Millie on a Mission

by Amanda M. Lee

  “I’m sure you’re wondering why you were all called here,” Chris started, his expression grave. “It seems a complaint has been made about ... certain things.” He looked pained. “I tried to get us exempted from what’s to come, but apparently that’s not possible.”

  “No, it’s not,” Myron intoned, drawing numerous sets of eyes to him. “Due to recent developments, the board has decided it’s important to remind people of appropriate workplace behavior. That includes respecting supervisors, respecting others and a reminder of exactly what constitutes sexual harassment.”

  Okay, now I was really confused. “You want to make us go to a sensitivity seminar?” That wasn’t what I was expecting.

  Myron met my incredulous gaze. “That’s exactly what we have planned. It’s not just for your unit, so don’t get your panties in a bunch. It’s for everybody.”

  “Perhaps you should go to the seminar so you don’t make comments about people’s panties,” I suggested.

  His eyes flashed with annoyance. “That was not meant as a sexual statement.”

  “Really? That’s what I heard.”

  “Listen ... .”

  I knew better than allowing him to get a full head of steam. That would be disastrous. “I’m not saying you’re a pervert, Myron. That would be an example of one of those workplace statements that’s probably not conducive to a pleasant co-worker environment.”

  His eyes were hard. “What are you saying?”

  “That the panties comment made me uncomfortable. I need a safe environment to talk about my feelings because I’m so shaken.”

  Myron knew me better than most. Our marriage might not have worked, but that didn’t mean the years we spent together were wasted. He could telegraph and recognized right away that I was working an angle.

  “What do you want, Millie?” He practically growled out the question.

  “Well, it’s not what I want as much as what I feel comfortable with. That’s what’s important, right?”

  Bernard Hill, my boyfriend and co-worker, cleared his throat next to me. He rarely inserted himself in the conversation when Myron and I decided to go at one another — he valued his job too much for that — but it was clear he was growing steadily uncomfortable with my performance. Myron was well aware of our relationship, but chose to ignore it. Now that we were all trapped in a small room together, that seemed increasingly difficult.

  “What do you want, Millie?” Myron repeated. He wasn’t an idiot. He recognized I had an angle.

  “Well, the thing is, I have a client. I don’t have time for a sensitivity seminar. I’m already feeling sensitive anyway.”

  “You have a client? Just you?”

  “That’s correct.”

  Myron looked to Chris for confirmation. “How did that happen?”

  “It’s Adele St. Clair,” Chris volunteered, causing me to internally cringe. I really didn’t want that information spread around ... at least not until I was in a position to spread it. If Myron spoke out of turn at the club and it got back to Adele, I would be in an uncomfortable situation.

  “Adele?” Myron furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand. Why would she go to you for help? She hates you.”

  “Which only proves she has terrible taste in friends,” I offered.

  “She thinks she has a ghost,” Chris explained. “Millie thinks it’s far more likely she’s imagining things and volunteered to act as our point woman on the case. If there’s something there, we’ll all go in. There’s been no confirmation yet.”

  “Oh, geez.” Myron pinched the bridge of his nose and I could tell he was trying to maintain his cool, which took monumental effort. “Did it occur to you that this was a bad idea, Millie?”

  “No. Why would it?”

  “You and Adele hate each other. She actually threw a party when we ended our marriage and I got the club membership in the divorce.”

  “Yeah, she’s a real pill.” I made a face. “I knew I should’ve kept that membership, if only to torture her.”

  “That’s neither here nor there.” Myron clearly didn’t want to renegotiate his precious club membership. That had been one of his firm demands when we sat down for our financial discussion. I never cared either way about the club, so it was easy to give him what he wanted. “I don’t think I can let you out of the sensitivity seminar over this. I’m sorry.”

  I blew out a dramatic sigh. I was nowhere near done. “Okay. If that’s the way you want it.”

  “It is.”

  “What time is this seminar?”

  “In fifteen minutes and it’s going to take the entire day.”

