Mr Computer Cleaner Ch. 01

"A receipt please."

"Sorry, not registered for GST and this job won't push me into a bracket where I'll have to pay tax."

"I find that difficult to believe – my husband worked in the tax department."

A chill wafted through Dio's stomach, but he managed a weak smile.

"Does he still work there?"

"No, he's deceased."

"Working in the tax office takes it toll, doesn't it?"

"Yes, quite right. Those bastards in there led to his premature death by giving him all the rotten people to deal with. Now, where were we?"

To Dio's relief he heard scratching at the door. He opened it and the moggy came walking in stiffly and went straight to Evelyn and sniffed at her bandage.

"Cat's can be bastards at times," she snorted, thrusting her foot under the feline's belly and sending it through the air to land on an armchair several yards away, where it calmly began licking itself.

"Good shot," Dio said.

"I'm well practiced," smiled Evelyn, making Dio feel better disposed towards her. He wondered where she kept her ancient computer, perhaps one with its fifth or sixth upgrade.

She motioned Dio to sit on the sofa and pulled a wireless-enabled laptop from a cupboard and placed it in front of him.

He was beginning to really like this full-of-surprises woman.

The front door opened and in walked a man, quite a bit younger than she was.

"This is Mr Hope, my lodger, and this is Dio which I guess is short for Diogenes."

The two men nodded and as Mr Hope walked past his landlady, he displayed a surprising degree of familiarity by casually running his hand over her behind. The gesture was almost concealed from Dio and while Evelyn had jumped slightly her face registered no reaction.

By this time the laptop had booted and Dio was given instructions.

"There's a lot of porn on the hard-disk, which is running out of space. Neither of us has a clue how to download stuff on to CD, so could you please teach me. For obvious reasons I cannot ask the supplier to do this for me, as they may be shocked."

"Let me see what's here?" Dio commented, heading into My Computer to select c:drive.

"I sincerely hope you are broad minded?" worried Evelyn.

"Oh yeah," commented Dio, noting that the 40GB hard disk was indeed almost full.

Evelyn may have assumed that comment was in reply to her question, not that it mattered. Dio no longer believe he would ever see anything digitally that would shock him profoundly.

It was easy to discover why the disc was almost full. Somebody had downloaded an enormous number of adult film clips as well as longish films – the biggest space gobbler being a film with the unlikely title of, "Orgasmic Wave Hits Birmingham".

Asking Evelyn to pay attention, he began the tutorial on how to download on to a CD.

"We've tried many times, without success," she confided, drawing her chair very close. "My word, that's a wonderful aftershave."

Dio moved his chair a little further away.

"Right, please hand me a blank CD disc."

Evelyn said she hadn't a clue what he was on about, and Dio immediately deduced that isolated the problem. The back-up endeavours of Evelyn and her 'tenant' had been attempted without a disk being inserted into the CD drive.

"But we don't possess any," confessed Evelyn, when the required article was patiently explained to her.

Dio went out to his vehicle and came back with a 10-pack.

"Bill!" shouted Evelyn. "You'd better come and have a look at this. My consultant has discovered the problem."

Mr Hope padded out wearing only black underpants and a black singlet. "Can't this be delayed – I've been waiting for you, Poppins."

"No it can't," she barked. "Sit and watch."

They followed Dio's instructions, each downloading film clip on to a CD. They were very happy to find how easy it was.

"Look," said Dio. "Buy more CDs, and once you have downloaded everything, delete all of the copied files from your CD and take the laptop back to your supplier. Ask him to remove the CD drive and replace it with a DVD drive. You'll get heaps more on DVD disks and the outlay will be really worthwhile expenditure."

"Oh, you have been ever so helpful," Evelyn simpered. "Is there some way I can reward you?"

"You've paid me, and I've delivered. Goodbye Evelyn, goodbye Mr Hope.

"It's been a pleasure having you in my home, Dio. You know, you are not charging enough. My electrician charges eight-five dollars an hour."

* * *

There was no lake alongside Lake Street, nor within five miles of it. Locals tended to call it Food and Bar Street and that's where Dio headed to relieve his hunger.

It was 11:30 as his V8 ute stopped outside Al's Steak and Salad Bar. He smiled, noting a striking red and white-striped taxi was parked in front of the premises, it's "Not for Hire" sign displayed.

