A Bad Day’s Work

by Nora McFarland

  “No way.”

  “But you just said there’d been robberies.”

  “Not here. Who’d steal this crap?” He paused, then laughed. “Except me.”

  He continued laughing as he led me down a hallway with a dozen offices on each side. At the end of the corridor the rooms were larger and equipped with an outer office for an assistant. We stopped at one of the last. The hallway itself ended nearby at a door marked HARDHAT ONLY.

  “This is it.” He pointed to the empty space on the door where a name plaque should be. “We had a party the day that SOB left. What a creep he was. Made the loaders wash his car. Got the crew boss canned because he complained.”

  I tuned out the man’s rant and focused on the assistant’s desk, which showed signs of recent use. I turned on what I hoped was Val Boyle’s computer and, while it booted, checked the drawers. Aside from some generic office supplies I found nothing.

  Behind me the door to the office opened and Bud wheeled out a dolly full of wine cases. “Little Sister, you sure don’t follow orders so good.”

  “You’re mad at me?” I gestured to the wine. “You’re stealing and I’m the bad guy?”

  Bud glanced at his friend, who’d seen an open bottle inside the office and gone for it. “Phil here offered to get me in if I helped move the vino. What was I supposed to do? Say no?”

  “And you’re not keeping any of it for yourself?”

  “Maybe he offered to share.” Bud managed to look bashful. “No harm in that. I nose around for you and make a little profit. Old-fashioned win-win.”

  I returned to checking the desk drawers. “And just how much nosing around have you done for me?”

  “Been busy with the profit part. Might be a good thing you come to help. Don’t know how long the boys can keep security busy out front. This ways, you can do the nosin’ and I’ll finish tendin’ to the profit.” Bud turned back into the office. “Phil, I got this here dolly from the big buildin’ where we come in. I’m takin’ the rest of the boxes out in one load through the back. Make sure the door stays propped open and don’t turn no lights on. They’ll know somethin’s up.”

  Phil had sunk onto the floor of Sinclair’s old office with his bottle. “Right-o.”

  “Phil doesn’t look very reliable,” I said.

  “Fella’s walkin’ on a bit of a slant, but he’s all right.” Bud pulled back on the dolly and prepared to wheel it out. “But maybe keep one eye on him.”

  He left and I took a quick look inside Sinclair’s office. The only light came from the hallway behind me, but I had no trouble seeing Phil on the floor drinking. Otherwise the room was empty except for a small desk and a computer in the corner. Even the walls had been stripped down to bare picture hooks.

  I returned to Val’s desk. Accessing the computer required a password. I tried some obvious ones, such as his mother’s name, with no luck. I opened the drawers again, checked the phone’s speed dial, and looked underneath the leather desk pad. I got up to investigate a printer by the window, but stopped.

  On the floor next to the desk was a cardboard box. Someone had deposited Val’s personal items inside. I searched it hoping to find an address book with Sinclair’s contact info. No such luck. The meager contents consisted of shoe polish, a spare tie, several bus schedules, and two framed photos. I paused over the photos.

  In one, Val wore his cap and gown while Diana kissed him. She looked much younger and stronger than the woman I’d met, even though the picture wasn’t even two years old. The second photo I’d seen already on Diana’s wall: younger versions of Val and Gideon clinging to each other with open and easy affection.

  I returned the photos to the box. I’d found nothing. How much longer could I keep searching? I reentered Sinclair’s office and peeked through the blinds. This side of the building faced the front gate and had a view of the SUV still blocking the truck’s path. Three guards argued with Bud’s new friends while several workers, probably all that were scheduled for this time in the evening, stood nearby watching the show.

  Phil had resumed his monologue, but as he gulped chardonnay it had become both angrier and harder to understand. “Why don’t you go check the door?” I told him as I turned on the computer in the corner. “Make sure it’s still propped open for Bud.”

  He ignored me and continued ranting. The computer screen flickered to life and a Warner Land Holdings logo appeared. It was a different system from the one on Val’s computer, which used Windows, but it too required a password.

