by India Ink
I nodded. “Me either, and I eat as much as a horse.”
“You don’t look it,” she said, appraising my figure.
“I work out a lot—Pilates, yoga, weights, martial arts. I’m a real exercise nut. Love it, and always have.”
She glanced around the room, and I noticed she lowered her voice. “So, how do you like it here so far?”
I smiled. “Oh, it’s not so bad. I’ve worked in worse places than this.” Again, true. Xander Potpourri Company had been a hellhole. “Say, I’m feeling a little out of my element. You wouldn’t be interested in catching some dinner after work? My treat. I was thinking you could give me the lowdown on what it’s like to work here.”
Janette laughed. “But if I do that, you’ll run screaming and never come back.” Pouring the last of the peanuts into her mouth, she followed them with another swig of juice. After swallowing, she glanced at the clock. “Sure, why not? I don’t have any plans. Where do you want to eat?”
“What kind of food do you like?” I asked.
“I’m a steak-and-salad type of girl,” Janette said.
“Steak it is,” I said. “We can go to the Keg. It’s nearby, and they’re pretty good.”
“They are indeed,” Janette said, grinning at me. “For now, though, we’d better get back to work. Leila likes to make surprise visits to see if we’re lollygagging, as she puts it. Tonight, I’ll make sure you get the lowdown on everything. You can’t be too careful around here,” she added, lowering her voice. “There are spies everywhere. But then again, I imagine you know what that’s like, having worked for Venus Envy. The industry’s rife with backstabbers.”
I longed to assure her that not every place was like that, that Auntie wouldn’t dream of running her business on fear, but I didn’t dare. Maybe, once this business was taken care of, if Janette and I found some basis for a friendship, I might be able to convince her that there were good employers out there, employers who valued their workers.
Dinner provided a few surprises. After we ordered, I briefly told Janette my cover story about the roses and how Auntie blamed me, even though I hadn’t done anything.
“What hurts the most is that she didn’t trust me. She pushed me out like some bum, and now I’m scrounging to make ends meet.”
“That’s harsh. Let me get the check,” Janette said. “You must be scrimping until payday, and I’m doing just fine.”
“Oh, no.” I hastily backtracked. “My credit cards are clear, and I want to buy dinner because you’re being so kind. I will admit,” I said conspiratorially, “I’m rather nervous. After all, Bebe’s is in direct competition with my aunt, and I know that Aunt Florence is going to blow a gasket once she hears I’ve started working at Bebe’s. I can pretty much kiss that relationship good-bye. But I think it was already damaged beyond repair. I guess this is a new start, all the way around.”
“That has to be difficult. I know how I’d feel if my family believed I was doing something underhanded,” Janette said. She seemed to mean it, and I wondered if that meant her aunt knew where she was working and approved.
“Are you from Gull Harbor?” I asked.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I live near my aunt. My parents are still alive, though, they just live back east. I came out here to attend the University of Washington.” Janette played with her glass of Chardonnay.
“What’s your aunt’s name?” The thought crossed my mind that it might be one of Bebe’s coworkers. Surely nepotism held sway here when it came to employment.
“Patricia,” she said, hesitating a moment.
Something about the way she said it rang alarm bells, but I didn’t want to be too forward. I just nodded and said, “So tell me, what should I be on the lookout for at Bebe’s? I’m not used to working in a corporate atmosphere.”
Janette laughed. “I can tell. Frankly, I’m surprised that you accepted a job there, but I guess work is work.”
“That’s the truth,” I said, playing along. “It wasn’t my first choice.”
“You should keep clear of anybody who has a private office. I’m serious. All of the corporate bigwigs are absolutely vile. I’m surprised Leila left you in one piece today. She was furious when Bebe announced you were being hired for the position.”
“Why? Was someone fired to make room for me?” That could account for Leila’s attitude toward me, all right.
“Not exactly. Leila wanted one of her friends for the job—a woman named Sharon Wellstone—but Bebe wanted you.” She stopped, contemplating me with wide eyes, as if wondering just how much to say. “You walked into a hornet’s nest, you know.”
