Something Missing_ A Novel - Matthew Dicks [86]
“Uh, yes please,” Martin responded, searching for a name tag on the woman’s purple blouse and finding none. “I need to have a copy of my driver’s license notarized.”
About four years ago, Jim had needed a notarized copy of his license in order to be paid for some out-of-state consulting that he had performed. Apparently the people for whom he had done the work had failed to secure the proper identification before he flew home, and as a result, Jim had to jump through several hoops in order to get paid. The process had taken more than a month, and Jim had complained about it each step of the way, even arguing that he should’ve been paid for the time it took him to get paid. The incident had stuck in Martin’s mind.
Thankfully.
“No problem,” the woman replied. “I’ll just need the copy of your license and another form of identification.”
Martin had anticipated this response. “Oh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t make a copy. Could you please make one for me? I’ll pay whatever it might cost. I’m just having one of those days, if you know what I mean.”
The woman chuckled. “No problem. I’m having one myself. Let me see your license.”
Even if Martin had found the time to photocopy his driver’s license, he still would have asked this woman to do it for him. He knew that the longer he remained in this office, the greater his chance of success.
Martin handed the license over and watched as the woman made her way to the far end of the office, where a large photocopier waited, humming away. With a moment to himself, Martin risked a glance at the other two women sitting behind desks. The nearest was a young, red-headed girl, probably in her early twenties, wearing a plunging V-neck sweater and large hoop earrings. She was shuffling papers on a disorganized desk and chewing gum with a vigor Martin had rarely seen. All instincts told him that this was not Laura Green.
The other woman, seated the farthest from Martin, appeared to be in her thirties and was dressed conservatively in a dark business suit. Her blond hair was pinned back and she had yet to look up from her computer screen. A large bobble-head doll, appearing to resemble herself, rested on the edge of her desk.
His instincts were less certain when it came to this woman.
Martin had begun to compare the desks of his two candidates, looking for still more clues as to their identity, when the woman who was helping him returned, handing back his license and sliding a sheet of paper across the counter to him.
“I’ll need you to sign at the bottom of the page, and I need another form of identification, please.”
Martin reached into his wallet and removed a credit card, asking if it would suffice.
“That’s fine,” the woman replied, examining it for a moment before handing it back.
“Thank goodness,” Martin said with a relieved sigh, beginning the series of lines that he had rehearsed more than two dozen times in the car. “Another thing off my list. It’s been crazy today.”
Before he could finish his monologue, the woman jumped into the pause between sentences and said, “Please raise your right hand and repeat after me. I, Martin Railsback, Junior, swear that the information I have provided is the truth.”
Martin raised his hand and repeated the woman’s words, suddenly concerned that his window of opportunity was closing. Desperate, he lowered his hand and began his rehearsed lines again, this time louder in hopes of avoiding interruption. “Thank goodness. Another thing off my list. Now, if I can just find a good gourmet caterer, I can go home and relax.”
Martin waited for a reaction from the woman but saw none. The woman stamped the sheet of paper and slid it back across the counter to him. “That’ll be five dollars, please.”
With that, his hopes plummeted.
Martin was reaching into his wallet for the money when the woman seated farthest away stood up, causing her bobblehead to bobble, and made her way over to the counter. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Did you say you’re looking for a caterer?”
“Boy am I ever. Not just any caterer,