A Blush With Death

by India Ink

  I slipped past Debra’s station into Bebe’s inner office and made a beeline for her desk. The lower left drawer was locked and, in a fit of pique, I grabbed her letter opener and slammed it between drawer and the frame, using the stiff metal to pry the lock. The drawer slid open, splinters sticking in my gloves.

  Inside, I found a half-empty flask of bourbon. So Bebe had a secret friend? That figured, but it wasn’t newsworthy. However, next to the bottle rested a pile of file folders. I opened the first, flashing my light onto the pages. It looked like a report of some sort. I glanced through, looking for the summary.

  Five out of the ten products you submitted for evaluation are contaminated and pose significant risk to the consumer, should you release them to the public. Our findings indicate the possibility of increased rates of certain cancers and tumors, as well as significant risk to those with allergies to metal, asthmatics, or those with compromised immune systems. Our recommendations are that you completely eliminate this line from consideration, or that you start again from ground zero, using ingredients of a quality consistent with regulatory standards.

  Whoa! Now that was interesting. So not only were Bebe’s ingredients poor quality, they were downright dangerous. I flipped through the file and found a memo from Bebe, written to Leila and a couple of other names I didn’t recognize. The date indicated it had been sent two days after the Date Received stamp on the report. I skimmed until I came to the end.

  Since this was a private laboratory, we have the choice whether to ignore the findings or to pursue them. It is not in our financial interests to dispose of such a large quantity of supplies. These reports are usually worst-case scenarios, and I foresee no problem since there are no clear regulations for the release of cosmetics providing we don’t use ingredients that have already been banned by the FDA. This memo and the report it discusses is to be held in strict confidentiality, and not to be discussed with anyone except me. My decision is final on this matter, and I am not open to other options at this point.

  Holy shit! Bebe had turned her back on an analysis showing that her products weren’t just substandard but a definite health risk to the consumer. This was what I’d been looking for. These notes could blow her out of the water. No wonder she’d kept it under lock and key, and no wonder that Leila had insisted that we keep our mouths shut about the various projects we were working on.

  Did I dare steal them? Should I make a copy instead? I hesitated for a moment, then slid the files into my tote bag. Of course, Bebe would know somebody had been rifling her things—after all, I’d busted up her desk drawer, and her files would be missing, but by the time she returned, the police would already have these. The police and the FDA and the attorney general and the newspaper.

  As I closed the drawer and picked up my tote bag, I heard a noise in the outer office. Shit! Who the hell was that? Killian? Praying that it was him, I cautiously slid along the wall until I was next to the door. I peeked out. Nobody around. Debra’s desk stood silent witness to an empty room.

  My imagination must be working overtime. Either that, or Sharon’s ghost had decided to drop in and hang out for awhile. I let out my breath and closed Bebe’s door. As I cautiously approached the door leading into the hall, I noticed the faint scent of Enchantment in the air. A new perfume from D’Rosse, it had only been on the market for a few months. I hadn’t smelled it when I first entered, and Killian hadn’t been wearing it, so somebody had been in Debra’s office while I was putting the reports away. Who? A night watchman? Didn’t seem likely, unless he was a she.

  I stared at the doorknob, willing myself to reach out and turn it. Was somebody waiting on the other side for me? Or had they peeked in, decided nothing was amiss, and gone on? One way or another, I couldn’t stay here all night. I had to leave sometime.

  Taking a deep breath, I turned the knob, then slowly stepped into the hallway and started to close the door.

  “Hello, Persia. Nice to see you again.” Bebe emerged from behind the door where she’d been hiding.

  “Oh, hell, you aren’t supposed to be here!” I backed up a step. Bebe didn’t look all too pleased to see me, and I had the feeling she’d be even less pleased if she had a look in my tote bag.

  “Oh, hell, is right. What were you doing in my office?” Bebe stood there, dressed in her impeccable power suit, matching me inch for inch. A faint smile on her face told me she already knew what I was up to.

