by Gilian Baker
“Keeping her as executive assistant was a stipulation of my taking over the firm. My father insinuated she’d gone to him and given him a sob story about me not liking her, and that she worried about her job security. He requested that I keep her on.” After shrugging his shoulders, he looked down at his lap and plucked an imaginary piece of lint from his pants leg. “I felt I couldn’t refuse.”
“Can you give me some examples of her behavior that might help me better understand her?”
Fingering his collar, a flash of inspiration, he jumped in his chair. “I’ve been so remiss. Would you care for coffee, Ms. Blackwell?”
Before I could open my mouth to answer he punched the button on his phone and spoke into the intercom, “Two coffees, please, Missy. And bring cream and sugar on the tray also. Thank you.”
With that little task done, he flicked a look in my direction, then looked away, pretending he didn’t remember my question.
“About the awkwardness between you and Ms. Payne?”
He cleared his throat. “Oh, yes. As I was saying… she needed a great deal of praise, which I’m not used to giving a secretary. She’d hint she wanted recognized for her help, and if I didn’t oblige, she’d supply her own self-congratulatory statement, then wait for me to pitch in more.”
“Yes, I see.” I jotted down notes on both what he’d said and his obvious discomfort. When he failed to go on, I placed my pen on my notepad and smiling, looked him in the eye. “I understand it’s difficult to speak ill of the dead, Mr. Gallagher. But trust me, you’re doing a good thing discussing this sensitive topic. Our client is innocent, and we mean to bring the real murderer to justice. Unfortunately, that means putting the victim on trial.”
He shook his head. “Yes, yes, of course.” The door opened, saving him from going any further. Missy, his new assistant, walked in carrying a coffee tray, the heady scent of French roast following in her wake.
“Would you like me to pour, Mr. Gallagher?”
“No thank you, Missy.” He stood up and smiled at her. “I’ll take care of it. You may resume your other duties.” His tone implied she should curtsy and bless him for giving her work to do. I doubted that tone would’ve gone over well with Connie.
The mundane task kept questions at bay. His posture and gestures spoke volumes—he was in control again.
The chore completed, he handed me a cup of fragrant brew and sat back down in his office chair. He took a deep sip and made an appreciative noise before he set his cup down and attempted to retain the composure he had gained by completing an everyday task.
That little demonstration had made me wonder about something. “May I ask, Mr. Gallagher, was it part of Ms. Payne’s job to bring you coffee when you met with clients?”
He licked his lips and gave a forced chuckle. “It’s funny you should ask that. I’d always expected my assistants to perform that duty, but at the start of our working together, Ms. Payne clarified that serving coffee was below her pay grade.”
“So she refused to bring you coffee because it was beneath her?”
“Yes. The only time she did, I was meeting with an important client. Her attitude was frosty enough to chill the coffee. It made for quite an uncomfortable scene, I can tell you. I made an excuse to the client, but I’m not sure he bought it.” He picked up a paperclip and played with it as he continued. “From then on I asked one of the other girls to make and serve in the beverages. Ms. Payne and I never discussed the scene.” He rolled his chair back and crossed one leg over the other while looking at the ceiling. “Actually, that’s a prime example of our relationship, such as it was. I always felt this…fury under the surface. She’d go way beyond in the job she did for me, but then expected praise. When she didn’t get it, she became frosty, nothing more. But it was as though she were the one in charge, not me. She was always professional, and there was nothing she ever did that would be grounds for dismissal or even a rebuke, but it still made for an awkward work environment for me.”
“I can imagine.” And I could. She wasn’t someone I’d keep on my payroll. But I knew from my days at the university that the corporate world is much different than the freelance one. If I don’t care for someone’s attitude or work style, even when they supplied high quality work. I don’t have to hire out to them again. Another grand reason for being my own boss. I couldn’t have done that in academia, that’s for sure.
“I’m not in the habit of being around a lot of the staff.” He sniffed and jutted out his chin. “However, I noticed the distinct feeling of aggression between her and some of the other members of the team.”
I continued scribbling notes as I asked, “Can you give me the names of those people?” I looked up from my writing.
He pulled his eyebrows together. “Well, um, Missy Rayburn, for one. The woman who brought in our coffee. And my partner’s executive assistant, Wilhelmina Stout. Those are the only two that come to mind.”
I flipped the pages of my legal pad back. “Are those two people on my list of employees to speak with today?”
“Yes, I believe they are.”
“And, can you describe the situations in which you felt that aggression?”
“It was always there with Missy. She was in line to become my assistant when I took on my father’s role as managing partner, but I explained that situation.” He paused and looked up at the ceiling again. “I recollect one episode between Mrs. Stout and Ms. Payne when the partners where planning a large conference of other lawyers in the state. We were hosting a three-day event. I walked in on an intense squabble between the two assistances, though I don’t know what it was about. I know it made for a tense atmosphere during the first day of said conference.”
Draining the rest of my coffee, I placed the cup on his desk. “Thank you so much for your candor, Mr. Gallagher. I know it makes for a difficult situation, but what you’ve revealed gives me a better understanding of Ms. Payne. So thank you.” I put my notes and pen in my briefcase and put the strap over my shoulder.
