Torque by Glenn Muller Read Free Book Online

back into the Seventies when I come
in here?”
    “Probably because Dieter and Carole are still
diggin’ that groovy scene.”
    No argument there. The Lundsens had emigrated
from Denmark a few months after the Woodstock music festival and
then, somehow, had remained oblivious that the world had moved on.
Paisley shirts and bell-bottom pants for Dieter. Beaded headbands
and go-go boots for Carole.
    “The really freaky part,” said Fenn, “is that
we work for them.”
    “Pays the bills, Chas,” said Asha as the
sound of a cistern filling announced Carole Lundsen’s emergence
from the washroom. Busily brushing the front of her suede skirt
Carole almost walked into Fenn before she saw him.
    “Chas! Dearest. How’s our top instructor?”
Carole’s Danish accent had faded over the years but had a habit of
re-emerging when she wanted to charm. “You really must let me clone
you, Darlink. With two more employees of your caliper,” she went
on, “our troubles they would be over.”
    “That's caliber , Carole, and my clones
want a raise.”
    Fenn was no longer taken in by her shmooze.
Carole said the same thing on a regular basis to all the
instructors. To change the topic he said, “A little bird told me
that Ron Jenner is leaving.”
    “No great loss, if you ask me.” This from
Asha who gave up the charade of filing when her boss turned to
stare at her.
    “Well it's not. He was never on time for
lessons—if he showed up at all. He’s had two speeding tickets this
year, and there was that woman who claimed he made improper
suggestions to her.”
    “Oh, that. Just a misunderstanding.” Not to
be wasted on mere clerks Carole’s Euro-accent was back in its
locker. “Asha forgets that instructors are hard to come by these
days.”
    “The harder the better when it comes to his
kind.” Asha shoved the drawer back into the cabinet harder than
necessary and went into the storage room.
    Fenn thought he should step in. “He got an
inheritance or something, didn’t he?”
    Carole’s brow creased with the strain of
recollection. “He's apparently taking over his family’s recycling
business, or something like that.”
    Asha came back. “Yes. And he laughed as if he
thought that was the funniest thing.”
    “Well, at least we still have Chas, and
that's all that matters.” Carole beamed at him again. She had the
longest teeth Fenn had ever seen.
    “Is someone with Dieter?” he inquired
innocently.
    The smile on Carole's face flickered but
quite didn't go out. “Someone with Diet’s? Oh. I hadn't noticed.
Well, I mustn’t stand around talking to you two all day—work to
do!”
    When Carole turned away Asha pantomimed
hanging herself. Fenn smiled and handed her his timesheet. He was
about to leave when the door to Dieter's office opened and a tall
man in a dark suit and sturdy black shoes backed through it.
Dieter’s voice followed him into the hallway.
    “If I can help you in any way, any way at
all, just give me a call.”
    “Thank you, sir.” The tall man moved toward
the front entrance. “We’ll be in touch.”
    “Sure. No problem. Happy to help.” Dieter
Lundsen, hair in a neat ponytail, walked his guest the short
distance to the door. He watched diligently as if personally
responsible for the visitor's safe passage to his car then swiveled
on his heel to find three faces waiting in expectation.
    “What did he want?” Carole's whisper could
have been heard in the next office.
    Dieter picked invisible lint from the sleeve
of his silk shirt. “The fellow came looking for some information,
and I was able to help him out.” He said it with the air of one who
had just gained an inner sanctum.
    Asha poked Fenn with her pen. “Told ya he was
a cop.”
    “Why ever would you think the gentleman was a
police officer?” said Dieter with his best ‘I've got a secret’
look.
    The street-wise beauty rolled her dark eyes.
She was perfectly cast for a business that dealt with young
adults.
    “Well, if