After leaving Uncle Benny's, I jumped in my car, which was still in his lot, and headed over to Borders on State St. Walking into Borders, I dialed up Punch.
Ring, ring. "This is Punch."
The thick greek accent made it sound more like "Zdis is Pench."
I said, "This is Mr. Bowman. I was told to call you about getting a stack of forms delivered to me."
"Yes, Mr. Bowman. I have them to you in less than an hour."
Something wasn't right here. I asked, "Don't you want to know where to meet me?"
There was a shrug in his voice as he said, "You are at the book shop. I call you're office a little while ago. Your assistant told me this was place you like to 'hang out'."
Great. If the media doesn't get me killed, Percy just might.
"Alright then. Be here in forty-five minutes."
Non-plussed, I simply hung up and called the office.
When Percy answered, I said, "So, what's your impression of Mr. Punch?"
"What do you mean?"
"Didn't you just talk to him a little while ago?"
There was a pause then Percy said, "Um, no."
"You didn't just talk to an old greek guy with a slurry kind of accent?"
"Um, no."
That's never good.
I just stood there with my shoulders slumped a little, and a befuddled look on my face and said, "Huh."
Percy asked, "Has something gone awry?"
I thought about it for a second then said, "Nah, everything's cool."
Everything most certainly, was not cool. I hadn't even met this Punch guy, and already I didn't trust him one iota. Percy, can't lie to me. I don't mean that in a self flattering kind of way. Percy and I have known each other long enough that we can tell just by the sound of the other's voice, if they're lying. Punch had something on me, and I did not like it; not one bit.
I went inside Borders and started looking through the stacks. A girl with heavy eye-liner and a sing song way of speaking, recommended that I try reading "Ender's Game" by: Orson Scott Card.
"If you liked Heinlein's "Starship Troopers", you'll probably get a kick out of this. It's about a kid who has to save the entire human race from an invading insect horde."
I took the book over to the café, and grabbed the morning Tribune to go with it. I went over to the counter where Jason, who always seems to be at this counter whether day or night. "Clerks" comes to mind. I walked up, and he gave me the what's up nod. I held up two fingers and he started making me a double mocha espresso. I leaned against the counter and started reading chapter one of "Ender's Game." The sales girl was right. I did get a kick out of Ender. It's nice to see the bullies get their nuts punched in, even if it is just in a sci-fi book.
Jason brought me my drink. I paid for it. I walked away with it. I sat down at my usual table over by the window, overlooking the parking lot. I opened my paper and I took a look at the obituaries. I like to make sure of who's still around. A guy got killed over in the diamond district. Apparently, he and another were pulling a job when someone walked in. I didn't see any diamond shop keepers names in the obits, so I turned over to current events. I found the article about the botched robbery. The shop keeper stated that he was not even at the store when the heist occurred. He didn't know who it was that stopped the crime, but he claimed that they would be in his prayers.
Great. Now I have to deal with vigilantes on my watch. If this town gets much stranger, I'm moving to Kenosha.
I looked up from my paper, and there, seated in front of me, without having made a sound, was an old Greek man. The only reason that I knew he was there, was that I could smell his Old Spice deodorant. I should have been able to tell that he was coming up on me, but he caught me blind. I was not very appreciative of how this week was turning out.
Punch smiled a toothy grin and offered his hand saying, "Hallo, I em Pench."
His voice was gritty and slimy at the same time; the kind of voice that makes you kinda cringe a little inside when you hear it. It makes me think of Santa Claus and the IRS man wrapped into one.
I shook his hand. It was cold and dry; much like my humor.
I looked him over and said, "You lied to me. I don't like it when people lie to me."
In a low voice, Punch replied, "What in zdis world mekes you think I give a fuck about what you like, eh?"
That was not a point that I could argue inside a bookstore. I really wouldn't have minded the chance, but there were people all over. In a more private setting, I would have shown him what in this world. As it was, I was constrained by protocol.
I looked in his eyes to see nothing. He was a two way mirror.
I asked him, "How did you get the name Punch?"
He shrugged and said, "I work the numbers; punching numbers."
I said, "Really? I would have thought that is was because your presence makes someone want to punch themselves in the nuts."
I know it's not a good way to begin a business relationship, but he really did start it.
He didn't get angry. In fact, he smiled. He wagged his finger at me and said, "I like you. You make me think of crazy guy. The one who die in a crash… James Dean. I like him too, he was nice guy."
He was old enough to have known James Dean. I'll give him that.
Speaking of numbers, I decided to tease him a little. I said, "You work with numbers. How did you like the movie, "Pi"?
He gave me a blank look and said, "They hev a good idea of what it is, the ones who made that movie."
Usually when I meet an accountant and I ask that question, they get offended, or they don't know the movie, in which case, I always say "watch it" so that three days later they can be offended. Sometimes they say that they won't watch that movie. They don't like "wild minded theorists."
Whatever; it's a good flick.
I really wasn't expecting him to say that the producers of "Pi" were on to something. Most accountants like things cut and dry, like the salami on their deli sandwiches. He reached into the courier bag that was slung on his left shoulder, and pulled out a stack of applications two inches thick. He dropped them on the table and they landed with a finalizing thud.
He said, "So starts the new chepter in your life, Mr. Bowman. Here is some paper to write it on."
I picked up the applications and looked at them. They were just plain old apps with the law firm that now fronted my payroll at the top left hand corner of the page. I knew he was gone before I even looked up. The smell of his deodorant was already fading. No, this week was not to my liking at all. I checked my phone and saw the time was a quarter to three, so I grabbed my shit, paid for the book and paper, then left.
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