Torque by Glenn Muller

giggle and she rang off.
Durrell reluctantly cradled the set, though now glad it was time
for his shift. With his imagination locked in overdrive sleep would
have been out of the question.
    He calculated the timeframe. Sixteen hours.
Eight for work. One for the commute. Maybe another hour to acquire
an ounce of weed and a bottle of Drambuie. That left six whole
hours for sleep.
    For a date with an angel that was more than
enough.
     

 
     
    CHAPTER
10
     
    Friday, October
16th
     
    “So, do you want to know Dieter’s secret?”
Asha asked when Fenn made his morning call from home.
    He laughed. “What took you so long?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “It never used to take four days to get the
scoop. You must be losing your touch?”
    “I am not. It’s just that Dieter’s been
milking this for all it’s worth. I finally ran out of patience and
got Carole to spill the beans.”
    “No surprise, there,” said Fenn, more
occupied with updating his client files. “So let’s have it.”
    “Well, the cop that was in the other day was
interested in Ron Jenner.”
    “Ron? Why?”
    “He didn’t say why he was interested, only
that the police needed some background information; you know, how
long he’d worked for DriveCheck, what his hours were, stuff like
that.”
    “Pretty standard. Is that it?” Fenn continued
to organize his appointments.
    “Nope. Remember we thought he’d inherited his
family’s recycling business. Turns out that wasn’t quite the story.
He’s actually working for a funeral home, that big place on
Walker’s line.”
    “Harrowport & Dynes?”
    “Yeah. What he really said was that he was
going into the family recycling business; burials. Get it!”
    “Jenner has a weird sense of humour.”
    “Most jerks do. At least the ones I’ve
dated.”
    “We’ve never dated, have we?”
    “Your sense of humour is dry, Chas, not
weird. Might be a nice change—maybe I should try it sometime.” Asha
let that hang. So did Fenn. Once, in conversation about other
people, they had agreed that an office romance was a great way to
ruin a good friendship. Occasionally, though, their flirting
skimmed close to true feeling. Fenn steered back to less fertile
ground.
    “I’ve got a couple of openings in my
schedule. Got any new bookings?”
    “’Fraid not. Things are pretty quiet around
here. I’m playing solitaire on the computer as we speak.”
    “So what is the dynamic duo up to?”
    “Not much. Sonny went out somewhere, and Cher
is in her office with the door closed. Probably napping. She looked
pretty bagged when she came in this morning.”
    She paused. “Just a sec.”
    Fenn heard some murmurings then Asha came
back. “Looks like I spoke too soon. Her Highness wants to talk to
you.”
    Fenn didn’t have the chance to make a
discreet disconnect.
    “Chas! How are you this morning?”
    “Just peachy, Carole. And, you?”
    “Listen Chas. About this instructor’s union
thing; Dieter knows he can’t negotiate directly so he wants me to
ask if you’d look over his remuneration package.”
    Fenn took a deep breath and let it out
slowly. Some days, Dieter’s way of thinking gave a whole new
meaning to fuzzy logic.
    “Why me, in particular?”
    “Well it’s obvious, isn’t it Chas. You’re our
most senior instructor, and the others respect you. Why don’t you
talk them out of this certification nonsense like a good chappy,
and we’ll see that something nice comes your way.”
    He closed the binder and sank back in his
chair. In general, driving instructors are an easy-going group of
people—those that aren’t tend to burn out quickly. Dieter and
Carole often mistook this amiability for malleability, but whatever
they thought of Fenn, he was not one to put himself above his
colleagues.
    “Tell you what, Carole, if Dieter’s new
package improves on his last offering then put it in an envelope
and mail it to me. I’ll run it past a few of the others,
discreetly, but I won’t peddle any