“Let me know how your research turns out, Charlie.”
“Sure thing,” I said.
I had a few other errands while I was in the uptown area. I swung by Kristee’s Kandees and picked up three boxes of black-and-white fudge, gift wrapped. A box for Sally, a box for Margaret, and a spare one in case I needed a quick gift. I got a plain box for me, too. If a head injury doesn’t entitle you to black-and-white fudge, I don’t know what would.
On my way out, I headed over to check out Dream Stories, the linen boutique that had opened recently. I like the boutiques uptown and downtown, and in my business I have to know what’s cutting-edge on all fronts. I hoped to see some innovative storage as well as gorgeous bed and window coverings. I knew that would be great ammunition for the consultation about my new client’s daughter’s disastrous bedroom. I knew from previous experience that youthful décor plus the right storage options had been known to win over most adolescents.
I picked up a cheap cell phone and bought enough minutes to keep me going until I settled with my provider. I’d already canceled the other one, although not in time to save me grief.
On the way to meet Robbie, I stopped for gas just off the interstate. As I left the service station, I noticed a nondescript white van at one of the pumps. More to the point, the driver noticed me. So did Del, who was filling the tank. Something told me that stopping to ask them about Barb was not an option. Del dropped the nozzle and raced to the passenger side. Before he jumped in, I gunned the Miata, which has a lot more pep than any old van. I shot out of the service station and sped back onto the interstate. I’d always thought that feeling someone’s eyes on your back was a cliché. This time, it felt like a threat. I got off at the next exit and took the secondary roads to my destination.
I hadn’t been worried about Mel and Del before this. Now I was.
I used my new cell phone to call Robbie. We arranged to meet at Betty’s, my favorite diner. Well, everyone’s favorite diner. Sooner or later, you’ll run into everyone in Woodbridge and surrounding communities there. Despite the fact that Robbie and I were now in cahoots, I wasn’t crazy about spending time alone with him. Betty’s was perfect. It wasn’t far from Quovadicon, and I’d never seen a police officer in the place. Not that there was anything illegal about having a bite to eat with Robbie Van Zandt. The rest of what we’d be doing, well, it was necessary.
Robbie burst through the door just as I was polishing off one of Betty’s famous club sandwiches with hand-cut fries.
“Sorry,” I said, “I couldn’t wait. The sight of all this food reminded me I’m behind a few meals.”
“Bad news,” he said.
Patsy Magliaro, our aging hippie waitress, sashayed up to the table at that exact minute. “Oh, hi, Robbie. I didn’t know you and Charlotte knew each other. That’s nice.”
The deer-in-the-headlights look didn’t really suit Robbie. For a moment, I thought he’d been stunned by her tie-dyed skirt or maybe the long gray braid.
“Colleagues,” I said, hoping to nip Patsy’s conversation in the bud. Of course, I had no such luck.
“That was a terrible thing about the murder at your warehouse,” she prattled on, not taking the hint.
Patsy didn’t really take hints. However, she was kind and helpful and I liked her a lot. Even if she’d once almost gotten me killed.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Robbie said, growing even paler.
“Sure, hon. You want your usual? It’s the same as Charlotte’s. Even the dessert. You want your Devil’s Food Special or you want to wait for Robbie, Charlotte? You know, Robbie, you really need to get a bit more sun.”
We both stared at her back as she moseyed toward the kitchen, braid swinging, Birkenstocks shuffling, tie-dyed skirt swaying with a slow cheerfulness, if there was such a thing.
“Don’t worry about Patsy,” I said. “She won’t even remember she saw us this time tomorrow.”
“Why did you say that?”
“What? About Patsy?”
“Yeah, not remembering.”
“Just in case the police take an interest in it. After all—” I leaned forward and lowered my voice, a bit later than I should have. “You got that file illegally.”
He shrugged. “That’s the thing . . .”
I waited.
Finally I said, “What thing?”
“There was—”
“Here you go, Robbie,” Patsy said.
Robbie jumped.
Patsy added, “Fresh batch of fries. Do you have the timing or what? Don’t worry. There’s more where that came from. Extra chicken in the club, just the way you like it.”
She must say that to all the customers because there’d been no way that club had been made up especially for Robbie. I knew that the kitchen staff at Betty’s went through dozens of the same favorites every day, and they managed to keep on top by preparing ahead.
Robbie just nodded. Didn’t speak.
“And Charlotte, here’s your dessert. I figured you need it, being involved in another murder so soon.”
“Don’t talk about murder, Patsy. It ruins my appetite.”
“Mum’s the word,” she whispered and tiptoed away backward, finger to her lips. Naturally, every other customer in our section stared at her with interest. Betty’s? What had I been thinking?
“I can’t eat this,” Robbie said. “My stomach’s in knots. I might be sick.”
“You’re not going to be sick. Tell me what happened.”
“The file was there.”
“Yes.” A slight edge had crept into my voice.
“But it was empty.”
“What?”
“Empty. Empty. Empty.”
“Actually, I heard you.”
“That means someone else took it.”
“Of course.”