  I glanced at Phil. “Any ideas on how to get into this computer?”

  “That’s for the big shots, the grand pooh-bahs, the man.” He paused for a swig of wine and discovered the bottle was empty. “Lowly little peons like me don’t get access. Only the big shots like that SOB who—”

  “Why don’t you go make sure the door is still propped open.”

  “Right-o.” He got himself up off the floor and stumbled out of the office.

  I tried guessing Sinclair’s password, as I had with Val’s, with a similar outcome. On a whim I picked up the mouse pad and checked the underside. “Genghis Tom” was written on a Post-it note.

  It worked and within seconds I was logged in under Sinclair’s name, but my elation soon faded. I was inside Leland Warner’s shipping system. The delivery and transport schedules for all of Warner’s businesses were available with the click of a button. Impressive technology, but not what I needed.

  I heard an angry shout outside and darted to the window. To my horror, the SUV and semi were both gone. The shouts came from Phil screaming obscenities at a guard.

  I ran out of the office and down the hallway. A guard appeared at the back door. I immediately changed direction and sprinted for the door marked hardhat only.

  “Hey, you,” I heard. “Stop right there.”

  I burst through the door. The bright lights disoriented me, but I recognized the metal tanks. I jumped over a set of pipes and around a staircase. A smash behind me echoed up into the catwalks. The guard had followed. I turned into the center aisle and ran toward the huge hangar doors. I could see the break in the fence ahead. As I left the building and felt my foot pound into the dirt, something flashed on my right. Seconds later I was on the ground.

  FOURTEEN

  Don’t move.” The guard who’d tackled me got up and brushed dirt off his khaki uniform pants.

  Did he know about the hole in the fence ten feet away? Before I could make another run for it, the guard who’d been chasing me arrived. He yanked a Taser off his belt and tried to hold it steady while panting. “Don’t worry, Greg, I’ve got her covered.”

  They cuffed my hands behind my back. Eventually I was taken to a small building next to the main gate. A dozen monitors hung from one of the walls, but an octopus of unconnected cables lay on the ground beneath them. Only two of the monitors had a working picture, and these showed different views of the front gate.

  The guard who’d escorted me pointed to Phil passed out on the floor. “Sit down over there.”

  “This is all a big mistake,” I told him.

  A middle-aged man emerged from an office off the main room. All the guards wore Valsec uniforms and jackets, but this man’s was neatly pressed and he wore a name tag identifying him as the chief of security. “You can tell the police it’s a big mistake. Maybe they’ll believe you.”

  I tried to smile and stay friendly. “I’m sure we can work this out without involving the authorities.”

  He gestured to the floor next to Phil. “I believe you were told to take a seat.”

  As they helped me down, I repeated my claims of innocence to no effect.

  The guard who’d tackled me entered and went straight to his boss. “I’m sorry, Mr. Meyer, looks like whoever else was involved got away. I recovered the wine and did a quick search of the two vehicles, but no sign of additional suspects.”

  At least Rod escaped before things went bad. And Bud was still out there on the loose. Who knew
what trick he might have up his sleeve to rescue me?

  “Don’t worry, Greg. We got the license plate off that SUV full of drunks. I’ll give the number to the police and they can trace it.”

  “Excuse me,” I interrupted. “Before you involve the authorities, there’s something else you need to do first.” Instead of continuing to deny involvement, I’d decided to try a new strategy. “Mr. Sinclair is a friend of mine. Call him and say Lilly Hawkins is here. He’ll want to talk to me.”

  All three of them laughed.

  The one named Greg seemed especially amused. “You’re a personal friend of Mr. Tom Sinclair? A rich guy like that is friends with …you?”

  I tried to wipe some of the dirt off my face with my shoulder. “I’m telling you with complete honesty that he wouldn’t want the police called.”

  This unnerved Meyer, who stopped laughing. But after a moment he shook his head. “If it were just Phil Rumson over here, we might go ahead and handle it internally. But you and your pals in that SUV aren’t employees. That makes it a police matter.” Meyer turned and went back inside his office. “And I think it’s about time I called them.”

