by Dale Mayer
It melted in her mouth. Unlike the first couple sandwiches that were nasty and dry, this one was flavorful and packed with vegetables. She had to slow herself down from eating too fast.
Unlike earlier, when she could hear people around the corner, her noon break was peaceful and quiet. She enjoyed it. In a much happier mind-set, she went back inside. She still had one muffin in her pocket. She could save that for later. She’d eaten the other one midmorning.
She washed and rinsed her plate, setting it in the dishwasher and then turned to leave. She found the owner standing in kitchen entrance, staring at her. He didn’t say anything for a long moment. She shifted her weight uncomfortably at the look in his eyes. She gave him a tentative smile. “Hello.”
He nodded. “I need you to sort out some paperwork that was dumped. The pages need to be matched up again.”
She brightened. She could do that. “Certainly.”
He motioned for her to walk in front of him. She stepped past him and entered the big hallway. Martha stood there with a frown on her face. She glanced at the Mr. Freeman. “Right now?”
He nodded and gestured to a large room off to the side. Mercy walked in and saw a boardroom table, not quite as big or as opulent as the dining room table, with a stack of paperwork on it. She looked around for filing cabinets or something to hold the papers.
He said, “Take a seat.”
She pulled out the chair and sat down.
He placed several large binders before her and said, “I’m looking for matching invoices for every one of these.”
She tried not to raise an eyebrow in surprise, but opened the first binder and realized all the invoices were in order. It was a few minutes before she found the matching invoice in the stack. She held it up. “This is the matching invoice. What would you like me to do with them once found?”
He glanced at it and frowned. “Staple them together and put them both in the same binder with a red flag affixed.” He pointed to the little red sticky notes.
The invoices were signed. She nodded, stapled them, added the red flag, reinserted both matching invoices into the binder and then closed it.
She glanced at him and asked, “You want me to do that now for every one of these?”
He nodded. “Yes, and as fast as possible please.”
She nodded and proceeded to work her way through the pile. When she understood which numbers the binders held, it went a lot faster. Still, it took about an hour and a half. She took note of the items, but there wasn’t anything to see. Until she flipped several papers and found several handwritten notes. And phone numbers. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. She risked a glance toward Mr. Freeman. His head was down. She took another look at the numbers and committed them to memory. Then quickly returned to matching up papers. Although she checked, she found nothing else of interest.
With the finished binders laid out in front of her, she said, “Okay, I’m finished.”
She turned, the smile falling off her face. He was staring at her with that reptilian gaze again. She barely held back the shudders rippling down her spine. Pinned in place, he studied her. Then with a quick nod, he shifted his gaze to the stack on the table. Sagging slightly, she stepped out of the way her breath ragged. He got up to check them, opening each, seeing all the red sticky notes, then flipping through the first binder to review each of the flagged duplicate invoices, nodded and said, “Good, thank you.”
“No problem. Is there anything else?” She hoped to hell not. She wanted out of here. The information burned in her brain. She couldn’t leave fast enough. She wanted to write everything down before she lost it. And then give it to someone—but who.
He shook his head absentmindedly. “Not right now, thanks.”
She walked to the door and said, “Then I’ll resume cleaning.”
When he didn’t answer, she took that to mean, yes, she should leave. She’d have to check her schedule to see what she had to do now and if she had enough time to do it. She realized she was into her normal bedding time. The bedrooms had to be set up for the guests.
She walked upstairs to the first bedroom, stripped off the bedding that probably hadn’t been used ever and put fresh sheets on. As she finished making the bed, Martha walked in, took a look and nodded. “Don’t forget to change the towels.” Then she stopped and frowned. “Are you finished filing?”
Feeling guilty and yet not having a justifiable reason, Mercy nodded. “Yes. About ten minutes ago.”
Martha gave a small smile and walked out. But wow—a smile—that was a first.
Mercy finished up the one room, put the dirty laundry into her cart and went into the second room.
So many of her actions were habit now that she walked right in, surprised to find suitcases, happy that no one was here presently. She frowned, not realizing guests were here already. She should’ve made sure nobody was in the room before she entered. She changed the sheets and put clean towels in the bathroom.
She knocked on the third door. When there was no answer, she pushed open the door to find this one also taken but currently empty. She quickly repeated her actions, feeling she was racing against time and not knowing why.
At the fourth and last guest room she knocked on the door. When there was no answer, she pushed it open and walked in. Somebody was sound asleep. She gasped softly catching a small glimpse of a well-known politician that was retiring and his position was going to be up for grabs. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Her mind spun as she backed out of the room. The owner must have political aspirations. Or this man, who even now snuffled in sleep, was just a good friend. Closing the door softly, she turned to see Martha. Mercy gestured into the room and said, “The guest is still sleeping.”
Martha’s frown deepened as she glanced in the room. “You shouldn’t have opened the door.”
Mercy’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t know guests were staying here. I knocked, but he didn’t answer, so I thought it would be empty like the others.”
Martha scooted away. “I’ll handle this one later. Take your laundry and get that started.”
