Dear Peggy 3/12

“Dear ‘Right said Red’

Your question is a good one and I dearly want to be of help to you, I am writing this to you directly, away from publication so that you can keep the confidentiality of your information intact. I can see that there are some sensitive issues you don’t want to make public. Can you give me some more information so that I can formulate a more helpful response?

Signed Peggy”

He clicked ‘send’ and left the laptop running for later. Simon then went and turned on the TV. There was a game starting that he needed to write about for tomorrows paper. He settled in on the sofa with a notepad and started watching. It wasn’t long before his cat Oscar decided to curl up on his lap. This made it a little difficult to take the notes he wanted to but he enjoyed the company and worked around his furry friend. The ‘Dear Peggy’ question still tugged at his thoughts. About 15 minutes later he heard a chime that a new email had arrived. Simon ignored it suspecting it was some advertisement or other non important message. An hour later he had to use the toilet so he reluctantly moved the cat to the sofa beside him to be able get up and head to the washroom. On the way he checked the computer screen. There were a few messages but one was from ‘Right said Red’. He immediately opened it and read the message.

 “Dear Peggy.

Thank you for taking personal time to respond to my question. I had no idea that you did that.

To answer a few things that may be of help, the man is looking at entering into politics, he already has wealth and power working in his favour. I am a somewhat public figure as well. I don’t want to give up my career that I have worked so hard at. I also don’t want to lose him. I don’t think I should have to choose between him and my career. I also don’t know how serious he is about a long term relationship. I have been loosing sleep over this and it’s been quite distracting for me at work.

Signed: Right said Red”

Simon had to go an relieve himself badly at this point but he kept mulling over what the message said. As he stood before the toilet he examined ever sentence in that last message ‘Wealth and power,….entering into politics…..she has a semi public career and is having to decide about career or him, and loosing sleep’ he thought. ‘All this does line up with Cassie being a contender’

Simon considered. He stood there still holding himself for several minutes thinking, long after he had finished relieving himself. He felt silly standing there like that. He dared not go and ask more questions to see if it really was Cassie.

That night Simon couldn’t sleep. He kept analyzing every word for a clue and subtle meaning. ‘Cassie IS a redhead. I know she likes that song “I’m too sexy” by a group named ‘Right Said Fred’ ‘. He remembered her playing it at her desk when she was working a few times, she turned it up and she was dancing in her chair while typing. Everything fit, but it was all so circumstantial. When he got up, all bleary eyed He had an idea. He would drop by the paper today after seeing the accountant.

Tina was juggling three phone calls at the time. Issues with an advertiser, one of the staff switched to freelancing had several questions and despite explaing that she did not have the answers, he kept asking her over and over. The third call was in the print office having a technical issue and despite how well Tina knew the whole process, this was a question best left for someone in the actual printing end of things. In addition to all her usual duties, she also had to keep Harrold organized. He was showing possible signs of early dementia. She couldn’t be sure if it was just that he was overloaded and stressed all the time. He had always been a sort of father figure to her and liked working for him despite the fact that it was stressing her out too. She tried to keep on him about eating right and getting some exercise but she knew his ulcers were bothering him constantly.

Simon waved at her but kept on walking when he saw she was very busy. He had a paper tray with 2 coffees and a small bag of doughnuts. He went to one of the tech experts that helped keep the office running electronically. The secure network had to have a few tweaks for all the freelancers to be able to access the secure servers for some things and be blocked out of others. The best man he knew for the job was also a discreet hacker that knew how and when to keep his mouth shut. Simon placed the cups and the bag on the only semi clear part of Gordons’ desk. Gordon Trunce was a messy looking man, mid thirties and even when immaculately groomed always looked dishevelled. His pudgy frame was entrenched in the comfortable chair and he was busy typing at speeds that made Simon rather envious. Gordon switched to typing with one hand and grabbed the coffee from the tray with the other. He deftly used his little finger to push the cardboard tray away from the cup as he lifted it. Gordon took a sip and without stopping his typing he simply asked “What do you need?”. Simon said in a hurt tone “Gordon, Can’t I visit a friend and bring him a treat for being such a good friend”?. Gordon looked at him over his glasses. Still typing rapidly with one hand and holding the coffee with the other. Simon could not understand how he could type what looked like computer code with one hand and not even look at the screen. “Like I said, What do you want”? Simon squatted down to be less obvious to anyone that might be looking. “I have a delicate situation and I need to trace where an email came from. And here is the catch. The content and the people involved have to remain between us”. Gordon put down the coffee and resumed typing with both hands. “I should be able to trace it, but I have to be able to use one of the computers that was involved in the messaging”. Simon was afraid of that “One was sent from my own apartment but I know who sent that one, it’s the other one I am needing to know”. Gordon continued typing. Simon could not make any sense of the characters flying across the screen. “What’s this gonna cost me”? Simon asked with some trepidation. Gordon thought for a moment “A ticket to the next Canucks game”.

Simon answered without hesitation “Done”. Gordon paused another moment. I’ll see you about seven tonight, and stay off the computer. It will just be a lot harder to dig through if you use it”. Simon agreed, patting Gordon on the shoulder. He knew he could get a ticket for Gordon easy enough. He knew who to ask.