  “Looking for something,” I said, figuring it was useless to try to bluff my way out of it. Try as she might, Auntie had never taught me to be a good poker player, and I was pretty sure that Bebe was one of the greats. “But I found what I was after in Sharon’s office, so I’ll be on my way, and I won’t be back.” Keeping my gaze fastened on her face, I started to back up. I had no delusions that she’d let me go so easily, but maybe I could gain the upper hand long enough to run for the exit.

  But Bebe wasn’t anybody’s fool. She let out a little laugh, then withdrew her hand from her pocket, and in it, I saw a lady’s revolver. A small pistol, but when it came to bullets, size really didn’t matter.

  “I think we should have a little talk first,” she said, motioning for me to return to the office. “You might want to raise your hands. I’m known to have quick reflexes, and if I happen to see you move a little too fast, there’s no telling what might happen.”

  I slid the tote bag over my shoulder and, keeping my breath steady, followed her instructions. Auntie had been right; I should never had come back. Freakin’ A…What was I going to do now?

  It wasn’t like the movies, there was no cavalry waiting to charge in and save me. At least not until midnight, when Auntie would call Kyle if she hadn’t heard from me. Even if Killian came to my aid, he wouldn’t be expecting to see Bebe, and it was all too probable that he might end up on my side of the gun.

  “Bebe, think about this. Sharon’s dead. If they find me, they might turn their attention away from Janette and ask just who’s still out there with a gun. Let me go, and I’ll walk away with my journal. That’s all I wanted, and I found it. Sharon stole it, you know.”

  I prayed that she wouldn’t notice the damage to her drawer. If she did, my bluff was over. She probably wouldn’t look too favorably on leaving me in one piece, capable of talking to the cops.

  Bebe motioned for me to sit down near Debra’s desk. “Just how did you get in here in the first place? How did you get in the building?”

  I shrugged. “Just lucky?”

  She sighed. “So many of you young women are smart-asses today. You think you’re such hot shit, but let me tell you something, missy. You don’t know jack. You weren’t around when women were struggling for the freedom just to get out of the house so we could work. Or when we tried to figure out how to feed a family of growing children on a secretary’s wages after our husbands ran off screwing younger women. And I imagine that you never once in your life worried that you might not be able to make a living wage just because you’re a woman.”

  I shook my head. “Bebe, a lot of women went through that hell, but they didn’t turn to scamming people in order to make it. A lot of women still go through hell, but they’re honest.” Maybe if I could get her in a conversation, she’d listen to reason. “I hear what you’re saying—but frankly, with your background it just sounds like another bluff. I don’t understand why you’ve resorted to lies and theft when you’ve got the charisma that could have taken you up the ranks in a corporation—legitimately.”

  She let out a sharp laugh. “Why move up the ranks when I can be at the top from the beginning? Anyway, none of that matters. You say you found your journal in Sharon’s office, and that’s all you wanted. So just what were you doing in my office?” And then, a look stole over her face that I didn’t like. It was the look of realization, of understanding. “You were in my desk, weren’t you? Come on, let’s go have a look.”

  I didn’t want to be in that small, enclosed room with her, so far from the hallway, and I
didn’t want her knowing I had the files. “Save yourself the trouble. I broke into your desk. I saw the reports.”

  She paused. I had the feeling that I’d just bet my last chip. Now the play was in her corner. If I could keep her from acting on impulse, I might be able to catch her off guard long enough to hit the door and get out of the building. Granted, she was as tall as me, but I would guarantee I was faster.

  “I see. What were you planning to do with the information? And don’t lie and tell me you were going to keep your mouth shut. You’re talking to the mother of all bluffers.” Bebe allowed a little smile to creep out of hiding.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know…hadn’t decided yet.” And then it hit me; she still didn’t know that my fight with Auntie was a setup. “My job’s okay, but I could use more money than you’re offering.”

  “Blackmail? You were planning on climbing the ladder the easy way and you tell me I’m corrupt? Well, I have to admit you’ve got balls. The trouble is, how could I ever trust you again? Remember, no honor among thieves, my dear. A fact of life I learned the hard way, long ago.” I could tell she was considering the idea. If I could just convince her that I was a worthy apprentice, I might have a chance.

