Diane Vallere - Style & Error 03 - The Brim Reaper by Diane Vallere
Authors: Diane Vallere
Ads: Link
to avoid the sexual harassment situation, skip the sexy secretary look. It’s a little distracting.”
Logan met me by the front door. I dumped my handbag on the chair and scooped him up from under his belly. As I scratched his ears, I called out for Eddie. “Honey, I’m home!”
Eddie emerged from the kitchen.
“What do you want to eat? I can go hamburgers or hoagies.”
“Dinner’s done. Steamed chicken and brown rice.”
“Is that some kind of a joke?” I asked, looking past him to the table.
The table was already set, complete with already-filled wine glasses. Eddie handed me one. “You started working for Nick today, and I’m in the middle of avoiding the police. Figured we could both use some power food.”
I couldn’t speak for anybody else, but what I really could use was the leftover pizza.
“You still haven’t called Detective Loncar back?” I asked.
“I’ll do it tomorrow. I don’t know what I’m going to say to him, about taking the hat and not calling him back.” He buzzed around while I talked.
“The longer you wait, the worse that conversation is going to be.”
Within minutes we sat at the table with plates of beige food in front of us. Logan meowed, caught up in the excitement. He got a piece of my chicken, cut into small cat-bite sized pieces
“I went to Over Your Head today. The woman who runs it is Vera Sarlow. Short, brunette woman. Kind of compact. Emotional. A little shady. You know her?”
“Nope, not familiar. Sounds like you have her pegged as a suspect.”
“She knew about the Hedy London collection. She said something about wanting to be involved.”
“From what Thad told me, a lot of people wanted to be involved. Volunteers came out of the woodwork, but Dirk refused any outside help. He said he was risking his store’s performance and bottom line by being involved, and the only way he’d continue to do so was if the entire thing was kept under wraps.”
I nodded. “What about you? You said you won some kind of contest and doing this was the prize.”
He set down his fork. “That’s just it. I won the contest for designing windows. Dirk wasn’t exactly amenable to my talents. He wanted me to do grunt work. You know, move this mannequin here, move that pedestal there.”
“The stuff you wanted me to do.”
“That’s different, dude.”
“Whatever. So was Dirk planning to shuttle his staff in from Philly?”
“Philly’s thirty miles from here, so that’s a big nugatory. It was the museum staff and me, and if he could have booted me out, he would have. The Tradava tie-in kept me there. What did this woman do to get you so twisted?”
“We were talking about Milo Delaney. She carries his hat collection. A driver showed up with a large delivery. The boxes were all marked like the boxes at the museum, and one of the corners had Bubble Wrap peeking out from them. It seemed suspicious.”
“If we’re going to suspect every person with access to Bubble Wrap, we might have to put Mailboxes Etc. under surveillance,” he said.
I ignored him. “She threw a tablecloth over the boxes when she saw me staring at them. After I left I went across the street and chatted up the pizza man—”
“Are you using my situation as a license to eat poorly?”
I ignored him. “The owner said there’s been a lot of activity there in the past week. He also said she threw out a significant amount of Bubble Wrap, so much that the trash truck was filled. The driver had to activate the compactor and pop it to make room for the trash in the rest of the neighborhood.”
“Funny.”
“Not really. Somebody called the police because she thought it was gunfire. Do you think that could be what we heard last night at the museum? When we thought we heard gunfire?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do we know how Dirk Engle was killed?”
“Dude’s head was wrapped in plastic. What more do you need to know?”
“There was blood. Remember, that’s why you picked up
Logan met me by the front door. I dumped my handbag on the chair and scooped him up from under his belly. As I scratched his ears, I called out for Eddie. “Honey, I’m home!”
Eddie emerged from the kitchen.
“What do you want to eat? I can go hamburgers or hoagies.”
“Dinner’s done. Steamed chicken and brown rice.”
“Is that some kind of a joke?” I asked, looking past him to the table.
The table was already set, complete with already-filled wine glasses. Eddie handed me one. “You started working for Nick today, and I’m in the middle of avoiding the police. Figured we could both use some power food.”
I couldn’t speak for anybody else, but what I really could use was the leftover pizza.
“You still haven’t called Detective Loncar back?” I asked.
“I’ll do it tomorrow. I don’t know what I’m going to say to him, about taking the hat and not calling him back.” He buzzed around while I talked.
“The longer you wait, the worse that conversation is going to be.”
Within minutes we sat at the table with plates of beige food in front of us. Logan meowed, caught up in the excitement. He got a piece of my chicken, cut into small cat-bite sized pieces
“I went to Over Your Head today. The woman who runs it is Vera Sarlow. Short, brunette woman. Kind of compact. Emotional. A little shady. You know her?”
“Nope, not familiar. Sounds like you have her pegged as a suspect.”
“She knew about the Hedy London collection. She said something about wanting to be involved.”
“From what Thad told me, a lot of people wanted to be involved. Volunteers came out of the woodwork, but Dirk refused any outside help. He said he was risking his store’s performance and bottom line by being involved, and the only way he’d continue to do so was if the entire thing was kept under wraps.”
I nodded. “What about you? You said you won some kind of contest and doing this was the prize.”
He set down his fork. “That’s just it. I won the contest for designing windows. Dirk wasn’t exactly amenable to my talents. He wanted me to do grunt work. You know, move this mannequin here, move that pedestal there.”
“The stuff you wanted me to do.”
“That’s different, dude.”
“Whatever. So was Dirk planning to shuttle his staff in from Philly?”
“Philly’s thirty miles from here, so that’s a big nugatory. It was the museum staff and me, and if he could have booted me out, he would have. The Tradava tie-in kept me there. What did this woman do to get you so twisted?”
“We were talking about Milo Delaney. She carries his hat collection. A driver showed up with a large delivery. The boxes were all marked like the boxes at the museum, and one of the corners had Bubble Wrap peeking out from them. It seemed suspicious.”
“If we’re going to suspect every person with access to Bubble Wrap, we might have to put Mailboxes Etc. under surveillance,” he said.
I ignored him. “She threw a tablecloth over the boxes when she saw me staring at them. After I left I went across the street and chatted up the pizza man—”
“Are you using my situation as a license to eat poorly?”
I ignored him. “The owner said there’s been a lot of activity there in the past week. He also said she threw out a significant amount of Bubble Wrap, so much that the trash truck was filled. The driver had to activate the compactor and pop it to make room for the trash in the rest of the neighborhood.”
“Funny.”
“Not really. Somebody called the police because she thought it was gunfire. Do you think that could be what we heard last night at the museum? When we thought we heard gunfire?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do we know how Dirk Engle was killed?”
“Dude’s head was wrapped in plastic. What more do you need to know?”
“There was blood. Remember, that’s why you picked up
Similar Books
