation in the elevator made him better. His head was sore, and there he was thinking that he would never ever get a headache. Yet, he was getting one right now. As he stepped out, he turned around to find the lobby person still looking at him, with a discouraged face.
Russo stopped midway in the lobby. He looked around the grand lobby of his office building. One of the things and reasons why he chose this building was because of the lobby. The moment he stepped into this lobby for the first time, all those months ago, he was impressed. The lobby had a coffee machine, which was always a plus. He knew he would have a kitchen in his office, but sometimes you want a dispenser to give you a hot cup of coffee on demand.
The lobby had interesting furniture. John thought that the furniture actually made the ordinary lobby look better. More importantly, the lobby reminded him of his favorite movie, ‘The Lost Man’. The Lost Man was this underrated movie that John would watch all the time when he was a kid. The movie was about a private detective who is hired to investigate the disappearance of a young boy. The boy’s mother hires this private detective to find out more. The private detective ends up having an affair with the mother, who also happens to be his client. Things get even more complicated when he finds out that the client’s ex-husband is actually a member of the mafia. Things slowly escalate, and the detective finds his life on the line, and soon, the boy is not even the main part of the plot. The plot begins to get crazier when the detective finds himself embroiled in a matter that is beyond a common-place kidnapping.
Every time John watched that movie, he could not get that character out of his head. It was a child’s fantasy, and he figured that he would grow out of it. For reasons he could not understand, he never grew out of it. More to the point, the lobby where his current office was located reminded him of something from that movie. At about an hour’s mark in the movie’s run time, the private detective gets ambushed in this hotel lobby. The four minute gun battle sequence made John go crazy every time. Every time he watched that movie, he made up his mind that if he were to have an office, that office was going to have a lobby like that.
The thing about the lobby is that it always cheered him up. Today, it failed to do so. It’s like nothing could make it better. A lot of folks were suffering because of this. John had just shouted at his office receptionist. Now, all the fond memories that the lobby would normally fill his head with were also going down. Now, just a few moments ago, he refused to return a smile from the nice lobby fellow.
John, this is not right. You have got to snap out of it, man. Come on. Turn around, and muster a small grin. Just do it.
John said to himself. He was non-committal. He wasn’t sure if he could manage even a grin right now. His head was speaking again.
Come on, John. What is wrong with you? It’s not like you are some kind of a psychotic person. You are a good guy. This lobby guy is smiling at you, and you always smile back at him. What is wrong with you? I know what is wrong with you. We cannot let this affect your life man. Snap out of it, turn around and smile. Now!
shouted John to himself.
Finally, Russo mustered a narrow grin and resumed his walk to the main street. The lobby guy, whose face had crumpled to resemble muddy water, suddenly lit up like a bulb in a dark room; that sort of made John happy. Like that conversation in that elevator. John wanted to call up Sheila. Tell her that he was sorry for shouting at her. It did not seem right what he did to her. He reached into his jacket pockets.
He had left his phone in the office, and he wasn’t wearing a watch. He looked up at the bright sun in the sky. It was about eleven o clock. The city traffic had reached its peak about an hour ago. The streets were fairly empty now. The only vehicles on the street were drivers that were not in a hurry to get anywhere. The building on the opposite side had most of its windows open. John remembered a case he took up for one of the restaurant owners who promised drinks and dinners on the house for life. John thought of those days when life was simpler. Given his current state of mind, John did not think it would be the best thing. John actually enjoyed driving his car, but today, nothing was working out for him.
Finally, Russo decided against driving his own car. He just wasn’t in the mood. He hailed a cab that was waiting for customers to his right. The cab driver responded quickly. Russo told him to take him to ‘Doubles’, his favorite milk bar. After his sudden encounter with the janitor who turned out to be more than what he appeared, John could not help but observe the cabby a little closely. The cab driver looked about forty five, something John could tell from the grey hair on his arm. His watch was fairly old, and he was wearing no rings. That told John that he wasn’t married. The car itself was maintained and looked almost new. The driver guy was an honest man. The sort of a driver who would return a briefcase filled with money, only because that was the right thing to do.