  Yeah, that wasn’t going to work for me. “Okay. I understand that you have a job to do. I will be at the seminar. I just need to take my panties to Human Resources and discuss my feelings before things start. I should be on time, but don’t wait for me.”

  I made to stand, but Myron was already in front of me. I adopted my most innocent expression. “What?”

  “You’re just ... .” He looked as if he was about to explode. His cheeks were so red he reminded me of a beet. There were times he had the same personality.

  “I’m feeling sensitive,” I noted. “I can’t help it.”

  He worked his jaw. “Fine,” he said finally. “Because you already have something scheduled, you’re exempt from the seminar. I will make sure that Human Resources knows so there’s no confusion.”

  I managed to keep my smile in check, but it was by sheer force of will. “Thank you. I’m going to need you to exempt Charlie and Jack, too. They’re helping me with my case.”

  “What? No!”

  “Fine, but I think they’re feeling sensitive, too.”

  Jack dropped his head. “Don’t bring me into this.”

  “They can’t be exempt,” Laura Chapman, our resident viper, complained. “They need to be refreshed on the fraternization rules. They’re the entire reason for this seminar.”

  Suddenly, I was suspicious. “Oh, really?” I pinned Laura with a pointed glare. “How could you possibly know that?”

  Laura knew she was in trouble and began backtracking. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “I know exactly how you meant it.” I swiveled back to Myron. “Charlie and Jack are going with me.” I was firm. “You said yourself that our group was exempt from the fraternization rules. If you want to go back on that, then you’re going to be in a world of hurt.”

  “I’m not going back on that.” The frustration on Myron’s face was palpable. “I can’t believe you’re backing me into this corner.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have let Laura manipulate you into this.” There was no way I was backing down now. “You’re your own worst enemy sometimes, Myron. This was a mistake from the start, and I think you know that.”

  “Yes, but ... she made a formal complaint. I can’t just ignore it. I can’t fire her either.”

  Laura turned huffy. “I will sue if you try to fire me.”

  “Have you considered transferring her to a different department? That might be the ideal solution for everybody.”

  Myron brightened considerably at the suggestion as Laura started fuming.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Laura warned.

  “I’ll give it some thought,” Myron said, straightening. “As for now, you’re officially exempt. Go forth and sin.”

  I grinned. “Don’t forget Jack and Charlie.”

  “They’re exempt, too.” He shook his head and sighed. “I don’t even know why I try to modify your behavior. It didn’t work the entire time we were married. It certainly won’t work now.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  WE DROVE TO ADELE’S HOUSE together, Jack complaining the entire way because he was certain Myron was going to find a way to get payback.

  “Myron doesn’t want payback against me,” I announced as we parked in Adele’s driveway. “He didn’t want to force us into the seminar as it was. He doesn’t care about st
uff like that. The only reason he agreed to it in the first place is because Human Resources told him it was a good idea.

  “The thing is, Laura is showing her stripes and she’s even dumber than I thought,” I continued. “When our group was set up I sat down with the lawyers and Chris when it came time to write our bylaws. We have an entirely different code of ethics from the rest of the company.”

  Jack killed the engine on his truck. He looked intrigued. “How did you manage that?”

  “I’m smarter than I look.” I tapped the side of my head for emphasis. “Don’t worry about it. In the end, there’s absolutely nothing Laura can do. I’ve taken care of that.”

  “Is it because you wanted to protect Bernard?” Charlie asked as we hopped out of the truck.

  “It’s because I wanted to protect us all. It doesn’t matter now. I’ve got everything under control. You have nothing to worry about, so don’t turn morose. I prefer it when you guys are sparkly and falling all over each other.”

  Jack grimaced. “There are times I want to shake you.”

  “Oh, don’t say that. You’re making me feel sensitive.” I strode past him and headed straight for the door, pounding before he could respond with something snarky. One of the maids answered almost immediately

  “Yes?” She looked confused. I didn’t recognize her from the previous day.