“And that means—”
I finished his sentence, “That we are not the only people who are interested in Barb’s background.”
“This is really bad news.”
“Is there another place it could have been stored? Ready to be filed?”
He shook his head. “All the files are kept in a central filing cabinet in Fredelle’s office. Fredelle never gets behind on her filing, but I did check everywhere else just in case. I even looked in the nearby files in case it was mis filed.”
“Oh boy. Who else had access to her files?”
“Theoretically, no one.”
“Maybe the police took it. Barb’s missing. Just because they pretended not to be interested doesn’t mean they weren’t. I think it’s a power thing.”
“I don’t believe it was the police,” Robbie said. “When a file is removed, Fredelle makes the person sign for it, and then she places a card in the section saying who has it. There wasn’t any card there. She would have filled one out even if the police refused to sign for it. But why would they do that?”
“So it probably wasn’t the police. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t you. So who does that leave?”
“Any one of the employees of Quovadicon, I suppose. Someone might have known how to get the keys.”
I thought about Mel and Del or whatever their names really were. “Let’s narrow it down. Do the warehouse people have access to the keys to Fredelle’s office?”
He shook his head. “No. And I doubt if they would have been in a position to spot where she hid them. They’re not in the main office that much. They even have their own lunchroom.”
“Okay, that leaves the office staff and the sales force and customers.”
More head shaking. “A customer would never find this key.”
A thought flitted through my head. “Did Barb know where the key was?”
He frowned. “Barb?”
“Yes. Face it. She doesn’t want to be found. She’s an intelligent woman. She knows what kind of information is in the files.”
“You think she took the files to hide personal information about herself?” His face seemed to crumble. “S
o that I couldn’t find her? Couldn’t she trust me? I’d do anything for her.”
We had no time to wallow in Robbie’s special pool of self-pity. I said, “She did it so no one could find her. She needed to disappear as soon as she heard the news about her friend. She knew this man was dead and I’m guessing she knew why.”
Robbie blinked. “But when she got that call, it was a shock to her. She grabbed her purse and tore off out of the building. She almost knocked Autumn over on the way. I tried to follow Barb and she told me to leave her alone. I—”
I had to stop him. There would be time enough for sympathy when this was done. “You’re saying she didn’t have time to get the files. She just left.”
“Everyone was stunned by it.”
“Everyone? Who else was there?”
He closed his eyes, to concentrate, I assumed. “Fredelle. She was really nervous that day. Worse than usual. She screamed when Barb rushed by.”
“I think she was nervous about the potential effect of my visit to the office. Who else?”
“Dyan. And one of the sales guys. I don’t know his name.”
“Dyan?”
“Yes. She was constantly snooping around. She was never at her own desk. Always pretending to be photocopying. Missy never spent much time making copies.”
I wondered if he could see the lightbulb going on over my head. “Oh, right. Missy.”
“Now she’s a really nice person. She always had time for people, and she didn’t stick her nose in everyone’s business and try to make trouble.”
“Unlike Dyan.”
“Right. Everyone hated her.”
“And someone hated her enough to kill her.”
His eyes widened. “It wasn’t me. Even though it was in my office, it wasn’t me. I think I could have, but I didn’t.”
“I believe you, Robbie. You weren’t even in the building.”
“That’s right.”
All the same, Robbie was still not completely off my suspect list. Perhaps that’s why I chose not to tell him to keep an eye out for Barb in a black Honda Civic. “One last thing, Robbie. You have a sophisticated IT system. Have any of the personnel files been maintained on that system?”
He squinted at me. “It’s mostly to track orders and shipments, big customer files, that kind of data. Not so much stuff about employees. Fredelle’s a bit old-fashioned about technology. She can barely use a computer. A lot of it’s in her head.”
“Fredelle mentioned that your father was the person who hired Barb.” Not quite the truth. Missy had told me that.
He blinked. “But why?”
“I have no idea. But I suppose Fredelle wouldn’t argue with him about her.”
“Argue? She’d never argue with him. She worships the ground he walks on. She always has.”
“Maybe she felt hurt that he took the initiative to hire the new IT person out of her hands.”
He kept shaking his head while I was speaking. “No. No. No. Fredelle isn’t like that. She doesn’t have a big ego. It’s not all about her. It’s all about my dad and the company and me, too. She loves us and she loves Quovadicon. Whatever he wants is good for her.”
“And if someone tried to harm you or your father or the company, do you think she could be dangerous?”
“No! Stop coming up with these crazy theories. Have you seen her? She’s a sweet little lady. She’s almost sixty-five. She loves puppies. She couldn’t hurt anyone.”
I said nothing, just thought about Fredelle lying to me. Robbie believed she was a saint, but I didn’t buy it.
Patsy sauntered over again and frowned at Robbie’s plate. “Want me to box that up for you? Shame to waste it.”
Robbie shook his head. I knew Patsy enough to say yes. Otherwise she’d never leave us alone.
“Sure thing, Robbie. Maybe dessert’s what you need.”
“Box up his dessert, too,” I said. “And can you do the same for mine, please, Patsy?”