The driver took the left off of 54th road and was a few more minutes away from the destination. Unlike so many other private detectives in this great city of Primer, he did not drink. This surprised almost everybody. A detective who does not drink is like a dog that does not wag its tail. He would only smile and not say anything else about his lack of a drinking habit. Sometimes he wished that he had taken up drinking like the rest of his colleagues who operated across the city of Primer. Today seemed to be one of those days. He was not trying to protect his liver or anything like that. He just did not like the effect it had on his actions. There was this one time when things went horribly wrong because of a drinking incident. The details would probably have to wait another day though. That was one long story.
The cab reached Doubles. It seemed to have been only a minute that Russo got into the cab. John paid the fare, and something about the cab driver impressed the hell out of John Russo. As the cab was about to go away, he waved him back. The cab backed up and stopped next to him. The cab driver was an experienced fellow and seemed to understand that his most recent passenger wanted to talk. He parked his car on the side of the road, got out and walked up to the detective.
“Hey, you wanted to talk about something?” said the cab driver.
“Actually, yes; I think you drive really well. I am not really looking for a permanent driver. Although, occasionally, I would need the services of a driver.” said John, avoiding the hot sun which was now right above his head. The cab driver had a hat on and he did not have to worry about the sun that much.
“That sounds like a good deal. When do you want me to swing by?” said the cab driver.
“Actually, I do not need a driver. The thing is, I am not sure if I will be in the business myself. I am oddly confused about everything. Have you gone through something like that? You know, in your life, and job, and driving?” asked John, almost managing to turn this from a hiring activity to a discussion about self-discovery.
“Sir, if you don’t mind me saying this, but young man, you should talk to someone. You have got to talk to someone before you lose your mind.” said the cab driver.
“You are like the tenth person to say that. Six of those were the voices in my head.” said John.
“I suppose I did not cross any lines there, then?” asked the cab driver, feeling happy that he actually did not cross any lines.
“Not at all, but I don’t know if I will actually be working again. If I do get back to business, I would like to use you as my occasional driver. Do you have a card?”
“Here you go, strange customer.” said the driver, handing over a card. John took the card, looked at it, laughed at the joke that was printed at the back about two cars with three wheels, and put it in his wallet. With the wallet in and the discussion completed, the cab driver returned to his car and John just stood there, thinking about what he said. He also thought about his receptionist and the janitor. Finally he seemed to have made up his mind.
He told himself that he would be fine once he spoke with the server at the Doubles. As he stepped in, he noticed familiar surroundings. The diner was no bigger than the average burger joint that the detective probably would find elsewhere. There were about a dozen round tables on center with five chairs spread out like a traffic junction that acted like a meeting point. On either side of the round table collection was one row filled with straight tables and chairs.
John noticed that each chair was of a different styling, although all of them were made of the same wood. Every table had a menu and a cup holder with a Chinese made water vase next to it. The center tables had no customers in them, but there were some at the straight tables on either side. The counter was being manned by three tellers, and two of them were relaxing, both of them hooked onto the racing game on the big screen television in the kitchen. He had been going there as long as he could remember, and everything seemed to be just as it was a few years ago, and years before that.
He had his first milkshake at the age of five at Doubles. That was almost twenty years ago. Time sure flew by when you were busy snooping on cheating spouses, he told himself, taking the seat that was farthest from the television. The bartender, who looked far too old to be working as a bartender, noticed him take a chair. He let one of his subordinates take over manning the counter, and moved to that chair.
“So, what will you have, detective?” he said to Russo.
“Dad, you always know what I want.” said Russo, finally flashing a genuine smile. Russo’s father, Tim Russo, moved into Primer about thirty years ago. He spent a few years waiting tables until he saved enough money to open Doubles. Doubles was the name that was suggested by John Russo when his father was having difficulty coming up with a name. Russo would not tell them why he wanted it to be named Doubles. Over the years, he forgot why he liked that name. Even without the knowledge of its source, the name stuck. Twenty years later, the joint was still here.