Shades of Pink (Lola Pink Mysteries Book 1)

by Gina LaManna

  “I suppose you can’t tell me about the larger invention.”

  “I’m afraid not, ND—”

  “NDA’s and all that jazz,” I finished. “I understand.”

  He gave a tight smile. “Sorry. But the computer chip was promised to Mr. Clark’s client by this coming Sunday. As you well know, it’s Monday. We were in the final stages of testing the product to deliver it.”

  I turned to face him. “I’m confused. If you have the product already built, why worry about the blueprints?”

  “Delivering the product is stage one. The client won’t use the chip for another year, two years, potentially even three years, with all the testing they’ll need to do. If someone’s stolen the plans, they might put a different, cheaper version on the market first. Our client pays for exclusive rights to the design.”

  “And they aren’t very exclusive if the designs have been stolen.”

  “Not at all.”

  “May I assume that Mr. Clark would be out lots of money?”

  “He’d be out millions of dollars instantly, not to mention future revenues. Trust means a lot in this business. If Mr. Clark sold a design that had been stolen, it would not look good for the company.”

  “Well…” I exhaled, swiping a hand across my forehead. “Good thing there’s no pressure here. Tell me again why you didn’t call the SWAT team?”

  “Let’s walk and talk. If we stay in here too long, people will be suspicious. I’m supposed to be giving Mr. Clark’s new assistant a tour, not letting her grill me in the Eagle Office.”

  He slipped the sketched plans back into the folder he’d been holding. As we descended the staircase, a few sets of eyes followed us.

  “Where is the lead designer?” I asked.

  “We shifted him to an “urgent” project in Warehouse 10. We didn’t explain why since Mr. Clark wants to keep the theft under wraps for now. Designers have access to only one warehouse at a time. If he’s working in 10, his access to 7 is denied.”

  “He believed you about there being an urgent project?”

  “It won’t last as a distraction forever, but it’ll work for now. Until Sunday, at least.”

  “We have a week to find this thing?”

  “Yes. Mr. Clark will not deliver the chip if we can’t find the missing documents. It’s simply too risky.”

  Massaging the back of my neck, I tried to think. “This place is nuts.”

  “You get used to it. Some would even say it feels like home.” He buzzed out past several sets of doors, holding each one open for me. “Mind if we walk back instead of train? It’s a nice day.”

  “It’s always a nice day on the Sunshine Shore,” I agreed, falling into stride next to him.

  We passed a few old stone benches lining the fountains; gargoyles, stone men, and painted ladies perched at all angles had water leaping over and around them all. A bit of spray misted my face, and I turned it toward the sun to dry.

  “How long have you worked here?” I asked, finally breaking the silence once we’d walked for a few minutes. “You’re right; it is really pleasant back here.”

  “My history with the company is a long one.”

  I turned to look at him. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that. Were you born here? Began after college? Started here two years ago? Long means different things to different people.”

  He surveyed the picturesque park, the sunlight glinting off the green blades of grass. Despite the vast open spaces and the click of our shoes against the cobblestone path, an aura of mystery hovered around the outskirts, as if the walls of this snow globe were just waiting to be broken, just waiting for the outside world to come crashing in and disturb the peace.

  Behind the warehouses, the trees rose up—dark and dense, like a layer of protection, a shroud of intrigue. I couldn’t tell if their purpose was to keep others out, or to keep us inside.

  “I grew up with the Clark Company as part of my life,” Nick said finally. He raised his hands gesturing around the park. “Can you imagine growing up in such a charmed world?”

  “I was thinking it’s like a snow globe.” I stopped walking and looked up at the sky. “But if I’d been born here, I’d have always wondered what’s on the outside. Beyond the trees. Beyond the warehouses and the castles.”

  “That’s exactly what it felt like.” When I returned my gaze to him, he was watching me with a careful expression. “How eerie, Miss Pink. Are you sure you didn’t inherit your grandmother’s powers?”

  “You know about Dotty?”