  “Give me a try, make me your right-hand woman. You’d be surprised how handy I can be in a pinch.” I tried to keep from fidgeting; the last thing I needed was to reinforce how nervous I was.

  Bebe cocked her head. “You remind me of me, when I was younger. Leila’s getting on toward retirement age,” she said, musing, “Maybe I should think about a fresh face for the department.”

  And then my luck caved in. My cell phone rang. I’d forgotten to turn off the ringer, and it echoed through the room. I glanced at the clock. Not midnight, but I knew, in my gut, that it was Auntie.

  “Let me see your phone,” Bebe said, training the gun on me. I dug it out of my tote bag and handed it to her. “Open it,” she said.

  I did, and she glanced at the caller ID. It was Auntie, all right. Florence Vanderbilt, the screen read. Bebe let out a slow chuckle. “You almost made it, my dear. Answer and tell her that everything’s fine.” Again, she raised her gun and aimed for my skull. I punched the Talk button.

  Auntie’s voice rang loud enough for Bebe to hear, even though I pressed the phone to my ear as hard as I could in order to mute her voice. “Persia, are you all right? I’ve been so worried that I couldn’t wait to call you. Did you find what you were looking for? I don’t care if you did or not, I want you to get your butt home, child.”

  Bebe smiled, cold as glacier ice, and pointed to the gun, then to me. I closed my eyes, wishing to hell that I’d left the damned phone in the car. How could I have been so stupid? But my cell phone was my security blanket. I could call for help with it. Only this time, help had called me and put me in danger.

  “Everything’s okay, Florence. I’m fine. I’ll be home later on, though.” If only she could catch the hint.

  Auntie wasn’t stupid. She immediately lowered her voice. “You never call me by my name. Are you in trouble?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Just dandy.” Bebe was motioning for me to get off the phone. “I have to go now, Florence. I’ll see you later.” I hope, I added silently.

  “I’ll call Kyle,” Auntie said, almost whispering. I flipped the phone shut.

  “That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” Bebe said. “You almost had me fooled, Persia. In another life, I would have helped you go so far. But alas, that’s not your destiny. Okay, set the phone down on my desk and let’s go.”

  “Go? Where?” I was fighting to remain calm, but I did as she asked, placing my cell phone on the corner of her desk.

  “We’re going to take a little drive. The night is growing long; nobody will bother us. And tomorrow, everything will return to normal. You just won’t be around to see it. Hold out your hands. Now.”

  I hesitated, wondering if perhaps I could disarm her after all. My instinct was to fight it out, but the gun and bullets looked very real in my book. I wasn’t Bruce Lee; I didn’t trust myself to be able to dodge a moving projectile of that speed and size.

  Apparently, Bebe wasn’t in a patient mood. Before I knew what she was doing, she raised her other arm and I heard a hiss.

  As a blast of pepper spray hit me in the eyes. I tried to scream but couldn’t—my throat felt paralyzed. I dropped to my knees and covered my face against another attack while trying to wrap my mind around the searing pain that sparked through my eyes as they began to swell.

  Panicked, I realized that my throat was also swelling. I gasped for air, but then reflex took over and I gagged, losing everything that had been in my stomach. Petrified, I wondered if I’d choke, but managed to spit out the residue. I clung to what short, ragged breaths I could suck into my lungs.

  The burn wasn’t dissipating. I knew enough about pepper spray to know that the effects could last up to an hour, giving Bebe ample opportunity to force my compliance. She grabbed my wrists, and I blindly tried to pull away, but when she said, “Do you want another blast?” I gave in, allowing her to bind my hands with duct tape.

  She yanked me to my feet, and dizzy, barely able to see through the blurry haze of tears and pain, I staggered along as she pushed me in front of her. I started to fall again, but her rough strength jerked me upright by my braid.

  As we headed out the door, I prayed that Killian would see what was happening and call the cops. For his sake, it would be safest if he didn’t try to interfere.

  As we exited the building and a blast of warm evening air hit my face, I tried to regain some semblance of control, but I might as well have been on a nightmare drinking binge. The pain was still too fresh, and my coordination was shot. At least I was breathing, but even that hurt—my lungs fried by the capsaicin.

