Murder on Memory Lake

by J. D. Griffo

  “It was! And even if it wasn’t, I still would’ve went,” Ruthanne explained. “I had to get away from all the noise.”

  “What noise?” Jinx asked.

  “The construction! For the past few months they’ve been working on the outdoor space, ripping it up and planting a whole new garden,” Ruthanne said. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  Alberta and Jinx looked around at the landscape and had to admit that it was pristine, but it still didn’t answer their main question. “It is,” Alberta started. “But do you have any idea where Beverly is?”

  “Has to be with her boyfriend,” Ruthanne replied. “Nothing else matters to her in this world except her fella.”

  * * *

  Later that night as Helen was once again beating them at canasta and they all agreed that cucumber-flavored vodka was no match for fluffy marshmallow, three-fourths of the group assumed Ruthanne must have been referring to Marion.

  “I know he’s the obvious choice,” Alberta said, scooping Lola up in her arms, “But I just don’t know if I believe it.”

  “That’s because you’re a Greedy Gretchen,” Helen declared. “And you want Marion all to yourself.” In defense of her owner Lola meowed loudly. “Sta ’zitto! You should know a hussy when you see one, Miss Gina Lollobrigida.” At the sound of her full name, Lola meowed even louder and squirmed in Alberta’s arms.

  “Oh come on, Helen, I do not.”

  “Then do like Joyce says and follow the facts,” Helen argued. “And all the facts lead to Marion being Beverly’s secret lover.”

  Helen accented her comment by throwing down some cards to reveal that she had over 5,200 points and was the canasta winner for the sixth week in a row.

  “Again!” Alberta cried. “If I didn’t know you better, Helen, I’d swear you were cheating.”

  “No cheating necessary, not when you know how to play the game.”

  “Well, one game Beverly is losing at is the game of finance,” Joyce announced.

  “What are you talking about, Aunt Joyce?”

  “I was waiting for a lull in the evening to tell you what I found out,” Joyce explained. “Beverly’s credit score is a dismal 410, and that condo you couldn’t get into is in foreclosure.”

  “That’s so sad,” Alberta cried.

  “That’s so impressive,” Jinx cried next. “How’d you find that out?”

  Joyce explained that even though she hadn’t been a part of the financial world as a wheeler and dealer for the past several years, she still had many friends who were active members of the industry. “You’d be surprised how easy it is to obtain private financial information about someone.”

  “And how easy it is for a good person to turn bad,” Alberta said, a shiver racing down her spine. They all knew what she was referring to, but allowed Alberta to finish her thought. “If Beverly was hurting for money, she could have killed Lucy, stolen her TV Guide collection, and decided to leave town to find someplace less risky to sell it.”

  “But Gram, how could she do that?” Jinx asked. “Beverly and Lucy were friends.”

  Alberta smiled weakly at her granddaughter’s innocence. “It’s like Olive said, lovey, everyone has their price.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Ogni cuffia è buone por le natte.

  The early bird may catch the worm, but the early temp catches the boss worming through his assistant’s desk. At least that’s what Alberta discovered when she went into work earlier than usual Monday morning.

  The previous night Alberta had been plagued by upsetting dreams associated with Lucy’s murder that kept her from getting a restful sleep. The dreams couldn’t be categorized as nightmares, but the scenes and images conjured by her sleeping mind were definitely disturbing. After lying awake for several hours, Alberta decided to get up at 5 a.m. and take advantage of the situation by getting an early start to the day. She never thought she’d catch Marion trying to take advantage of Beverly’s absence.

  She turned the corner of the hallway and in the distance saw the unusual sight of Marion sitting at Beverly’s desk gazing intently at the computer screen. Not only had she never seen Marion sitting at Beverly’s desk before, but every time she went into his office or walked by and peered in through the windows, he always seemed to be doing something other than working on his own computer. He would either be on the phone with his back to his PC, sitting on the couch talking to a colleague, or standing with his hands in his pants pockets staring out the window. She hadn’t been in his employ for very long, of course, but she never once saw him working on a computer. Until now.