  “Even if it hadn’t been my job to research potential candidates for the job and learn everything about you and the other prospects, I would’ve known about Dotty Pink. When I was fifteen she predicted that I would…never mind.” A shadow crossed his face. “Sorry, that was a tangent.”

  “No, please! Dotty passed away recently, and I miss her a lot.” I paused, letting the familiar pang of longing pass. “I love hearing anecdotes about her. So many people loved her.”

  “I didn’t know her well.” He forced a smile. “And I shouldn’t digress.”

  “Please.”

  “Now that you mention it, I’m wondering if Dotty ever mentioned whether or not she kept…” He scratched his head, a sheepish smile creeping over his face. “Leftover prophecies. Or a diary, a journal of some sort.”

  His question sucker punched me in the gut. “A journal? What do you know about a journal?”

  “Nothing, it’s stupid.” He shook his head. “Forget it.”

  I reached out, my fingers clasping around his wrist. “I mean it; I want to know.”

  He shrugged. “She gave me a prediction when I was fifteen. Then she told me to come back when I was twenty-five, and again when I turned fifty.”

  “You didn’t go back when you turned twenty-five.”

  He gave a short shake of his head. “Unfortunately, I was busy with other things during that time in my life.”

  “And now she’s gone.”

  “I turn fifty next week,” he said. “I would’ve gone back to her, but as you well know…”

  I watched the look of discomfort slide over his face. A familiar sensation with those who believed Dotty could truly predict the future. Part of these folks wanted to know whatever it was that she’d say, but another part of them didn’t. What if the future looked bleak and horrible instead of shiny and hopeful?

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll take a look around Psychic in Pink and let you know if I find anything in the store. Journals or notes or anything.”

  “Really, you don’t have to.”

  “Doesn’t hurt to look,” I said firmly. “Anyway, you’ve been here for how long?”

  “My father worked here before me so, like I said, I spent a lot of time around here growing up. There’s a small section of housing for Castlewood employees just behind the trees.” He gestured past the quad. “I lived there as a child. My father wanted me to come work here straight after high school, but I was a rebel and went to college. It took me a few years to come back here.”

  “Does your father still work here?”

  “He left the company a long time ago.”

  We walked in silence. “Is that working?” I pointed toward a gondola similar to the ones found at ski resorts. A thick cable had been strung between the second floor of the castle and somewhere beyond the trees. “I didn’t notice it until you showed me where you lived as a kid. Is that how you got home?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I suppose it works, but I’ve only seen it used a handful of times throughout my tenure here.”

  “Where does it go?”

  Nick gave me a funny stare. “Warehouse 11.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “I thought there were only ten.”

  “There are.” He gave a wispy smile. “Eleven was never supposed to exist.”

  “What’s made there?”

  “I really can’t say. I don’t know.”

  “But you�
�re the Director of Operations.”

  His lips curved into a thin smile. “Exactly.”

  The mood had suddenly turned chilly. “Okay, well never mind then. I’ll ask Mr. Clark. Speaking of, what was he like when he was younger? Was he always so blunt?”

  “Mathematical. Scientific. The Clark Company has been in his family for generations. They are well-off, well-educated individuals, albeit a little odd.”

  “I’ve never seen someone schedule time like he does. I couldn’t do it. Does he ever have friends over? Something to break the monotony?”

  “Friends? Like a girlfriend?” An amused smile played at Nick’s lips as we came to a stop on the platform outside of the castle. “He’s had a handful of girlfriends. None of them lasted. I’m sure you can venture a guess as to why.”

  “I don’t think he’s so bad,” I said. “I suppose his awkwardness is endearing in a way.”

  “There you are—” Mrs. Dulcet stepped through the doors at that moment, as if she’d been waiting for the right time to pounce. “Nicolas.”

  Nick cleared his throat, the amusement leaving his eyes. “We were just finishing up.”

  “I’ll take over from here.”

  “May we have a moment, please?”

