Read Online Undeliverable by Rebecca Demarest - Free Book Online
Authors: Rebecca Demarest
Tags: Fiction
Ads: Link
Even if they are overplayed. Now. Can you show me what we’re actually doing with this stuff?”
Sylvia fished a bagged and tagged framed photograph from the pile. “Okay, we’ll start with this. Open the file.” Ben typed 06-07-23-11 into the prompt box and waited while the program retrieved the pertinent file. “Okay, first double-check item against description. One framed photo of a couple in front of a house. Check. Next you check the research log. Hmm, looks like the reader tried to search for the address using the house number and the town it mailed from. Hah! But they didn’t try searching the town it was mailed to! See, it says in the partial delivery address box that the town was clear, it was everything else that got messed up on the package. So, here’s where the fun starts. See the icon of the map? Pull it up. Google helped us put together our own tool for this. Type in what we know—house number and town. Search.”
They waited while the list of possibilities started and then continued to grow. When it stopped, there were forty-five.
“Damn. Knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Okay. Any other clues we can draw from?”
Ben started to get the same sort of feeling that he had while digging through the lists of tips and names, an excitement he wasn’t sure was entirely due to searching for his son, but was also connected to the thrill of the hunt. He scanned the digital ticket for any clues they might had yet missed. “It says there was a G in the street part of the address.”
“Okay, that narrows it down. Only street names with a G in them.” They applied the restriction and watched the list narrow to fifteen.
“Better, but still not great. What else, what else?”
They racked their brains for a moment, trying to figure out if there was any other way to narrow the parameters. “Is there a program that allows you to search by the kind of house or construction?”
“No. But there is Google Maps Street View! Genius.”
Together they put the fifteen addresses into the computer one at a time and pulled up the street view. Fourteen houses had it, but none looked the same as the one in the picture.
“Man, I thought this one had a chance.” Sylvia started to dismantle the frame, to file the picture in long term and to put the frame into the auction.
“Hold on, can’t we access the white pages for this last one?”
“You just don’t give up, do you? Yeah, I think we get unrestricted access or some such to phone numbers. Not sure as I wasn’t ever given access to those programs.” She pointed to a Yellow Book logo on his desktop and he logged in.
“Okay, time to make some calls.” Sylvia picked up his phone and handed it to him.
He grimaced, but knew he’d probably have to get used to it someday. So he picked up the phone and listened to the dial tone for a second before dialing the number. He held his breath.
“Hello.”
“Hi, this is Ben Grant calling from the—”
“Psych!”
Ben growled under his breath. He hated this kind of voicemail message. It always struck him as immature and pointless dicking around.
“This is the answering machine for the Geralds. Leave a message and maybe we’ll get back to you.”
“Hi, this is Ben Grant calling from the Mail Recovery Center of the United States Postal Service. We have here an item, a framed photograph of a couple, that may have been meant for you about four years ago. If you could give me a call back at,” Sylvia held up a notepad with a scribbled number on it, “1-800-ASK-USPS, that would be great. Once again, that number is 1-800-275-8777.” He hung up the phone and turned to Sylvia. “I hate those kinds of voicemails.”
“Really? I always think they’re kinda funny.”
“To each their own.” He hefted the frame. “What do you do with this in the meantime?”
She took it from him and tossed it onto one of his bookshelves. “Pretend they’re your cousins or some such until they return that call. Or you call them
Sylvia fished a bagged and tagged framed photograph from the pile. “Okay, we’ll start with this. Open the file.” Ben typed 06-07-23-11 into the prompt box and waited while the program retrieved the pertinent file. “Okay, first double-check item against description. One framed photo of a couple in front of a house. Check. Next you check the research log. Hmm, looks like the reader tried to search for the address using the house number and the town it mailed from. Hah! But they didn’t try searching the town it was mailed to! See, it says in the partial delivery address box that the town was clear, it was everything else that got messed up on the package. So, here’s where the fun starts. See the icon of the map? Pull it up. Google helped us put together our own tool for this. Type in what we know—house number and town. Search.”
They waited while the list of possibilities started and then continued to grow. When it stopped, there were forty-five.
“Damn. Knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Okay. Any other clues we can draw from?”
Ben started to get the same sort of feeling that he had while digging through the lists of tips and names, an excitement he wasn’t sure was entirely due to searching for his son, but was also connected to the thrill of the hunt. He scanned the digital ticket for any clues they might had yet missed. “It says there was a G in the street part of the address.”
“Okay, that narrows it down. Only street names with a G in them.” They applied the restriction and watched the list narrow to fifteen.
“Better, but still not great. What else, what else?”
They racked their brains for a moment, trying to figure out if there was any other way to narrow the parameters. “Is there a program that allows you to search by the kind of house or construction?”
“No. But there is Google Maps Street View! Genius.”
Together they put the fifteen addresses into the computer one at a time and pulled up the street view. Fourteen houses had it, but none looked the same as the one in the picture.
“Man, I thought this one had a chance.” Sylvia started to dismantle the frame, to file the picture in long term and to put the frame into the auction.
“Hold on, can’t we access the white pages for this last one?”
“You just don’t give up, do you? Yeah, I think we get unrestricted access or some such to phone numbers. Not sure as I wasn’t ever given access to those programs.” She pointed to a Yellow Book logo on his desktop and he logged in.
“Okay, time to make some calls.” Sylvia picked up his phone and handed it to him.
He grimaced, but knew he’d probably have to get used to it someday. So he picked up the phone and listened to the dial tone for a second before dialing the number. He held his breath.
“Hello.”
“Hi, this is Ben Grant calling from the—”
“Psych!”
Ben growled under his breath. He hated this kind of voicemail message. It always struck him as immature and pointless dicking around.
“This is the answering machine for the Geralds. Leave a message and maybe we’ll get back to you.”
“Hi, this is Ben Grant calling from the Mail Recovery Center of the United States Postal Service. We have here an item, a framed photograph of a couple, that may have been meant for you about four years ago. If you could give me a call back at,” Sylvia held up a notepad with a scribbled number on it, “1-800-ASK-USPS, that would be great. Once again, that number is 1-800-275-8777.” He hung up the phone and turned to Sylvia. “I hate those kinds of voicemails.”
“Really? I always think they’re kinda funny.”
“To each their own.” He hefted the frame. “What do you do with this in the meantime?”
She took it from him and tossed it onto one of his bookshelves. “Pretend they’re your cousins or some such until they return that call. Or you call them
Similar Books