  Just as Alberta was about to clear her throat or drop her employee entrance card on the tiled floor to make some noise that would announce her presence, Marion looked up and caught her watching him.

  “What are you doing in so early?”

  Although startled, Alberta quickly regained her composure once she realized the truth was on her side. “I couldn’t sleep,” she replied honestly. “So, I thought why not come in early and continue to acclimate myself to my new surroundings? So much has changed since the last time I was a working girl.” Not the least of which was her fearlessness when talking to her boss. “Like, isn’t your assistant supposed to start your computer in the morning and not the other way around?”

  “My assistant is also not supposed to suddenly quit on me,” Marion said. “But that’s exactly what she did.”

  Since Alberta already knew it was very likely that Beverly had skipped town, she almost forgot to feign shock over hearing the news. She was further distracted watching Marion try to conceal the fact that he was closing out all the files he had opened on her computer. Why was he hiding what he had been looking at? After all, wasn’t he the boss and didn’t he essentially have the right to rifle through anyone’s computer who was on his payroll? She would contemplate those questions later. For the moment she needed to act surprised.

  “She quit?” Alberta cried. “Why on earth would she do such a thing?”

  “I wish I knew,” he said, eyebrows and shoulders rising. “I do know that Beverly was a flighty woman who had a tendency to be impulsive and make decisions based on emotion rather than logic, but this is drastic even for her.”

  Nodding her head to illustrate that she understood Beverly had always been a flight risk, Alberta mentally cataloged the fact that Marion spoke of Beverly in the past tense. She wasn’t sure if that was an important clue or a simple slip of the tongue, but she did think it odd that he would speak of her in that way, especially if he had only just found out she had quit. Was he one of those men who, if he felt betrayed, turned his back on you immediately and forever? Was Beverly already dead to him even after such a long relationship, whether that relationship had been passionate, platonic, or something in between?

  “But quitting your job is such a major decision; she must have been thinking about it for a while at least,” Alberta gushed. “You had no idea she wanted to leave?”

  “None,” Marion confirmed as he leaned back in Beverly’s chair, now quite relaxed, his foot bouncing up and down as if tapping the air. “Denise received an e-mail from her this morning with nary an explanation, just stating that effective immediately she was resigning from her position as my secretary . . . or executive assistant as she preferred to call herself.”

  “That seems so sudden,” Alberta observed. “Did she say where she was going or if she had another job?”

  “Nothing, except that she was quitting,” Marion replied. “And she didn’t even have the decency or courage to send the e-mail to me. I take personal offense that she would circumvent protocol and reach out to HR instead of me.”

  Alberta didn’t remember much about office protocol from her first stint as a working stiff, but she did believe that sending a resignation notice directly to human resources was the proper way to handle leaving a job. Wisely, she kept that thought to herself. Her thoughts about Beverly were handled differently.

  “I have to say that I am stunne
d by all of this, Marion,” Alberta began. “I didn’t know her all that well—and, not for nothing, we never really know anyone completely—but, from what I did know of Beverly, this doesn’t sound like her at all.”

  “Like I said, she could be . . . impetuous,” Marion replied, choosing his adjective carefully. “But not for nothing, as you say, I must admit that she was a very good secretary and now, of course, I can’t find anything, which is why I was looking on her computer.”

  That makes sense, Alberta thought. After working for Marion for so many years it would be reasonable that Beverly would have worked autonomously and handled many of the mundane, yet necessary, daily tasks on her own without consulting Marion. With her suddenly gone, he would be at a loss as to how to get the simplest thing done. Alberta then wondered why she was trying so hard to convince herself that she hadn’t caught Marion in the act of doing something wrong. Perhaps it was because she so desperately wanted that thought to be right.

  “If you need any help, Marion, please just ask,” Alberta offered.

  “Really? Because I know the perfect way you can help me.”

  “Tell me what I can do,” Alberta said.