Simon went home and considered what the accountant had told him. There were several tax advantages to being a freelance but most of the financial benefits would not be until filing next years taxes. That was going to really strain his finances. The rate of pay was not great and he would have to pick up more work just to keep an even financial keel. No matter how he looked at it. Times were going to suck. He stayed off the computer till Gordon got there. Gordon immediately got to work, He had allergies to cats and wanted to be done and gone as fast as possible. Simon showed him the messages and started digging behind the scenes. He looked at Simon sideways a few times but carried on. In several minutes he determined that the messages from Right said Red had come from 2 sources. One was a cell phone and the other was a computer at the paper. “Can you find out what desk at work and what cell phone”? Simon asked. Gordon said “I can get the answer about the work one easy tomorrow from the office. The phone one would involve a lot more hacking and digging. It would take a lot of time”. Simon nodded, “Ok, skip the phone one, if you can tell me what station at work, that should be enough”. Gordon was feeling his eyes getting itchy and his nose getting irritated. “I have a couple of questions. Why are you getting the ‘Dear Peggy’ emails?  The old broad hasn’t been in the office for years…..unless, NO…it’s you?” Simon held a finger to his lips “Shh, Gordon. This HAS to remain secret. I have been doing the typing for Angela for a while now. You know how she is technophobic”. Gordon looked at Simon unconvinced  “Really? Is that the story you are sticking to?” “…alright, yes, I have taken over the column a little at a time. She wanted to retire in such a way that nobody knew the real author wasn’t at it any more we did it in such a gradual process so that nobody would know. She still goes over some of the work with me.”

“Ill buy that I suppose” said Gordon. “The other question I have is What are you going to do about Cassie?” Simon almost choked when Gordon asked him that “What do you mean”? “Oh come on, it’s pretty obvious to me that it’s her that wrote the message”. Simon was glad that he was not the only one that thought so “I just want to be sure, I mean yea, I am pretty sure but there is still some doubt” Gordon nodded “yea, I guess I would want to make one hundred percent sure too if I were you. Look I gotta get out of here before my allergies get any worse. And don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me”. Gordon left the apartment stifling a sneeze.

Simon sat down at the computer and considered how he would answer Cassie. He wanted to tell her to stay away from that Brick Nolan guy. He tried to justify it in his mind but everything told him it was unethical. Brick was wealthy, a self made man, He was smart, charming, handsome, and ambitious. Simon could only counter that with his own gut feeling that he didn’t like Brick and that came from personal jealousy. Simon was not rich. And only considered himself average in the other aspects. As much as he disliked Brick, he could not justify telling Cassie to steer clear of him. Simons’ own desire for Cassie had to take a back seat, even if it meant he had to advise her to go ahead with the relationship. ‘There is always the chance that  ‘Right said Red’ wasn’t Cassie. Simon cheered himself up a little with that thought. The more he considered it and with the growing evidence that Gordon had found, it was still extremely likely though.

After driving himself crazy with doubt Simon tried to get some work done. He finished his column and sent it in, then looked at the latest ‘Dear Peggy’ submissions. He rapidly found that his heart wasn’t in it right then. He was reading the words but not absorbing what was said. Simon looked at the clock. ’11:30, may as well get some sleep’ he decided. Sleep didn’t come to Simon as he mulled over the situation in his mind, over and over. By 3:20 he decided to give up and find something else to do.

Simon started his computer and thought he might indulge in some porn. He justified the idea as a means to help him relax and that might let him sleep. While the computer was booting up, he had an idea. That idea was interesting enough to think through further. As he thought it through, other things, scenarios and images came to mind. Simon wrote them down on some scrap paper. As he re read the notes to himself, more ideas seemed to fit into place. He realized that for the first time, he was coming up with an idea for his book. When he finished writing the extra notes down, he forgot all about the porn and opened his word processor software. He copied the notes into the computer, In doing so he organized them, refined them and added to them. Before he had finished with the original paper notes, he had several pages. Despite how tired Simon was, he knew he was finally on a roll, He had in his sleep deprived state found his muse. He refined the typed in notes, adding more to it. The idea now was over 20 pages, Scenes played out in his head and he quickly committed it to the screen. He grabbed more paper and figured out the characters, he made notes about hem to be able to keep things straight as he came up with more ideas. “This must be the writers ‘roll’ Oscar” Simon said to his cat as it rubbed against his shin, begging for food. Simon looked up and realized the bowl was empty so he stepped away from the table and refilled it. He looked out at the city from his apartment window. In doing so Simon was struck by how pretty it looked in the low sunlight. He seldom saw it like this. Then he looked at the clock. It was close to nine. “Wow, I’ve been at this for almost 5 hours” he said aloud to himself. Simon thought to himself ‘I could call Angela and let her know I finally have a good start. But then she would have several ‘I told you so’s… no I’ll get a few more pages done before I do that’ he decided. He sat back down and re read what he had accomplished. He found small errors and corrected them, changed wording and expanded on what was there. By the time he had gone through it, he was up to 38 pages. After a quick mental calculation, he realized that he had written the equivalent of about 90 pages when put into paperback form. Simon felt immensely pleased with himself. He reminded himself that it was about the story being complete, not the word count he should be focusing on but the excitement of what he had done so far still made him feel elated. Simon suddenly realized that he had committed the ultimate sin of the computer era. The work was not saved to memory. He quickly did so, then backed it up to a USB memory stick as a spare and sighed with relief. Even if he had another dry spell, he had actually got a large chunk of the story down.