Robbie looked grateful. I felt sorry for him. As Patsy drifted away to box the desserts, I said, “Now I need you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“Check out Dyan’s desktop and see if she had any information about Barb. Can you do that without getting caught?”
“I can do anything without getting caught.”
I thought we’d earned our cake. Anyway, on a week like this, you never know when you’ll have a chance to sit down and eat again.
Missy opened the door and wiped her hair out of her eyes. It took a couple of seconds before she recognized me. Behind her a child wailed.
“I saw you on television,” she said. She didn’t smile.
“Yes.”
“It had to do with the company and Dyan’s death. The police said they’d be questioning you.”
I did my best not to appear dangerous. I had stopped at home on the way and picked up Truffle and Sweet Marie. They can be great at defusing tension. This turned out to be a waste of effort as Missy didn’t pay any attention to either of them. She was interested in me and my relationship with the police.
I didn’t try to explain Nick to her. I was glad I no longer needed the bandage on my head. It did give me the look of a desperado.
“That was just one officer. He changed his mind. I was injured by the killer, too.”
“If you don’t mind me saying, it wouldn’t be hard to fake an injury.”
I had to admire her. No wonder she was missed at Quovadicon. The airheaded Autumn and the late Dyan couldn’t compete with this supermom. She wasn’t finished though. “Honey,” she called back into the house, “can you come out here, please?”
“Honey,” when he rumbled through the door, had probably played fullback for the high school team. He looked like nothing had turned to fat. He also looked like he was crazy about his clever, nice, and pretty blond wife and would do anything to protect her from nasty little organizing villains like me and my dogs. He scowled at them.
I said, “Sorry. I had to have the dogs here. I hope they don’t make you nervous. They’re in training to be therapy dogs, and the more exposure they have to different people and situations, the better.”
He scratched his head. “Therapy dogs? You mean they go to a psychiatrist?”
She bit back what seemed to be a fond smile. “No, honey. They go into hospitals and nursing homes to help people relax. It’s good for the blood pressure and reduces stress. Remember Granny with her cats?”
“Huh.”
I seized the opportunity. “I know you’re busy with the twins and I realize that this is pretty weird, but I was hired originally to help Barb Douglas with her desk.”
Missy seemed to relax a bit. Maybe because hubby was there. She chuckled. “Oh that desk! It’s getting to be legendary.”
“Yes, that’s the point. It seemed to have been legendary almost from the moment she arrived. As if she didn’t want anybody to come near it.”
She met my eyes. That clicked. “I wondered,” she said, “how it could get so bad so fast, but it seemed kind of mean to mention it. And Robbie was so keen for me to be nice to her.”
“There’s something wrong about the whole production,” I said. “She’s missing. I don’t know if you are aware of that. No one can find her, and a man we believe she was associated with was found dead in the trunk of his car. I need to find out about her, and I keep hitting brick walls.”
The sleeping giant took that moment to wake up and glower at me. “She’s missing? And you’re involved? Maybe you should just stay away from my wife and family.”
Missy bit her lip.
“Thanks,” I said, talking as fast as I could. “I need to know why she picked Quovadicon, how she came to be there.”
He lumbered forward. “You better leave now or I’m getting the cops.”
I called his bluff. “Go ahead, call them. They know I’m here.”
He opened his mouth, closed it again, glowered, and thought about that.
I rattled on
, “There’s no information about her. Nothing. No relatives, no next of kin. No work history.”
Missy snorted. “Of course there is. It’s all in the personnel files.”
“They’re missing. I just want to know how she came to work at Quovadicon.”
Luckily, Missy didn’t ask me why I didn’t approach Fredelle about this seemingly innocuous request. “No harm in it, I guess. It was sort of a secret, but no, with all this terrible stuff going on, perhaps you should talk to Mr. Van Zandt. I think I told you that he brought her in. He said he didn’t want everyone to know that he did.”
“But why the secrecy?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea.”
“Didn’t anyone ask?”
“He plays his cards close to his chest, as my grandpa would say.”
“Well, Robbie must have known. Maybe that’s why he wanted people to like her.”
“Boy, for a smart lady, you’re sure missing that point. Mr. Van Zandt didn’t think that Robbie could tie his own shoelaces. He wouldn’t consult him on bringing in a new hire.”
“Not consult perhaps, but surely Robbie would know.”
“Nope. Robbie never had the vaguest idea what his father’s plans were. He was kept right out of the loop on everything.”
“So he had no clue.”
“Right.”
“Fredelle would have known.”
Missy frowned, perhaps because the sound of an infant crying drifted through the screen door. A look of panic fluttered over her large husband’s face.
“I don’t think Fredelle did know. She had some surgery around that time. I handled the paperwork and filed it. It was just before I left to have the twins, a bit earlier than I planned. I never really filled her in. So unless Mr. Van Zandt told her, there wasn’t much in the files beyond a couple of references. I don’t even remember seeing her résumé.”
“But a new position, surely she’d be consulted on that as office manager. Was it a new position?”
Death Loves a Messy Desk Page 18