15. Computer Castle

Being hit with a broom was not funny. I became aware that it sounds funny when you explain it to your friends but basically we're talking about a piece of wood with straw spikes on the end.

Noa brought me on an hour long walk to the main plaza on the west side of town. It was a quiet, sunny day, most of the potential customers were tanning on the beach. In the summer, the store owners prayed for rain. Bad weather brought in a flood of shoppers, buying to break their boredom. There were about twenty business names packed onto the sign at the road. Beach Toys and More, The Sand Dollar, Wasaga Beach Books, and, my favourite, Top Wave Pizza. Computer Castle was small, one of the few computer and electronics shops in the area, the window still boasting ancient deals for fax machines. I had only gone inside on one occasion, when Omar couldn't eject a CD from his laptop. I had never been in their dumpster.

I didn't think that a proper investigation required looking through garbage but Noa seemed to think that this was a natural conclusion. I envisioned squishing rotten tomatoes and wading through expired milk. Fortunately, the trash behind the computer store consisted of plastic packaging and cardboard, tied in neat piles. It was cleaner than my room.

"See anything suspicious?" Noa asked. I hoisted myself up, climbing out of the large, dumpster, noticing that there were orange rust stains on my shorts, fully aware that she had already been in there, had seen something.

"Hold on," I said, agiatated. We were partners now and I wanted to clear the air, "I told you I don't like it when you test me." There was no need for her to play the know-it-all. She was silent, weighing her words, holding back. In the end, she decided not to speak. There was still a lot I had to learn about my cousin. "I saw the boxes," I said, trying to make her feel petty, "it was obvious."

"Do you get a chance to use photoshop?" she asked. I showed her my usb key. We were ready.

***

"Can I help you?"

"We'd like to buy some blank DVDs." I announced. I didn't like the way old guy behind the desk in Computer Castle watched me while I browsed, as if I was about to steal something from his crummy store. The shelves were full of used, outdated equipment. I wasn't exactly going to sneak off with one of his seventy pound laptops. I decided to be aggressive. "How much?" Noa didn't seem to mind that I took the lead.

"They're two dollars each." The cashier said. He was a heavier man wearing a long sleeve shirt and tie despite the heat. His name tag was difficult to read. Sam had been written in thick black marker on top of an older name. The only other member of the staff was a younger man in jeans and a t-shirt who shared a vague resemblance with the cashier.

"That's a rip off." I scoffed. "A pack of one hundred DVDs is fifty dollars. One should cost fifty cents." I smiled, as if I could turn my disdain into a joke that we could all share.

"That's the price." He was not amused.

"How much for a box?" He didn't respond. "How many come in a box?"

"We're a small store. We don't sell boxes of DVDs or we'd have nothing left to sell. You want one? They're two dollars each."

"Make them a dollar each. She knows the value of things." The younger man smiled, his white teeth gleaming. He had stopped hanging packages of batteries to watch.

"They're two dollars each." The older man said like he owned the place, raising his voice, putting the other staff member in his place. "That's the price in my store." I could detect a subtle history of irritation. They must be brothers. I changed the subject.

"Can I print something in colour? "

"It's one dollar per page." He said, loudly, challenging me to question his price. It was unfair and I didn't like his smug attitude but I handed him my usb and a loonie. There was only one pdf document on it. The printer, a small home unit sitting on the counter, hummed away. Slowly the printed page emerged, revealing the DVD cover box for the movie Spiderman. I had found a high resoultion image, resized it, and even added a slick colourful section where you could write in the price.

"Pretty good, eh?" I asked, watching them carefully as I set my work on the desk. "It's perfectly sized to fit into a case." I noticed that they shared a look. The younger brother was no longer smiling. The elder, Sam, looked at me, then back at the print out, then back at me.

"Get out."

"Sir, I have a question-" Noa began but I was already going for the jugular.

"Why do you have so many DVD boxes out back if you don't have any in the store?" He recoiled in shock. This must be what it feels like to be the police on a sting operation. The thrill of catching a crook in the act. I felt a rush of energy, "Your dumpster is filled with empty boxes for-"

"I said get out!"

Sam's face was red as he grabbed the broom, brandishing it like a weapon, moving with surprising speed. He rounded the corner, colliding with his younger brother as he came for me. I turned and ran, ducking as I went, protecting my head, making my way through the maze of junk, knocking over the rack of batteries. I thought I felt the broom whoosh past my head then it whacked me on the butt, pushing me out the door. As soon as I was in open space I sprinted, putting distance between me and my attacker. I was on the other side of the parking lot when I noticed Noa hadn't made it out with me.

I was breathing heavily, preparing myself to march back into the store when I saw Noa walk out. She walked to me.

"Are you okay?" I asked, still panting, feeling guilty that I had abandon her. You didn't run."

"I don't like to run."

"Did you see that?" Of course Noa had seen it. We had stumbled onto something big.

"I think we could have done that in a way that would have gotten us more information." My cousin offered, looking back toward the store.

"We've got to do something? Did you see him hit me?"

"Are you hurt?"

"No, I was running so it barely got me but he can't do that to me." I said frantically. I stopped myself from saying that we should call the police, wondering if it would do any good. We didn't have any real evidence of DVD piracy or that he tried to kill me with a broom.

"What do we do now?"

"The Oliver angle. We may have discovered the source but we still don't know how those DVDs got into Jack's room." Noa said. We both knew the next phase of the plan. I was having my doubts, unsure that they were the kind of people I wanted Noa to have as friends.

"There's one other thing," my cousin said solemnly, "I need you to do something for me."