He walked in and went to a booth where a woman sat alone. "May I join you, you sexy thing?" he asked.

"Oh Dio," said Sarisha with delight, pretending she hadn't seen him arriving. "What a pleasant surprise."

As he stooped to wiggle into the narrow opening between the table and high-back seat opposite her, Sarisha deftly undid the two top buttons of her shirt, pleased that today she was wearing her light-blue bra. She was aware that it contrasted beautifully with her dark olive skin. The thought of Dio lying touching that skin made her begin to hyperventilate but there was a problem: These days Dio simply regarded himself as a very dear friend.

Possessing carnal thoughts about Dio did not send Sarisha into fits of guilt. She loved her husband Amol dearly but simply accepted that there was room in her life for the two men she'd loved – Amol and Dio. The three of them had been together since they could walk.

Even at that early age Sarisha Saltana as she was then, was exhibiting feminine characteristics, playing with dolls that had to have pink clothes and feeling as if she were slightly superior to her two male playmates. Until going to school as five-year-olds Amol and Dio had simply assumed that Sarisha was a boy because she did everything they did as good as they did, although she preferred to squat when urinating.

She was fearsome when they tussled and eventually gained domination over Amol. On that occasion, when pinning him down during a one-on-one wrestling bout, she bit him triumphantly on the left shoulder. Dio heard Amol's wail of pain but continued to covet a red tricycle being ridden by a little rich kid.

Living on the same street they played together and went to primary school together, becoming known locally as the Three Little Sods. Amol and Dio were separated from Sarisha when they entered high school, as the only option available was to attend single sex educational institutions. Gradually the gaps between the three widened as their interests diversified.

All were better than average pupils academically and in sport Sarisha excelled in gymnastics, Amol in cycling and Dio in long distance running.

At seventeen, a toss of a coin decided which of the two boys would partner Sarisha at her school graduation dance. After the first toss she demanded the coin be tossed again, and then again, but either it was a double-headed coin or just luck, because each time Amol won the call.

"You are I are destined to be together," he said gallantly, and Sarisha smiled. But inside she cried as her eyes followed the departing Dio going to inspect the hot-rod of an expelled rich kid.

During the exhilarating graduation evening she allowed Amol to grope her as that was part of school tradition for departing seniors, and the following Saturday night she allowed him to go very much further and the next time it was all the way.

On New Year's Day Amol left with his parents to holiday in California, so Sarisha planned her strategy: She would ask Dio to take her to the movies where she would allow him to grope her, then to a dance where he would be permitted to go very much further and then the next evening she would invite him to do anything he wished.

On the evening of the movie date Dio called her to cancel because the running coach wanted everyone at the gym that night. She was relieved when he turned up to take her to the dance, and they had a wonderful time, pressing closely together during the supper waltz. It did not occur to her that it was she who was doing the pressing. They'd gone to the dance in her father's car and later had petted in the front seat when parked in the garage beneath her parent's house. Rather hyped up Sarisha had suggested they go into the back seat but Dio had said he was quite comfortable where he was. Sarisha unfastened her bra and pulling her blouse out of her skirt, undid all the buttons. She waited, but nothing happened, so with enterprising coolness she simply grasped one of Dio's hands and pulled it up under her bra. The result was electrifying.

"Gosh, it's late. Got to go," he gasped.

To her dismay he pecked her cheek, opened the car door and then departed, waving goodbye. She remained seated, mouth open.

Beth Perkins was Sarisha's best friend, so The next day she went around to the home of Beth Perkins, her best friend and suggested that Dio might be homosexual.

"Ooh, I don't think so," said Beth. "I know he's sexually active."

"How did you know that?" asked Sarisha, wondering what the rumor mill was alleging.

"I know," Beth said sheepishly.

Sarisha looked at her aghast. "Did he...did you?"

Beth nodded. "I tell you, he's great."

Sarisha wanted to scream. She decided that she was going to lay Dio at the very next opportunity. But that just didn't eventuate and Amol arrived back home, madly in love with her, and Amol's girl she became.

At Al's restaurant, Sarisha watched Dio reading the menu, knowing he was wasting his time. The waitress arrived and Sarisha mouthed his order before he gave it: A steak sandwich medium rare, double onions, fries and a flat white.

