by Lotta Smith
As for the assistants, they were all women in their mid-twenties. One was a redhead, and the others were blonde. The redhead was the quickest to recover from the initial shock of seeing Rick.
“I’m afraid that you’ve missed your opportunity,” she said. “I’m really sorry to tell you this, but Evvie has passed away, and your gig has to be canceled. Sorry, honey.”
“What do you mean?” Rick raised an eyebrow questionably.
Holly cleared her throat. “Jess, he’s not a model posing nude for Eve.”
Jess sucked in air. “Oh really? I thought he was another of her muses.” Turning to Rick, she said, “I’m sorry for the confusion. My bad. Look, she was always plotting to call the modeling agencies specializing in men’s underwear, wanting to request the sexiest hunk so she could sketch him, but she always got cold feet… so, when I saw you, I thought perhaps she had actually gotten the nerve to finally call.”
“Wow, I’m flattered.” Rick offered a small smile. “But I’m not a model. My name is Rick Rowling, an agent from a security company called USCAB, and this lady here is Mandy. She’s my wife and assistant. Actually, we’re helping the FBI and NYPD with your employer’s murder, and we’re hoping to ask you a few questions.”
“Seriously?” one of the blondes groaned. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but we’ve been getting interrupted like nonstop by the police. Okay, having USCAB agents is a first, but….”
“This is Beverly Walker,” Holly introduced her to us. “She rocks with filling the otherwise boring blank places with absolutely realistic backgrounds.”
“Hi.” Beverly stood up and raised a hand. She was tall and slim. Dressed in a red top and tight black yoga pants, and with her hair styled in a loose chignon, she looked the most stylish of the three assistants. According to Holly, Beverly was a graphic novelist, but lately she was getting more recognition after self-publishing a novel that had been previously turned down by the publisher. She had once contemplated quitting being an assistant, but she decided to keep her job working for Eve for a while, as it gave her a positive distraction and extra income.
“Don’t worry, we’ll make it a quickie interview.” Rick winked.
“All right.” The other blonde who had been quiet while Jess and Beverly reacted nodded. Kylie Minnons was her name. “Let’s get it done quickly. First off, let’s not argue with them so we won’t waste any more time. After all, they’re gonna keep on asking questions until they’re satisfied, and every resisted attempt is a waste.”
“You have a point,” Jess agreed. “So, what do you want to know, aside from the alibi checks and so on?”
According to her, being the last people to see Eve alive, the three women—especially Beverly, who was with Eve until almost the very end of her life in the cab—had been repeatedly questioned about their whereabouts.
Still, despite question after question, their alibis didn’t check out.
Jess and Kylie parted with Eve after hitting the nightclub. Then they took the train for their homes in Union City, and Beverly was with Eve in the cab. Beverly’s apartment was just two stations away by subway, and she could have come to the crime scene in five minutes had she taken a cab. Also, she lived alone and had no one to prove her alibi.
As for Jess and Kylie, they were caught on the station’s surveillance camera, and as they said, they took a train to their home station. However, after getting off at their respective stations, each woman’s alibi was tricky. Each woman had a roommate, but on that particular night, their roommates were either out of town for business, or had been staying at their boyfriend’s place.
“You can try repeating the same questions over and over, but our answers aren’t likely to change.” Beverly shrugged.
CHAPTER 7
“All right, so no one has a solid alibi,” Rick commented after listening to the women’s stories.
“Hey, don’t accuse any of us of murdering our Evvie just because we don’t have solid alibis, okay?” Beverly said.
“Of course not.” Rick shrugged and walked toward the empty desk. “So, this is the desk Eve used to work on.” He pulled the chair out and sucked in air.
A white, fluffy thing sprang off the chair and jumped on Rick’s long legs.
“Wow, it’s a rabbit!” I exclaimed, approaching him and the animal. I loved rabbits. When I was a little girl, Alicia—my younger sister—and I used to beg my parents to buy us one, but they wouldn’t. So when an older girl we barely knew had one with black ears and black eye patches like a panda, we used to harass her so much about cuddling it that the girl literally ran away holding the panda rabbit like Hell was chasing her. “How cute!” I tried to reach for the fluffy creature, hoping to cuddle it, but it kept jumping away and wouldn’t let me touch.
