All the White Boxes

“All the White Boxes”

It was one of those parties that no one enjoys but tries to endure. A house party made up of coworkers and other people best dealt with at arm’s length. The conversation is forced and so are the smiles, and alcohol becomes an essential part of the evening. As many of them as I’d been to I’d never learned to find even the smallest bit of enjoyment. Tonight, the kitchen counter was serving as the bar for the event and as I stood pouring myself my second glass of wine I knew that, because it was good for the morale at the office, parties like this were unavoidable. It would be an unmemorable Friday night.

Before heading to the bar I’d been engaged in a conversation with two couples who were arguing about which of their children’s preschools had better facilities. A few minutes of that kind of talk is usually all a single man like me can handle and I managed to slip away without being noticed. Standing at the bar with the rest of the party elsewhere seemed like a strategy I could live with. It didn’t last long. Brad Devlin, the host and my insufferable boss, entered the room with a very attractive brunette behind him. “Hey, Oliver, I wondered where you disappeared to.” He turned to the woman then back to me. “Have you met Rachel yet? Rachel Porter, this is Oliver Beech, he’s our lead marketing guy.”

I extended my hand to her. “Very nice to meet you, Rachel. You look familiar.”

Devlin, as usual, stepped on my words. “Rachel’s with one of our smaller vendors, Metcor.”

She smiled and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Oliver.” Her smile lingered a moment and then she asked, “Would you mind pouring me whatever wine that is you’re drinking?”

“Okay then,” Devlin interrupted again, “I’ll leave you two alone. I hope you like my wine selections.Time to get back to my other guests. ” He paused and looked at me. “Hey, Oliver, I was going to show some of the guys my new security system, if you’d like to join us.” He flashed his obnoxious Cheshire Cat grin and walked out of the kitchen.

Rachel and I looked at each other, both trying to keep a straight face. “Well, that was awkward,” she said.

“Yeah, but I guess that means we’ve been doing a good job of hiding our relationship.”

“I’ve gotten a lot of practice. Every time I’m in your office I try hard to not even make eye contact with you.”

I finished pouring her wine. “Yeah, me too, and it’s getting harder to do, not looking at a woman I’m crazy about.”

She glanced toward the doorway to make sure no one was heading in to the room, smiled in a way that was far more than friendly and said, “Ditto, but any hint of a romance between a vendor and a manager would be seen as inappropriate. I wouldn’t trust Devlin to see it in the right light.”

I nodded. “But at least now we’ve been introduced so from now on we can talk when you’re around the office without raising eyebrows.”

 Our conversation was interrupted when Devlin leaned into the doorway, still grinning. “Come on, Oliver, I want you to see this.”

I sighed, rolled my eyes and said to Rachel, “Maybe this won’t take too long. I’ll find you when it’s over.”

She smirked and said, “Have fun.”

Devlin’s front door was open and half a dozen men had gathered around it, some inside and some outside. None of them looked particularly excited about getting a demonstration of something that had been available and installed in homes for several years. I took a spot in the foyer near a small video screen as Devlin began his demonstration of the system. “I have five cameras, three at the front door and two at the back, activated by motion sensors. Each one’s positioned to give me a view of the whole area around the doors. I also added some new lighting. My wife and I are both gone all day but nobody gets close without the cameras seeing them.”

 I tuned out most of his spiel but when he began demonstrating the video monitor my interest perked up. I’d noticed something odd. When Devlin clicked the recorded video from day to day I saw each time there was a white FedEx box sitting in the corner of the porch to the left of the front door. An identical white box, in the same spot every other day. He advanced the video over a seven day playback, with date and time showing on the screen, and there were four separate boxes. He clicked through it pretty fast and if anyone else noticed the boxes they didn’t say anything. I was tempted to mention it to Devlin even though I’d appear to be nosy, so I chose my words carefully. I got no further than, “Brad, when you were clicking through the string of videos, was that all on the same day because I saw….” That was as far as I got before he cut me off. He seemed to be nervous and said, “I guess I ran through that pretty quickly, didn’t I?” Without answering me he changed the subject to the new lighting.

When he was finished showing off I wandered back into the midst of the crowd. Rachel was near the patio door talking with Devlin’s wife, Sherry, who was holding and kissing a small, white haired dog. Its name was Pookie and I’d been cornered for an introduction earlier in the evening. Rachel was feigning a smile and looked bored to tears. When she noticed me she managed a genuine smile. I mingled for another hour or so and about ten o’clock, when I’d had enough wine and enough Devlin I found Rachel again. When I got her attention I held out my wrist and tapped my fingers on my watch. She knew what I meant and nodded. Navigating the good-bye gauntlet took twenty minutes plus another five with Devlin.

