“You knew him better,” the white woman said. There was an edge to her voice, as if she were just about to get hysterical. Marla remembered her now. Her name was Karin Kowalski. She did get hysterical sometimes, especially when the computers broke down.
Marla followed the African-American woman to her desk and sat down in her chair. She hated those chairs. She hated the wheels. She hated the small seats and smaller seat backs. She hated OSHA for insisting they have them. She couldn’t remember the number she was supposed to call if she had any information about this man.
“Did either of you see the number?” Marla said. “They flashed a number on the screen, didn’t they? Did either of you see it?”
“You can call the local precinct,” the African-American woman said.
“They’ll have the number. They may even be able to transfer you.”
“Yes,” Marla said. She didn’t know the number of the precinct, either. She was sweating. She was still crying. Everything about her was wet.
The African-American woman reached across Marla’s lap to the computer, tapped on the keys, and brought up a list. “Second from the top. That’s the precinct.”
“Why second?” Marla asked. “Shouldn’t the police be first?”
“The fire department is first. Do you want me to dial for you?”
“No,” Marla said. “No, no. That’s all right.” She picked up the phone. The African-American woman’s name was Charisse Johnson. That was it. Somebody ought to promote her. What would happen to the secretaries if LibertyHeart shut down, or was sold to another company, a bigger company? She punched numbers into the phone pad and listened to the ring. It wasn’t true that if she didn’t make this call, none of this would be real.
The phone was picked up by a woman with a voice like Arnold Schwarzenegger and a delivery like Speedy Gonzales. Marla didn’t catch her name, and she didn’t catch the number of the precinct, either.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I know this isn’t the right number to be calling but—”
“This number is for police business, ma’am. If you don’t have police business, you shouldn’t be tying up this line.”
“But it is police business,” Marla said. “It’s just that I know this isn’t the right number, and I hope you have the right number—”
“—This is not directory assistance, ma’am.”
Marla would have been on the verge of tears if she hadn’t already been crying, and now she didn’t know what to do next. The policewoman on the phone sounded angry at her. She was scared to death of people being angry at her. Maybe that was just something she used to be. She was having trouble breathing again.
“Ma’am?” the policewoman said.
“Give me that,” Charisse Johnson said. She took the phone away from Marla, and Marla was glad to let it go. I’m reverting, Marla thought. I’m reverting to kindergarten or something. I’m not making any sense at all.
“This is Charisse Johnson,” Charisse said into the phone. “I’m at Liberty-Heart Communications. We’re at—well, good, I’m glad you know where we are. That may save time. And there’s no need to snap. We do have police business. There was a story on the news about two seconds ago, saying the police are looking for anyone who can identify a man found in a shopping cart behind…yes, that one…yes, we do think we can identify him…yes… thank you…yes…if I could have that number …yes.”
Charisse Johnson hung up. “Cow,” she said. “I hate women like that.”
“She’s only doing her job,” Karin Kowalski said.
“Her job is to deal with the public,” Charisse said, “and she’s doing it badly. Do you want me to make the call to the hot line, Ms. Hildebrande? You still look very upset.”
“Why are you a secretary?” Marla said. “Why aren’t you a manager somewhere? What were we thinking when we hired you?”
“You were thinking I didn’t have a college degree, which I never got because I had my daughter when I was sixteen. Don’t worry about it. Do you want me to call the hot line?”
“Yes,” Marla said. She would worry about it, though. If she landed another job in Philadelphia, she would steal Charisse Johnson away from whoever bought LibertyHeart and give her the kind of job she deserved. There was something wrong with a system that wouldn’t let you hire a competent person who didn’t have a college degree but would let you hire an incompetent one who did. She wasn’t thinking straight again.