Relieved, Mercy pushed her cart down the hall to the elevator. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, but Martha seemed changed. Now Martha was nervous, agitated. Was it because Mercy had walked in on the sleeping man? She hoped not. If she wasn’t supposed to change the bedding, she should have been told beforehand.
Back in the laundry room, Mercy set up the new load to wash. She glanced around, found two carts full of dry laundry to fold. She would be in the laundry room for the next hour at least.
Her mind kept going back to the scene inside the bedroom. The man had been lying on his stomach, covers up to his waist. His head was turned to the side, and his arms were under the pillows. She didn’t know why he’d be sleeping at this hour, but, if he’d been up all night, it would make sense. There hadn’t been anything sinister about the scene, although she was certainly sorry if she had disturbed him. She hated to think anybody who needed sleep wouldn’t get it because she’d been asked to change the bedding.
By the time she finished the folding, the washing machine was ready to be emptied. She did that and straightened up the rest of the room. She still had a good twenty-five minutes until this load was dry. She walked over to the laundry basin, intent on cleaning the sink, only to find a bloody sheet soaking there. This stain had also been bleached out, turning the water pink.
Frowning, she donned her plastic gloves, realizing both bleach and some other cleanser had been added to the soak water. There wasn’t a woman, outside of Martha and Mercy, here on the estate, and Mercy doubted Martha would’ve left her personal sheets in the sink. And Mercy couldn’t imagine the guests doing their own laundry.
She gave it a good swish, pulling out the sheet enough to see the size of the bloodstain, prepared to put some stain remover on it. However, it wasn’t a small stain at all. It was massive. A good two by three feet in the center of the sheet. When she realized exac
tly how big it was, she quickly stuffed it in the water, pulled off her gloves and escaped from the laundry room. With any luck, nobody would notice what she might’ve seen due to the security glitches still unfixed. Perturbed, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do.
She walked through the kitchen, grabbed a cup of coffee and stepped out on the porch. She pulled out the muffin from her pocket and, although it was looking a little worse for wear, she unwrapped it and, sitting at the table, ate as slowly as she could.
Her mind wouldn’t let it go. A huge bloodstain. She wanted to text Michael about it, but she wasn’t sure where he was and wondered if she should take the chance of putting something like that in writing.
“Mercy?”
Startled, she turned to see Martha standing in the doorway. “Hi. Came to get coffee and a bite to eat.”
Martha’s gaze went from the coffee and muffin back to her, and her frown deepened.
With a sinking heart, Mercy realized Martha now knew about the sheet soaking in the laundry room. Even though Martha had sent Mercy there, Martha might not have connected the dots as to what Mercy could have seen.
“Did you put the laundry on?”
Mercy nodded. “I did. And I folded the two loads in the baskets. I realized the load took twenty minutes, so I came here to get a cup of coffee and a bite to eat. I’ll return and grab that laundry as soon as I’m done.”
Martha’s gaze was assessing, but she nodded. “That would be good. Remember that you shouldn’t see certain things here.”
On that cryptic note, Martha walked away.
The longer Mercy thought about the sleeping man and the bloody sheet, the more worried it made her.
She finished her muffin and coffee, stood, cleaned up her place and walked back to the laundry room. As soon as she entered, she knew the sheet would be gone.
The smell of bleach hung heavy in the air. The other washing machine was running, and the dryer had stopped. She didn’t dare check the washing machine to see if it contained the bloody sheet.
She knew the sink would’ve been cleaned out perfectly. If any security cameras were working in here, they had already seen her checking out the sheet earlier.
At the dryer, she pulled out the bedding she’d taken off earlier and quickly folded all the sheets. With everything stacked for Martha to put away, Mercy stopped for a moment, rubbed her face and wondered how long she could keep up the pace. She had to remind herself that she had promised Michael to only stay today.
By morning she’d leave for sure. The trouble was, things were getting interesting. And way more dangerous.
*
Robert had been hovering for hours. The trip out to the compost dump was delayed as Michael found several more rosebushes to deal with. He still couldn’t figure out why he had the bodyguard for an escort. But it made Michael highly suspicious of every movement on the estate.
He walked to the garden shed, replaced all his tools and made his way again to the trailer. He dumped the rest of the load of his clippings, returned the wheelbarrow to its storage spot and walked to one of the utility trucks they used on the property. He grabbed the keys, hopped in and backed up to the trailer. He quickly hooked it up, knowing Robert stood close by, watching to see how Michael did. It would be a long, cold day before they saw him mess up something so simple. He’d been driving trucks with trailers for over a decade now. He quickly connected the lights for the back of the trailer, walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in again.
At the gates, in a half-joking manner, Michael said, “Make sure you don’t lock the gates behind me. I want to get back in again.”
The man lifted his face, but he never said a word.
Keeping up the pretense, Michael gave a friendly wave and drove onto the driveway to the main gates. As he pulled through, he caught sight of Mercy standing in front of the big windows. Once again she was cleaning. He glanced at Robert sitting beside him and said, “How come you’re with me?”
Robert shrugged. “Orders.”
Quietly Michael nodded. He wondered what the order was about exactly. To watch and to make sure Michael didn’t go astray? That would be easy enough. At least on the surface. But he had an investigation underway. “Settle in for a drive. It takes about fifteen minutes if the traffic is light to get there.”