My nervousness was replaced with self-confidence as I walked beside Mr. Gallagher down the hall, anticipating my next challenge.
***
The elation of cracking Mr. Gallagher didn’t last long. During the next two hours, I talked to five of Connie’s coworkers plus Mr. Gallagher. My brain was numb from asking the same questions and receiving the same answers—yes, they’d known Ms. Payne. No, they didn’t know why someone would want to kill her.
They were all lying. They avoided looking me in the eyes, they avoided answering direct questions—obvious signs they were being less than truthful. These people had despised Connie and were glad she was dead. But even when I put on my most disarming charm, I couldn’t get them to spill the beans. I had saved the best two for last—the two women who Charles Gallagher had mentioned as having flare-ups with the victim. I hoped they would make my time more worthwhile than the last few employees who’d dragged themselves into and back out of the conference room.
Waiting for the next employee, I stared zombie-like out the glass walls of the conference room. Out of the corner of my vision I noticed one a man whom I’d interviewed talking with a lanky-looking youth dressed in a flannel shirt, chinos and Vans tennis shoes. His dress, along with his hairstyle, or lack thereof, shouted “hipster.”
Hunched together and looking furtive, it was clear they were discussing something they didn’t want overheard. They might as well have had a red neon sign hanging over their heads saying, “We have secrets.”
My radar was on high alert, as I wondered what it was all about. In unison, as if I’d disseminated my thoughts, they looked over at me. When I looked straight at them with eyebrows raised, they pretended to be deep in conversation once again. If I hadn’t known Mr. Taylor had been lying before, I knew it now.
My attention shifted away from the secretive corner meeting when a late middle-aged woman, gray hair in a tight bun and a sour expression on her face walked in. I assumed this was Mrs. Wilhelmina Stout. “Hi, c
ome on in. I promise not to take up too much of your time. I’m sure you have things you want to get off your desk before you leave for the day.”
A tight smile played on her lips as she smoothed the back of her flower-print dress and then sat down. “Indeed I do.”
Taking a deep breath, I started my spiel. “I know you’ve already spoken with the sheriff’s department, but we’d like to hear firsthand your feelings towards Ms. Payne.”
Leaning back in my chair, I prepared to hear the same song and dance I’d gotten from the others.
“She was a two-faced witch!”
Chapter Thirteen
It wasn’t every day you heard such venom coming out of the mouth of a mild-mannered grandmother, but I’d take it. Now maybe I’d get somewhere.
Startled by her own hatefulness, Wilhelmina slumped back in her chair. “I’m sorry for being so hateful, but she was.”
“There’s no need to apologize, Mrs. Stout. Please, can you tell me what you mean, give me some examples of why you feel this way?”
“She thought she was the end all and be all. She was grumpy and would take no one else’s advice. And then when her ideas went wrong, who do you think she blamed? She never accepted the blame for her ideas, but she certainly took the kudos, and then some.”
“What do you mean, ‘and then some?’”
“She took the credit for other people’s good ideas and hard work, that’s what I mean.”
She took a deep breath in the attempt to settle herself. “That’s what’s gotten me so worked up. She’s taken the credit for a project I’ve worked on for months, and from beyond the grave, no less. I was just hearing how wonderful she was… how inventive and thorough… from my boss just before I came in here.”
“Mr. Gallagher said he walked in on a heated debate you two were having some time back. Preparing for a conference.”
“Yes. I’d recommended another way of doing something mundane, I think it had to do with how to arrange the chairs, and she went ballistic. Accusing me of interfering and trying to get recognition I didn’t deserve. She was always doing things like that. No rational person overreacts to little things like that. I’ll tell you, something was wrong with her.”
Since Wilhelmina was so forthcoming, I took a chance. I cozied in near the table and spoke in a softer tone, “You know, I’ve heard she had blackmailed someone here. I wonder if you know who or why.”
Her mouth fell open and her right hand flew to her chest. “How do you know about that?”
“There’s evidence to suggest she was blackmailing at least one person, and perhaps more. I suspect it wasn’t the first time she had done it, either.”
Her hand found the gold cross hanging from her neck. She played with it for a moment while contemplating her next sentence. “I mentioned none of this to the nice sheriff’s deputy who interviewed me. I won’t get in trouble for telling you and not him, will I?”
“No, but I suggest you contact them to add it to your statement, just to be safe. They’ll need to know this information, too. We all want the same thing—to punish the real killer.”
She thought about it for a moment and came to a decision. “Okay. I only know what I’ve heard, but there’s a few folk around here who have made off-handed remarks that could lead one to believe blackmail was occurring on the premises.”
My heart sank at the thought of her hiding behind lawyer-speak just as I’d hit upon something useful.
“Um, could you be more specific, Mrs. Stout?”
She grasped her cross in her fist, taking a deep breath. “I know two of the people you have interviewed already today have bad habits they’d rather not anyone know about. But she did. She was extorting money from them and had been for a while. I know of several past employees who’ve left the firm only because she was draining them dry. And she wasn’t all that careful about keeping their secrets, either. She made enough off-handed comments about them I figured out what their secrets were. And that she was squeezing them for money. More than that, when I asked her about it, she was proud of herself!”