  “Absolutely.” Mrs. Dulcet took a step back inside the door, but she didn’t make a show of giving us privacy. “I’ll wait.”

  I looked between the two, sensing some odd sort of tension. I couldn’t say why, or how—individually, they’d both been respectful toward me, even downright nice. But the air had chilled ten degrees when Lucy and Nick had stepped within ten feet of each other.

  Disgruntled for the first time since I’d met him, Nick Flanagan reached out and shook my hand. “Pleasure to have you here. I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful addition to the staff as Mr. Clark’s personal assistant. Here’s some information for you to review at your convenience. The sooner the better.”

  “I’ll look at it tonight.” I accepted the thick folder. “Oh, and do I get my phone back?”

  “No. That’s the short answer.” Nick offered a sympathetic smile. “I do have the company phone for you. We don’t allow cameras anywhere on the property as I mentioned before. Here you go.”

  I took the slim black device, noting its lack of bells and whistles. The thing was as plain as they come, simple and high tech. “Does this even make outside calls?”

  “Yes, of course. But you should also know the phones are company properties, and any information passing through them can be searched.”

  “So no prank calls?”

  “My contact information is pre-programmed already. Let’s meet tomorrow at eleven o’clock in the morning. I’ll clarify any questions you might have.”

  “Perfect. Now, it’s time for the castle tour. Thank you, Mr. Flanagan.” Mrs. Dulcet turned a set of excited eyes on me. “Come, dear. Your room is perfect. Just wait until you see the shower.”

  As Mrs. Dulcet dragged me into the house, I turned, feeling a set of eyes on my back. Nick Flanagan watched us go with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips twisted into a tight grimace.

  As I rushed to keep up with Mrs. Dulcet, I continued to feel his stare following our every step into the castle. I wondered, in a world of complex machinery, million dollar blueprints, and charming grounds, what was going on between the butler and the Director of Operations?

  The tour of the house left me exhausted. Or maybe it was lack of sugar in my bloodstream. It’d been hours since breakfast, and it looked like we were going to be working straight through lunch. Thankfully, however, Gerard had offered to drive me home this afternoon to grab a bag of my stuff, and surely, I could sneak in a few Pop-Tarts for the road.

  The castle was, in a word, extraordinary. Sitting on top of a large incline, the front windows faced the shore, providing gorgeous oceanfront views. The rooftop space was split between an infinity pool and a helicopter landing pad. From there, one could see all ten of the main warehouses, and then miles and miles of trees. Warehouse 11 remained mysteriously invisible.

  “I think that’s everything.” Mrs. Dulcet wrapped up the tour in a spacious bedroom in the guest wing. The guest wing butted up to the living quarters for in-house staff. Mr. Clark’s room sat in the wing opposite mine with only a large living room separating the two hallways.

  “It’s… old,” I said. “And incredibly impressive.”

  Lucy laughed. “Yes, indeed. This will be your room. Mr. Clark is within shouting distance, but he does have a separate entryway and you likely won’t ever see him. I’m one hallway over, and I’ll hear if you shout too. Otherwise, there’s the intercom system. I’m available to you at all hours.”

  “Aren’t I the assistant?” I asked. “Shouldn’t I be the available one?”

  “Yes, well. Mr. Clark will be utilizing your services around the clock, and I just want you to know I’m here to help. Sometimes he puts too much of a burden on one individual, and, well, I just really want this to work. He really does need some day-to-day assisting, and the castle could do with some fresh legs. I hope you’ll enjoy it here.”

  Lucy’s pleading expression made me smile. It felt nice to be needed somewhere, even if I was still figuring out exactly what I had to offer. “Great, well—I suppose I’ll shower and look over the files.”

  “Absolutely. Let me point out the last necessities.” Mrs. Dulcet made her way over to the bedside table. Pressing a finger to her lips, she pulled open the bottom drawer.

  There, like a pot of gold, candy wrappers stared up at me—Twizzlers, tootsie rolls, pixie sticks, granola bars with chocolate chips. “Oh, you are a saint.”

