“My sentiments exactly,” Joanne said with a brittle tone. “So you’re not staying?”
“Just for a few days. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
Joanne snickered. She took a seat behind her desk and ran her hand over her hair smoothing it down. “This should be fun. Ask away.”
“Where were you on Tuesday night?”
“Home. I took the day off because of my back.”
“Probably alone? No alibi?” I made light of the question.
“Yep. That’s what I told the police so they’ll check it out and verify it. Maybe you could share information with them and save yourself a lot of time.”
“Tell me how you felt about Mrs. Scott,” I asked, totally ignoring her sarcasm.
“Don’t expect me to be upset about someone I couldn’t stand,” Joanne spat. “And before you go calling the police, no, I didn’t kill her. I told them yesterday and I’m telling you. But am I sorry she’s dead?” Joanne abruptly stopped. She took a few deep breaths and seemed to calm down. “I’m sorry she died. But I’m not sorry she’s gone.”
Her dark brown eye bore into my lighter ones. That eye definitely unnerved me. Actually, the other eye, the one not looking at me, was the unnerving one.
“You do have my curiosity up,” I said. “I’ve worked with Mrs. Scott on many occasions and she always seemed very professional and efficient.”
“Humph. That’s because you didn’t work with her every day.” Joanne jumped up and pulled open a file drawer. “See this? I’ve got all the employees coded so their supervisors know when they’re up for a raise or promotion.” She indicated small colored tabs on the edge of each file. “Of course I’ve updated the system and now I’ve got everyone entered into our new database so we can track salary history, insurance benefits, changes in status. Did I ever get the credit for this?”
I figured this to be a rhetorical question but I thought I might as well humor her. “Let me venture a guess. No?”
“No. I did not. We didn’t have vision insurance for our employees when I started but we do now. And our dental plan covers more than the last plan. You know why?” Joanne shut the file drawer with a clang and walked toward me.
“Because old Elvira liked the status quo. She used the same insurance broker they’d been using for years. She never even went out for quotes at renewal time. Can you believe that?” Joanne put out her hands in question, her voice raising an octave. “But has anything ever been said to me? Any thanks? No. And you know why? Because she took the credit. That’s why.” Joanne paced very quickly in front of me. “She’d send out notices announcing we had new dental or new this or new that. Always made it sound like she had worked on it.”
“Looks like your back feels better.” I smiled up at Joanne.
She stopped abruptly and reached her arm around and rubbed the small of her back with her hand. “It comes and goes.”
“You seem to have a lot of anger toward the woman.” I raised my hand at Joanne’s attempt to protest. “So let’s say you’re telling the truth and you didn’t kill her. What are your thoughts on who might have? Maybe she stabbed a lot of other people in the back.” I hoped this would illicit some dirt on the tension between Elvira and Emmanuelle.
Joanne regained her composure, smoothed her hair again, and considered this for a moment. “I assume we’re assuming the killer is one of us?”
I nodded.
Joanne stood straight, and rested a hand on the corner of the desk. “Then the only person I can think of is Emmanuelle.”
Bingo.
“They didn’t get along very well. And no,” Joanne held up a hand, “I don’t know why. Elvira and I didn’t socialize as you can guess and Emmanuelle keeps to herself.”
Damn.
“If you can push the blame on Emmanuelle because they didn’t get along, you can imagine what I’m thinking right now at your own outburst toward Mrs. Scott. I wonder what the police are thinking.” I stood up and started my own pacing. “I’m curious about something. If Mrs. Scott took all the credit, why didn’t you ever go to Mr. Poupée? You don’t have any trouble telling me, a total stranger, about your feelings.”
“Mr. Poupée always took her side. He’s a nice enough old guy, I guess, but the two of them didn’t have a clue about technology. Let’s just say in Elvira’s case she outlived her usefulness. It took her a long time to get the hang of new stuff.”
“So you thought she should go and you should have the job.”
“Well, why not? “Joanne said defiantly. “She didn’t want to part with any of her responsibilities, she micro-managed everything and took credit for stuff I did. Hell yes, I thought she should leave.”
I spent another five minutes trying unsuccessfully to get back on the subject of Emmanuelle and then returned to my office.
