She was still on the curvy end of her recommended weight range, and occasionally a special garment called for a little extra support, which was why she owned a drawer full of midthigh shapers and slimming camis and bodysuits and shaping panties.
Still, she considered this sort of thing the domain of women. “So you’re sayin’ men put these on so they don’t have to suck in their guts?”
“That’s the idea. Benton had one on when we, uh, found him, in fact. Benton and his friend, they work for this company that makes specialty fabrics, and they figured out some sort of new kind of stretchy cloth in their free time, and then they had the idea to make it into these T-shirts and underwear and so forth. They had some sort of partnership, and they were putzing around trying to get some local jobber to start producing them. Then I guess they both kind of lost interest, is what Natalya told me, until one day they got contacted by a company who wanted to buy ’em out. So Benton sold the patent, and got a giant check for it. But did that loosen up his purse strings any? No ma’am,” Chip said, shaking his head woefully.
“Well, cheap’s not usually a good enough reason to get killed over,” Stella said. “Come on, let’s go see the bastard who you figure did it.”
* * *
Fortified with a tankard of coffee, Stella and Chip set out to look for Todd. Stella hadn’t slept in more than twenty-four hours, but her fears for Todd, combined with all that caffeine, had her feeling wide awake.
Their first stop was the clinic where Chip worked, so he could get the medical student’s home address. Since regular classes didn’t meet on Saturday, he thought he could get into the lab without running into anyone. Stella drove, and he gave directions through the sleepy town. They passed the same churches, strip malls, and humble neighborhoods that Stella had seen for the first time in the dead of night. Luckily the day was warm and it was no hardship to keep the windows down—or more accurately the window, singular, since the one on the passenger side no longer existed.
“This here’s the hospital,” Chip said, as they arrived in front of an imposing clot of buildings featuring a big square limestone main structure and any number of added-on bits in a variety of architectural styles, making the whole thing look like a LEGO play set designed by a drunk and hostile modernist.
Chip directed Stella around to the back. As she pulled into a parking space, Chip cleared his throat nervously. “Listen, Stella, how about you just wait for me in the truck.”
“No thanks. I’m more of a hands-on type when I’m working.”
“I get that, but—look, I got to prepare you a little. It’s kind of hard on folks that haven’t seen this sort of environment before.”
“You told me you take care of the labs, right? Trust me, sugar, I’m not one to be put off by the sight of a mop or a bucket.”
“Well see, Stella, ever since I got promoted I got some more … specialized type duties. I had to take a training course. They even sent me down to Madison for a couple of days, put us up in a Holiday Inn and all, had to learn all kinds of shit and pass the certification tests. What it is is, nowadays you got your infectious disease concerns, your fears about bacteria outbreaks, your resistant microbes, you can’t have just a regular Class One custodian in there. Not to mention all the red tape with the disposal. You need a specialist.”
“So let me get this straight, you’re cleaning up after a bunch of med students and all the messes they make with their lab projects.”
“Yeah … but Stella, they work on actual cases. ”
“So what do they do, get some volunteer in there, knock ’em out and everyone stands around the table in their white gowns and shit taking notes while the professor does a nip and a tuck?”
Chip pursed his lips. “Uh … yeah. Something like that. But it’d just be easier if you’d stay
Still, she considered this sort of thing the domain of women. “So you’re sayin’ men put these on so they don’t have to suck in their guts?”
“That’s the idea. Benton had one on when we, uh, found him, in fact. Benton and his friend, they work for this company that makes specialty fabrics, and they figured out some sort of new kind of stretchy cloth in their free time, and then they had the idea to make it into these T-shirts and underwear and so forth. They had some sort of partnership, and they were putzing around trying to get some local jobber to start producing them. Then I guess they both kind of lost interest, is what Natalya told me, until one day they got contacted by a company who wanted to buy ’em out. So Benton sold the patent, and got a giant check for it. But did that loosen up his purse strings any? No ma’am,” Chip said, shaking his head woefully.
“Well, cheap’s not usually a good enough reason to get killed over,” Stella said. “Come on, let’s go see the bastard who you figure did it.”
* * *
Fortified with a tankard of coffee, Stella and Chip set out to look for Todd. Stella hadn’t slept in more than twenty-four hours, but her fears for Todd, combined with all that caffeine, had her feeling wide awake.
Their first stop was the clinic where Chip worked, so he could get the medical student’s home address. Since regular classes didn’t meet on Saturday, he thought he could get into the lab without running into anyone. Stella drove, and he gave directions through the sleepy town. They passed the same churches, strip malls, and humble neighborhoods that Stella had seen for the first time in the dead of night. Luckily the day was warm and it was no hardship to keep the windows down—or more accurately the window, singular, since the one on the passenger side no longer existed.
“This here’s the hospital,” Chip said, as they arrived in front of an imposing clot of buildings featuring a big square limestone main structure and any number of added-on bits in a variety of architectural styles, making the whole thing look like a LEGO play set designed by a drunk and hostile modernist.
Chip directed Stella around to the back. As she pulled into a parking space, Chip cleared his throat nervously. “Listen, Stella, how about you just wait for me in the truck.”
“No thanks. I’m more of a hands-on type when I’m working.”
“I get that, but—look, I got to prepare you a little. It’s kind of hard on folks that haven’t seen this sort of environment before.”
“You told me you take care of the labs, right? Trust me, sugar, I’m not one to be put off by the sight of a mop or a bucket.”
“Well see, Stella, ever since I got promoted I got some more … specialized type duties. I had to take a training course. They even sent me down to Madison for a couple of days, put us up in a Holiday Inn and all, had to learn all kinds of shit and pass the certification tests. What it is is, nowadays you got your infectious disease concerns, your fears about bacteria outbreaks, your resistant microbes, you can’t have just a regular Class One custodian in there. Not to mention all the red tape with the disposal. You need a specialist.”
“So let me get this straight, you’re cleaning up after a bunch of med students and all the messes they make with their lab projects.”
“Yeah … but Stella, they work on actual cases. ”
“So what do they do, get some volunteer in there, knock ’em out and everyone stands around the table in their white gowns and shit taking notes while the professor does a nip and a tuck?”
Chip pursed his lips. “Uh … yeah. Something like that. But it’d just be easier if you’d stay
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