Trevor’s jaw dropped. “Where do you work that your clothes are absorbing the smell of pickles? I thought you were still subbing.”
“I was, but after I got the job at the pickle plant two days ago, I put subbing on hold indefinitely.”
“Oh? Well, I bet with your qualifications you got hired to train employees, am I right?”
“Nope.”
He scratched his head. “What then?”
Aunt Zoe giggled. “She’s stuffing pickles in jars.”
Trevor’s grey eyes widened. “I have a feeling this is going to be a long night. Can I have that cup of coffee now?
“You certainly may,” I said.
~28~
Day 11
I had a rough night. Barely slept. It was the worst night of my life as far as I was concerned, except for possibly the night in fourth grade when I had flu like symptoms and the appendix almost ruptured. But then how does one compare an appendix to a budding relationship on a scale from zero to twenty, especially when a man gladly spends the night, but not where one would expect.
You see, last night when whiteout conditions prevented Trevor from driving back to his hotel, super gracious Aunt Zoe readily offered the sleeper couch to him. Yes, yes. At least I kept my virginity intact. Yay. But did Aunt Zoe really have to stay and act as chaperone, sharing the full size bed with me when Margaret has a spare bed at her place.
I glanced at my aunt who was snoring away. I guess last night’s arrangements were for the best. I’d no idea where the brief dating Trevor and I’d done thus far was headed. It could be trivial or end up being grand—with wedding bells, flower girls, and a six-tiered cake. Of course, I keep thinking the same about David and me.
I listened for the roar of snowplows, but heard not a peep. I suppose I should get out of bed and make Trevor a gourmet breakfast, wearing apron and all and play Martha Stewart, but there wasn’t much in the way of breakfast foods except, cereal, bread, juice, and coffee. Besides, as soon as the roads get cleared we’d both be hustling out and heading in different directions, him to classes and me to work.
A knock at the entrance door finally jarred me into action. Before I charged down the hallway, I grabbed the ratty-looking terry bathrobe I’d left at the end of the bed last night and tossed it on. The attire wasn’t glamorous, but I didn’t care. It was more important to stop the knocking.
I won’t be receiving the medal for the ten yard dash after all. Trevor, dressed in exercise pants and short sleeve shirt, was already handling the early morning visitor with his K9 dog. If that scene didn’t invoke danger for the person on the other side of the door nothing would. Feeling safe, I eased up behind him.
“Hi, can I help you?” Trevor asked amiably in a relaxed stance.
“What the heck are you doing here? Rod Thompson said in a quarrelsome mood. “I didn’t expect to run into you.” Duke growled.
Oh, boy. Here we go again.
“Where’s Mary?” he asked. “I came by to talk to her.”
I stuck my hand out from behind Trevor’s back and waved. “Right here,” and then I stepped next to Trevor. “Whatever you have to say, Rod, you can say in front of Trevor.” I planned to make the man sweat bullets. He deserved it after wrecking Trevor’s and my perfect evening at Ziggy Piggy’s.
Rod pouted. “Fine,” he said, “but could you at least get the dog to back off? He’s making me nervous.”
I braced my hands on my hips. “You’re nervous?” I laughed. “That’s a good one coming from an FBI agent. What could you possibly be nervous about? Is there something stashed in your pockets that shouldn’t be?”
Rod shifted his foot. “Are you telling me this dog is part of a K9 team?”
“Yup.”
“That must mean Trevor here is the service handler.”
I grinned. “Two for two, Rod, that’s an accomplishment for you.”
My visitor’s pale face turned a rosy pink. He pulled himself to full height. “Look, I came by to apologize to Mary for my behavior last night. Since you’re here, Trevor, I might as well apologize to you too. I’ve known Mary’s brother for a long time. With him overseas, I feel the need to protect her, but obviously I’ve overstepped my bounds. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Rod shook Trevor’s hand and gave me a hug.” Have a good morning,” he said and off he went.
I closed the door. “Phew. I didn’t expect that. Did you, Trevor?”
