by Dale Mayer
Midge made it sound like a reasonable workplace exercise, but Taylor had an inkling of what could be going on here. “Did everybody in the office put in for it?”
“I think so,” she said, “it was pretty expensive too. We had to buy so many tickets for so many draws or something. I don’t know for sure. I think it was fifty dollars every time, and I put in, just like everybody else.”
“Any chance one of those tickets won?”
She frowned. “I doubt it,” she said. “I never heard from anybody about it.”
“That doesn’t mean one of the tickets didn’t win though,” he said.
“I guess,” she replied. “I don’t even know where the tickets are.”
“Who arranged it?” Taylor asked.
Her mouth opened as if to answer, and then she snapped it shut and just stared up at him mutely.
“Your boss did, didn’t he?”
Chapter 12
“Yes, he did.” Midge nodded. “It might have been his son or his nephew that he wanted brought in on the deal too.”
“Is there any chance Shorts would have done it without you guys knowing about it?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “We all just paid the money. If he added another person to the pot on the sly, he might have done it without us knowing, although we voted against it.”
“But that’s not very effective if nobody is checking up on what he did. I presume he bought the lottery tickets too?”
She nodded.
“I also need to know when this was,” he said.
“I guess we started it months ago. But the latest big lottery event was last week,” she said. “Actually, I think the draw was this weekend.”
He slowly sat up and said, “I think we need to check that out.”
She scoffed at the notion. “It’s almost impossible to win a lottery drawing. I would hardly think that’s the problem.”
“But what if you won? And what if Shorts knew all of you had shares in it? What if he didn’t want to spread the shares around?”
“What’s that got to do with his nephew dying in my bed though?”
“If you went to jail and had no clue about the ticket, you wouldn’t come back at Shorts or his nephew Sims, would you?”
“Probably not. I wasn’t exactly sure when the drawing even was, and I never saw a ticket.”
“So, as far as he’s concerned, you gave him fifty dollars, and, if he returned your fifty and said he never bought any tickets, just for the sake of argument here, and, if you wind up going to jail, you’ll never think anything about it. Will you? Meanwhile, he has a winning lottery ticket that he pockets, and it could be worth a lot of money.”
“But what about his nephew? What about Mr. and Mrs. Parkins?”
“I don’t know how the Parkinses fit in, but I think Shorts cut Sims into your office lottery,” he said.
“Maybe so. But what about the other coworkers?” she asked. “This doesn’t make any sense. And how does it have anything to do with Jenny?”
“When did you first start buying these tickets as a group?”
She stared at him, and then a flush rose up her cheeks.
“It was while Jenny was still employed there, wasn’t it?”
Midge nodded slowly. “That was part of the stink because she didn’t want to go in on the tickets.”
“So what if she didn’t and what if you guys won?”
“She’d be the only one who didn’t get a share,” she said softly. “And that would just add to her hate. But she’s not going to kill off everybody else,” Midge said, “because that would just leave me with an even bigger share of the pot.”
“Unless she can get her hands on the winning ticket and makes sure you don’t.”
“It all seems very convoluted.”
“Money always does that,” he said with a smile. “People will do anything sometimes in order to get what they want. In this case she lost her job, and, for all you know, she could have had a relationship with somebody, and that broke up too.”
“She was in a relationship,” Midge said, frowning. “With one of her coworkers.”
“One of the ones who didn’t show up for work?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“So we definitely have to track him down. He might be helping her.”
“That’s a horrible thought.”
“Just think about it. For every person in that lottery pot who doesn’t show up to get their share of the earnings, then the pot gets bigger and bigger for the others.”
“But I’m still here.”
“But you don’t really know anything about it, do you? You don’t know who has the tickets. You don’t know when the drawing was. You don’t know if you won or not.”
“No,” she said, “I don’t.” And she stared at him nonplussed. “I guess I’m too naive. I assumed that, if we won, somebody would tell us. Or at least tell me. I still think you’re grabbing at straws.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stared down at him. “Damn, I can’t believe I’m even saying this because I really want to crawl back into bed with you, but I need a shower.”
He lay here on his back and tucked his hands up underneath his head. “I don’t have a problem if you take a shower,” he said with a bright grin. “I may have a problem though if you decide you want to shower alone.”
She gasped in delight. “Beat you there,” she said, giggling, and took off for the bathroom.
When she finally emerged from the bathroom, she was exhausted again. But in a good way. Her body hummed, and, although she was tired, a certain energizing feeling remained inside. She looked down at her dirty clothes she was forced to wear again today. “I should have asked to put on laundry last night.”
“Butler didn’t respond to my text earlier on this. Let’s call the detective right away,” Taylor said. “Surely we can go in and get you some fresh clothes.”