Now we were getting somewhere. I glanced down at my mai tai, swirling the fruity drink with my swizzle. “So they had an argument over who was going to get the job?”
“That’s about right. Leila’s the only one who’s ever stood up to Bebe as far as I can tell. From what I’ve heard through the grapevine, Bebe ordered Sharon to recruit you—she knew Sharon wanted the job, and she does things like that to make employees prove their loyalty. Apparently, you refused, so Sharon begged for a chance to prove herself, and Bebe finally let her submit a few sample fragrances. They were actually quite lovely,” she said, surprise filling her voice. “Nobody thought she’d come up with anything so good.”
Thanks to me and my journal, I thought but kept my mouth shut.
“So Bebe agreed to give her a chance. That same day, Sharon was shot.”
“Oh my God, you mean that’s the Sharon Wellstone in the newspaper?” I looked up at her with wide eyes.
“One and the same. Leila wanted to hold the job open for Sharon, even though she’s in critical condition. I was in the lounge, and they were having a huge argument right outside the door a couple days ago. Bebe told Leila that while she felt sorry for Sharon, the company had to move on. Then, I guess you changed your mind, and she hired you.”
Oh, Jeez. Sharon was Leila’s pet. No wonder she’d given me the evil eye. Sharon must have been secretly relieved when I refused the job offer, and she saw her chance to take over the fragrance line with the help of my journal. But then she was shot, and I happened to need a job. Bebe thought she’d lucked out thanks to my change of heart.
Which meant—my mind ran aground on a new possibility—Bebe might not know about my missing journal. It might not even be at the company! If Sharon hadn’t bothered to tell them about the theft, but kept it secret, she might have been hoping to sneak into the job using replicas of my work. I struggled to maintain my equilibrium while putting on a properly horrified face over the whole mess.
I buttered a dinner roll. “I’ll walk softly around Leila.”
“Good idea.” Janette dug into her salad.
We ate silently for a few minutes, then I asked, “So you’ve only been there a few months?”
“Yeah…going on two. I just graduated with my BS in chemistry. This is my first job outside of college.”
“Where do you want to end up, career-wise?”
She patted her lips with her napkin; a thin stain of red spreading across the cloth. She followed my gaze. “No, it’s not Bebe’s. I use M.A.C.”
I grinned at her. “So you aren’t planning on becoming a Belle?”
“Oh good Lord, no. I’m only working at Bebe’s until I can make enough money to go back to school and get my PhD. I’d like to eventually get into biochemical research. That’s what my aunt does. This is pocket change while I figure out how to pay for my master’s degree.”
By the end of dessert—we both had the white chocolate cheesecake—I figured I’d gotten everything out of her I was going to get. I thanked her for a lovely evening and took off for my apartment.
As I pulled up in front of the building, my stomach sank. A police cruiser was parked in the visitor parking. I stepped out of my car and saw that Kyle was inside the prowl car. He noticed me, motioned for me to wait, and then unfolded himself from the sedan.
“Hey, Kyle, what’s up?”
He glanced over me with a curious look on his face but only said, “I need to talk to you, and the parking lot isn’t a good place for it.”
I immediately panicked. “Aunt Florence—is she okay?”
He nodded. “She’s fine, as far as I know. This is about something else. Let’s go up to your apartment.”
“Come on, then,” I said, curious. He was being exceptionally furtive, even more than usual. I led him to the stairs, but he balked and thumbed toward the elevator.
“I’ve walked enough for one day.”
The ride up was loud and noisy, as always, but even though I tried to stare him down, Kyle remained impassive. We hit the fifth floor, and I unlocked my door, ushering him in.
“Hold on, I have to get out of this outfit before I scream,” I said, grabbing my jeans and a tank top and heading for the bathroom.
He snorted. “I thought that jacket looked a little confining. You’re about ready to spill out of it, and while that wouldn’t distress me in the least, I don’t think you’d be so pleased.”
Slamming the door behind me, I wiggled my way out of the skirt and top, staring at the fabric marks that criss-crossed my legs and stomach. Joy, just what I needed: texturizing.
