Free The Faceless One by Mark Onspaugh

and was always polite and thanked her for each day’s work. That, coupled with a generous benefits package and its location, made the firm easily the best job she had had since moving to New York from Akron in 1990.
    Theresa took a document-shipping box into Mr. Purcival’s office. Finding the stack on his conference table, she first put the documents into a large manila envelope to keep them in pristine condition. She placed these in the container with the jewelry box.
    As she started out of the office, something caught her eye.
    It was on Mr. Purcival’s desk.
    Theresa set the shipping box down on the table and went over to see what had grabbed her attention. She glanced around because she was afraid someone might think she was snooping, something she would never do.
    The mask was quite beautiful yet disturbing at the same time.
    Glancing behind her again, she picked up the mask. It had a weight to it that seemed to belie its size. She had to be careful not to prick her hand on the sharp points projecting from the rim.
    Maybe this was supposed to go to the brother, too. The more she thought that, the more it seemed to make sense. Surely, Mr. Slater would want his brother to have an example of his life’swork. But if that were true, why hadn’t Mr. Purcival put the mask with the documents and the jewelry box? He had left in a hurry, and there was an important meeting today; perhaps he had forgotten. Theresa was unsure what to do. It seemed important that the mask be sent out right away though she couldn’t say why. Part of her was sure she’d feel better when it was out of the office and on its way.
    She stood there for half a minute, undecided, then glanced at her watch—1:00 P.M. Mr. Purcival had said he would be back by two. If the mask wasn’t supposed to go, she could take it out of the box and get the other items on their way. The UPS man usually didn’t get to their office until 2:15, and Mr. Purcival was always prompt.
    Happy that she had resolved the dilemma, Theresa went out to get a larger box.
    * * *
    Purcival was swearing under his breath as he left the stationery store. None of the three places he had stopped at carried plate hangers. Indeed, the young girl behind the counter at the Rite-Aid drugstore had never even heard of one.
    He decided to take a different tack. He looked up “Artifacts” and “Museum Displays” on his phone until he found a listing for a store called Evolution in Soho. He dialed the number, praying they would have what he needed.
    “Evolution,” replied a pleasant male voice.
    “Hello, I’m looking for a plate hanger. Do you carry those?”
    “No, I’m afraid we don’t.”
    Purcival swore to himself and wiped bead of sweat from his brow with his pocket square.
    “Do you know who might? I’m having a terrible time finding one.”
    “Usually, a home-decor place. What do you want to display?”
    “It’s an Eskimo mask, about a foot in diameter.”
    “And there’s no way to hang it from the drawstrings?”
    “This doesn’t have any—there aren’t even holes for them. I really don’t want to try drilling any, or mounting any kind of hooks.”
    “God, no,” the man at Evolution said, horrified at the prospect. “You know, we do have display stands for those kinds of items, and cases, too. It would cost quite a bit more than a plate hanger but would give you a more …”
    Not interested in any more of the clerk’s blather, Purcival hung up the phone and checked his watch. He could get over to Soho and back and still be in time for the meeting.
    The first cab he saw swooped in and picked him up.
    This was his lucky day.
    * * *
    Theresa carried the mask carefully to the conference table, shielding her fingers with the suede the mask had been placed on. She put it down and picked up some bubble wrap she had gotten from the supply cabinet in the copier room. As she was cutting the bubble wrap, Mr. Breckforth stuck his head in the door.
    “Hi, Theresa.