She looked up at him hopefully. He walked around in his boxers, cell phone in his hand, as he talked to Detective Butler. She went into the kitchen and put on coffee, amazed at how different the world looked after a night with him. Just knowing and having that hope in their relationship had given her a whole new perspective on life. Yesterday she’d been depressed and so worried. And right now it was as if she’d been given a new lease on life, and she didn’t want to do anything that would cost her that new beginning. It was way too precious.
With the coffee dripping, she turned to the fridge to see if she could find anything for breakfast. They really needed to go grocery shopping. She’d moved in on him, eating up his food, and had yet to offer to help. Hell, she wasn’t even any good at cooking.
But she could fry a couple eggs. She brought out eggs and some ham, then found some buns, so maybe she could make breakfast sandwiches. Moving carefully in the kitchen because she wasn’t used to this, she put the buns on to toast and fried up the ham and then cracked in the eggs. By the time he joined her in the kitchen, she was almost done.
He stared in wonder. “I thought you couldn’t cook?”
“I can fry an egg,” she said, “and that’s about the extent of it.”
“This looks marvelous,” he said, motioning at the pan full of eggs.
“I’m making sandwiches,” she said, and he watched as she stacked up the ham and then the eggs on the buns and then covered them with the tops. She handed him a plate with two breakfast sandwiches and got one for herself and sat down at the table. “What did the detective say?”
“Yes, you can go in. You’re only allowed to take a couple changes of clothes though.”
“That’s fine,” she said. “I was hoping to not even have to go into the bedroom. But I’ll have to. There’s no way out of it.”
“And,” he said, “he wants to hear more about the chances thing.”
She froze in the act of taking a bite and set the bun back down on the plate. “Damn. I wish you hadn’t told him about that.”
“Midge, we have to. We don
’t know if all this came about for a different reason, but maybe somebody found the ticket and realized it could be worth a fortune. Or whether it was all because somebody had already cashed in the ticket. Or whether they didn’t even buy the ticket to begin with. Murders have been committed over much less. And right now we have an awful lot of murders going on.”
She picked up her egg sandwich and took a bite, her thoughts in a muddle. She hadn’t even given those stupid chances lottery tickets a thought. They had been doing a lottery pool for just the few big lottery contests over several months now. She hadn’t even heard the others joking about it. And why was that? The other workers were often talking about stuff like that.
But she’d been so overworked and overwhelmed, and the place had been sliding under the onslaught of work without even half the staff they needed. It had become a very grim place to work lately. Not exactly what she wanted on a long-term basis. Now she had no clue what would happen to the records division. Eventually she finished her sandwich and sat back with a happy sigh. “Happy body, happy tummy. And with the coffee, … perfect.”
Taylor chuckled. “I liked the order you put that in.”
“It was a great night,” she said, “and the shower scene definitely topped it off.” She’d picked up her coffee and took a sip, watching as he plowed his way through his two sandwiches. “Should I have made you more?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, this will be just fine.”
“So, what are we supposed to do from here then? We can go grab some of my clothes, which I’m grateful for, so I can finally get changed. But then what?”
“We’ll go to the office to see if we can find any information on the tickets.”
“What about the cops? Don’t they want to know?”
“Yeah, we’re to contact Detective Butler if we find anything.”
She sighed. “Well, I guess that’s better than having to go to the station or trying to meet them at the office. But the minute I walk back into that office, you know the place will just overwhelm me with the sheer volume of outstanding work.”
“But you’re not going there to work,” he said. “We’re going there to see if we can find out anything.”
“They should check Shorts’s home as well,” she said. “For all I know, he kept the tickets at home.”
“We’ll go find out.” After a second cup of coffee, he held out his hand and said, “Come on. Let’s go get you some clothes.”
They made their way across the hall to her apartment, and he pushed open the door. The smell was dark and musty. She wrinkled her nose. He nodded and said, “Come on. Let’s get some things out of your dresser.”
She walked into the bedroom, her eyes studiously avoiding the bed. She focused on the dresser, then quickly walked over to the closet and brought out one of her beach bags. Moving back to the dresser, she got out underwear and bras, then several changes of clothing. Back at the closet, she found a pair of sneakers and a pair of sandals. As a last thought, she grabbed a sweater. She moved quickly back out to the living room, where Taylor stood in the doorway, waiting for her.
He held up a tablet. “Is this the one you’re missing?”
She laughed. “Yes, it is. Good, then no one stole my phone or my tablet.”
“Exactly. I’ll leave it here though in case the police want to check it out.”
“Fine.” She sighed. “I almost managed to get out of there without even looking.”
“Good,” he said. “You did really well.”
As she stepped out of the bedroom, he closed the door behind her. She looked around at the rest of her apartment and said, “I don’t even know what to do now.”
“That’s all right,” he said. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s take your things back to my place, so you can change. Then we’ll head to your office and see what comes next.”
*
Taylor knew what he wanted to come next, but this nightmare had to stop before he gave more time and energy to his personal pursuits. It also wasn’t fair to make a serious move on her when her whole world was in chaos. He needed to just be here for her for the time being.
