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.I have a problem now.If Mr.Wentz isn’t here, then go get the guy baby–sitting the servers.There has to be somebody who can go into the server and take her page down.It’s a simple process.”“There’s one guy back there but I don’t think he’s authorized to do anything.Besides, he was sort of asleep when I looked in there.”Pierce leaned over the counter and put a forceful tone into his voice.“Lilly — I mean, Wendy, listen to me.I insist that you go back there and wake him up and bring him out here.You have to understand something here.You are in a legally precarious position.I have informed you that your website has my phone number on it.Because of this error I am repeatedly receiving phone calls of what I consider to be an offensive and embarrassing nature.So much so that I was here at your place of business this morning before you even opened.I want this fixed.If you put it off until Monday, then I am going to sue you, this company, Mr.Wentz and anybody else I can find associated with this place.Do you understand?”“You can’t sue me.I just work here.”“Wendy, you can sue anybody you want to in this world.”She stood up, an angry look in her eyes, and pirouetted around the partition without a word.Pierce didn’t care if she was angry.What he cared about was that she had left the file on the counter.As soon as the sound of her sandals was gone he bent over and flipped open the file.There was a copy of the photo of Lilly, along with a printout of her ad copy and an advertiser’s information form.This was what Pierce wanted.He felt a surge of adrenaline zing through him as he read the sheet and tried to commit everything to memory.Her name was Lilly Quinlan.Her contact number was the same cell phone number she had put on her web page.On the address line she had put a Santa Monica address and apartment number.Pierce quickly read it silently three times and then put everything back in the file just as he heard the sandals and another pair of shoes approaching from the other side of the partition.Chapter 7* * *The first thing Pierce did when he got back to the car was grab a pen from the ashtray and write Lilly Quinlan’s address on an old valet parking stub.After that he pulled the dollar bill out of his pocket and examined it.It had been face down under the blotter.He now studied it and found the words Arbadac Arba written across George Washington’s forehead on the front of the bill.“Abra Cadabra,” he said, reading each word backwards.He thought there was a good chance that the words were a user name and password for entering the Entrepreneurial Concepts computer system.While he was pleased with the moves he’d made in getting the words, he was unsure how useful they would be now that he had gotten Lilly Quinlan’s name and address out of the hard–copy file.He started the car and headed back toward Santa Monica.The address of Lilly’s apartment was on Wilshire Boulevard near the Third Street Promenade.As he got close and started reading the numbers on the buildings, he realized that there were no apartment complexes in the vicinity of the address she had written on the advertiser’s information sheet.When he finally pulled up in front of the business with the matching address on the door, he saw that it was a private mail drop, a business called All American Mail.The apartment number Lilly Quinlan had written on the info sheet was actually a box number.Pierce parked at the curb out front but wasn’t sure what he could do.It appeared that he was at a dead end.He thought for a few minutes about a plan of action and then got out.Pierce walked into the business and immediately went into the alcove where the mailboxes were.He was hoping the individual doors would have glass in them so he could look into Lilly Quinlan’s and see if there was any mail.But the boxes all had aluminum doors with no glass.She had listed her address as apartment 333 on the info sheet.He located box 333 and just stared at it for a moment, as if it might give him some sort of answer.It didn’t.Pierce eventually left the alcove and went to the counter.A young man with a swath of pimples on each cheek and a name tag that said Curt asked how he could help him.“This is sort of weird,” Pierce said.“I need a mailbox but I want a specific number.It sort of goes with the name of my business.It’s called Three Cubed Productions.”The kid seemed confused.“So what number do you want?”“Three three three.I saw you have a box with that number.Is it available?”It was the best Pierce could come up with while sitting in the car.Curt reached under the counter and came back up with a blue binder, which he opened to pages listing boxes by number and their availability.His finger drew down a column of numbers and stopped.“Oh, this one.”Pierce tried to read what was on the page but it was upside down and too far away.“What?”“Well, it’s occupied at the moment but it might not be for long.”“What’s that mean?”“It means there’s a person in that box, but she didn’t pay this month’s rent.So she’s in the grace period.If she shows up and pays, she keeps the box.If she doesn’t show up by the end of the month, then she’s out and you’re in — if you can wait that long.”Pierce put a concerned look on his face.“That’s kind of long.I wanted to get this set up.Do you know if there’s a number or an address for this person? You know, to contact her and ask if she still wants the box.”“I’ve sent out two late notices and put one in the box.We usually don’t call.”Pierce became excited but didn’t show it.What Curt had said meant that there was another address for Lilly Quinlan.This excitement was immediately tempered by the fact that he had no idea how to get it from the young man who had it.“Well, is there a number? If you could call this woman right now and find something out, I’d be willing to rent the box right now.And I’d pay for a year up front.”“Well, I’ll have to look it up.It will take me a minute.”“Take your time.I’d rather get all of this done now than have to come back.”Curt went to a desk that was against the wall behind the counter and sat down.He opened a file drawer and took out a thick hanging file.He was still too far away for Pierce to be able to read any of the documents he was going through.Curt ran his finger down one page and then held it on a spot.With his other hand he picked up the phone on the desk but was interrupted before making the call by a customer who had entered the shop.“I need to send a fax to New York,” she said.Curt got up and went to the counter.From underneath he pulled out a fax cover sheet and told the woman to fill it out.He returned to the desk [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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