  “Be my new secretary.”

  It took Alberta only three seconds to reply. Although when she did, she wasn’t entirely sure if she was replying as an undercover detective trying to get closer to the truth or as an understanding woman trying to get closer to a man.

  “Nothing would make me happier.”

  An hour later, sitting in Denise’s office, her happiness was put to the test.

  “Looks like somebody is moving up the corporate ladder at breakneck speed,” Denise said, her words much more enthusiastic than her tone.

  Alberta explained that it was happenstance, she was in the right place at the right time and didn’t expect to remain in the position for very long. “I completely understand that I’m still in the probationary period and, honestly, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to fill Beverly’s shoes, speaking of which, I found a bunch of her shoes in her bottom drawer,” she confessed. “Anyway, I’ll do the best I can, of course, but if I don’t feel I can hack it or if Marion . . . is that okay if I still call him Marion? Mr. Klausner sounds so formal. If Marion isn’t satisfied with me, I will not take it personally and I will move aside so someone else can take over.”

  Denise’s slightly condescending smirk in response to Alberta’s honesty could be interpreted as vaguely inappropriate for someone working in HR. There was, however, no ambiguity when it came to her explicitly inappropriate comment. “I have a feeling you’ll be able to satisfy Marion’s every need.”

  Alberta wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or insulted. She decided to take the third option and acted confused. “I’m not really sure what you mean by that, Denise.”

  Denise knew that Alberta knew exactly what her comment meant, so she decided to be as blunt as possible to make sure she got her point across. “If you ever repeat what I’m about to tell you, I will deny it to my grave,” Denise said leaning forward and dropping her voice to a whisper. “Marion likes all the secretaries here at Wasserman & Speicher. And he likes them in that Sally Field way . . . he really, really likes them. Not only that, but he likes the secretaries to like him back.” Sitting back in her chair, Denise smirked, “Capisce?”

  “Capisce,” Alberta repeated, then added, “I think.”

  Sighing harshly, Denise said, “I really don’t think I can speak any plainer than that.”

  Alberta could feel the tension in the room and knew that if she asked more questions she would risk Denise either getting suspicious as to her motives or getting aggravated with her interrogation, but she was desperate to find out if Marion and Beverly really were having an affair or if Marion was just an old-fashioned skirt chaser who never really made contact with his target.

  “So you think Beverly quit because she found out Marion was cheating on her?” Alberta asked as innocently as possible. Alberta thought she saw a flash of anger swipe across Denise’s face, but the woman suddenly tossed her head and waved her arms animatedly, and any trace of hostility was gone.

  “Between you, me, and the lousy wallpaper in this office, that’s my guess,” Denise confided. “Now I have no proof and, personally, I admire the business Mr. Klausner has created. Just to be clear not one person has ever brought charges of harassment against him and most employees stay until retirement age, which was just around the corner for Beverly, but—and this is a very big but with a capital B—when it comes to women, I don’t trust him. And neither should you.”

  At that moment, Denise’s cell phone rang and the sounds of a trumpet filled the room playing a tune that was vaguely familiar to Alberta, but she couldn’t recall its title. Denise glanced at her phone, but instead of answering the call, she muted the sound. By the look of her tightly pursed lips, Alberta could tell she didn’t want to speak to whoever was on the other end. By the way her hands were folded on top of her desk, it was clear that their conversation had also come to an end.

  “You’re a grown woman, Alberta, and I know you can handle yourself, but at some point Mr. Klausner will make his intentions known, so please . . . consider yourself warned.”

  * * *

  It took only two days for Denise’s prophecy to manifest itself. Alberta was sitting at her desk munching on slices of fresh mozzarella and tomato trying desperately to decipher Beverly’s color-coded calendar system—so far the only thing she could determine was that green meant an in-house meeting and yellow meant a conference call, but she had yet to figure out what blue stood for—when she saw Marion walk past her desk and circle the interior of the office for the third time. Just when she had decided he was wearing one of those devices that count how many steps you take in a day, he stopped in front of her desk, tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and she realized he was actually circling his prey.