Walking through the foyer and out the front door felt strangely uncomfortable. After seeing the security system and all of the cameras I knew my exit was being recorded. The snarky part of me was tempted to smile and wave at the cameras but I thought better of it and restrained myself. When I got to my car and looked back, Rachel was walking out the front door. I waited a few minutes for her to get to her car then called her cellphone. When she answered I said, “If you’re not too exhausted from that exciting party I’d like to buy you a nightcap somewhere.”

There was a pause on her end and then, “Well, I have a pretty good stash of liquor at my house and it’s already paid for.” As things turned out, it wasn’t an unmemorable Friday night after all.

The next morning when I got home I couldn’t understand why the video images of the FedEx boxes at Devlin’s front door were still stuck in my mind. The regularity of the deliveries of an identical box every time just seemed strange to me. And his sudden nervousness at answering my simple question about the videos made it seem even stranger. And there was something else. As obnoxious as he could get Devlin was usually businesslike and his office door was always open. But in the past few weeks something had changed and that usually open door had become a frequently closed one. I’d noticed when the door was closed he was at his desk talking on his cellphone. Maybe I’d watched too many detective shows on TV but his new closed door style and sudden passion for security painted a different picture of a man I’d always thought was pretty simple. I decided to be careful that my imagination didn’t get the best of me.

After a relaxing weekend of time with Rachel and beer with some friends I actually looked forward to getting back to the office. My curiosity about the security videos hadn’t abated. I got an idea that a private conversation with a friend from our accounting department might shed some light on things. About nine-thirty I knocked on his door. “Hey, Jason, I’m running downstairs to Starbucks, care to join me? My treat.”

Jason Myers was your typical, close to the vest accountant but he was practically addicted to Starbuck’s Café Mocha. “Oh, hell yeah”

It was a nice, sunny morning and we were lucky to get two seats on the sidewalk patio; pleasant and private. We shared small talk about our weekends and about how his golf game had totally collapsed. Golf was a common thread among a number of us in the office even though I never got out nearly as often as I wanted to. A few minutes later when the time seemed right I asked, “So, it’s been awhile since we talked about the numbers end of the business, how are things looking from behind your desk?”

Jason was in the middle of a big sip of his five dollar coffee so I waited. Finally he said, “Everything looks great. We’re having a good year and the big investment from Maccobon has really been a boost.”

“I haven’t heard much about that because nobody seems to know anything. Who is Maccobon? I couldn’t even find anything about them on Google.”

“I haven’t been told too much either except they’re a similar media technology company from Ukraine and they think we’re compatible with what they do.”

“How much have they invested in us, is it big?”

Jason sighed and answered. “Sorry, man, I’m not allowed to talk about that. In fact, except for the fact they’ve bought a bunch of our stock the whole thing is kind of hush hush. That’s about all I can tell you.”

Back at my desk the TV detective in me started to take over again. Or maybe it was that, outside of work, I just had too much time on my hands and needed some diversion. A secretive foreign investor. Closed door calls on a cellphone, not the office line. Packages at his front door every other day.  As much as I tried to resist the idea it was clear to me that there was something unusual going on and Devlin was at the center of it. What was he up to? That was the point when I could have and should have gotten a grip on my imagination but the whole thing smelled funny and I wanted to find out why.

When I got home I grabbed a beer, a pad and pen, and went out to the patio. Half an hour of thinking and writing led to a plan. Not a perfect plan or a risk-free plan but a plan that I believed could lead to an answer about Devlin. The details were fairly simple but the hard part would be finding an accomplice. There were any number of candidates I could ask, but my mind kept going to Rachel. She had been to Devlin’s house and stood at the front door. She’d seen the cameras. She knew how far they were from the street. That familiarity would make things go more smoothly and safely. The hard part would be convincing her to join in.

I took out my phone and leaned back in my chair as I punched in Rachel’s number on speed dial. It rang four times and I was getting ready for her voicemail when she finally answered.

“Hey there,” she said. I could almost hear a smile in her voice. “How was your day?”

“Totally uneventful. In fact it was so uneventful that I had time to come up with a fun little prank to pull on someone and I wanted to talk with you about helping me.”