  “Wait,” I yelled. “You’re making a mistake.”

  He ignored me. Rod was right; I couldn’t talk my way out of a paper bag.

  “Sir!” Greg pointed at the monitors. “We’ve got another one.”

  I turned and looked. Rod’s smiling face filled one of the screens as he peered upward at the camera and waved.

  Meyer rushed back out. “Is he alone?”

  “Wait.” I tried to stand, but Phil snored and rolled over onto my legs. “That man has nothing to do with the robbery.”

  “Does he look familiar?” Greg stared at the monitor. “Maybe he was in the SUV?”

  Meyer leaned in and blocked my view. “No, but he does look familiar.”

  “No, he doesn’t.” I struggled with Phil’s dead weight, but only became further entangled. “He’s an innocent bystander.”

  “It’s weird. I feel like I trust him,” Meyer said. “You know what I mean? Like he’s a war hero or something.”

  The other guard nodded. “Like, if I were in a fight, he’d be on my side.”

  I pictured Rod standing before the American flag in Trent’s cheesy ads. I hadn’t realized how effective they’d been.

  Meyer pulled back from the monitor. “Regardless, I want him detained. You two get out there. Do whatever it takes to bring him in.” The two men ran out the door. Meyer watched the monitor, then said to himself, “What’s he doing now?”

  On the screen Rod held something in his hand, which he raised to the camera. It was his station ID.

  “K-J-A-Y,” Meyer read slowly. “Rod Strong.”

  Suddenly Rod went down as the two guards tackled him.

  I cried out. Phil roused, looked at me as if I were a pixie, and went back to sleep.

  “Stop,” Meyer yelled as he ran outside. “Stop, stop. He’s the guy from TV.”

  A few minutes later I heard voices. Rod walked in with all three men.

  “Of course you were only doing your job,” Rod said.

  “I hope we didn’t ruin your suit.” Meyer’s tone had mellowed considerably.

  “Nothing a good dry cleaner can’t fix.” Rod glanced around the room. His eyes landed on the twisted knot of limbs covering me. He immediately came to my aid. “There you are, Lilly. I explained how you’re my shooter and we just happened to observe some thieves breaking into the winery.”

  “Oh, right.” I stood with Rod’s help. “Good thing you explained that.”

  Greg ran over and removed my cuffs. “We’re so sorry. Why didn’t you say you worked for Rod Strong?”

  “I was—”

  Rod cut me off. “Lilly was trying to be discreet. It’s standard procedure.”

  “That’s right. I—”

  He cut me off again. “Lilly observed some men breaking through your fence so she followed hoping to apprehend them.” Rod pulled me up and away from Phil. “You weren’t hurt, were you?” He pretended to look at my wrists and whispered, “Say as little as possible.”

  Meyer chuckled. “I’m not buying it. I think you saw men breaking through the fence and decided to snoop around. You’re here because of that young man who was murdered.” He winked at me. “That’s why you wanted us to call Mr. Sinclair, so you could ask him about his former assistant.”

  “Do you have his phone number?” In my excitement I forgot Rod’s instruction to stay quiet. “Can you call him now? Please. He won’t be mad.”

  Meyer shook his head. “I don’t have the number, but even if I did, I couldn’t give it out to the press. Our company has a strict policy of not speaking with the media.”

  “That’s very understandable.” Rod took my arm and steered me toward the door. “But we’re on a deadline, and if you can’t help us, we need to be on our way.”

  “Wait just a minute.” Meyer stepped into our path. “You don’t actually believe I’d let you go?”

  Rod’s anchor smile stayed firmly in place. “Is there a problem?”

  “Not a problem.” Meyer grinned. “But we don’t get a lot of celebrity visitors. How about posing for a few photos?”

  Rod dutifully posed for individual shots with each of the guards. I took the opportunity to repeat my request that they contact Sinclair. Meyer said again that he didn’t have the number. When Rod finished, we began to leave, but once again Meyer stopped us.

