Charlie Had a Dinosaur : Chatpers 1 & 2

Sometimes, the best career opportunities don’t come from a job board. They come from a dark parking lot at 10:00 PM.

In this episode, we meet Cal, a pizza delivery driver just trying to make ends meet for his new wife. A Wednesday night shift takes a dangerous turn when a botched robbery attempt leads to a chance encounter with a mysterious man named Tommy.

Cal quickly learns that his ability to handle pressure and talk his way through a door is worth a lot more than a one-dollar delivery tip. From disarming a nervous gunman to using a "free pizza" to confirm a child's location, this is the story of how a routine delivery turned into a high-stakes introduction to a whole new world.

In this episode, you’ll hear:

• The Anatomy of a Robbery: Why a "Generic Pizza Company" sign is a magnet for trouble.
• The 1986 Side-Hustle: Making $50 in five minutes when your salary is only $23k.
• The Art of the Entry: How a three-year-old and a plastic dinosaur became the key to a successful mission.
• Meeting Tommy: The mysterious man in the shadows who sees potential in Cal’s quick thinking.

Key Quote: "I really didn’t have time for this, and I was tired after working all day and I wanted to be home with my new wife."

Follow the Journey: If you enjoyed this chapter, make sure to subscribe so you don’t miss what happens next when Cal decides to see just how deep this rabbit hole goes.

New episodes release every Wednesday.