“Not really. The guy’s got class. Your brother is lucky to have him as a neighbor.”
“Hmm? I’ll have to chew on that one. In the meantime, what do you say we have cereal and toast for breakfast?”
“Sounds good. You want me to make the toast?”
I grinned. “Yes, please. My aunt can’t seem to get the hang of it.”
“Is that an inside joke?”
“Nope.”
NEWS REPORTS THIS MORNING said Minnesota’s heavily traveled Interstate corridors, including Interstate 94, had been plowed during the night while we slept. Our neighborhood though didn’t see the big machinery until 7 a.m., making me wonder about conditions in St. Michael. It all boiled down to how much snow fell in that vicinity and which roads the Department of Transportation considered important enough to be taken care of first.
So before heading out, I dialed Hickleman’s employee hotline number listed in the company handbook. If the roads were bad, a recording would state a later start time. As it turned out, the first shift would be up and running within the hour.
With no time to spare, I tossed on boots and coat, offered a hasty good-bye to Aunt Zoe and Trevor, and buzzed out the door.
“Mary, it’s nice to see you showed up,” Anita said with a wide grin when I arrived. “I didn’t know if you’d make it, seeing as how you live near downtown and the news last night said the freeways were mighty dangerous.” She buttoned up her lab coat.
“They were.” I hung up my coat and purse in the locker before tossing on the lab coat and ugly hairnet. “But the Interstate snowplow drivers were out in full force while we slept.”
Anita closed her locker. “Good to hear. It’s going to be interesting to see how many people don’t show today. Are you ready?”
“Yup.”
“Okay, let’s go clock-in, girl.”
After the time cards got stamped, Anita took us on a short side trip and announced she had chosen me to be the dill pickle packing section’s designated runner for the day, like the task was right up there with rock star status. I knew better. She figured the new hire was lowest on the totem pole and wouldn’t make a fuss. Well, she was right. I didn’t dare create havoc. I had to be as quiet as a mouse in order to stay where I was and dig holes in all the Don Hickleman stories I heard.
Anita stopped abruptly, planting her feet by the door of the huge walk-in cooler. “When I say we need supplies, this is where you’ll come.” The second she opened the door cold air smacked me in the face, making me feel like an ice cube. If it’d been summer, I wouldn’t have minded. “The shelves are all labeled,” she continued, “so only grab spices and garlic, nothing else.”
Oh, joy. A chance to exercise and get high on garlic too.
~29~
By eight the dill pickle machine was humming away and we, the tightly knit band of six employees, diligently began the long tedious task of packing jar after jar with slices of cucumber.
I couldn’t believe I’d been working in this same section going on three days and still felt like Lucille Ball in the candy factory scene. Overwhelmed with all the unwrapped candy coming at her on the conveyor belt, the woman didn’t admit defeat. She simply stuffed the extra pieces inside her blouse, her mouth, and anywhere else she could think of.
No one around here can deny I’m having trouble with what’s passing in front of me too. But the cucumber slices I’m supposed to be squeezing into jars aren’t ending up in any lab coat pockets, hairnet, or mouth. No siree. When those green slices slip through my fingers, they slide to the floor and creat
e a disastrous design instead. However, I may have to admit defeat regarding the case before too many more hours pass by. Trying to solve Hickleman’s murder and clearing Butch of any crime in a plant this size is shear folly, especially with no sidekick to watch my back.
My major beef right now is hanging around the same faces for three straight days. It kinda hinders this sleuth’s modus operandi. With snooping at a standstill, I can’t pump other employees for info. What can I possibly do short of resorting to an injury to get out of this department?
My mind was still in the clouds when Anita motioned for the gal next to me to go on break. “So, how’s it going, Mary? Your eyes look droopy. I hope this works not putting you to sleep cuz we’d have a major problem on our hands.”
“Nah, I was up late with company that’s all.”
She nudged my elbow. “Uh-huh. Your company didn’t happen to be a guy did it?”
I pretended to zip my lips.