  “If I got my wife on the phone, would you mind saying hi?” Meyer dragged Rod into his office. “She’s a big fan of yours. This is going to make me a hero at home.” Meyer closed the office door.

  I was left to wait with the two guards.

  “Your job is so cool,” Greg said.

  The other immediately backed him up. “Yeah, I’d trade places with you in a second.”

  “I don’t know,” I told him. “You get to tackle people.”

  They both laughed.

  I pointed to Phil. “Is this the first time you’ve been robbed?”

  Greg’s posture straightened. “We’re not supposed to talk to the media.”

  “Your boss isn’t here and I won’t tell anyone.”

  The other guard shrugged. “I don’t see any harm in answering because the answer is yes, this is the first time.”

  “Then why the security upgrades? All these monitors and cameras can’t be cheap.”

  “That’s not because of us,” Greg said. “We run a tight ship around here. The security upgrade is a companywide thing.”

  Sinclair helping Jason steal from Dewey Ridge made so much sense. Inside Man was a perfect roll for him—duplicitous, but not involved in the difficult or risky part of the crime. But given that Dewey Ridge was connected via computer to Warner’s entire shipping network, wasn’t Sinclair a potential Inside Man at all of Warner’s businesses? “Was someone else in your company robbed?”

  Greg glanced at the other guard. “We’re not supposed to talk to the media.”

  “You already have. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. It’s completely off-the-record.” I rubbed my arm and smiled. “And you tackled me really hard. I mean, come on.”

  Greg laughed. “I don’t see what harm there is in telling you.” He glanced one more time at the other guard, then we all took a step closer to each other. “Three different almond distributors were robbed, but they were up north. The last one got hit two weeks ago. That’s when the company decided to improve security.”

  “That’s all?” I said. “Almonds?”

  He nodded. “The thieves cut the fence in the middle of the night, found a loaded truck, and drove it straight out the front gate.”

  I indicated the wall of flat-screen monitors. “Isn’t this is a lot to invest in security because some nuts went missing?”

  The other guard laughed. “Have you bought a package of almonds lately? Those things are expensive.”

  I realized with a shock that he was right. Eve
n the smallest package might cost several dollars at a convenience store.

  “And you can get a lot of almonds in one of those tractor-trailers,” he continued. “I heard the company lost over a million dollars.”

  “I heard one point five,” Greg corrected.

  Not drugs. Not cigarettes. Not alcohol. Was it possible? Had my life been ruined, had Val Boyle been murdered, over some nuts?

  Whatever skepticism I still had faded when I heard Greg say, “I think these were a high-grade, fancy variety. They’d get top dollar.”

  I almost choked on my words. “You mean like Sonoran Fancy?”

  He shrugged. “I guess.”

  I started to laugh, but outside a car horn honked.

  Greg jumped to attention, and checked the two working monitors. They showed different angles of an older Honda waiting at the front gate.

  “I’ve been here for three years without a single incident.” The other guard checked his Taser, then put on his jacket. “Now in the space of two days we get an employee murdered, a robbery, newspeople sneaking in, and all kinds of strangers at the front gate.”

  “This is probably nothing,” Greg told him, but also checked his Taser. “HR packed up the murdered guy’s personal things and left them in a box by his desk. Mr. Meyer mentioned someone from his family might stop by to pick them up.”

  “I hope it’s that simple.” The other guard stepped toward the monitor, trying to get a better look. “But it could be one of Phil’s friends come back to spring him.”

  But it wasn’t one of Phil’s friends. I recognized Gideon’s face as he leaned out the window to yell. Through the open door we all heard him. “Hello? Will somebody come out here already?” He honked the horn a few more times for good measure.

  If Handsome and Lucero were keeping the family informed, then Gideon probably knew I was wanted for questioning.

  I turned and went straight into Meyer’s office.

  Rod was on the phone. “That’s a wonderful story idea. I’ll pass it along to—”

  “There’s a strange man at the front gate.” I took Meyer by the arm and herded him out of the office the same way he’d herded Rod in.