"A steak sandwich medium rare, double onions and fries and a flat white," please Louise, he said. The waitress, Louise Titter blushed, remembering some of the times they'd had during their senior days at school and occasionally thereafter. She was dying to chat with him but he had bloody Sarisha with him. She was slightly miffed that he'd not come around for barbecued dinner three weeks ago after his mother's death. She'd wanted to mother him.

Dio asked how things were with Amol, and Sarisha avoided saying boring. Instead she said Amol had not worked out as her night driver so she had recruited a South African new immigrant who was performing very well.

She was listening to Dio telling her that he was setting up in business when her beeper went. It was one of her regulars, a business executive, wanting to be taken to a town forty miles away.

"Got to dash," she announced, rising from her seat.

Dio stood politely so she moved in and hugged him goodbye, ensuring he could feel her softness against him.

"Well," he laughed. "I could do with a goodbye hug like this every day."

"Let's arrange it then," she said lightly, her eyes smoldering.

He watched her walk away and said quietly, "Nice ass," just Louise arrived with his steak sandwich. She looked too, and said the same thing.

"That reminds me," she said, licking her lips. "Frank is out of town all next week. Want to come around one night – late?"

"Yeah, why not," Dio said. "Why don't you phone me?"

Louise walked away with an exaggerated sway of her hips. She turned, he mouthed "Nice ass" and she looked ever so pleased.

Louise grabbed Sarisha's order, put the chicken burger into a paper bag and the coffee into a takeaway carton but by the time she rushed outside with the packages Sarisha's taxi was disappearing down the street.

Dio had come into possession of his bright red Holden by accident. Just before his last employer decided to sell to a rival predator, one of the company's forklift drivers was peeling a banana and during that moment of inattention ploughed straight into the back of Dio's clapped out Japanese rust bucket. The impact shunted Dio's car into a concrete wall, reducing the length of the vehicle by twelve inches.

The managing director had dashed out almost in hysterics. He'd misinterpreted the message and thought his own new luxury four-wheel-drive white sedan with tan leather covered seats had been rammed. My boy, oh dear, how sorry we are," gushed the MD in relief. "You buy a replacement vehicle and the company will pay half your total costs."

There were twenty-seven envious witnesses to that MD's moment of irrational generosity so payment was assured. Understandably Mr Pinklady was reminded about those witnesses when offering only $500, claiming he'd assumed that his unfortunate employee would have sought a replacement vehicle 'of kind'.

The kind of vehicle Dio went after was the vehicle glamorized in the poster that two month's earlier he'd ripped from the wall of the new vehicle department at the local Holden vehicle dealership. He'd been hotly pursued by an athletic and very angry car salesman. Unfortunately Dio's pursuer crashed into the supermarket trolley of an elderly couple, smashing ten of their dozen eggs and injuring the old lady's foot.

But this was a more uplifting visit to the showrooms of the dealer. Armed with most of his own savings, plus Mr Pinklady's company' check for $26,928 which was half of the quoted price of the vehicle plus extras, Dio headed for the commercial vehicle department. There, after the sales manager had extricated him from a headlock applied by the aforesaid new car salesman who'd recognized the poster thief, the transaction was completed.

The next day Dio parked his shiny red Holden SS ute alongside the MD's parking space, and everyone had gathered round to admire it when Fred Pinklady arrived. He, too, inspected the new purchase and was horrified to see that its optional extra stereo was flashier than the so-called 'top-of-the-line' stereo in his $147,000 vehicle.

Only a cynic would believe that during negotiations over the sale of the business Mr Pinklady sought revenge. This occurred when the prospective purchasers suggested they would have to let "one or two" of the Helpdesk staff go, whereas Mr Pinklady had recommended sacking the entire team, according to Mavis who was taking minutes of that meeting. Such action, of course, would ensure that Dio would be one of those to be tossed out of work.

According to Mavis, it was Mr Pinklady who recommended that Bruce – described as "the useless forklift driver" - should also be booted out.

The redundancies took effect at four on a Friday afternoon, and an hour later Mr Pinklady's scream brought everyone inside the administration building running. "My SUV, my beautiful SUV," he choked, pointing to the word 'Bastard' deeply gouged across the two doors on the driver's side of his luxury vehicle.