“She hasn’t learned yet, has she? ‘If you mean to profit, learn to please’,” I said shaking my head, as I walked into the office.
“Winston again?”
I jumped and my heel slipped on the plastic chair mat. I caught myself just in time by grabbing onto the side of the desk. “Jeez! I didn’t see you. You scared me half to death!”
Detective Van der Burg jumped off the couch and took hold of my arm. “Are you okay?”
I shrugged his arm away. “I’m fine,” I said through clenched teeth. “What are you doing here?”
“
I’m
investigating a murder. I think the question is what are
you
doing here?” He nodded his head in the direction of Joanne’s office.
“I’m trying to clear my name and find the
real
killer.” I gave him a
so there
look and immediately felt foolish. “I wanted to talk with Mr. Poupée but I can’t to find him. Have a good day.”
He strode out of the office leaving me fuming.
As soon as I heard him go into the factory, I went to find Millie’s neighbor Sherry.
“Millie said something to the effect that strange things are going on out here,” I said.
“Oh, not strange really. I may have been embellishing a bit. Just a few things happening that usually don’t.”
“Such as?”
“Well, let’s see. I think I told Millie about closed-door meetings. That’s a little different. Things are pretty opened around here.” Sherry paused a moment to blow on a steaming cup of coffee.
I felt guilty using up the woman’s break time with a lot of questions, but I wanted to get it out of the way.
“The supervisors like to make sure if there are any problems we can come in and discuss stuff,” Sherry began again, after taking a few tentative sips. “A few people who usually work on assembly have been pulled off and sent to help out in another area. They won’t say what they’re working on. The only thing I can think of is it may have to do with the museum contract, but that’s not really supposed to start until January.”
I thanked her and went back to my office thinking I hadn’t learned much. Just another dead end. I had hit quite a few of those.
I heard Mr. Poupée in his office and knocked on his door. And knocked. I gritted my teeth and walked in.
“Alex, come in. How’s it going?” Mr. Poupée asked as he adjusted his hearing aid.
What good did it do if he never turned it on?
“Okay. Most everyone seems willing to talk once I get them started. Not that I’ve found out much. I did hear some factory employees are working in other areas.”
“Hmmm.”
Hmmm? What the heck did that mean? I waited a few more seconds but Mr. Poupée didn’t elaborate.
I didn’t have much else to report on the investigation and decided to spare him the unpleasantness I had heard about Mrs. Scott. I found out a lot about office gossip and backstabbing employees but I didn’t think he wanted to hear that. Eventually I would have to make some things known to him.
“Before I leave I wanted to ask if it would be normal for Mrs. Scott to have an employee’s file in her desk. I know they’re usually kept in Joanne’s office.”
“Oh good, you’ve met Joanne. No, it’s not normal. Joanne handles most of the personnel things, but then again, it’s not really unusual either. As I’m sure you’ve figured out, we don’t have a personnel department. Elvira handled benefits and such but I assumed she passed most of that on to Joanne. Whose file are you referring to?”
“I found Emmanuelle Robert’s file in Mrs. Scott’s desk.”
Mr. Poupée sat forward and clasped his hands together. “Well, now, that is a bit odd. She would have nothing to do with Emmanuelle. Richard hired her and any evaluations or job-related problems would be handled by him and her benefit package would be administered by Joanne. But with Joanne taking time off, maybe Elvira took over. Is it important? I could ask Emmanuelle.”
“Oh no, Mr. Poupée. Don’t bother. I just wondered how things worked, who handled what. I can ask if I think it might be important.”
I didn’t tell him Emmanuelle had the file. Let Joanne find out and track it down. After assuring him I would be in the next day, though not until the afternoon, I went to find Sandy.
By time I left the factory the sky had become overcast again. Traffic was unusually light so I let my mind drift back to my talk with Sandy. I hoped our conversation would shed light on the exact context of the yelling match between Emmanuelle and Mrs. Scott, but Sandy spent most of the time telling me about the running of the order desk. Sandy handled orders for the mannequins while Monica handled orders for spare parts, eyes, wigs, and touch-up kits. Monica also entered new clients and issued client numbers.