Kyle was poking through the refrigerator when I emerged from the bathroom. “You have anything cold to drink besides water?”
“’Fraid water will have to do,” I said. “I haven’t had time to do much shopping. So tell me, what’s so important that you’d wait outside these delightfully ugly apartments for me?”
He shut the fridge and turned back to me, no longer smiling. “Sharon died today, Persia. There was no brain activity, and her husband gave orders to disconnect life support. The combination of the blow to her head and the gunshot wound proved deadly. This case is now officially a homicide.”
Shit. I sighed and slumped in the recliner. “Damn it. I disliked the woman since she got involved with the Belles, but I didn’t wish her any harm.” I glanced up, suddenly apprehensive. I was still a suspect. I wondered if that’s why he was here. “You come to arrest me? Or just to let me know?”
“I’ve already told you that I know you didn’t kill her, Persia, so stop talking nonsense. I may not be able to remove you from the suspect list, but this wouldn’t be your style. Especially using a gun. No, I’m afraid that my conclusions are focusing more and more in one direction.”
In the pit of my stomach, I knew what he was going to say. “Killian? You think that Killian killed her?”
He shrugged. “He doesn’t have a good alibi. He has a good motive. I’m not ready to make an arrest yet, but yes, he’s a serious contender.” He stretched out on the sofa. “Damn, this thing is bumpy. So, how was your day?”
I gently folded myself into the lotus position, crossing my legs with ease. “Very strange. I found out that Sharon was supposed to start the job that I was hired for, but she was shot before she could take it.”
Kyle straightened up. “What?”
“Sharon was bucking for a promotion. She presented samples of fragrance blends to them that they loved—and my guess is that’s where my stolen journal comes into play. I’m not so sure Bebe has the journal now. Once I turned Sharon’s job offer down, she came back in the store, stole my journal, and used it to land herself a new job. The job Bebe wanted me to take.”
“Anything else I should know about this matter?” Kyle was looking more and more interested.
I shrugged. “Bebe didn’t want Sharon to have the job; she wanted me. She only relented after Sharon informed her that I refused. My supervisor, Leila Doyle, was championing her, and Leila and Bebe had a big argument about it, but that’s hearsay, and I don’t want to tell you who told me because I don’t want her getting in deep shit with the old bats who run the company. And there are three large files in Leila’s office that I want a look at, one on Venus Envy, one on Donna Prima, and one on Urban Gurlz.”
He made a note of it in his pocket-sized notebook. “Great, now you’re rifling through file cabinets. Are you sure you’re safe there? If this Doyle woman doesn’t want you there, do you think she’s safe for you to be around?”
“Kyle, this is a business, not a Mafia family.”
“And Sharon’s dead,” he said. “Murders happen over far less than somebody swiping someone else’s job. Not to mention the espionage you’ve been talking about—that’s enough for some people to dump their rivals in the drink. There’s a lot to puzzle through, but while we’re in the process, I want you to take care of yourself.”
A knock on the door interrupted us. I unfolded myself, rose, and answered. There stood Bran, a bottle of wine in his hand. He peeked over my shoulder at Kyle. “You need some privacy?” he asked, a grin lurking in his eyes.
Grateful to see him, I nodded for him to come in. Kyle gave him a curt nod, then stood up. “I suppose I should mosey out of here. Persia, think about what we discussed, and whether it’s really worth what you stand to gain. We aren’t playing penny ante poker. The stakes are real, and dangerous. I think we’re up to no-limit Texas hold ’em.”
I let out a long breath. “I know you’re concerned. I’m concerned, too. But a lot rests on what I might be able to find out. It’s gone beyond a missing journal and stealing customers. There’s something going on there, Kyle, and I want to know what it is. I have to get a look at those files.”
“Just stay out of the official investigation. You’re still on my list. And let me know what you find out.” He nodded to Bran. “Evening Stanton.”
Bran flashed him a broad smile, which Kyle did not return. “Good to see you, Chief,” he said, as Kyle swept past.