There was a pause. “Uh…I guess it depends on what the prank is and who the victim is, and if it’s risky or illegal.”

I had to admit to myself it was both but I wanted to explain it to her first so I didn’t respond directly to her concerns. “Well, any kind of prank has some risk attached but I want to run it all by you, maybe over a carry-out dinner here on my patio?”

Another long pause and then, “What would you like me to pick up?”

Over popcorn shrimp, coconut rice and wine, I laid out my plan to her and my suspicions about what was going on. The goal was to get one of the mysterious white FedEx boxes from Devlin’s porch and replace it with an identical one that we’d fill with crumbled newspaper. We’d leave, drive to my place and examine the contents of the real box, then in two days place it back on Devlin’s porch. Rachel would be the driver and pull up to the curb out of camera view, I’d get out, walk to the porch and switch the boxes then hurry back to the car and we’d leave. To avoid being identified Rachel would wear a hat and shades. I’d wear a hat, shades and a fake mustache that I still had from a Halloween party. And the most extreme part of my disguise would be washable, fake tattoos all over my arms. The whole thing shouldn’t take more than thirty seconds in camera view. I thought it sounded safe, quick and simple but I wasn’t sure what Rachel’s opinion would be.

After I’d finished my pitch there was a long silence from both of us. I was encouraged when I saw her faint smile. “I think you’re crazy but, once in a while I am too. I’ll do it.”

On Wednesday morning, with both of us out of the office on PTO, she picked me up and we drove to Devlin’s house. Her enthusiasm for the plan had led her to borrow a blonde wig from her aunt. No one would recognize her. I pulled on some latex gloves and when she pulled over in front of the house next to Devlin’s I opened my door, scanned the street and got out. I tried to act normal as I walked to the door, keeping my face turned away but giving the cameras a good, clear view of my newly tattooed arms. It only took a few seconds to bend down and switch the boxes and then I quickly returned to the car. As soon as I was seated I said, “Okay, wheel man, let’s go!”

“Man, you are really into this caper stuff!” I was glad she said it with a smile.

As we drove back to my house I examined the box. It had been sent from an address in Atlanta but there was no personal or business name included. It felt a little heavier than the paper-stuffed one I’d switched it for and when I shook it there was no sound.

Rachel had seen me inspecting the box and finally asked, “Okay, do you still think it’s full of money?”

“Well, the weight is about right for a bunch of cash. I’m dying to open it but let’s wait until we get to my house. I want to open it carefully and then reseal it so Devlin will never know.”

“I still don’t get your story about the Ukraine company and how it ties into the boxes.”

I knew I needed to elaborate on the brief explanation I’d first given her. “Okay, you’ve probably been hearing about all the investments and banking that Russia and Ukraine and other countries have been doing here in the US. A big reason is so they can launder their illegal money when it’s turned into American dollars. Well, I think that’s what Maccobon has been doing with Devlin, and boxes of American money are his cut.”

“Well, if you’re right you’ll have a big decision to make about who the box goes to next.”

“That’s the part that scares me.”

We pulled into my driveway and went into the garage. I already had a utility knife and clear packing tape lying on the workbench. The grand opening was at hand.

Rachel watched as I carefully slit the tape between the flaps and along the edges. I opened the flaps and pulled out a shipping receipt and a large piece of bubble-wrap. “Bubble wrap to protect paper money?” I thought. When I reached a smaller box I slowly pulled it out and we both stared at it.

“Oh my God,” Rachel said, “we did all that sneaking around for a bottle of expensive doggy diarrhea medicine?”

If it would have happened to someone else I’ have laughed my ass off but not when it happened to me. I’d never felt more stupid in my life. “So I guess Devlin isn’t getting paid by Ukraine. I got that, but there’s still his crazy big security system and the closed door phone calls.”

Rachel looked bewildered. I hoped that she wasn’t having misgivings about her new boyfriend. She sighed. “Well, put your detective hat back on. I guess you didn’t notice Devlin’s nice art collection so there’s the security system.”

“And the private phone calls?”

“Well, he doesn’t strike me as a guy who fools around on the side so maybe it was just business.” She reached over and took my hand. “Maybe you should spend more time on golf and less on playing detective.” She ran her hand up my arm. “And you’d better go with long sleeves at the office until you lose these god-awful tats.”

I was relieved that my boss wasn’t breaking the law but also embarrassed by my gullibility. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” I turned and held her hands. “I can’t believe I got you involved in a mystery that turned out to be nothing but dog poop.”