“What the hell is the matter with you?” Bella asked.
“He needed my help,” Sandy said. “He called and said he had to go shopping for clothes to take to Hawaii and didn’t know what he should buy.”
“He’s going to Hawaii?” Bella asked. “Let me guess, he’s taking the new girlfriend.”
“I think it might be serious between them,” Sandy said. “While we were in the mall, he stopped at a jewelry store and bought something.”
“An engagement ring?” I asked.
“I don’t know for sure,” Sandy said. “I was carrying the bags and they were kind of heavy, so I sat on a bench to rest a bit.”
“I’m out of here,” Bella declared, and shoved to her feet. “There’s only so much b.s. I can take.”
I was with Bella on this one.
“Later,” I said to Sandy, and left the breakroom.
I headed through the store aisles toward the shoe department, my assigned corner of retail hell for the evening. I liked working in shoes—not that I actually performed much work while I was there. But it wasn’t my fault. Really. The shoe department had its own stock room, so what could I do but spend most of my time in there texting friends and handling my personal business?
Still, showing up in any department didn’t seem all that appealing right now. Sandy had mentioned I was on the schedule to meet with the person destined to become known as the Training Nazi—not that I would ever start that kind of rumor myself, of course—so I decided to swing by the store offices and see what was up.
A position in the corporate training department monitoring training class attendance seemed pretty lame to me. I figured they must have hired somebody fresh out of college and stuck them with the job. Major yawner, if you asked me.
Personally, I was proud of my training record. Over the past few weeks I’d managed to ditch five out of the last six training sessions, thanks to my superior training avoidance tactics. I was on a hot streak, and I sure as heck wasn’t going to let some corporate newbie ruin it for me.
I walked past the customer service booth and the breakroom, down the hallway where the stores offices were, and spotted—oh my God—Evelyn Croft standing outside one of the offices. She saw me at the same instant.
“Hello, Haley,” Evelyn said softly. “It’s nice to see you.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
She twisted her fingers together and said, “I mentioned to you that I was going back to work.”
“Yes, you did,” I realized. “But I didn’t know you meant here. At the store.”
This is where the incident caused by that certain someone had occurred, the one that had so traumatized Evelyn that she’d made herself a prisoner in her own home for months. Prior to that, Evelyn had been an assistant department supervisor working in ILA—that’s retail-speak for Intimates, Lingerie, and Accessories.
“I’m giving it a try,” Evelyn said quietly.
Oh, great. With that attitude, she wouldn’t last two days dealing with customers—and employees.
“Remember what we talked about at your house,” I said. “If you’re going to do this you have to be a little more assertive.”
Evelyn drew in a breath, straightened her shoulders, and stopped twisting her fingers together.
“You’re right, Haley,” she said, and pushed her chin up. “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Good for you,” I told her.
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Evelyn said. She pointed down the hallway behind her. “Could I see you in my office?”
Evelyn had an office?
“You’re on the schedule for later, but we may as well do it now,” Evelyn said.
Schedule? We were supposed to do something?
“Aren’t you working in ILA?” I asked.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Evelyn asked. “I’m the corporate training supervisor. It’s my job to make sure every employee has completed all of their training, as required by the corporate office.”
Oh, crap.
Evelyn went inside her office and I reluctantly followed. She sat down at the desk and pulled up something on her computer.
“Let’s see. According to the corporate log, you—oh dear, this can’t be right.” Evelyn looked up at me, stunned. “There’s no record of you attending five of the last six sessions, Haley.”
“You’re kidding,” I said, and managed to sound surprised.
It was an outright lie, but what else could I do?
Evelyn turned back to the computer, hit some keys, and looked at me again. “That’s exactly what it says.”
I leaned across the desk and studied the spreadsheet on the screen. Bright red filled five of the blocks next to my name.
“Obviously, there’s an error in record keeping,” I said.
Evelyn frowned. “This presents quite a problem.”
“Not really,” I said, using my what-could-be-simpler voice as I gestured to the spreadsheet. “Just plug in the info that says I attended the classes. Problem solved.”
Yeah, okay, I knew I was taking advantage of Evelyn’s demure nature, our friendship, and her first day on a new job. And, yeah, I knew it was awful of me. But, come on, this was five incomprehensively boring training sessions. No way could I sit through them—which was why I’d ditched them in the first place.
Evelyn sat there for a couple of minutes studying the spreadsheet and I knew she was thinking it over, weighing everything I’d done for her over these past months against five training sessions. My spirits lifted a little.
“There’s only one thing to do,” Evelyn finally said. “You’re going to have to make up the sessions, Haley.”
“What?” I might have said that louder than I meant to.
“It’s the right thing to do,” Evelyn insisted.
“What?” I’m sure I yelled that.
She looked up at me. “You told me that if I went back to work I would have to be firm in my decisions. Remember?”
Heck, yeah, I remembered. But I didn’t think she’d use her powers for evil—against me.
Evelyn rose from her chair and straightened her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Haley, but you’re going to have to make up those training classes. All five of them will have to be completed within the next two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” I think I was still yelling.
