Free The Snowfly by Joseph Heywood

customer interest. It didn’t make sense to be open at all, but the company was willing to pay and I was happy to accept its money.
    All the sales clerks were wearing party hats to put customers into a celebratory state of mind. My uniformed status made me exempt, which pleased me. I had never been one for forced joviality; in fact, I had always found that fun and trout fishing had much in common, not the least being that the best times seemed to arrive by serendipity.
    At break there was still no sign of Spruce. I went back to the jewelry department. The clerk there was a young, rotund student with a pink party hat. He was wearing makeup, including blazing red lipstick, false eyelashes, and earrings. He saw me staring.
    â€œDo I look okay?”
    â€œThat has to be your call, not mine.”
    He chewed his top lip. “It’s New Year’s Eve. I’m going to a costume party.”
    I said, “Good for you. Missus Graham got the night off?”
    He gave me the once-over. He looked puzzled. “You mean Spruce?”
    â€œRight, Missus Graham.”
    â€œShe’s in back, doing inventory.”
    â€œI thought inventory was done on the floor.”
    â€œEvery department except jewelry.”
    I didn’t ask where to find her, but felt his eyes on my back as I walked away. I didn’t know why, but I had doubts about whether she would want to see me. More important, I wasn’t sure I wanted to see her. Our last conversation had left me shaken, yet here I was seeking her out. I was Icarus ascending. I pushed all the alarms aside and decided I needed company.
    Our night manager was a former navy petty officer and retired Oldsmobile worker named Jolson. People were always saying “Mammy” under their breath when he went by. Most nights he stayed in his office, but tonight he was on the floor and cruising directly at me.
    â€œMister Rhodes, there you are. I can’t find Mister Fistrip. Hike back to the cage. Missus Graham has informed me that there’s a problem with the lighting. Skeleton staff tonight, Mister Rhodes. You know where the electrical panels are?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œGood. Go and do your duty, Mister Rhodes.” He dismissed me with a wave of his hand, pivoted, and swooped back toward his office.
    The cage was a secure room surrounded by floor-to-ceiling walls of heavy-gauge black wire. The warehouse was even larger than the sales floor and one side seemed to be dark, but there were a few lights on nearest the cage. I wondered what the problem was.
    I had no key for the secure room. “Spruce?” I rattled the wire walls with the palms of my hands.
    â€œDon’t be making such a dang racket.”
    The voice was behind me, in the darkness. “Spruce?”
    â€œHush and come on over here.”
    â€œI’ve got a flashlight.”
    â€œWe won’t need that.”
    â€œMammy said you had a light problem.”
    â€œI made that up so you’d come on back.”
    â€œCoulda been Fistrip as easily as me.”
    â€œGod, Bowie. You are so dang thick sometimes. Rick clocks in and leaves the store. Then he comes back to punch out,” she said. “He gets paid for workin’ when he’s not even here.”
    I stared at her for a long time, trying to grasp all that she was telling me.
    She rolled her eyes. “You’re so blind, Bowie.”
    â€œHe leaves every night?” I still couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to accept it. How had I missed this?
    â€œJust about. He’s a real creep, Bowie. Do you know he’s gonna be an officer in the army when he graduates?”
    â€œI thought he was going to be a cop.”
    â€œHe wants to be an army hero first and get what he calls merit badges.”
    Queen Anna and the old man had taught us that when you worked for someone, you did the job to the best of your ability. To do less, they said, was theft, which by their measure made