The Message is my latest launch into the happenings of my
“go-to” gal, Mattie Mitchell, who discovers that the Internet can be a
dangerous place. Mattie and gal-pal, Clare, two spunky mid-lifers, discover a
mysterious message on a laptop. Here’s how things begin:
“Clare, put that back. You don’t need a thermos
bottle and you know it.”
“But it might come in handy for some of my
special four o’clock brew.”
Mattie Mitchell and her pal Clare Tibbitts were
rummaging through donations at Hastings House, a thrift shop where they both
volunteered. The women never knew what items might show up. Donations ranged
from a size petite woman’s dress form to old clocks that hadn’t run since 1810.
Once they even came across a set of dentures.
Nothing in today’s articles seemed out of the
ordinary, until they noticed a laptop computer someone had dropped off.
Unusual, Mattie thought. She knew most people ditched their computers at a
recycling center or took them back to the shop for repair.
She considered taking a closer look. Except for
shooting out email messages with proficiency, she and Clare remained clueless
about computers. However, Mattie’s curiosity got the best of her. To her
surprise, when she plugged in the computer and lifted the lid, it actually came
to life. After randomly tapping a couple of keys, the screen appeared clear.
Then she saw it.
“Hmm, what’s this?”
“What is it, Matts? What’d you find?”
“I’m not sure but it seems odd. Something about
getting in touch with someone right away. Could’ve been an email.”
“Good thing you’re not nosy.” Clare peered over
her pal’s shoulder. “Let’s have a look. Maybe I can help”
“Now who’s being nosy? Well, go ahead, Einstein.
I mean, you know as much about computers as —“
“As you do?”
The message appeared again but was gone in an
instant. Clare could only catch a quick glance at the screen. She made a face
that lit up like a child getting an ice cream cone. “There was definitely
something there,” she said. “Probably a love letter for me.”
“Yeah, right. From one of your stud
boyfriends.”
“Jealous?” Clare said with a mocking sniff
before turning back to the laptop. “It’s probably only gibberish anyway. But
this is what I like about you, Mrs. Mitchell. Can’t let anything slide by, can
you?”
“Not if it’s for a good cause.”
Everyone who knew Mattie knew she’d go to
almost any length to do the right thing for the right reason—at times even
risking her life. But she lived by her wits, somewhat like the proverbial cat
with the nine lives. In fact, one day when Mattie was in her thirties and
worked at a bank, she heard shouting in the lobby. It was near closing time. A
man stood with a gun aimed at a teller.
“The money!” he demanded. “Gimme the money—now!” She was witnessing a robbery!
Without thinking, she hoisted a fire extinguisher from the wall in her office,
ran up behind the would-be robber, and doused him with foam. A teller called
the police, and a late customer jumped the man and held him down until the
officers arrived. Mattie realized her actions were questionable. Brave, yes;
smart, not so much.
Staring once more at the laptop, Mattie said
“You’d think people would clear out a computer before ditching it.” She glanced
over at the woman who was in charge that day. “Betty, know anything about this
computer?”
“Oh, some woman dropped it off. Said it was
broken and she didn’t want anything more to do with it.” Betty frowned and
added, “Kind of an odd acting woman too.” With a shrug, she said, “The owners
told me to get rid of it. No one here wants to work on a dead computer.” She
returned to some filing.
By this time,
Mattie was hooked. An odd acting woman and a computer with a mysterious message
. . . the perfect combination for giving her goose bumps and stirring her
curiosity like wild fire.
