by Elaine Macko
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“What are you two still doing here?” I asked, as I took off my coat and hung it up on a hook by the front door.
“We’ve been working on staffing the agency.” My sister raised her arms and stretched.
“We shouldn’t be counting our chickens before they hatch.” Mr. Poupée’s words echoed in my head.
“I know, but I really think we’ve got this deal sewn up and I wanted to get a jump on it. As soon as we get the okay, Mr. Brandon’s going to want people quickly.”
I sighed. “I suppose you’re right. But don’t be too disappointed if we don’t get the contract.”
I didn’t usually lean toward pessimism and Sam said so.
“I know. KBO. KBO,” I chanted trying to inject more optimism into one of Winston’s mantras than I currently felt.
“That’s right,” Sam said as she followed me into my office. “Keep boogying on.”
“Not boogying. Buggering. Keep buggering on.” I sighed audibly. “I don’t see Winston as the boogying type,” I added, this time smiling.
“Oh, I don’t know. I bet he and Clementine could really shake up old Number 10.”
At the thought I burst into laughter. Too tired and stressed it was just one of those times where the thing you’re laughing at isn’t really funny but you can’t help yourself. Obviously Sam and Millie felt the same way because they looked at each other and then joined me in hysteria. “I must be really tired. I can just see him, all five foot nothing, pink flesh, rolling around break dancing!” I howled. Pink flesh. I stopped abruptly. “Oh, my God. Did you talk to Mom today?” I told Millie and Sam what had happened at the assisted living center.
“I always loved Grandpa’s bowties,” Sam said longingly. “Which one did he have on?”
“The Christmas one.”
“With the tiny reindeer all over it? I loved that one!” Sam enthused.
“Not on his…you know, you wouldn’t.” I grimaced. “There’s another thing. Grandpa’s not circumcised. That’s probably what caused this episode. They think he has a urinary tract infection from not cleaning himself properly.”
Sam scrunched her face. “Jeez. Gross me out, why don’t ya. What happened to him?”
“They’ll check him for the infection and treat it and he’ll be okay.” I frowned. “I don’t think I can handle seeing him like that again. As a matter of fact, I’m not sure I can ever see him again.”
“Want to order some Chinese food?” Millie asked. “Does anyone still feel like eating?”
Sam waved her hand. “Oh, sure. By time the food gets here my stomach should be settled from this latest bit of gross information.” She slanted her eyes at me.
“Why don’t you stay, too, Alex,” Millie added, today wearing a bright red Santa hat.
At the mention of Chinese food, my mood brightened. Tired and stressed and famished. What a mess.
“Sure, why not. I don’t feel like going home and cooking.”
Millie got up to go place the order.
“Why aren’t you home cooking dinner for your family?”
“The kids are staying over at Mom and Dad’s. Remember? And Michael works over at the free clinic once a month. Tonight’s his night. You don’t look too good.”
“I’m fed up with people lying and I can’t seem to get a handle on things. Today I actually accused three people of being liars.” I leaned forward and put my head in my hands. “The police haven’t arrested me but they haven’t told me I’m in the clear either. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I looked up at Sam.
“Who knows,” Sam shrugged. “Give it a rest. Let them handle it. You work at a temp agency. And we miss you.”
“I didn’t plan on getting this involved but I got sucked in like a barn in a Kansas tornado and now I can’t let it rest until I find out who’s responsible.”
Millie came back in. “The food should be here in about twenty minutes. So tell us what you’ve found out so far.”
I spent the next few minutes filling them in.
“You have no idea what could be in Emmanuelle’s file?” Sam asked, when I had finished.
I waved my hand dismissively. “No. I don’t. I read it and she’s changed jobs a few times, but that’s about it.”
“Well, if she killed Mrs. Scott over something in the file, why didn’t she take it with her that night?” Millie asked.
“Good point. Maybe she heard something and got scared.” I pursed my lips together and shook my head. “If she killed the woman over the file, she would most definitely remember to take it with her.”
“Well, she could’ve looked and not found it. Maybe someone put it there after the murder.”
“No, Millie. Joanne didn’t have it. Emmanuelle had already asked her. And I saw it in the desk.”
“What about this Jerry guy,” Millie questioned.
I leaned back in my chair. It felt so comfortable I could have just shut my eyes and slept.
“He’s creepy. But I haven’t spoken with him yet about the murder. I’ve been avoiding it. I know he’ll throw me out of his office, so why bother. So out of all of this, tell me,” I asked both Sam and Millie, “who do you think it is?”
Sam thought for a moment. “I agree it’s an inside job. No doubt about it.” She held up her hand and began counting off suspects. “We have Emmanuelle because she’s hiding something. Then there’s Joanne because she’s overly ambitious and killed Mrs. Scott for her job. Or maybe Mrs. Scott said something nasty about her eye and that pushed her over the edge,” Sam said straight-faced. “Then there’s Ruth who could be harboring some real jealousy over Mrs. Scott’s relationship with that client. Richard Sheridan is sneaky, so whatever he’s up to, maybe Mrs. Scott found out. Jerry is a jilted lover—whether or not anything ever happened between him and Mrs. Scott is beside the point in his mind. He feels jilted, period.” Sam slipped off her shoes and perched her feet on the edge of my desk. “Then we have Mitch because he’s backing Joanne. And then there’s Mr. and Mrs. Poupée. She’s jealous of his relationship with his assistant, and he killed the assistant because he wanted to end the relationship and she didn’t, or maybe she found out he stole another company’s ideas and called him on it.”