“This is Framboise. And he hates to be held,” Holly said, smiling. Not in a sarcastic way, but like she couldn’t help it.
“Wow, he looks like a tough guy,” Rick commented as the fluffy rabbit continued to run from me.
“Yes, he is.” Holly nodded. “He looks like something out of a fairy tale movie, but underneath his cutesy façade is a tough-guy hunter. He used to bring in worms and bugs and stuff, driving Eve to scream in horror.”
“Yes, Evvie would freak out whenever Framboise brought a cricket for her,” Kylie said, looking at something far away from her. “He seems to channel a cat whenever he gets out in the garden and his hunting bone gets tickled.”
“So true,” Jess chimed in.
“Actually, the biggest reason for Eve to purchase this house was to keep him happy.” Holly smiled. “A few years back, we were in a condo, and the property had no garden. There was a balcony, but she was so worried about Framboise jumping off and crashing to the ground far below. Before moving here, he used to rough up the condo by biting off one of the legs of the couch and shredding the curtains.”
“Oh… he’s a bad, bad boy.” My eyes widened. My parents were so right. Cute critters are cute when you’re just looking at them, but when you actually live with them, you might find yourself as a terrible pet owner.
“Now he’s a slightly good guy.” Holly looked at the rabbit fondly. “Did you see the small door on the entrance?”
“Yes, I did. That was really cute,” I replied. “I mistook it for a cat door.”
“I know. Most people call it a cat door. Indeed, the contractor called it so. Anyway, Eve had it installed not only on the entrance door but for her bedroom and bathroom as well.”
“Wow, showering with a rabbit? He must have had a special connection with her.” Rick chuckled and turned to the assistants. “Okay, I’d like to ask you a few questions about Eve’s personality. Did she have traits that could drive others to hate her?” Casually, he steered the direction of the conversation back to the topic of the victim.
“No way. She was so sweet… totally like an angel.” Jessica Lawrence, aka Jess, was the first to deny Eve’s observation about herself. Jess was a comics artist herself. So far, her stories had been occasionally featured in The Wonderland, but her income from the magazine wasn’t enough to support herself. So, in order to obtain extra income, she had made it a habit to assist Eve. According to Holly, she was nicknamed as the Razor Tone as she was extremely proficient with the handling of the screen tones.
“So sweet, like an angel?” Rick parroted.
“Yes, she was,” she responded immediately. I watched her, searching for any sign of lying, but she kept her face straight. Perhaps she really was fond of Eve, but after listening to the story of a loathed graphic novelist from Eve herself, I wasn’t sure if we could believe her. Perhaps her words were based on some kind of savvy calculation. After all, Eve’s sister was attending this meeting. “In my opinion, Evvie was super sweet.”
“Look, some graphic novelists are truly weird, difficult, and bordering on evil, but not our Evvie. No way. She was good,” Kylie Minnons supplemented. Unlike Jess and Beverly, she was a professional assistant for graphic novelists. Ac
cording to Holly, she specialized in drawing intensive lines and truly minute dots that couldn’t be made using art software. I wasn’t an expert in graphic novels, but assuming from the way Holly spoke of her so highly, she must have been a great asset.
“Still, Jess, super sweet could be an exaggeration,” Beverly commented in a cool tone. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trash-talking her. Of course, she was nice and sweet, but I’d rather describe her as a good person instead of someone equivalent to some kind of a saint.”
“A good person, but not a saint.” Rick cocked his head lightly.
“I mean something between nice person and a saint-like person.” Beverly nodded. “You know what I mean?”
“I guess.” Rick glanced at me.
I was tempted to groan. According to Eve, she was the most hated graphic novelist in the world. Her assistants were especially supposed to hate her. Somehow, her story and the situation didn’t add up.
I looked at the assistants, then at Holly. For a brief moment, our eyes met.
