orley Munson was sure that someone had been going through his desk. He could feel it in little details like pens that had been moved or stacks of papers that seemed messier than the way he had left them. True, it might just be that the cleaning lady was tidying up and shuffling items from place to place, but something about the patterns bothered Morley Munson. It felt like someone was spying on him.
Morley Munson began to test his theory
in simple ways: leaving lists purposely out of order or certain documents sticking tantalizingly out of drawers. He would now almost run to work in the mornings to see
if things had been touched or examined (or replaced). Maddeningly, they often were, and this caused his blood to boil. Morley Munson was not a paranoid man (at least not more so than many business men) but there were deeds in Morley Munson’s life — dark deeds — that needed to stay hidden away and it wouldn’t do to have someone searching through his office and personal belongings for clues.
Morley Munson decided to spring a trap.
He left the office with great fanfare one day and then waited at a coffee shop down the block. From the window he could see his employees as they fled the premises at closing time, each of them moving off in different directions toward home or dinner (or private affairs). Morley Munson got up and crept back toward the building and slipped inside.
Morley Munson found his new secretary
still at her desk, flustered and out of breath. Staring up at him. Had he caught her red-handed? She claimed she was working late. He mumbled an excuse about ‘missing keys’ and exited quickly.
Morley Munson knew something was wrong but wasn’t sure what. Not yet.
Chapter 10 — The Woods.Chapter 12 — The Road