“I hate to say it,” Millie said, “but the best motives are the ones for Mr. and Mrs. Poupée.”
I hung my head and moaned. “It does look that way, doesn’t it?”
“Of course, there’s you, because you lied about not finding a shovel and dragged Mrs. Scott out to the factory and killed her because she’d been giving you the run around,” Sam added.
I cast a murderous glance at my sister.
“Sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood.”
“I know. None of these motives sound good enough to me, but we do have a dead body on our hands, so something is wrong somewhere.”
“What about the people in the order center and the accounting department, and how about that designer Ron,” Millie asked.
“Ron seems like a nice guy but then he knew I would be coming to ask him questions so he could’ve had something all made up. Again, what would be the motive? I can’t see anyone in accounting involved. I managed to talk with Sandy but she spent the entire time telling me about the running of her department. Monica lied about the printout but I can understand her hesitation to get involved. Speaking of the printout,” I said, taking the copy out of my purse and passing the sheets around.
The food arrived and we spread everything out on my desk.
“Well, I see only one explanation for everything that’s going on.”
“What’s that, Millie?” Sam asked around a forkful of fried noodles. My sister, multi-talented, could talk and shovel in the food at the same time. Oh, and still manage to keep her figure trim even after having two kids and never doing anything more strenuous than lifting a fork full of food.
“Drugs.”
“Jesus,” Sam managed to murmur, as a noodle hung from her lip.
>
“Drugs! What do you mean drugs?” I asked.
“Look Alex, it all fits.” Millie reached for an egg roll. “You have strange goings-on out in the factory. People are lying. There’s a sinister looking person lurking outside Mrs. Scott’s house. The printout is probably some sort of code for who gets what. It’s got to be drugs.”
I just stared at our assistant. Given Millie’s propensity for the melodramatic, this revelation should not have come as such a shock, but drugs?
Millie pulled the copies from under her curry chicken carton.
“Look at these numbers. You think they represent sizes. I say they represent quantity. How many kilos to send with each order. Oh, and by the way, have you noticed any coffee grounds on the factory floor?” Millie asked with a knowing gleam in her eye.
I looked at her again this time with my mouth opened wide just for variety. “What did they put in that chicken?” I grabbed the carton to look inside. “And what the heck is this about coffee grounds?”
“Remember in that Eddie Murphy movie, the thugs hid the drugs in coffee grounds.”
I shook my head. “What Eddie Murphy movie?”
Sam stopped eating, this time a noodle stuck to her chin. “You remember, the only one that made money. Alex, Millie may be on to something. Maybe Mrs. Scott suspected something fishy going on and figured it out and got killed.”
“Yes, but how would she know to look at the printout? The printout isn’t going to give you any information that someone hasn’t already put in. We already know Mrs. Scott asked Monica to print it out. How would she have known what to ask for? No,” I shook my head quickly, “I don’t think the printout has anything to do with it. I think she wanted to check out the new system.”
Millie said, “Okay, fine. But that still doesn’t mean drugs aren’t involved.”
“Why are you so fixated on drugs? What kind of new club have you joined?” I eyed Millie suspiciously.
“I’m not fixated on drugs. It just seems everything that happens lately is drug related.”
“Exactly how do you think drugs fit into the picture?” Sam asked.
“Well, we have a factory, right? They ship these things all over. And they’re hollow!”
“What’s hollow?” I pushed away from the desk totally stuffed and even more sleepy.
“The mannequins.”
“How on earth do you know they’re hollow?” I couldn’t believe the direction this conversation had taken.
“I knocked one over at a store at the mall. The arms and legs are solid but the body is hollow.”
“So you think the factory is shipping drugs to far off places inside their mannequin bodies. Millie, this is Indian Cove.” I sighed.
“Someone got murdered right here in our quaint little town, remember?”
She had a point.
“Someone’s putting drugs inside the bodies and then sending them out. I’m sure of it,” Millie said.
“Ridiculous. For one thing, they’d weight a ton.” I folded my arms and stretched my legs out. “Someone would figure that out.”
“Right. Mrs. Scott,” Millie stated emphatically.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”
“Which is?” Sam asked.
Millie sat up straighter and her eyes danced. “We go to the factory and have a look around. You said they’re in the process of getting out all the year-end orders so there should be a lot of bodies piled around waiting.”
“Alex, you’ve got the key, right? And you know the security code,” Sam added eagerly.
“I can’t believe you two! You’re accusing Mr. Poupée of dealing in drugs!”
“No one said anything about Mr. Poupée, but I remember him being on your suspect list,” Sam chided me.