“And because the classes weren’t completed as scheduled,” Evelyn went on, “you’ll have to take a test at the end.”
“A test?” I’m positive I was still yelling.
“If the sessions aren’t completed within the designated time period, or if you don’t pass all the tests, you won’t be eligible for a pay raise, a promotion, or any of the corporate contests or events.”
Oh my God, I don’t believe this.
Not that I wanted a promotion, and the corporate contests and events were usually pretty lame, but I sure as heck wanted a pay raise.
“That’s corporate policy,” Evelyn said softly.
I just stared at her. No way could I sit through five training sessions in two weeks. Some of those sessions were three hours long—some were even longer. I couldn’t do it. I absolutely couldn’t.
Evelyn burst out crying.
Yikes! What happened?
“I’m so sorry, Haley, to give you this bad news,” she said, tears rolling down her face. “You’ve been such a wonderful friend to me and now I’m forced to put you through this. I should never have tried to come back to work.”
Oh, jeez, no.
“I should have known it would be too much for me,” Evelyn insisted between sobs.
“Don’t say that, Evelyn, you’re doing great,” I told her.
“No.” She shook her head. “No.”
I dashed around the desk, plucked tissues from a box sitting on the file cabinet, and pressed them into her hand.
“You’re handling everything just fine,” I told her as I gently patted her shoulder. “And you’re right
about the training. I need to do it. Really.”
Evelyn dabbed at her cheeks and continued to shake her head.
“You’re doing a super job,” I told her.
She sniffed, getting her tears under control. “Do you ... do you really think so?”
“Absolutely,” I said, giving her my cheerleader wanna-be smile.
“And you’re really okay with making up those training sessions?” she asked.
“Of course,” I told her, and waved the idea away as if it were a clearance purse at an outlet mall.
She gulped down the last of her sobs. “Thank you, Haley. You ... you always make me feel better about things.”
“I’ll be in the shoe department tonight,” I said. “If you get upset again, or if you need me for anything, just call.”
Evelyn blinked back a fresh wave of tears. “Thank you, Haley.”
I gave her one last encouraging smile and left the office.
Heading down the hallway, my heart ached a little for Evelyn. I didn’t know what it was about her, but she always got to me. I was glad that I talked her into not quitting her job tonight. And I was proud of her for sticking up for the corporate policy she’d been charged with upholding.
I was still going to have to figure a way to get out of doing those training sessions, of course.
As I passed the customer service booth, I saw that the line was long, lots of customers with returns and complaints, or wanting a price adjustment on sale merchandise. Right now, the shoe department looked pretty good.
“Haley?” someone called.
Thinking it was a customer wanting actual service, or perhaps a supervisor with a problem, I kept walking.
“Haley?” the voice called again. It sounded familiar—in a good way.
I stopped and saw that it was Detective Shuman.
My heart did its usual little flip-flop—which was really bad of me, I know—as he walked over.
But his expression didn’t look all that flip-flop-worthy. A knot the size of a Chanel tote jerked in my stomach.
Shuman leaned close. “We’ve got a problem. A big problem.”
Oh, crap.
CHAPTER 17
Immediately I knew that Detective Shuman hadn’t come to the store tonight to invite me to a dinner party he and his girlfriend were giving. He had on his cop face—which was kind of hot—so I figured I wouldn’t be eating German food at their place anytime soon.
“Let’s go somewhere,” Shuman said, keeping his voice low.
I led the way past the customer service booth, through the door into the stock room. The place was quiet, as usual at this time of the night. It was chilly back here and the Holt’s music track—no way you’ll hear any of this stuff at the Grammy’s—played softly.
“I got a phone call from Dempsey Rowland today,” Detective Shuman said. “They hired a consultant to do the background investigations on the new hires.”
I recalled that Max Corwin had given me that choice bit of info this morning. I hadn’t thought much about it at the time, but seeing the look on Shuman’s face now—yikes!—I figured this couldn’t be good.
Jeez, had they already found out that my UM graduation was really the University of Mixology? How could they have learned that so quickly? Was my file the very first one they’d worked on?
Maybe so, if Detective Madison had said something to them.
Not a great feeling.
I shifted into I’m-guilty-but-I’m-going-to-look-innocent mode. Luckily, I’ve had lots of practice at this.
“Did they find something about Max?” I asked, thinking a little misdirection at this point couldn’t hurt.
“It’s not what they found,” Shuman said. “It’s what they didn’t find.”
I had no idea what he meant, but I got the feeling this would be bad for me.
I have a sixth sense about things like that.
“Your personnel file is missing,” Shuman said.
Wow, was this a break for me or what? If my file wasn’t there, it meant they couldn’t—
Hang on a minute.
“You think I stole my own personnel file out of H.R.?” I asked. “So they couldn’t do my background investigation?”
“Detective Madison is convinced you’re involved in Violet Hamilton’s murder,” Shuman said. “He thinks you have something to hide. Is that true, Haley?”
I didn’t want to lie to Shuman, so what could I do but avoid his question?