“I get it,” Anita said, continuing to pop the long, slim slices of cucumbers in the jars at top speed. “You don’t know me well enough yet to share. It’s probably for the best. Some secrets are hard for me to keep.”
“I know how that goes.” Maybe the end isn’t as near as I think. I bet she has tons of work related secrets stored in that thick noggin of hers. I just have to press the right button, but when and where?
“I’ve been keeping a close eye on you, Mary.” I hope not too closely. “You seem to have packing cucumber slices down pat. I think we can forget about your experiencing packing chip cucumbers since there’s less of a demand for the sweet ones this time of year. How about going to the brine section after lunch?”
I acted blasé. It’s better to be indifferent than overly excited, right?
Not getting a reaction out of me, Anita examined my face for clues. “Look, I know exactly how you’re feeling. It would be a whole lot easier staying with this job, but the thing is the company wants to find the perfect fit for you. Believe me we don’t like losing good employees.”
“It’s nice to hear that,” I said, finally managing to add cucumber to a jar, “especially since I’m on probation for another twenty-seven days.”
Anita laughed. “Girl, you’ve got nothing to sweat about. You’re a shoo in. We don’t kick out those who show up on time and are drug free.”
First shift supervisor Paul Mason strolled by just then. “Everything okay here, ladies?”
“Yup,” Anita’s thick hands dropped to her sides. “I just informed Mary it’s time to move to a different section.”
Paul’s eyebrows lifted sharply. “Oh? Where are you moving her to next, Anita? You haven’t forgotten that I like to keep track of the new employees.”
Anita’s smooth facial features hardened. “Nope. Now if you don’t mind, I need to get busy,” and she turned her back on him.
Despite Anita’s snippy attitude our supervisor remained glued to his spot, which made me wonder again whether she had something hanging over his head, like a death maybe. I hated the fact that Paul’s eyes were still focused on us and tried wishing him away. Like that would work. It didn’t.
The man inched closer to the conveyor belt instead of further away. “Mary, I’m going to be in the lunchroom at noon. Stop by my table. I’d like to continue our discussion from the other day.”
“But I...I don’t really have anything else to add.”
He winked. “Sure you do.”
TEN MINUTES TO TWELVE Anita pulled me aside and told me I’d better make a run to the walk-in cooler for supplies since the crew we’d been working with would be short two people this afternoon, meaning us. “We’ll cut out to lunch as soon as you get back here, Mary. So don’t be pokey about it.”
Lunch? I hadn’t given it any thought until Anita mentioned it. My stomach growled so loudly forklift drivers in the shipping section probably heard it despite wearing ear protection. I tapped my belly. “Hush, you’ll be fed soon.”
As I trotted into the walk-in to collect spices and garlic, I was distracted momentarily by visions of Trevor Fitzwell parading around in my apartment this morning. I would’ve loved spending more time with him. Right this minute he and Duke are probably chowing down at the Local or Hell’s Kitchen.
If only I could’ve gotten away to join them downtown instead of having to sit with Paul Mason and discuss who knows what. I haven’t been around the man long enough to know if he really is a womanizer or not. His wanting to talk to me didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to set a date for us to connect at an undisclosed bar later tonight. Maybe I accidently blew my cover the other day when I saved Jose’s hand from destruction.
When I finally pulled my head up and glanced around, I noticed a few changes in the walk-in since Anita had me check it out several hours ago, namely boxes and clipboards scattered on the floor and shelf items disturbed. I didn’t give it too much thought at first. Human nature being what it is one doesn’t expect to always find things put back the way they were originally. It wasn’t until I saw the heavy plastic sheeting covering the entire spices and garlic section that I questioned what was truly going on.
Why would someone block off that particular area? Were they stealing stuff? I strolled over to the section where my supplies should be, pulled the thick plastic away from the shelving units, and was greeted by a familiar body. “Well, Paul, this is the first time I’ve had a dead man cancel a date. I hope it wasn’t something I said.”