"That bastard Dicko or whatever his name is. He's done that, I recognize the handwriting."

Mavis hushed him, saying that he was in danger of making an ass of himself and it was unlikely that he'd ever seen Dio's handwriting or more particularly, his printing.

Mr Pinklady called the Police, who promised to investigate within the next ten days, working on a list of five names supplied by Mr Pinklady. He had no explanation when asked by the curious constable why one of the names, Dio Wellington, had a circle around it.

Written notification was received from the Police:

Your complaint has been thoroughly investigated, with all suspects interviewed, but we are obliged to report that we have uncovered nothing untoward. We assure you that we shall keep a watching brief on the situation.

Mavis asked her boss whether she should file the police report under the name of Dio Wellington.

"Nah, the useless bastards; burn their report," he said.

Even at that late stage it had not occurred to Mr Pinklady that there was the name of a prime suspect missing from the list given to the Police – Bruce, the redundant forklift driver.

Dio and two others on that list of suspects had stood by chortling, watching Bruce writing his message using a big screwdriver. No one ratted on Bruce because he was a likeable chap, not like that bastard Pinklady.

Hackett Schmidt, 11 Coventry Place

An elderly, tall man with an extraordinarily straight back and sporting a white-hair crew cut greeted Dio with precision, opening the front door just as Dio was about to press the bell. Dio was disappointed he didn't hear the leather boots click together, as Mr Schmidt bowed slightly and said hello. Indeed, the gentleman's feet in tartan slippers remained some distance apart.

There was a picture of some buildings and snow on the street, so Dio looked to see if it was perhaps a winter's scene near Munich or maybe Berlin. The caption read, Queenstown 1963. And the main picture in the lounge was not a Messerschmitt 109 but a photo of a huge steam locomotive – "Ohura 1959."

He wondered why Mr Schmidt was covering his past. Perhaps he was ashamed of his involvement with the Third Reich?

"Well, boy. What are you? Dio is of Greek origin, isn't it, but you don't look Greek."

"Er, no, I'm a local. I was born in a place you wouldn't know of, sir."

"What? That's unlikely unless it's a tiny settlement. Where were you born?

"Feilding."

"Good gracious, I know Feilding – a rather charming place, all the better place now the freezing works are gone. I was born at a much smaller place, Foxton. Know where that is?"

"My late mother's terrier came from there, Kirkpatrick Dumfries of Argus was her name, replied Dio. "But we called her Pattie."

"Well, I guess some good bitches have come from Foxton, if you know what I mean."

They fell about laughing.

"Well boy, you better look at my computer. My married daughter lived with me while her divorce was going through and the legacy of her stay is these pictures of men she's got hidden all over the place. They are short men, tall men, thin men and fat men but all are big in one place, if you know what I mean.

"Here's my sixty bucks, don't need a receipt because I can't claim the expense off anybody. Just ferret out the filth, will you please."

Mr Schmidt left the room, saying he would be out on the front porch watering the potted geraniums.

This was an easy task. Dio rubbed his hands together several times, especially over the fingertips as a concert violinist does before walking on stage to enchant the audience with her virtuosity. Actually, he wasn't aware that he was doing it, being an acquired habit developed to remove morning tea crumbs from messy fingers.

The PC was loaded with the XP Home version of Windows. He went Start/Search and in Search selected the Pictures, Music, or Video option and went straight to the All or part of the file name box and typed in three file name types - *.bmp, *.jpg, *.gif that typified graphics imported from the web.

Checking that under View on the taskbar was set to Thumbnails, he hit the Search button and during the next half minute watched as just over 400 graphics appeared on-screen. He selected each of the graphics to be deleted – 210 in total – deleted them using a temporary program he installed that automatically overwrites the selected files to totally destroy all traces.

He then ran that software again, having selected the option to 'Indicate content that may be adult material'. Nothing appeared from that check so he'd assumed his trawl for 'filth' had been successful. A more thorough check was possible but Dio believed that the remainder of his time could be put to better use.

The machine was over-flowing with temporary files and C and D drives were both in need of defragging.

He went to the front door and called Mr Schmidt, who returned with him.

"Do you two use the computer much?" he asked.