The girl behind the counter seemed young enough to be one of his students, but her face didn’t look familiar. She was bent over the keyboard of an Apple computer, studiously watching her fingers hunt and peck through the alphabet, not even bothering to look up when he entered the office.

He cleared his throat loudly. “Excuse me.”

“Be with you in a sec,” the girl said. She examined the screen before her, then pressed a series of keys, intently watching their effect.

Doug looked around the office. It was small and poorly furnished, the walls covered with cheap paneling and framed documents. An empty desk across from the girl’s was covered with layers of paperwork. Against one wall was a series of gray metal file cabinets.

The girl pressed another key, then, nodding, stood up and approached the counter. She was pretty and her smile appeared to be genuine, but the expression on her face was terminally vacuous. “How may I help you, sir?”

“Last night, around nine o’clock, our electricity went out. We thought at first that it was just a blackout, but the power never came back on. Then, this morning, our water was shut off. I went out to check the pipes, but there was nothing wrong. The meter said we had no water pressure at all. I want to get both our water and electricity turned back on.”

The girl retreated to her computer. “Can I have your name and address?”

“Doug Albin. Lot Four-fifty-three, Trail End Drive.”

One key at a time, the girl punched his name and address into the computer. She examined the screen before her. “According to our records, you notified us that you wished to discontinue service.”

“Discontinue service? Why the hell would I do that?”

“I don’t know, sir.” She stood up. “Here, let me check. We should have your letter on file.”

“My letter?”

“According to our records, you sent us a letter last Thursday.” She walked across the office to the file cabinets. After a few moments of searching through a row of forms and papers, she pulled out a single sheet of typing paper stapled to a business envelope. “Here it is.” She returned, handing him the paper.

He scanned the typed text, reading aloud: “ ‘Dear Sirs, On June 12, my family will be moving to California, where I have taken a job with the Anaheim Unified School District. Please disconnect my electricity on June 11 and my water on June 12. Thank you.’” He glanced up sharply. “What is this?”

The girl looked confused. “I don’t know what you mean, sir. You didn’t send us that letter?”

“I most certainly did not. Now I want my electricity and water turned back on, and I want you to find out who did send it.”

“Well maybe it was a joke. Maybe one of your friends—”