Chapter Nineteen
Gary hung up the phone and tapped the base of it with a mechanical pencil.
Mugged! In her own parking lot. Wait until Darla heard about this. She’ll be calling Qantas Airlines herself.
With Maggie out for the day and not in next week because of her trip to France, he realized he wouldn’t have a chance to tell her face-to-face what he knew about Laurent. And now, what with being a victim of a crime, he could hardly deliver the news to her over the phone. There was nothing for it. It would have to wait.
He stood and raked up the venetian blinds on his window with a jerk of the cord. The full blaze of the morning sun shot through the window.
Mean temperature in Auckland in summer is 78 degrees with less than ten percent humidity. He turned away from the sight of cars and trucks moving at a slug’s pace on the street below.
Situated on an isthmus, the views of harbor and beach are enjoyable from every vantage point of the city.
Gary leaned over his desk and engaged the public address system. “Attention, everyone,” he said into the speaker. “There’ll be a short meeting in the conference room in ten minutes.” He felt a rush of adrenaline push through his veins. He’d been waiting for this.
The point of no return. The crossed over line.
He straightened his tie and patted the pockets on his blazer. He knew what he would say; no further preparation was necessary. It was annoying that Maggie wasn’t here, but he’d describe it all to her later.
He jumped at the knock on his door, which pushed open to reveal Patti’s blonde head popping through.
“Hey, Patti. What’s up?”
“I can’t make the meeting, Gary.” She entered the room, her clothing, as usual, making its entrance first. A loud bow was knotted in her hair, something ruffly and pink. Wasn’t there an age limit on women wearing bows in their hair? Gary wondered.
“Can’t make it? Why not? It’s important.”
“Well, I’ve got a job interview,” Patti said, her lips pressed tightly together.
He stared at her and then relaxed. She was obviously baiting him. She wasn’t going anywhere. This was the usual manipulative Patti crap they’d all endured for the last four years. A perverse part of him—the part of him that was almost free—wanted to drop to his knees and scream, “God, Patti, no! You can’t leave!” He got a grip on himself with effort.
“Okay. You don’t need to be there.”
“I’ve decided to leave the company, Gary,” she said, taking a step toward his desk.
“So have I, as a matter of fact.”
Her mouth fell open in surprise. “What?” she sputtered.
“That’s what the meeting’s about. To announce that I’m leaving.”
“Because of me?”
The suggestion was so absurd Gary nearly laughed in her face. Instead, he paused as if considering it and then shook his head. “No, Patti. I am not leaving because of you. I am leaving...” He turned and waved a hand at the scene outside his window. “...because of everything.” He liked the sound of that. Maybe he’d use it in his speech to the others. “But I wish you every kind of luck. I don’t think you’ve been happy here either, and it’s probably a good idea you’re looking elsewhere.”
It was true. The freedom he felt by cutting his ties—even by breaking the news to just one person—was profound. He felt energized, yet relaxed, capable of talking honestly about anything.
He felt great.
Patti continued to stand there in front of him in her ridiculous dress, her arms pressed in a Joan of Arc fold across her chest, her eyes burning with some indecipherable passion. “Well, that’s it, then.”
“I wish you luck, Patti,” he said again. He felt more in control than he ever had before. He watched her shoulders sag beneath her dress, her head sink.
“Thanks, Gary,” she said in a voice softer and more sincere than he’d ever heard from her. She held out her hand to him. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, too.”
“Just a little peace,” he said. “And I will.”
She moved toward the door. “Take care of yourself.”
“You too,” he said, buoyed with his factory-fresh, hither-to-untried ability to handle any situation. He smiled at her until she closed the door behind her. Then he turned for one last look out the window, patted down his suit pockets again, and went out to tell the rest of the world.
Murder in the South of France, Book 1 of the Maggie Newberry Mysteries Page 25