Transcript

Speaker 0:11

I'm Chris Lengquist. For nearly a decade, I walked the streets of DC, Maryland, and Virginia as a private investigator and process server. For the last 25 years, I've worked in real estate, but the one thing I never learned how to do was turn off the investigator. Human behavior is the ultimate investigation, yielding the street science I bring you from time to time. Look, whether you're delivering a subpoena or negotiating a million-dollar transaction, the tells are the same. But some of the stories are too complex or too dangerous to tell a straight fact. That's why I created Cal Brink. He's a reflection of the life I led in DC starting in 1986. A man who had investigative talents, but it took a father figure to show him how to identify and develop them. This is the Cal Brink Files. Welcome to the Behavioral Detective. Our first short story is Charlie Had a Dinosaur. Chapters 1 and 2. Charlie had a dinosaur. Chapter 1. He was on me before I realized what was going on. The lighting in the parking lot of these shaky apartments was dubious. Every pizza driver knew it. Having that ridiculous illuminated generic pizza company sign on the top of my car to earn an extra dollar per delivery wasn't smart, but I could use the money. Why else would I be delivering pizzas at 10 PM on a Wednesday night? Just hand me the bag. Get in the car and go. You don't need to get hurt, said the man excitedly. In the dark I could see his face where his hoodie wasn't covering, eighteen, maybe twenty years old, about four inches taller than me, and by the way his eyes darted, I got the impression that this may be his first robbery. His body was twitchy, unsure. I really didn't have time for this. I was tired after working all day and I wanted to be home with my new wife. My eyes traveled down to a pistol in his left hand. With that shake, he couldn't shoot straight. He didn't even have a firm grasp on the weapon as it moved easily in his grip. As I turned slightly to lay the pizza warming bag on the roof of the car, transferring the cash bag from my right hand to my left at the same time, I said I don't want any trouble. He didn't react to my movement other than to look to his left. I took a chance. I impulsively swung back to my right, pizza warmer and cash bag in my left hand and my right hand free. The pizza bag hit him on the head while my right hand grabbed at the cold pistol and knocked it to the ground. The cash bag skipped across the parking lot to about ten feet away. The impact knocked the man back a step. I stepped on the gun and prepared for a fight. There was none. He ran off. He even glanced at the cash bag. I bent down, picked up the pistol, and saw there wasn't a single bullet in the revolver. Movement from my left caught my eye. Another man, taller, older, well dressed, with a gun in his right hand pointed to the ground. He was walking calmly toward me. Before I could do much, he said, You know how to handle yourself. Chapter two. The way the lanky man casually walked toward me told me he wasn't a threat. Except for that gun in his right hand. He was older, probably forty, and he exuded confidence. It's not loaded, I said as I flipped the gun in my hand, showing him it could not be used. The man stopped by the money bag, reached his right hand behind him, made a tucking motion, and returned his hand empty to his side. My name is Tommy. I could use your help. I leaned against the rear of my black Ford escort, pizza light still illuminated. Tommy looked comfortable in this atmosphere. I was still chucking the shadows every few seconds. Relax. He's not coming back, Tommy said. What's your name? How long have you been delivering pizzas? Depends on how far back you want to go. College for sure, and about a month here. Where was he going with this? I wondered. Any more pizzas in that front passenger seat? Tommy inquired, moving his left hand up to rub his chin as he stooped to see what he could see in the car. Why, you hungry? Tommy laughed. I I need to go. One more delivery to make. It's already late. And it was. The customers who ordered the pizza were definitely on the phone right now berating the poor assistant manager. That's just how it goes. Wanna make a quick fifty bucks? Cash? Tommy said. In 1986, I was making about $23,500 a year in my day job. An extra $50 would always be useful. What is it you want me to do? I asked. A few minutes later, I walked one building over, up three flights of stairs, and walked to the second apartment to the left. 3B. Pizza. A few seconds passed. The peephole light went dark. The door swung open. We didn't order any pizza. The man wasn't mad, just stating a fact. He was young, but older than me, maybe twenty-five, six feet two, and skinny as could be. He had a cigarette in his right hand and a trail of smoke looking for heaven. This is building one hundred twenty one thirteen, apartment three B, I confirmed. Yes, but we didn't order any pizza, the man repeated. Who is it? came a shrill voice from the interior. A woman with tattoo covered white skin and hair that hadn't seen a comb in quite some time stepped into view behind the guard at the door. Look, I I have a pizza for this address. If you didn't order it, well, would you let me use your phone to call it in? It'll only take a minute, I said while making my best begging face. Besides, if I can't confirm the address, I I may be able to leave you the pie. The man hesitated, then asked, What kind of pizza? The woman stood silent. A third voice, deep and gravelly in that long time smoker sort of a way, said, Let him in, maybe we'll get free pizza. The guard at the door backed up a step, widened the door, and waved me through. Phone is on the kitchen wall to your left. On my way to the kitchen, I tipped my KU hat at the woman with my right hand while balancing the pizza bag on my left. The room was smoke filled. The third voice was a white man about forty, cigarette in one hand and an icy light in his left. Running in from the back bedroom was a three year old child with mussed, deep brown hair, brown eyes, and dirty clothes. He had a dinosaur clutched in his left hand and a very dirty face. Hello, Charlie, I thought privately. Setting the pizza on the counter, I called the seven digit number the man in the parking lot had given me to memorize. After two rings, Tommy answered. Then there was silence. Yes, are you sure? With my head nodding up and down as I untangled the phone cord. Well, if you're sure, leave the pizza. After hanging up, I reached into the pizza bag and made the big, happy announcement as I walked the pizza over to the coffee table in front of a grimy, well used couch and set the box down. The room was full of smiles. I leaned down to the child as I reached out my hand. My name is Cal. What's yours? Without hesitation, the boy said, Charlie, do you want to play with my dinosaur? No, I said, but do you like pizza? A smile and a nod of affirmation and a yes happened all at once. A few more happy greetings were given, then I showed myself out. In my left hand was a pizza bag now dangling by my side. My right hand was busy wiping off whatever was on that door handle as I went down the steps to ground level, two steps at a time. As I approached my car, Tommy appeared from the shadows. Any trouble? No, I replied. Charlie's there, even told me so himself. Tommy turned forty five degrees and leaned against the car, legs out and arms crossed. With a smirk, he asked, How'd you pull that off? I just knelt down and introduced myself. He even wanted to play dinosaurs. Huh, what do you know? With that, Tommy reached into his left pants pocket and pulled out a money clip. He leafed through it and found a crisp fifty dollar bill. I didn't catch your name, he said, handing the money over. I didn't offer it. That's it for today's chapter. Be sure to tune in next week for chapter three of this five-chapter short story. If you're just joining us, go back and start at the beginning of the Cal Brink Files. Trust me, it's worth a trip. If you want backstory from my days as a DC investigator, stories that are true, except that the names are changed and maybe some details altered for legal privacy, the full archives are waiting for you at ProcessServerCronicles.com. And mark your calendars for this fall. We're dropping Notice of Assignment, the first full Cal Brink novella. It's a real estate investment purchase that goes south in ways you won't see coming. I'm Chris Lengquist. Thanks for listening to The Behavioral Detective. New episodes of the Process Server Chronicles drop on Sundays, and the fictional world of Cal Brink on Wednesdays. Keep your eyes open, check your rear view mirror. I'll see you next time.