“If my file was missing, why would Madison think I took it?” I asked. “It was in the H.R. office, along with all the other new hires’.”
“The others were there. Yours wasn’t,” Shuman said.
“It’s not my fault if Adela lost it,” I pointed out.
Shuman hesitated a moment, as if he needed a beat or two before delivering the next punch.
“You were seen in Adela’s office. Alone. Near the personnel folders,” Shuman said. “We have witnesses.”
Oh my God. The day I’d been formulating my Plan B and needed contact info for Max, Tina, and Ray. I’d gone into Adela’s office. But my oh-so-brilliant plan had been thwarted when Adela and Mr. Dempsey walked in.
“I didn’t take my personnel folder,” I told Shuman.
I saw no need to mention that I’d intended to lift info from the other new hires’ folders.
“Besides,” I added. “I’d e-mailed my résumé to Adela. Even if my personnel folder wasn’t available, all my info would be in her inbox.”
“It’s not,” Shuman said.
Oh, jeez. Now they thought I’d stolen my file and deleted my résumé from Adela’s computer?
“There are a lot of older women who work there. Some of them probably aren’t so great with computers—I’m sure they’re still trying to figure out how to program their VCRs,” I said. “Any of them could have deleted it accidentally.”
“Maybe,” Shuman said. “But you know how this looks.”
Yeah, I knew how it looked—like I was guilty of Violet’s murder and attempting to hide evidence.
This seemed like an excellent time to throw someone else under the bus, so I said, “Have you checked out Tina Sheldon?”
“Do you know something?” he asked.
“I happened to see her leaving her house on Sunday morning in a white van,” I said. “She took the Five south—”
“You happened to see her leave? And happened to follow her down the Five?” he asked, giving me a don’t-expect-me-to-believe-that cop look—it was way hot.
I ignored his expression—except for the way-hot part—and said, “Anyway, this morning when I saw her in the breakroom, she claimed she hadn’t been out of her house all weekend.”
Shuman frowned his cop frown, and I could see his mind was processing the info.
“Why would she have lied?” I asked. “Unless she was hiding something.”
He nodded and I knew he’d check it out.
“Any progress in the case?” I asked. “Did you find the murder weapon, maybe? Or a suspect that’s not—me?”
Shuman gave me the closest thing to a grin he could manage during a murder investigation discussion.
“A few suspects that aren’t you,” he said, then shifted into cop mode again. “According to the coroner, the murder weapon was a flat, blunt instrument. And, the victim’s laptop is unaccounted for.”
So somebody smashed Violet over the head with her own laptop. I didn’t like that picture in my brain, so I pushed it aside.
A minute or so passed but Shuman didn’t leave. We just stood there together in the quiet stock room. I didn’t want to talk about Violet’s murder investigation anymore, and I got the feeling he felt the same.
“How’s the German food?” I asked.
Shuman grinned that special grin I’d seen him wear when he’d been in the store with his girlfriend while she shopped for a stand mixer. My belly got a little gooey recalling how he’d looked at Amanda that night.
Ty flashed into my head.
He’d sent me flowers today—twice. That was the same as Shuman’s awesome grin, wasn’t it?
“German food’s not so great,” Shuman said, his grin getting bigger. “But the cook ... now, she’s something.”
I couldn’t help but smile along with Shuman, and for a few seconds—okay, more than a few—I envied Amanda.
“I’d better go,” Shuman said quietly.
“Yes, you’d better,” I replied.
Still, neither of us moved. We just looked at each other for a little longer, then we both bolted for the door.
“See you,” Shuman called over his shoulder.
“Yeah,” I answered, and headed for the shoe department.
“Surprise!” Ty shouted as I opened the door of my apartment.
I was surprised, all right. He must have been watching for me to return from my shift at Holt’s—which was unusual—plus, he was smiling from ear to ear and that was way unusual. Ty almost never smiled.
My spirits lifted, seeing him in such a good mood. I’d had a really long day and figured a quiet evening snuggling with Ty was the perfect way to end it.
“I bought you something,” he declared, his smile growing even wider.
Visions of emeralds, sapphires, and rubies flashed in my mind. Or maybe a—oh my God, the Temptress tote I’d been dying for!
“Close your eyes,” Ty said.
He took my hand and led me inside my apartment. My heart raced. I couldn’t remember whether I’d told him about wanting the sizzling hot Temptress, but even if he didn’t get me that, jewelry would be fantastic. Or maybe cruise tickets. Oh, wow, that would be awesome. I’d need new bathing suits, of course, along with sun block and sandals. Sundresses. Oh my God, I’d need so many sundresses. And shorts, of course, with—
“Okay, open your eyes,” Ty announced.
My eyes sprang open.
“Ta-da!” Ty gestured grandly to a—oh my God, it was a television.
What the hell?
A huge television, and I mean super huge, was bolted to a wall. It looked like one of those old drive-in movie screens.
The artwork I’d had there was stacked in a corner next to my TV and stand, which he’d moved out of the way. A ripped-up brown box and packing materials were scattered all over the room, and my chairs were pushed back.
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