As I shut the door, I couldn’t help but wonder about Killian. He had a lot to lose—and more was wrapped up in failure for him than for my aunt. If Venus Envy went under, then yes, it was the end of one dream and a lot of money down the drain. But Auntie would survive and most likely thrive. She was smart, and she had more than enough to handle the loss, even though it would be a blow in the pocketbook.
But Killian…what else did he have except for his company? He wasn’t married. I had no idea whether he had money beyond Donna Prima. His whole life was wrapped up in that company. Had he killed Sharon? But something whispered No, and it wasn’t my aching loins doing the talking.
If Sharon had stolen my journal and kept it for herself, then where could she have put it? Her apartment? Kyle and his men had been all over the place, looking for clues to her assailant. If the journal had been secreted there, they would have found it. Which meant she probably took it to work with her. But considering that Bebe didn’t want her to have the job, would Sharon have shared the contents? Or would she have kept it private, planning on using it to further her career, one fragrance of mine at a time?
If that was the case, then the journal was probably hidden somewhere on the premises of the company. The question was—where?
These and other thoughts filling my mind, I turned to Bran, who seemed uncertain. “What do you need?” he asked.
I stared at him, my body aching. I wanted Killian, but he wasn’t mine to have. And I had Bran, who was a tall drink of water on his own. I closed my eyes, shaking as Bran reached for me, pulling me to him so my back rested against his chest. I slowly raised my arms, and he drew off my tank top, then unhooked my bra, his fingers sliding around my waist to cup my breasts. I caught my breath, leaning into him as his featherlight touch slid down my belly.
The room was spinning, and when he disrobed and entered me, there on the bed in the dusky heat of the impending night, I forgot about everything else and gave myself over to the sensation.
Chapter Fourteen
Bran left around midnight, after I assured him I would be okay. I padded into the bathroom, then set the alarm and climbed back into bed. Five o’clock saw me up and dressed. I only had so much time before they caught on to why I was working at Bebe’s, and if I was going to do any snooping, I’d better snoop now. With Sharon dead, things
were heating up, and I didn’t want to stick my neck in that arena any more than I had to.
I made sure to put on the casual trousers and short-sleeved shirt that Leila had requested, then patted my bluebell faerie tattoo and whispered, “Bring me a little luck today, if you could.” After eating a peanut butter sandwich and an apple, I grabbed my keys and headed out.
The building was still quiet—one light burned in a far corner on the first floor, but that could easily be a janitor. If the building was locked, I was in for trouble, but as I took hold of the door, it opened. Somebody had beat me in, but that didn’t surprise me. Just as long as it wasn’t Leila. On my way up to the third floor, I realized I’d forgotten to bring a camera, which seemed to be the quickest way to copy documents. No doubt, there would be information in Leila’s files that I’d want to remember. Of course, if I had the guts, I could swipe a few pages, photocopy them, and then hustle them back into the cabinet before they were missed.
Leila’s office was locked. I hadn’t been prepared for that. I glanced around to make sure nobody was watching, then knelt down to examine the lock. Flimsy and old. Probably with an unguarded latch. A quick shuffle through my purse produced my library card, which was more flexible than a credit card and easier to replace. As I slid the plastic in the crack of the door and began jiggling it around, a soft click sounded, and the knob turned in my hand.
I slipped inside and locked the door again. At least I’d have a little warning if she showed up early. Pulling a compact flashlight out of my purse, I quickly headed for the file cabinet and opened the drawer. There they were—the three files. Though curious to see what the other two might have hidden away in their depths, I didn’t have time to go through them. I carefully withdrew Venus Envy’s file and closed the drawer, then took it into the supply room and sat on the floor.
My first surprise was to find an exact copy of our inventory sheets. How the hell had they gotten those? And letters Auntie had written to suppliers? As I flipped through the papers, it began to dawn on me just how they’d come across the information: our computer. Bebe had found a way to hack in; they’d gotten to our files, copied them, then unleashed a virus to wipe our computer, or something of that nature. After that, they printed out the info and filed it away. I wondered what it was doing in Leila’s office, but then again, if she was going to supervise me, surely Bebe would give her a rundown on everything she knew about Venus Envy. Everything of importance that had been on our computer was in the file, instead of in our computer where it should have been.