Strange how things worked out. He thought again about all the times he’d noticed her before but always in passing and with really crappy timing. And now, the more he was with her, the more he liked her. Hell, it had gone way past that point.
Timing was everything though, as he well knew. So much craziness was in her life right now that it made no sense. First though, he needed to get her bag back to his place, where she’d stay until this was over, then head to her office.
He closed and locked her apartment door firmly behind her, then let her into his apartment again. After dumping the bag on the floor by her bed, she turned and wrinkled her nose. “We have to go, don’t we?”
Understanding filled him. He walked closer and tugged her into his arms. “Yes,” he whispered against her head. “We do. But it doesn’t have to take long. Go ahead and get changed if you want to, and let’s get this over with.”
She stepped back, looked up at him and smiled gently. “You’re a good man.”
He narrowed his gaze at her.
She chuckled. “It was a compliment, not an insult.”
“Are you sure?” he asked suspiciously, though he let her see the twinkle in his eye.
“It’s a good thing,” she said with a laugh. “Trust me.”
“It sounds boring as well.”
“Well, girls go for the bad boys, but, when they grow up, they realize nice is the way to go.”
He hadn’t heard that and wasn’t sure she was right, but, if she was happy, then, hell, who was he to argue? He reached out a hand. “Now come on. No more procrastinating. Let’s go.”
She shot him a look of mock outrage as she brushed past him. “How did you know that’s what I was doing?”
Chapter 13
Pulling up to the parking lot at the office felt strange. Off somehow. Detective Butler stood there, waiting for them. Midge glanced at Taylor. He shrugged. “Standard procedure. You can’t be allowed to go in there and take something that might prove to be vital evidence.”
“Vital evidence,” she answered slowly. “I never would have dreamed anything in my office was even important and certainly not vital.”
“It’s important in that it’s one step of a long series of paperwork. Unfortunately it’s a thorn in the side of nearly everyone, but it’s also necessary when we need to keep track of people and events in our life and our employment.”
She nodded. “I get that.” She unbuckled her seat belt, opened the door, then hopped out and slammed the door, maybe a little too hard. At Taylor’s sharp look, she shrugged. “Can’t say I’m terribly thrilled at being back here.”
“Did you consider the ramifications of that long-term?”
She ignored him. Because honestly, she didn’t want to consider the ramifications long-term. If she had to come back here on a regular basis, it would be beyond hard. It felt strange to her even now. She’d have kept working long enough to sort out her future, but it would have been as short term as she could make it.
She also couldn’t quite understand why nobody seemed to be alarmed about the other employees still missing. So she had to assume the employees had been found or at least the cops had communicated with some of them. Detective Butler, his face trained on hers, asked, “How are you doing?”
“As well as can be expected,” she said, trying to keep her voice firm and clear. But despite her efforts, it got husky at the end. The last thing she wanted to do was break into tears right now. She stopped and said, “Did you finally get ahold of anybody else who works here?”
He shook his head. “They’re still working on it.”
“But somebody has gone to their homes, right?” she asked, her voice sounding sharp, even to her own ears. “Please, let’s not find out three more employees from around here are dead too that we don’t even know about yet.”
Butler’s gaze narr
owed, but he didn’t seem too perturbed at her words.
Taylor reached out and gently stroked her shoulder. “Take it easy,” he said. “I highly doubt that has happened.”
“But we have no way to know, do we? Four people dead that we know of, and, when you get to that number, what difference does three more make? Particularly if we’re talking about a multimillion-dollar lottery ticket.”
The detective looked at her and said, “You didn’t mention that earlier.”
“I didn’t think of it earlier,” she said and stared at him steadily. “You know what? You could probably ask another couple dozen questions that would spark up other information I’ve completely forgotten about or thought wasn’t important. I don’t even know the details of the whole lottery-ticket drama.”
“Interesting,” he said as he motioned toward the office door. “Shall we?”
With him as an escort, they walked in, and she stopped for a moment, sniffing the air experimentally. It wasn’t that it smelled any better, but it didn’t have that same smell, that metallic-and-something-else smell that she found hard to describe. She walked to her desk, then sat down and pulled open her drawers.
“Do you have the ticket? Or is it tickets?” Butler asked.
“It’s tickets. We put in for a pot and bought a bunch of them,” she said. “I never saw the tickets, outside of my boss holding up a few. I just wondered if I had a notation here that I’d bought them and when.” She pulled out several other drawers and eventually found her small black notebook. She popped it open on the desk and flipped through several pages. “Here it is. I bought the last of them on June fourteen,” she said. “See? Here’s the note. ‘Pd. $50 to Shorts for chances lottery.’”
She heard both men sucking in their breath. She looked up at them. “Clearly that means something to both of you? What’s going on?”
“For a seventy-five-million-dollar lottery drawing this past weekend,” the detective said succinctly, looking at his own notepad. “That’s worth killing over.”