“I’ll get you some more tea,” Holly said and left the work studio. Perhaps she had excused herself so the assistants could more openly discuss their opinion about Eve without her sister’s presence.
“I heard that Eve used to be a tad bit difficult with her arrogance and temperaments,” I said.
“Wow, you sound as if you’re channeling her.” Jess perked up. “She used to go on with her tale of half-truth and half-imagination. And in her perspective, she was a popular graphic novelist who had no one but enemies in the whole world. I agree about her being a popular graphic novelist, but I doubt she had that many enemies.”
“Right,” Kylie agreed. “She had this tendency to regard herself as some kind of femme fatale. I don’t know why. Deep down, she was a sweet, small-town girl no matter how successful she was, I guess. Perhaps it was some kind of narcissism on her part… or else her wishful thinking.”
Beverly snorted into laughing. “Yeah, she had this tendency to regard herself as a mysterious woman with a sketchy past. Or else she had been developing a new main character for a future series. Anyway, she had her charms, though they might have been difficult to appreciate for many people.”
“Come on, she was one of the nicest and most popular creators in this industry,” Jess insisted. “Unlike some other top-notch creators, she didn’t act like a total diva, treating me like garbage or some piece of junk who doesn’t have a brain or feelings. I really can’t understand why she had to die such a horrible death.”
“Oh, I see.” Nodding, I glanced at Rick, who reacted with a slightly twitched eyebrow. As the assistants spoke about Eve, their opinions of her contradicted her own.
As he didn’t take over the interview, I took it as a sign that he wanted me to question them. So I said, “By the way, I heard that you were rarely given time to rest and sleep the night before deadlines. How did you perceive that?”
“Oh, that?” Kylie tilted her head to the side. “That was nothing special. I mean, that’s part of our job, and I’ve never seen any assistants bitching about that. Besides, Eve gave us naptime after working twenty-four hours straight.” Her tone was casual, like she was talking about a grocery shopping list. “Look, I’ve been a professional assistant for graphic novelists and cartoonists for years, and I’ve seen way worse. Sometimes you get stuck with totally evil creators who make you work for over two days without sleep. Actually, such working conditions further slow us down as we suffer from sleep-deprivation-induced stupor. Still, they never understand.”
“That’s outrageous!” I gasped. “Not to mention that probably breaks a law or two.”
“Welcome to our universe.” Beverly winked. “Indeed, deadlines are taken more seriously than laws. Also, I have a hunch that some graphic novelists have no idea that such laws exist.”
“Also, don’t forget that Eve used to pay us extra for graveyard-hours shifts,” Jess chimed in. “You have no idea how much her generosity motivated us.”
“That’s so true.” Kylie nodded, putting emphasis on “true.” “Eve paid us a decent salary. Okay, so technically it’s Holly who handles our payroll. Still, some creators are so cheap, paying us below the standard minimum wage.”
“Ariana Locke was horrible.” Beverly grimaced. “Can you believe that? She paid us just five dollars an hour, which is far below the minimum wage. And guess what? It wasn’t like she was too broke to pay us decent wages. She was just cheap and evil. She couldn’t pay us minimum wage, but she had money to fly to Paris and go on a shopping spree.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard about that.” Jess snorted. “She was sued or something, right?”
“No, she ended up paying hefty fees before going to the court,” Beverly interjected. “The ten tortured assistants had a big march in front of her condo on the Upper East Side. She used to rent a nasty studio in the East Village, but that was just a stage to pretend her poorness. Anyway, I was at the march, holding a placard and demanding her to pay.”
“Wow, I’m impressed.” Kylie’s eyes widened.
“On the contrary, this here, working for Eve Wellington, used to be a little piece of heaven.” Jess closed her eyes. “Holly cooks delicious meals for us, and we got to have not only showers but soak in the bathtub. I think Frankie used to visit here so often just to eat Holly’s delicious food.”
