Flinging the phone onto my desk, I furiously slapped and pawed my face, panicked that more of it was on me, infecting me with germs.

Grabbing a handful of tissue from the Kleenex box on my desk, I grimaced as I thoroughly wiped the phone receiver down. Holding the tissue between my thumb and forefinger, I threw it into the trash as if it were a live grenade. I was going to have to go home and take one of those long, hot showers to try and wash all this away. Kind of like the shower the characters take in one of those Lifetime movies after something really bad has happened to them.

Who would have done such a gross thing? Chloe came to mind first, but I knew there was no way she would sneak in here and get her fingers dirty doing something like this. Sending me the anonymous picture of her breast in the mail was more her style. The only person evil enough to mess with me like this was Evil Janet.

I needed some sort of antiseptic. I frantically rummaged through my desk drawers looking for some kind of Handi Wipe, but there was nothing.

Totally grossed out, I looked helplessly around the office. I didn’t want to have to call in Azita to rescue me. Moving to the book-shelf, I spotted the “Junior Detective Kit” Steve had given all the writers as a gag gift at the beginning of the season. The packaging proclaimed it to be safe for “twelve years and up” and said it was “packed with everything you need to gather clues and nab the suspect!”

Opening up the box I removed the rubbing alcohol, tweezers, and plastic Baggies for evidence. Moving around to the trash can, I removed the balled-up dirty tissues and placed them in the plastic Baggie. I bet Bobby Kucerak down at the coroner’s office could get someone in the lab to run some sort of DNA test for me. If I could prove Evil Janet did this, I bet I could get her fired—I mean, this had to be some sort of harassment or something.

Dousing more Kleenex in alcohol, I scoured my phone and desk, grinding the bits of wet Kleenex into the small holes in the phone receiver. The phone was wet, but it wasn’t good enough. I had a better idea.

Removing the entire spiral phone cord, I sneaked into the hall and switched it out for Azita’s. I had cleaned it up fine and she’d never know, and I would just feel better moving forward. I’d be sure to bring her a Starbucks on Monday.

Back in my office, I was going over the keypad with the rubbing alcohol once again, just in case.

The red phone light lit up with an incoming call. I pressed the speakerphone button and yelled into the receiver, “It’s Dani.”