  “Let’s have coffee tomorrow,” he said. Although she knew he meant for his words to sound like an order, he was so nervous that they sounded more like a question.

  Could this anxious man standing before her really be the notorious lady-killer? Could he really have continued an affair with Beverly while pursuing other women in the same office? That would require a certain savoir faire, like the businessman version of Tom Jones or at least Engelbert Humperdinck, and Marion was acting much more like Jim Nabors, and not the smooth-voiced crooner, but the goofy sitcom soldier. There was only one way for Alberta to know what Marion’s intentions were and that was to agree to the date.

  “I’d like that, Marion,” she replied earnestly. “Thank you.”

  Her acceptance seemed to boost his confidence and he literally bounced up and down on his heels a few times. “Wonderful,” he beamed. “We’ve been spending so much time as boss and employee, we haven’t had a chance to be just Marion and Alberta like in the old days.”

  That was a bit of a stretch, Alberta thought, since back in the old days they hardly had any interaction. Yes, they knew each other, but they weren’t friends in high school and never hung out in the same crowd. Come to think of it, Alberta couldn’t remember what crowd Marion did hang out with, if any. How egotistical, she thought, to feel pity for a man who had clearly become a success. Interesting how the impressions made early in life are hard to shatter despite evidence to the contrary.

  “That would be nice,” Alberta lied, “It’ll be fun to reminisce about the, um, good old days.”

  And, of course, pump Marion for information and see if he knew anything about Lucy’s TV Guide collection or Beverly’s disappearance. Those were the real reasons she had agreed to have coffee with Marion at a little café away from the prying eyes of the rest of the Wasserman & Speicher employees, at least that’s what she tried to convince herself. She had a harder time convincing her family.

  “Ooh, Grandma’s caught herself a silver fox!” Jinx exclaimed, as she strained the water out of a pot of ravioli.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,
Jinx,” Alberta protested. “Marion just wants to talk about old times.”

  “And create some new memories,” Joyce interjected.

  “Just don’t lose sight of the mission,” Jinx said. “He might be able to supply some answers to our questions.”

  “Like why is my sister falling for a man she hardly knows,” Helen snapped.

  “I’ve known Marion since I was a teenager,” Alberta corrected. “He’s harmless. A bit ungatz, but harmless.”

  “Ogni cuffia è buone por le natte,” Helen said.

  “She’s right about that,” Joyce added.

  “I seriously need to brush up on my Italian if I’m going to hang with you gals,” Jinx said. “She’s right about what?”

  “Men are men, Jinxie,” Helen said, “Young, old, married, single, gay, straight, they’re all the same.”

  “What Helen’s trying to say is that men all want the same thing, a little action, a quick roll in the hay or on the office couch,” Joyce clarified.

  Alberta threw her hands up in the air so quickly she almost knocked over the plate of ravioli Jinx was setting down in front of her. “Ah, Madon, Joyce, not you too!”

  “You forget, Alberta, I’ve worked with CEOs, I know what they’re like,” Joyce informed. “Now forgive me, but I have to ask, do you have protection?”

  “What do I need protection for?” she cried. “I’m having coffee with him, not breakfast in bed.”

  “Don’t you remember what Sister Bernice always said?” Helen asked. “One thing leads to the other.”

  “Santa Madre di Dio! You three are insane!” Alberta shouted. “The only reason I agreed to go out with Marion is to uncover more clues, not to have sex with him. For Crise sake, you make me sound like cousin Gertie!”

  “Let’s not get carried away, Berta,” Helen said. “I never called you a street whore. All I meant to imply is that it seems like you might be falling for the man you’re supposed to be investigating. I don’t want to see you cross the same line Beverly did.”

  “Speaking of crossing a line,” Alberta said, her face puckered up like she just sucked on a rancid lemon. “What did you do to this ravioli, lovey?”