“I know.” Beverly sighed. “Look, I’m totally devastated by Evvie’s untimely demise, and I believe every one of us feels the same. I’m not crying my eyes out, but I’m sad. She didn’t deserve to die so young, and she definitely didn’t deserve to be murdered. But for the practical part, I’m so lost. Now that our Evvie has passed away and our job here won’t last long, I’ve got to find the next job. Kylie, Jess, what are you guys up for next?” She looked at her fellow assistants.
Kylie shook her head. “One of my friends is working for a certain creator who’s interested in working with me. Then again, the meals served there exclusively come from convenient store–purchased items with occasional frozen TV dinners, which makes me hesitant about the opportunity. If only Holly could come cook, I’d be euphoric, but of course, there’s no reason for her to serve us food.”
“Ooh… that’s a huge issue.” Jess nodded. “It’s almost like an existential dilemma. You know, when you’re used to Holly pampering you with her yummy food and her happy-go-lucky attitude and—how should I describe it?—her warmth, like she’s some sort of an angel who accidentally stumbled upon this world, leaving this place for other gigs totally breaks my heart. My editor wants me to submit the plot of my new story, so I guess I’ll stay at home and work on my own project—for as long as the money lasts, at least.”
“If only there was a way to have Evvie come back to life.” Beverly let out a deep sigh. “I know such magic is probably strictly prohibited, but if I had means, I’d be very tempted to try it.”
Jess and Kylie joined her and sighed.
Considering the way they behaved, the three assistants seemed desperate to have Eve back rather than wanting her dead. Of course, they could have been faking their grief and inconvenience to cover up their actual feelings.
“By the way, I heard that Frank Wingate, the editor, hated Eve,” I said.
“Who? You mean Frankie? Is he a suspect? No way! He couldn’t have killed Eve.” Jess shook her head violently. “You haven’t seen him, have you? He’s such a sweet guy.”
“Jess is right,” Kylie agreed.
“So true.” Beverly nodded. Neither of them seemed to be lying.
Jess opened her mouth. “Okay, so Eve used to work on her manuscript until the deadline literally forced her to submit or else, and I can imagine things weren’t easy for Frankie. He often visited here working on phototypesetting. Of course, he’s supposed to work on that at his office, but sometimes the schedules were so tight that he didn’t have time to go there before bringing the manuscript in to the printing company.”
“Phototype…?” I asked, not quite catching what
she said.
“Phototypesetting is an old-fashioned method to insert the words into the manuscripts. Nowadays, it’s been almost completely replaced by computer software, but the old-fashioned style gives the stories softer touches, and Eve loved that,” Kylie explained.
“Not to mention, Eve had the habit of almost missing the deadline every month, which made it almost mandatory for Frankie to insert the words manually,” Beverly chimed in. “During the party—it was about nine o’clock—Eve sent him a selfie of herself with us, adding a message that went something like ‘Heeeey! We’re enjoying the paaartay!’ And ten seconds later, he replied, saying, ‘Still working on phototypesetting… Ooh… I’m morphing into a zombie…’ with a groggy face emoji. Then he followed up with ‘LOL!’”
“He didn’t have the opportunity nor the energy to visit that neighborhood and murder Eve,” Jess analyzed. “Look, on the deadline day, he usually works nonstop without sleeping, and if he had time for that, he’d prefer to work. Besides, being Eve’s editor has given him a huge boost in the editorial room’s hierarchy. He had no reason to kill Eve.”
“Also, I think he’s a masochist.” Beverly chuckled. “He was totally exhausted with work, but at the same time, he was really enjoying it.”
“Okay. Thank you for the info.” I looked for Rick, who was sitting at Eve’s desk by the door, playing with one of the pens like a hand spinner.
“Are you done?” he said, prompting me to nod. “All right then. Now it’s my turn to ask you some questions. So, what kind of a person could have killed your employer, do you imagine?”
“Hmm….” The assistants fell silent for a while.
“On that night, Evvie was dressed up, but her accessories were mostly costume jewelry, and she wasn’t carrying a Birkin. Actually, she was excited as she heard from a Hermes representative that her Birkin was scheduled to arrive in a month or so.” Kylie tilted her head to the side. “So I think the possibility of a robbery turned bad is low.”