~30~
Anita Crane’s deep-booming voice came across like it was reaching me from the deep beyond. In reality it only traveled a mere four feet. “Girl, what’s taking you so long? I expected you back before thi—” Her large calloused hands flew to her face. “Oh, Lordy! What’ve you gone and done, girl? Didn’t you believe me when I said your job was secure?” She shook her head. “Paul was a supervisor, but he never had much say in who stays and who goes. At least tell me you were defending yourself. You’re too young to spend the rest of your life in the slammer.”
I grabbed Anita’s trembling arm and calmly assured her I’d nothing to do with Paul’s death. “I barely knew the man. What motive would I have for killing him?”
Anita looked confused. She leaned forward and glanced at Paul’s body one more time. “There’s... there’s a cucumber stuffed in his mouth,” she said, placing her hand against her neck. “When the police found Don Hickleman in the vat, he had one in his mouth too. Of course, you wouldn’t have known about the cucumber. The information hadn’t been released to the news media.”
I studied her face. “Well, there you go. I’m not guilty of anything. I wasn’t around when Don died.”
She took a deep breath and straightened her posture. “That’s right. You weren’t. Then who could’ve killed Paul?”
I shrugged. “I’m the wrong person to ask. I’ve only been here three days, remember?”
Anita’s body continued to shake, one of the many signs of severe shock. “I’ve... I’ve never seen a dead person up close, except in a funeral home, how... how about you, Mary?”
I shook my head. Even though I’d already worked two cases involving death this year, I had no qualms about telling Anita I hadn’t either. You see, in the previous two cases I wasn’t around when the people were actually murdered. I wish we were in a bar though instead of a walk-in. We could use a shot of Tequila or whiskey to settle our nerves.
I released Anita’s arm and tried to get a handle on the messy situation in front of us. “I know we’re both trying to come to grips with what happened here,” I stated in a soothing tone,” but one of us needs to get help and the other remain with the body. Which do you prefer?”
Anita’s dark-hazel eyes drifted downward as if the floor would magically help her decide. “I guess I’d better be the bearer of bad news since you haven’t been with the company that long.”
Yes. I was hoping she’d say that. I didn’t relish being alone with a dead man any more than she did, but being a sleuth I knew how to make the best o
f it.
“Should I send one of the men to join you, Mary?”
The gist of what Anita implied wasn’t wasted on me. Nothing more needed to be said. I would be safer if a man was posted with me, especially if the killer was still lurking about.
“No. I think this situation better be kept under wraps till the police arrive.”
“Good idea,” she said. “But whatever you do, don’t touch the body,” and then she charged out the door.
She certainly didn’t need to be concerned about me touching Paul’s body. All I planned to do was take photos of the crime scene before police and medical personnel swarmed in and pushed me aside.
My stomach growled angrily knowing there’d be no noon lunch. The death of Paul Mason took priority over that. Although, a late lunch would be the perfect excuse for getting Anita over to Tioni’s Pizza Parlor to have a private chat concerning Paul and other work related subjects.
With not even a crumb to satisfy the stomach for the moment, I cautiously scanned every inch of the walk-in searching for hidden cameras used in deterring theft. Once the brain informed me it was all clear, I swiftly plunged into action. I lifted up the bottom of my lab coat to retrieve the cell phone I’d stashed in a pocket, selected camera feature, and snapped away.
When finished, I checked the time. Three minutes had passed since Anita blew out of here. Better hide the phone, Mary, and search a bit.
“Hmm.” The pickle designed pen attached to the clipboard on the floor begged to be released. And why not? I didn’t intend to touch Paul’s skin, only his pockets where many a secret has been discovered between those two tiny pieces of cloth, like a key to a hotel room or a safety deposit box.
Knowing how important it is not to leave prints behind for the cops, I carefully plucked the pen off the floor with the front flap of my lab coat and gently poked it in Paul’s shirt and pant side-pockets, searching for answers. The first pocket held a few coins, the second a scrap of paper the color of tangerine with a brief message—Meet me the same place as yesterday.
Death of the Pickle King Page 15