  “Here we are,” Bebe said. “Are you ready to go for a little ride?”

  And then panic set in as I wondered if this was going to be the last night of my life.

  Chapter Sixteen

  T he sky echoed with the sounds of thunder not far away. Once again, I took a deep breath, trying to scream, but my larynx was still paralyzed. The moist and dusky heat of the summer night thickened as we stood there.

  Did I stand a chance in hell of escaping? If I could see clearly, if I hadn’t been in such racking pain, I might have gone for it—tried to make it behind another car. But contrary to all the popular TV shows, a speeding bullet is always faster than a running person. Bebe might not be a good shot, but I couldn’t bank on that, especially when I was incapacitated.

  I ran through my options but came up blank. Unable to speak, I couldn’t try to persuade her to give it up, to let me go. Just then I heard something and—blinking in the dim flash of a lightning strike—saw the hazy outline of what I knew to be her big old Mercedes. She had popped the trunk and pushed me toward it, stepping back quickly to raise both gun and pepper spray again. “Get in.”

  “Bebe, don’t do this—” I tried to say, but my voice only croaked. She held up what looked like the pepper spray, and I shut up real fast.

  “I’m getting impatient,” she said.

  I half crawled, half fell into the trunk, banging my head a couple times on the way. With my wrists bound, it was doubly hard, but as I maneuvered into the cargo space, I felt the tape give a little. She hadn’t used enough to wrap them round twice! Maybe I could work it loose if I tried. I forced myself not to fidget so she wouldn’t notice.

  “Good girl. Have a nice rest, Persia. Although you’ll have plenty of time for that in just a little while.” The trunk swung shut and latched firmly.

  My tote bag was still hanging over my shoulder, I realized. She hadn’t looked in it, and both the files and a flashlight were in there. As the car dipped a little—Bebe must be getting in the front seat—I set to work on the tape around my wrists, twisting them back and forth as I used my teeth to gnaw at the raised corner.

  The front door slammed, the engin
e turned, and we were moving. I worked frantically at the tape, focusing all my attention on it. The pain was still severe, but I was able to clear my throat. My breathing had lightened up and I gasped as the tension in my lungs began to ease.

  Another moment, and I struck pay dirt. The loose corner of the tape ripped as I gave it a good yank with my teeth. Thank God I’d kept them clean, cavity free, and drank enough milk. I twisted my wrists in opposite directions, managing to split the section that I’d been working on. Yet another minute, and I was free, peeling the tape away from my skin, not even noticing as it ripped out the sparse hair on my arms.

  Now to escape from the car. I tried pushing against the back of the trunk. Newer cars often had panels that opened into the backseat, but this wasn’t one of them. I pounded on the roof, but it was firmly locked. Finally, I managed to slide my tote bag off my shoulder and fished in it, searching for the flashlight. As I flipped it on, the pale light gave me faint comfort. My vision was still blurred, but the pain wasn’t quite so intense.

  I knew now that Bebe was going to kill me. She had a lot to lose if I walked away free. I wanted to rationalize that she would place a higher value on my life than on her business, but when I looked at it coldly, I knew that she would aim that gun at my head and fire, no remorse, no regrets. She was in the process of trying to build an empire, and I was the dynamite that could destroy her plans.

  So it made sense that she was taking me somewhere where I wouldn’t be easily found. Which meant that I had a few minutes to plan.

  Something kept nagging at the back of my mind—something I remembered telling somebody. I scrambled for the elusive memory, and then, when I heard the turn signal click, and felt the car swing to the left, it flooded back into my mind.

  One of the survival tips from my self-defense classes taught that, if ever locked in a trunk by an assailant, break the taillight and try to stick your hand out the hole. The trick had saved several lives when the cops stopped the car because of the broken light or seeing somebody’s hand dangling out the back of the trunk. I just never thought I’d be the one having to take my own advice. I shook everything out of my tote bag and wrapped the cloth around my hand, then pulled away the panel covering the left taillight.