  “We’re here doing some work for Adele,” I announced. “We need to see Danielle.”

  “Danielle?” The maid furrowed her brow. “I’m afraid I don’t know who that is.”

  “That’s the maid who almost fell down the stairs yesterday. She claimed the devil made her do it.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know who that is.”

  “Then let us speak with Adele. She’ll know what we’re talking about.”

  “Mrs. St. Clair hasn’t yet risen. I’m afraid I can’t wake her. She left specific instructions.”

  Oh, well, that was just so Adele. “Then where is Mercedes? We would like to talk to her.”

  “She’s in the kitchen.”

  “Lead the way.”

  Still unsure, the maid cast the occasional look over her shoulder as she led us through the house. By the time we reached the kitchen she was a nervous wreck. “I really don’t think you’re supposed to be here. Mrs. St. Clair will be angry.”

  “You let me worry about Mrs. St. Clair,” I chided. “I’ve got everything under control.”

  “Do you ever get tired of saying that?” Jack queried. “I’m serious. That comes out of your mouth more than anything else. I’m not sure you actually know what the statement means.”

  “Don’t push me.” I wagged a finger at him before focusing on Mercedes. “We need to see Danielle.”

  “Danielle is gone,” she replied, her full attention on some sort of pasta salad.

  “Gone where?” My heart skipped a beat as I considered the possibilities. “Did something happen to her? Did the devil come back?”

  “I guess that depends on how you define the word ‘devil,’” Mercedes said dryly. “She was fired.”

  At least she wasn’t dead. That was a great relief. Wait ... what? “She was fired?” I glanced around the room as if expecting men to jump out and declare I was on some hidden camera television show. “Why?”

  “Because Mrs. St. Clair said she failed to fulfill her duties as a maid. Her ankle injury meant she couldn’t climb the stairs. She was fired and this one was brought in to replace her.” She gestured toward the clueless woman standing directly behind me. “Her name is Salma and she has no idea what she’s even doing. She won’t last long.”

  “I don’t understand. Are you saying that Adele fired Danielle because she was injured on the job?”

  “You act surprised. The woman is the actual devil in this house. No one lasts more than a few months because she’s so terrible.”

  “You don’t seem afraid of her,” Jack noted. “If she’s so terrible to work for, I would think she would have fired you long ago for talking back.”

  “Oh, I’m a special case.” Mercedes’ smile was mischievous. “All the other women in the neighborhood want to hire me as their cook because I’ve won awards. I’m paid extremely well and Mrs. St. Clair is well aware that someone else would snap me up ... and then everyone would want to go to this new person’s parties, so I have different rules from the rest of the staff.”

  Mercedes’ attitude made me smile. “You torture her, don’t you? Image is everything to Adele. That means she has to put up with your mouth to be able to brag to her friends at the club that she has the most coveted cook in the area.”

  “She hates me,” Mercedes acknowledged. “She always threatens to fire me. I told her to bring it. I will probably make more money someplace else. But I signed a contract here, so I’m stuck for another three months. Every time she says something rude, I lick her food. We have a unique relationship.”

  I tried to picture the scene she was painting and all I could do was laugh. It was one of those gut-shaking, bend-at-the-waist guffaws that would’ve shaken the windows of a smaller room. “Oh, now I want to hire you.”

  “I heard you no longer have servants.”

  “No, but we have a kitchen at our place of work and you would be a welcome addition.”

  “Make me an offer and we’ll see.”

  “I’ll put an offer sheet together as soon as we’re done here.” It was time to get back to business. “We need to know about Danielle. We have more questions for her. This is Jack Hanson. He’s one of my co-workers. He was hoping she could explain the incident again.”

  “I’m not sure where Danielle is,” Mercedes admitted. “She was in tears when she was shown the door. I made sure she got an Uber, but there wasn’t much else I could do. Mrs. St. Clair had already cleaned out her room. That’s where the new maid is staying.”

