8. Kidnapping

It was a crisp spring day. Beautiful by any standards with blue skies and soft squidgy clouds floating high above the concrete skyline. I had no clue that today was the day. The first day of a series of days that would spell out tribulations for me and a general mystery.

How could I have known as I walked down the streets, sidestepping the sad remains of cockroaches not quick enough to dodge the angry feet of the previous night. I walked with a spring in my step, almost whistling a tune were it not for the sour faces of the cleaning ladies. I was happy, carefree. Until i reached the office.

There was my desk. Seemingly nothing out of place. I sat and turned on my computer and while waiting sorted out my pile of paper clips. It was only when I turned to look in my drawer that I noticed it. The empty space in the corner. My pride and joy was gone. missing. Wrenched from my desk by a thief in the night! My pen! My Montblanc Typhoon LE pen. A gift from a grateful client but much more then that. My right hand in an almost literal sense.

Oh the anguish and anger as I gazed upon that empty space. It was unthinkable. Unimaginable. Where could it be?! When Frantic searches of the all my drawers came up empty, I had to face the inevitable truth. My pen had been kidnapped!

I cannot describe those feelings that washed over me at that moment. I notified HR immediately of the theft. A representative was sent quickly and I was interviewed with alacrity if perhaps a certain lack of professionalism. 

Yes, I locked my drawer every night.

Yes, I was sure I locked it last night.

No, I had not just lost my pen.

Yes! Of course I wanted to pursue this with the full extent of the law.

Their inaction and uninterested mien did not inspire me but I gave them my statement. I urged them to investigate. They promised to follow up.

Lunchtime passed and I heard nothing. Oh how I wept with thoughts of where my pen was and what horrible thief had taken it. I called HR on the hour, asking, begging for news but none was given.

"We are investigating, we will keep you informed," was all they said.

At the end of the day, I knew I had to take matters into my own hands. It was then that I checked my inbox. There it was! A ransom note.

"We have your pen," it read. "We have not harmed it yet, but we will. Put fifty dollars into an envelope and put it in the cookie tin on the fridge. Do not try to find us. If you do, the pen will get it." with the note was a polaroid of my beloved pen. It seemed unharmed, lying on a sheet of paper.

I complied quickly. The day was almost over and we would all be obliged to leave the office. I sat with my eagle eyes on the small kitchen but only Teresa out receptionist went in, and she came out with only a cup of coffee.

When it was time to go, grudgingly I left. I could only hope that my pen would be returned.

I was wrong. The next day was an envelope on my desk. Another ransom note, "we changed our minds. We want 100. Put another fifty in the tin," it read. rage boiled up inside me. How dare they toy with my like this? Instead of the 50, I put a note demanding my pen back in the envelope. All day i watched the kitchen. I could do no real work but i saw no one touching the tin.

The next day was my darkest day. There was another note. Nothing was written but there was a photo. My pen's clip had been broken off. In a rage i tore up the photo then in despair I ran to the toilet and wept. The monsters had harmed my pen! At that moment i decided to exact my revenge. But first i had to find the perpetrators.

I began with the photos and the notes. The Notes had been typed and printed so it was little help, but I noticed that the font was Comic Sans. Few in this office would use comic sans, this had to be a clue. The photos yielded more clues. The plan paper was lying on a fawn colored desk. 

I spent the day wandering the office. I spied on my colleagues, looking at their desks and first ruling out those with grey desks. Then i began to spy on them typing. Who had a predeliction for Comic Sans?

Unfortunately it seemed like no one. I felt like despairing again until i noticed Teresa's desk. It was fawn desk. In fact Hers was the only Fawn desk I could see. However this was not clue enough. I nonchalantly went to my desk and made a show of walking to the kitchen with an envelope making sure to exit without an envelope. Just as I expected, Teresa soon after went in for some coffee. There was my suspect. But how to be sure?

At quitting time, I pretended to be going home but in actual fact, hid in the toilets. My plan was to wait till Teresa had left as well. Being unsure when she might leave, i waited an hour. I peeked in the office. She was still there! I waited another hour. When i peeked again, she was gone.

I went to her desk feeling a small shred of excitement. I checked her rubbish bin. There it was! All the evidence i needed! The envelope in which I had pretended to put fifty dollars! My writing on the corner! Teresa was the thief!

I tried to search for my pen. Surely she wouldn't have taken in home. That would be too much. She had to have kept it in her desk! I began to open drawers. The first held loose papers and a stick of gum. The one under was a sea of staplers. Why did she have so many? She must have stolen them! But this was not my affair. The third held a small bottle of cheap wine. Teresa it seemed was quite the criminal.

Alas I did not find my pen. There was only one drawer left. It was locked. No matter. It would not stop me. I tried to pick it, but locking picking was not a skill i had learned, unlike teresa it seemed. I was sure my pen was inside, so i started to try to pry it open. I used letter openers, staplers and a metal ruler. I got forks and spoons and knives from the kitchen. Each was bent out of shape and the desk was slowly eroded and chipped away.

Finally, I pried open the desk out of sheer willpower and stubborn strength. Oh the joy i felt when i saw inside my beloved. There is lay in a sea of pens. Had they been kidnapped also? I could not leave them behind. I grabbed them all. Every single one. I put them in pockets. I took them home.

I had achieved success!

Well it wasn't so easy of course. HR might not have cared about the theft of one pen, but it seemed they did care about the destruction of property and the theft of 39 pens. I was fired of course and told that I shouldn't expect a good reference, but I didn't care. I solved the mystery. Got my pen back and Teresa was exposed as a kidnapper of pens!