An initial order for the Eyes Have It mannequin shipped with one pair of eyes. Subsequent orders for eyes got emailed immediately to the factory in Europe and distributed to the client as soon as Poupée Mannequins received the order.
Fascinating stuff but it didn’t shed any light on the Emmanuelle situation. Sandy only heard the bit she already told me and like everyone else, she knew Mrs. Scott and Emmanuelle didn’t get along but had no idea why, except to say Emmanuelle was stuck up and Elvira could be difficult.
I pulled into one of the parking spaces reserved for Always Prepared and turned off the ignition. I talked with people the entire day and hadn’t found out much. Detective Van der Burg’s words about maybe never solving the case caused my stomach to churn. What if that turned out to be true?
My fingers cold, I realized I was still sitting in my car. I locked the door and went into Always Prepared.
“It’s nice to be back at my own desk with my own things,” I said, plopping into my comfortable chair. “We’re so lucky to work here with just the three of us. You can’t imagine the things that go on out there in the real world.” I leaned back savoring the contour of my chair, well worn in all the right spots.
“Sure I can. You forget that’s why we decided to open up our own business and go hungry for years with no new clothes and cardboard in our shoes to keep out the cold when they got holes.”
My sister was almost three years older and an inch taller. Both of us had inherited our parents’ height. Her eyes were a soft brown and her skin tone just a shade darker than mine. She had been the typical older sister growing up, forever picking on me, scaring me when she could get away with it, and in general being a royal pain in the backside. We had our own set of friends but as we got older we gravitated toward each other more and more.
“Things weren’t that bad at the beginning?” I asked.
“Well, there were times. Hopefully they’re behind us. I’ve grown accustomed to the finer things in life.”
Speaking of bad times behind us. “Any new leads today?” I asked hopefully.
“A small job. They need about five temporary staff for four months.”
“Well, it’s something.”
“So how’s it going over at Murder Central?” my ever-tactless sister asked.
“I talked with some people and Mrs. Scott was more difficult to work with than we had imagined,” I said while sorting through some mail.
“That bad, huh? Anybody a good candidate for the murder?”
I stopped sorting the mail. “Hmmm. I don’t know. I haven’t uncovered anything that would make me kill someone.” I sat back looking thoughtful, fingering a flyer in the stack of mail.
“What’s that look for?” Sam furrowed her brow causing a small winkle to form on her smooth forehead.
“I hate to say it, but I’m beginning to wonder if something went on between Mrs. Scott and Mr. Poupée.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
I shook my head back and forth hating myself for thinking it. “No. I’m not sure. But he certainly protected her a lot, and seemed totally oblivious to some of her dealings with employees. And he did go over to her house and help with things.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Remember when our neighbor’s husband died? Dad always helped out. Can’t remember her name.”
“Mrs. Drummond.”
“Mrs. Drummond! That’s it. Dad went over a lot.”
“She was in her eighties!”
“Oh. Well, Mrs. Scott had to be close to eighty, right?”
“No! Jeez. What’s wrong with you? She…well, she wasn’t eighty. More like early sixties.”
I grabbed the jar on my desk finding it empty. I pulled a very large bag of mint flavored M&M’s from a desk drawer and refilled the jar, happy the Christmas ones didn’t include the horrible blue ones.
“So what else have you got?” Sam took a handful and walked to the window, cracking it open a bit, letting in a draft that threatened to blow the mail onto the floor.
“The consensus is Mrs. Scott and Emmanuelle didn’t get along. Jerry, the factory foreman, really disliked her. Probably because she wouldn’t go out with him. I can’t come up with a reason why Emmanuelle and Mrs. Scott had problems. Everyone knows they did but no one knows why.”
“At least that’s what they’re saying,” Sam added.
“True. Emmanuelle’s very ambitious and maybe she just rubbed Mrs. Scott the wrong way. I don’t think anyone is fond of her, though I don’t think anyone really knows her well. Winston said, ‘
You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life
.’ Maybe Emmanuelle tried to change things,” I mused.
“Who else have you talked to?”
“Joanne. Mrs. Scott’s assistant. She’s got one eye that doesn’t look at you. It looks across the room or something. Very unnerving.” I cringed.