BOW #27: Plankow

Schaumburg, Illinois

Saturday, March 3, 1974

11: 34 a.m.

The boxes stacked in the basement.

“Sammy, Ellie, Sherry, you kids take a

bunch of boxes and ‘really’ neatly, try

packing some of the books and toys that

you want to take with us. Then with a

‘marker’… You guys have ‘markers’, right?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Sherry said.

“Sure.” Ellie said.

“Yeah.” Sammy said.

“Okay, when you get the boxes packed, write

your name and write ‘books’ or ‘toys’ on

each box. Then later I’ll come and tape

them closed and we’ll take them back to the

basement. Okay?”

11:46 a.m.

Mitchell tried to call Edwin Plankow again, with the same results.

“Guess he didn’t make it in today.”

“You say that he’s usually in on Saturday?”

“Yeah. But with the snow and all.”

You have any idea where he lives?”

“No…” not overly concerned “… I’ll call him Monday.”

Monday, March 5, 1974

9:07 a.m.

The children off to school, Mitchell and Marsha sat for a few ‘quiet’ minutes drinking one last cup of coffee before he summoned the courage, and ambition, to get his galoshes and overcoat on to brave the snow covered environment to drive the –snow-blown – eighteen miles to Skokie and his first call of the day.

Actually, considering the day before the three day trip to San Diego and the weekend — his first call in six days was to his best customer, a manufactures of ‘ to scale’ model automobile and airplanes.

“Before you leave, why don’t you try Edwin again?”

Glancing at his watch. “Yeah, he should be in by now.” Dialing the number, he let it ring seven times before breaking the connection. “That’s strange. He’s always in before nine and, if not him, Geraldine.”

“Maybe they’re both snowed in someplace.”

“I think she has a home somewhere in Skokie that, no matter how much snow, would have been plowed by now. Hell, they’d have been plowed by Saturday afternoon like we were.”

Finishing the last of her coffee. “Try calling again after you get to Skokie, why don’t you.”

“Finishing his coffee and bringing both cups to the sink. “I’ll do that.” Sighing “Might as well get going.”

Skokie, Illinois

11:10 a.m.

Feeling as though standing in an ice box...“Hi, baby!” Calling from an outside telephone booth.

Switching the vacuum off. “How’s it going, Mitchie?”

“Other than freezing my ass off, pretty good actually. Got a nice order from ‘Hanover’ for some ‘snap-out’ forms and two hundred thousand envelopes.”

“Nice way to start the week… You try Edwin again?”

“Yeah, but still no answer.”

Becoming concerned. Neither speaking for a few moments.

Shooshing Sabra off the den sofa. “Wonder what’s going on.” Marsha sat in the dog’s vacated warm spot.

Shivering as he watched a blowing mist of fine snow. “I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“Edwin’s secretary; Geraldine? You know her last name?”

“No, I only know her as ‘Geraldine’ or ‘Gerry’, why?”

“I was thinking that if you can’t reach Edwin, then maybe we can try ‘information’ in Skokie to see if we can get her number.”

“Good idea. Shame I don’t know her last name.”

“Well, at least the snow let up. How are the streets?’’

“Traffic’s slow...”stamping his feet in an attempt to keep warm within the frigid telephone booth “... but the streets aren’t too bad.”

“Pretty amazing to think that in a month we’ll be away from all this crappy weather.”

“Yeah...” watching the thick plumes of the vapor of his breath “… I keep telling myself that, and still find it hard to believe.”

Sabra’s heavy head oh her lap, rubbing between her eyes. “How many calls you got left?”

“Just two, then I’ll try calling Edwin again.”

“Okay, honey... Talk to you later."

“Yeah, baby. Got to get out of here before I freeze to death.”

“Bye, honey.”

Chicago, Illinois

1:07 p.m.

In another frigid telephone booth. “Marcie.”

“Hi..” waiting for his call, answering at the hint of the first ring “... you tried Edwin again?”

“Yes.”

“So?”

“The operator came on and told me ‘this was no longer a working number’.”

The line silent….

Sensing a quivering within her stomach.

“So what are you going to do?”

“Soon as we hang up, I’m heading there to see what the hell’s going on.”

1:25 p.m.

The dark, gloomy day becoming darker and gloomier by the minute with sleety snow flurries heavily dusting the streets.

Mitchell took the Edens Freeway south to Touhy Avenue then west on Touhy to the storefront office of ‘Your Write Hand’.

1:51 p.m.

Though the Venetian blinds were closed along the large storefront window, there were no blinds on the plate glass door.

Shading his eyes with the palms of both hands, holding  his breath so it doesn't fog up while looking through the plate glass window of the closed and firmly locked door, Mitchell saw…

Standing in the freezing cold with the frigid wind lifting the tail of his overcoat, it took long seconds for his mind to comprehend what his eyes saw.

The office furniture was gone. On the floor were the three telephones that had sat upon the now missing desks and other than the phones, there was nothing.

Dazed at this. Not knowing what to make of this. He thought of calling Marsha, but needed time to think.

With the streets becoming more and more unmanageable due to the now heavily falling snow along with car rocking gusts of wind — what under normal conditions would have taken forty -five minutes giving him plenty of time to think, the trip from what used to be the office of ‘Your Write Hand’ on the north side of Chicago to his home in Schamburg took better than an hour and a half.

Schamburg, Illinois

3:25 p.m.

Michael and Ellie in their rooms doing homework.

Sammy and Sherrie were lying on the floor in the family-room — with Sabra between, watching television.

Hearing the garage door open and close, leaving the kitchen, Marsha was waiting for Mitchell as he came into the foyer. “So...” she asked anxiously “...did you talk to him?”

Struggling to hold the overly zealous Great Dane back as— removing and hanging his coat in the hall closet then, sitting on the decorative bench in the foyer, Mitchell wearily pulled the galoshes off.

Impatiently waiting for her husband to say something. “ ‘So.?” Marsha repeated impatiently.

“They’re gone.”

“Huh? ‘Gone’? What do you mean, ‘they’re gone’?”

“Marcie, they’re gone! The Office was empty! The desks and chairs and furniture are all gone ! There’s ‘nothing’ there.”

“Hey, kids…” going into the family room “...dad and I have some stuff we’ve got to talk about so we’re going to go upstairs for a little while, okay.”

Engrossed what whatever they were watching, Samuel waved his arm in response.

“I think we’ve been swindled.”

Sitting side by side on the edge of the bed. “ ‘swindled’?”

“Yeah, ‘ swindled’! I’ve been thinking about it and that son of a bitch could have sold our territory to thirty other people and we’d never know.”

“He sent you to that, uh, ‘Motivational Speaker’ class and bought all that printing from you.”

“That class cost him thirty-five bucks and…” remembering “...‘Shit’! I didn’t even think of that! He owes me almost four hundred bucks for the printing… That bastard!”

“You going to call the police?”

“Of course! I would have found a phone booth and called the cops then, but it was too cold and I was too upset to call from the street.”

“You want to call them now?”

“Yeah! Lets report the son of a bitch.”

“Okay…” hesitating “...but where do we go from here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mitchie, what are we going to do now?”

Taking her hand. “You still want to move to San Diego, don’t you?”

“ ‘Do I still want to move to San Diego’? Yeah! Bet your ass I still want to move to San Diego! I love it there!

“Beside; we sold this house and bought that house and think that we’d be hit with one hell of a law suit… or two, or maybe even three if we back out of the deals.”

“Yeah, I think so, too!

“But, Marcie, I don’t have a job.”

“Mitchie, you’re a salesman. You’ll find a job.”

Next BOW #28: Swindled