“It could be anybody. Maybe that vile man Jerry. Or maybe Richard Sheridan. You said he dressed fancy. Drug dealers always dress nice. I say we go have a look around,” Millie pleaded.
“I second the motion.” Sam looked at her watch. “It’s just about nine. There won’t be anyone around. Let’s drive by and if the coast is clear we’ll have ourselves a little look-see. What do you say, Alex?”
“I wanted to highlight my hair tonight, but no, I had to come here.” I sighed. “Okay. As long as I’m letting you two talk me into committing a felony, let’s get our story straight. What if we get caught?”
“Hey, no worries. You’ve got a key. You’ve got the code. You just say you forgot your purse and this being the weekend you’d need it before Monday. No problem. Who’s going to know?”
It did sound appealing.
“I would like to get this cleared up so I can come back to my own business. Okay. But just for a quick look. Five minutes and we’re outta there.”
Millie smiled. “Sweet!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
If Winston Churchill had planned an invasion, no doubt he would have crossed a Nazi U-boat-infested Atlantic, arrived at the White House for a week-long meeting with President Roosevelt, secured additional troops and equipment, gone back to England, and put his plan into action. He may have even had a decoy plan on the side to throw everyone off. He would have been prepared.
Our much more modest plan consisted of the three of us climbing into Sam’s van, driving over to the factory, opening the door, and taking a look around.
Millie sat in the back seat decked out in her Santa hat and black sweats she insisted on getting from the trunk of her car. She tried to talk us into painting our faces black, but with only a black felt marker in her desk, we mercifully nixed the idea. Armed with our own equipment, which consisted of a couple of flashlights, we headed out through the gaily lit streets of our little town to commit a crime. Christmas lights hanging from roofs and brightly decorated Christmas trees peeking out from bay windows did nothing to quell my apprehension. Key or not, a certain detective would see this as just another felony to add to my rap sheet.
Sam pulled the minivan into a quiet parking lot totally empty of any other vehicles and parked under a light. “There’s no security guard, right?”
“No. They have a service that drives around several times throughout the evening. “What if they show up, Sam?” I asked.
“You’re just picking up your purse and we came along to keep you company because it’s late.”
I unlocked the door and turned off the code. Sam grabbed my arm and whispered in a panic, “There’s somebody here!”
“Relax. It’s just the mannequin display.” I turned to her and took her by the shoulders. “Without courage all other virtues lose their meaning.”
“Yeah, well, somehow I don’t think Winnie was entering a creepy mannequin factory when inspiration struck,” Sam smirked.
“Are you going to turn on some lights?” Millie asked, sounding not quite as brave as when we were back in the office.
“No. We’ll use these flashlights and there’ll be enough light from the parking lot. Now Millie, you stay here and watch to make sure no one comes. Sam you come with me.”
“Wait a minute. You’re not leaving me here all alone with…with them.” She pointed to the corner where the display stood.
“Someone’s got to keep a watch for the security service. You’ll be all right. Just go over and introduce yourself. They’re very nice once you get to know them.”
Millie slowly walked toward the mannequins. “Fine, but I came up with the idea to begin with. You’re not going to be long are you?” she called over her shoulder.
“No. We’re just going to go through that door, check out a few mannequins, and we’ll be right back.”
We reached the end of the hall and I turned to check on Millie. She sat next to the display with her Santa hat looking like she belonged perfectly. I pushed through the factory door and turned on the flashlight. “If we’re going to find out anything I think our best bet would be somewhere over by the shipping area. It’s in the back by those big doors.”
&nb
sp; “Is this where you found her?” Sam winced noticing the area still cordoned off with tape.
I looked down to a brown spot on the floor and silently shook my head as Sam patted my back.
We made our way down long aisles lined with large equipment. Every now and then the shadow of a mannequin sitting in a corner or hanging from a hook caught my eye. The whole thing had a meat-packing plant quality. There were adult-sized mannequins and smaller kid-sized ones. Some hung from hooks, with no heads. And some were just torsos silently swaying as we passed.
“This place is creepy,” Sam whispered. “Not as bad as that picture of Joan Van Ark after all those cosmetic surgeries, but close. I’m sorry for all the times I scared you with dolls.”
“Apology accepted. There. That must be the shipping area.” I pointed to a section full of mannequins and boxes with various destinations printed on them.
“What now?” Sam asked.
“Heck, I don’t know.”
We picked one up and shook it. Sam managed to lift a smaller model and I shined the flashlight through it. Nothing. And there didn’t seem to be a place where the mannequin could be opened.
“What do you think are in all these boxes? They’re too small to be mannequins,” Sam said, as she lifted one up.
“Those must be parts. Eyes and hair and paint kits.”
We poked around a little while longer until satisfied there were no drugs anywhere.
Sam looked annoyed. “I’m going to kill Millie.”
“Hey, you wanted to come too. I hope you’re satisfied.”
“Yeah, I guess. Can we get out of here now?”
We walked back to the door leading to the offices and went through. I shined the light down the hall.