Robert never said a word.
Michael strummed his fingers on the steering wheel and then fiddled with the radio. “You don’t mind music, do you?” The cab filled with a country twang.
Robert looked at him and groaned.
Michael gave him a bright smile. “I love cowboys.”
Robert shook his head and stared out the window.
At the dump site, Michael quickly backed up to the designated pile, grabbed his gloves off the dashboard and got out. Before he closed the door, he motioned to a second pair gloves. “If you want to finish faster, feel free to grab the gloves and give me a hand.”
Robert gave a snort.
Michael laughed. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Whistling, he closed the truck door, hopped into the trailer and tossed out rosebush cuttings. Realizing the truck window at the back of the cab was open and calculating Robert’s position, Michael instinctively chose a spot to work where he wouldn’t be an easy shot. Besides the constant awareness of everything, he couldn’t get rid of the idea that Robert had plans to drive the truck and trailer back himself—minus Michael.
As soon as he was done, he pulled a broom from the truck bed and swept out the trailer. As Michael and Mercy were finding out, this place was nuts for cleanliness.
He kept watching to see if Robert made a move in any way. The whole time Robert appeared to be sleeping. Mystified, Michael opened the door, got back inside, and started up the engine. “Taking a beauty nap?”
Robert nodded. “I need to catch five anytime I can.”
Michael filed that away for the future. Were all the security men short on sleep? And didn’t think that would change anytime soon? That’s the only thing Robert said all the way back to the estate.
When Michael was inside the gates, he reversed the trailer into its usual position. He looked at Robert and said, “Guard duty over?”
Robert shot him a look. “What are you doing next?”
Michael studied him for a long moment, then looked at the grounds, wondering what he’d done to deserve a bodyguard all day. “I’ll probably weed the back garden.” He glanced at the sky as he hopped from the truck. “The dead heat of the day is gone, and it looks like rain tonight, so this would be a good time to get some of that weeding done.”
“If you say so.”
Michael laughed. “It’s a great way to spend the afternoon.”
And no matter what he did, Robert was right there. Never talking, never helping, but always there.
With Robert so close, Michael couldn’t study the layouts, couldn’t watch any of the other activities, couldn’t make his way to the garage, couldn’t do anything. When he walked back a couple times, Robert stopped him. He got the message—stay in the gardens; don’t return to the house or the garages.
Finally he glanced down at his watch. “Four o’ clock.”
Robert snickered. “What? You think you’re on salary? That you have start and stop times?”
Michael planted his hands on his hips. “Yeah, I do. I started at eight. I plan to do a little bit more, but I’ll be quitting soon.”
Robert looked him up and down for a long moment, then nodded. “What are your plans after that?”
Michael shrugged. “No definite plans. See if I can find somebody to have dinner with me—or not.”
“You using one of those new dating hookup apps?”
“Not likely.”
“Maybe you should. Women are a dime a dozen on there.” Robert smacked his phone in his pocket. “I can line a dozen up anytime.”
“I haven’t checked out the apps yet.”
Robert walked Michael to his apartment door. “It would be a goo
d night to get the hell out and stay out for a while.” He gave him a hard glance and said, “Get my meaning?”
“Loud and clear. Any objection if I ask the maid to go?”
Robert’s gaze wandered over to the maid’s quarters and back again. “No, that might be a good idea. Curfew is still 10:00 p.m., or you can’t get back in until the a.m.” With that, he left. But he didn’t go far. He only went over to the vehicles, where he had positioned himself to watch whether Michael went into his apartment or not.
Rather than doing more work, Michael pulled the keys from his pocket, unlocked his door and walked in. He carefully locked the door behind him. Moving quietly he checked out his space to see if anybody had been here. As far as he could tell, no one had.
He set about putting on coffee, his mind spinning. His thoughts were to get out for a few hours and still be back by ten. But he didn’t like how they’d stepped up security. Something was going down tonight. He needed to be here to find out what the hell it was. At the same time, he wanted Mercy a long way away. He sent her a quick text.
Dinner?
If she was still working, would she take the chance of answering her phone? The response came back a few minutes later.
Sure. I’m done for the day. I was told to go to my room early. I’m off to take a shower.
Text me when you’re out.
Will do.
He smiled. He hoped she got dressed and packed up at the same time. Because, when they left, no way in hell would he let her come back.
While he waited, he headed to the bedroom. In the large double closet on the right side was an attic door. There were boards against the short wall hammered in place that he could climb.
Bingo.
He lifted the small square of wood off to the side, he climbed up and took a look around. The attic was empty and had no solid floor. But, by walking the rafters, he moved a few feet forward and grinned.
Exactly as he’d hoped. A second attic door.
Just to be sure, he silently removed the second hatch and peered below. A dark closet. He slipped to the floor and opened the closet door enough to see the room. It appeared empty, and the bed wasn’t made for company. Taking a chance, he did a quick tour of the apartment to reassure himself no one was here, then moved back to the closet. It was harder to climb up from the floor, but he managed.