  “There’s a ledge outside, and the window unlatches easily.” Mrs. Dulcet gave me a pointed stare and moved toward the window in question, raising and lowering it. “Should you need this.”

  “Um, great! In case of a draft?”

  “Sure. A draft.” She gave a coy little smile. “And in case of a visiting draft from the outside world, you should tell them to follow the pathway with the yellow handrail. No alarm will be triggered there after ten p.m. so long as your visitors alert the guards.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Lastly, there is a very good chance your devices will be confiscated while you’re living in the manor. It’s nothing unusual—we’ve all given up our devices to use only company approved ones—”

  “I figured that one out.” I held up my company approved phone and gave it a wiggle. “What’s the policy for texting my friends?”

  “Go ahead, so long as you don’t share any private information.” She gave a kind smile. “Why don’t you take the afternoon to rest and look over your files, get situated, whatever else you like. I’ll ping Gerard and remind him about taking a trip to your house to pick up your belongings.”

  “That would be great.”

  “He doesn’t mind—he likes getting those cars of his on the road as much as possible. You’re doing him the favor, believe me.” She winked, and then clapped her hands together and took a step back. “Meet in the kitchen at six thirty sharp for dinner. I’ll be serving you steak.”

  “Just me? You don’t have to prepare something special.”

  “Mr. Clark’s schedule doesn’t always allow him time to sit down for dinner, but in case it does, I have dinner ready at six thirty every evening.”

  “Okay,” I hesitated. “Say, can I ask you a quick question?”

  Mrs. Dulcet smoothed her apron over her plump figure. “Yes, of course. Anything.”

  “How long have you worked here?”

  “Oh, dear.” Mrs. Dulcet took a few steps toward the four-poster bed and perched on the edge, a fluffy white comforter bunching around her. “I can’t even count the years. I got the job the year after I got married. I was eighteen.”

  “You’ve been here since before Dane was born?”

  “Well before that. Mr. and Mrs. Clark senior were newlyweds at the time. Dane came several years later.”

  “How did you find
the job?”

  “My husband. He was a technology whiz. In fact, he was Mr. Clark senior’s first official New Hire. As you know, the Clark Company has been passed down for generations. Mr. Clark Sr.—Randall, is his name—took over the company on his twenty-third birthday. He hired my husband the next week.”

  “Your husband must be a smart man. The Clark Company only seems to hire the best.”

  “Was.” Mrs. Dulcet cleared her throat. “He was a very smart man. He passed away before he turned thirty.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I moved next to her on the bed and sat with her in silence.

  Mrs. Dulcet twisted the wedding ring on her finger. “I stayed because—well, where could I go? All I ever wanted was a family. Kids, of course, and for my husband to be happy. I didn’t go to college. Times were different then, and…well, I wanted to be a wife and a mother. I was young, and I didn’t know any better. To be with him was simply enough.”

  I swallowed and rested my hand on hers, the wedding ring warm to the touch.

  “I know you’re wondering what you can possibly say, but don’t worry.” Mrs. Dulcet looked over at me. “I assure you, I’m fine. That was many years ago, and I’m perfectly content with the way things are now. I miss him, but that’s okay. I’ve survived, and I’ll continue to do so.”

  “You worked for Dane’s father, and now Dane? Where are his parents?”

  “They’ve moved to their vacation home up in Ocean View. It’s an hour away by train—a beautiful estate. You’ll meet them if you stick around long enough.”

  “You watched Dane grow up?”

  She smiled, her eyes lighting for the first time since the mention of her husband. “I watched from the sideline, but I did what I could to spoil him. It wasn’t much—his parents were very strict—but I hope it was something. He’s a good man, Lola, I promise. I’d stake my life on it.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  “He has his quirks, and he has baggage, but deep down he’s good.” She turned to me, and she gave me an intense stare. “In some ways, he’s the son I never had. Do you understand?”

  “I won’t hurt him,” I murmured. “I’m just here to do a job.”