“Proud of herself for taking their money?”
“Yes. She said they deserved to pay for their dirty little secrets and since she’d ferreted them out, she was the one who deserved to make a profit from it. She believed the world revolved around her. And if it didn’t, she’d turn things around so it did.”
So, we now had confirmation of Crystal’s theory that the ledger entries were blackmailing details. It wasn’t official, but I don’t know why this woman would lie.
I dared to go on further, even though I knew I was pushing it. This lady had a sense of propriety, and she was already feeling guilty about what she’d said.
“Mrs. Stout, I’d be appreciative if you would tell me the names of those two people.”
The color drained from her face and her eyes grew wide. “Oh, dear. I don’t think I should. They aren’t my secrets to tell.”
“You need not tell me their secrets. I only need to narrow it down so I can speak to them about it.” It was time to play the mom card. I leaned closer to her and put my elbows on the table. “I’m representing an innocent woman with three small children, Mrs. Stout. My goal is to get her home to her children, where she belongs, as soon as possible.”
She closed her eyes for a long moment and then in a rush, supplied me with the names. “It was Jack Taylor and Sophie Billingham.” She slumped in her chair as if someone had let all the air out of her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Stout, for your frankness. Even though Connie was difficult, we all want the person responsible to go to jail. And you have opened new lines of inquiry for us and the sheriff’s department.”
She looked up at me with tears glistening in her eyes and sniffed. “They won’t know it was me who told on them, will they?”
I reached over across the table and grabbed her hand. “Oh, no, of course not. Everything you’ve told me was in strict confidence. You have my word.”
She didn’t look all that convinced as she shuffled out of the room. She’d worked in a law office long enough to know information about cases wasn’t as need-to-know as the clients believed. Jack and Sophie might figure out who had squealed—it would be logical to assume that it had been someone who I’d interviewed today. I couldn’t worry about that, however. I was here to do a job, and that had to be more important than hurting feelings and humiliating a few people who didn’t want their secrets known at their place of work.
***
It was almost time for the offices to close for the day by the time I got around to talking with Missy, the barista. No matter how good or not she was at her other job duties, she sure could make a mean cup of coffee.
My fatigue was overtaking me. I was rubbing my face when I heard her voice. “Okay if I come in now, Ms. Blackwell?”
“Sure, Missy. Come on in.” She came into the room, smoothed down her skirt and sat down on the edge of the chair. She looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here. That made two of us.
“I know what you’re gonna ask. Sorry, but I overheard you talking with the other staff members. Yes, I knew Connie. And she made my work life miserable.” She flipped her long dark curls over her shoulder. “And the others weren’t telling the whole truth. She was a pain in everyone’s as… backside. Sorry.” Her voice had started out strong, but had grown so quiet it was almost inaudible. I hadn’t appreciated how young and attractive she was until now. She couldn’t be much older than Ellie.
“No worries. So, can you be specific, give me some examples?” I picked up my pen, flipped to a fresh new page in my pad and prepared to write. She had something she wanted to get off her chest. I could feel it.
“Well, Mr. Gallagher had promised to bring me in as his executive assistant, even though I had only been here a short time. Connie caught wind of it, and before I knew it, she’s weaseled her way into keeping her position, even though Mr. Gallagher—the young one—didn’t want her. She made it her job to make me look
bad. Saying I had lost files when I know she had taken them. Neglecting to give me important messages.” She shrugged one shoulder.
“You know, the usual backstabbing that happens in the workplace. But this went further. She would be nice to my face, being all sappy about how sorry she was that I hadn’t gotten the job, but then I’d overhear her badmouthing me to the others. Saying how stupid and incompetent I was. ‘The typical airheaded blond’ is the way she phrased it. She even tampered with the coffee I made for Mr. Gallagher one time.” She smiled over at me. “You know he loves my coffee? Well, I was brewing a pot in the French press, like he likes, and ran to go answer the phone right across from the kitchen. While I was gone, she must have done something to it. It was awful! She was there, of course, to ‘help me out’ when he tasted it and shouted out. She blamed me, but I know she did something.”
“In my book, it’s low to mess with someone’s hot beverage.” I gave her a reassuring smile.
“Yeah, I think so, too.”
“So you said the other staff members were lying about her. What did you mean by that?”
“They were all letting on that she was just one of the gang. A coworker who was friendly and helpful. She was only those things when she needed something from you. She was nasty the rest of the time… unless a partner or other lawyers were around. Then she was all ‘honey, this and sweetie, that.’ You know, like older women talk. But it was all an act, but I think the partners bought it. Or maybe they didn’t want to know the real her. They were always praising her, and she took all the credit for anything good that happened. How can people do that? Act so nasty, but get commended on everything? How is someone new and young supposed to get ahead when there are people like that?”
“You keep doing good work, Missy.” I winked at her. “Mr. Gallagher seems to appreciate you, and I’m sure you will get your fair share of praise now.”
“Thanks, Ms. Blackwell.”
“Now, we’re almost done here, but I wanted to ask you if you’ve heard about any extortion going on… extortion from Ms. Payne?”