  Finally catching up to the conversation, Salma wrinkled her nose. “Are you saying the house is haunted?”

  “Our boss certainly seems to think so,” Mercedes replied. “I don’t know what to believe. All I know is that Danielle is gone — treated worse than a dog — and Mrs. St. Clair is spending the morning in bed because she says she has a migraine.”

  “You don’t believe her?” Charlie asked.

  “She has a hangover. She was up late drinking because Mr. St. Clair didn’t return from the club when he said he would. She’s convinced he’s messing around.”

  I thought about Bailey Rankin, the woman Jack had mentioned the previous evening. “Do you think he’s messing around?”

  “I think that Mrs. St. Clair is cold and withholds affection. Mr. St. Clair is a man who has money and believes he can buy whatever he wants. Together they are a rotten pair, and I really can’t wait to get away from them.”

  “Then I guess we need to wake Adele,” I said grimly. “She’s the only one who can tell us where to find Danielle ... and answer the questions we have. Besides that, we have some information to share with her. Where is her room?”

  “You can’t tell her that,” Salma instantly barked. “Mrs. St. Clair will fire me if strangers suddenly show up in her bedroom.”

  Mercedes patted Salma’s arm. “You weren’t going to last at this job anyway. Consider it a blessing and move on.”

  “But ... .”

  “No.” Mercedes shook her head and then gestured toward us. “I’ll take you upstairs. She won’t fire me. She’s still trying to get me to sign a contract extension.”

  “Does she know that’s never going to happen?” I asked.

  “She does, but she still thinks she’s powerful enough to bribe me into staying in her employ. I’ve told her that money isn’t everything, but she doesn’t believe me.”

  “That sounds just like her.”

  “Yes. She really is the devil.”

  6

  Six

  Mercedes didn’t bother knocking before pushing open the door to Adele’s room. Jack looked decidedly uncomfortable as we all shuffled for
ward, but Mercedes wasn’t bothered in the least as she yanked open the curtains.

  “Rise and shine, Mrs. St. Clair,” she drawled in a singsong voice.

  Adele looked like death on a cracker. “What is going on?” she rasped as she shaded her eyes from the bright morning light. “I told you that I was sleeping in this morning. I have a migraine.”

  “You have a hangover,” Mercedes corrected, unbothered. “It’s all that bourbon you drank last night.”

  “I don’t drink bourbon. I don’t drink at all ... except at parties and brunch ... and the occasional charitable event … and then it’s always for the children. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “You emptied an entire bottle last night all by yourself. It’s already been replaced, so you don’t have to worry about what Mr. St. Clair thinks. I know how you struggle with that.”

  Adele glared at her. “You’re fired.”

  “Oh, don’t tease me.” Mercedes slid onto the settee on the far side of the room and propped up her feet. I had to hand it to her, she had attitude oozing out of every pore and knew exactly how to use it. “If you rip up my contract I’ll be out of here in ten minutes flat. I’ve been packed since five days after I signed it, quite frankly.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Adele shifted so she could meet my gaze. “I’m not hungover. I don’t care what this ... charlatan ... told you. I have a migraine. I’ve suffered from them since I was a child. They’re quite debilitating.”

  Charlie, never one to keep a comment in her mouth when she could blurt it out at the exact worst moment, was confused. “You started drinking bourbon as a child and telling people you had migraines? Where were your parents?”

  It took everything I had not to laugh as Jack carefully slid his arm around Charlie’s waist and tugged her until she was out of Adele’s sightline.

  “What are you doing here?” Adele seethed. “I thought we’d concluded our business yesterday. You did absolutely nothing, and I’m not paying you for it.”

  “Oh, suck it up, buttercup,” I countered. “I ran all those names you gave me yesterday and I came up with some information. It’s not as if I was sitting around doing nothing. You made me leave because you didn’t want Arthur to find out what you were doing. Turns out that was a wasted effort, huh? He didn’t come home when you thought he would.”