Robert appeared first. Before Charlie could answer, Stan interrupted from the door of the conference room.
"Your name is Robert, isn't it? We'd like to speak with you. Could you come in here?"
Robert's eyes widened, then squinted at Charlie looking for an answer Charlie never gave him. While Robert's questioning took place, each Bevy-ite visited Charlie, asking his or her version of “the question,” then retreated to his or her cubicle. Charlie realized he had a key role, one that might gain him position in The Bevy, alongside Mary. His questioning finished, Robert exited the conference room in the same I-feel-naked manner as Mary. Like her, he paused at Charlie's desk and spoke in the muted, lips-not-moving way she had.
"I was never jealous that Geoffrey got the promotion I should have had, or that Mary liked him for a while, right, Charlie? Right?"
When Charlie thought about it, losing a promotion and a girl to someone else, especially someone like Geoffrey, would almost be enough for some men to want to kill. Still, giving Robert away to the police would diminish him in Mary's eyes.
Sarah, the next Bevy-ite summoned, left the conference room the same way Mary and Robert had, with a tight-lipped, secret admonishment for Charlie.
"I never despised Geoffrey for picking Mary over me. Did I, Charlie?"
"Well..."
Hell really had no fury like a woman scorned, thought Charlie.
"Charlie!"
"I guess not."
So it went with each of the remaining Bevy-ites; each had his or her own shrouded message for Charlie as they fled the conference room. Charlie now held some protected confidence over everyone in The Bevy. Just as Charlie gave his now-practiced assuring nod to the last of his colleagues to leave the conference room, Stan appeared beside his desk.
"Geoffrey was not a well-liked man, was he, Charlie?"
"No, sir, I guess not."
"You didn't say much bad about him, Charlie, not compared to the others."
"I guess I didn't."
"The others said Geoffrey was pretty mean to you."
Charlie looked off toward the cubicles, where sat his colleagues.
"Are the others kind of mean to you also, Charlie?"
"I guess so."
"Did you like Geoffrey?"
"I guess not."
"Why didn't you say anything about Geoffrey being mean?"
"If you can't say something nice..."
"Yah, yah. Don't say anything—I know, Charlie, I know. Did Geoffrey say that?"
"Can't say I've ever heard him say anything like that."
"Look, Charlie. Are you sure no one else was here?"
"No."
"No? No one was here? Or, no, you're not sure?"
"Not sure."
"Then why did you say, earlier, that no one was here?"
"I didn't say that. You asked if Geoffrey was alone. I said he was."
"I guess that's right. Well then, who was here, besides you and Geoffrey?"
"I don't know. I don't know if anyone was here. How do you know that Geoffrey didn't jump down the elevator shaft?"
Stan studied a stray artificially flavored cheddar-cheese corn puff lying on Charlie's desk.
"Now that you mention it, Charlie, I guess I don't, for sure. I do know that it's time for lunch."
Stan left, taking the rest of the police with him, and The Bevy left, too, taking Mary to lunch, leaving Charlie to find the only person in the building who ever had lunch with him: Romero, the maintenance guy. As always, Charlie took his brown-bag lunch down to Romero's “office,” a small utility room with a card table, two folding chairs, and a bulletin board just off the boiler room.
They spoke about the only thing anyone spoke about in the building that day, only without the joke du jour. Finding Geoffrey's mangled body had left Romero pretty shaken up and not the least bit in a joking mood. Charlie listened to him talk and imagined having lunch with Mary, who, in his fantasy, had found a new appreciation for Charlie through his gallant confidentiality.
Charlie returned from lunch hoping that events would change his status with his coworkers, especially Mary. The police returned from lunch confused by the case. Mary returned from lunch canonized. Everyone believed that she had pushed Geoffrey down the shaft. The police couldn't prove it. No one else wanted to. Mary didn't want to lose her St. Mary status, but she didn't want to go to jail, either.
Not much work got done that day and certainly Charlie hadn't gotten much work done the night before, with all the distractions. So, he stayed late again, and Mary did as well. After the police and everyone else had left, Mary came to him.
"Thanks, Charlie. I know that you knew I was here last night. I know you were here also.
"What happened last night, Charlie? Where did you go? The lights went out and Geoffrey went to investigate. I came out of his office and you weren't here. When the lights came back on, Geoffrey never came back. Neither did you. I waited for a while and then I went home."
"I went home too, Mary. Couldn't get any work done here. No point in staying."
"Well thanks, Charlie. It was nice of you to do as I asked and not tell anyone. I'm not sure why you did, though."
"I guess I figured it would be better for you if no one knew."
The real answer Charlie wanted to give Mary required more boldness than he possessed.
"Well, thanks so much."
Charlie watched her walk away, his heart beating as if they had shared a moment, an important moment.
"Mary?"
Mary turned back. “Yes, Charlie?"
"Would you...? Would you like to get lunch sometime?"
"Absolutely, Charlie. I would like that."
The next day, the police returned: Stan and one of the other not-so-friendly detectives.
"Hey, Charlie, this is Dan. He's my partner."
"Hi, Charlie."
"Hello, Detective Dan."
"Look, Charlie, we were wondering why you didn't tell us that the power had gone out the night before last, when Geoffrey died."
Charlie looked at, then past, Stan. At the end of the aisle, Mary looked on, eyes filled with anxious concern.
"I didn't know. Must have happened after I left."
"Yeah. Went out for about twenty minutes, on this floor only. You didn't know?"
"No, sir."
"You didn't notice that your clock is about twenty minutes behind time?"
Charlie looked at his “interesting” shelf clock.
"Oh, look at that. I guess I don't really use that clock for time. It's just decoration."
"Yeah, okay. Romero, the maintenance guy, says the circuit box is in a utility closet by the elevators. Often, Housekeeping leaves it unlocked so they can get their cleaning things in and out. Anyone could have gone in there and shut off the power, anyone who knew the door was open or just happened to check. Charlie, are you sure no one else was here the other night?"
Charlie caught himself before his eyes flicked toward Mary.
"Like I said, I didn't see anyone else."
"You're friends with Romero, aren't you, Charlie?"
Charlie feared something accusatory might follow that question.
"Yeah, I guess."
"Then maybe you can tell us why he had Mary's phone number and address on his bulletin board downstairs."
"I think he needed extra money and fixed some things at her place on weekends. You should ask her."
"We will. Think she might have known about the utility closet being unlocked?"
"You'd have to ask her. How would I know something like that? I doubt she would."
"Why would you doubt that, Charlie?"
"I know her. That's not the kind of thing that would interest her. Look, since the power went out, isn't it possible that the door got stuck open and Geoffrey accidentally walked into the open elevator shaft?"
Stan shook his head.
"Very unlikely. No way to explain why the elevator door would open without an elevator, just because t
he power went out. Plus, why would Geoffrey leave without his coat and briefcase?"
Dan spoke, crisp and quick, as if to take Charlie off guard.
"Was Mary here the night that Geoffrey was killed?"
"No!"
"How can you be so sure? You said before, you just didn't hear anyone."
Charlie peeked between Dan and Stan. Mary peered around the edge of her cubicle, eyes wide with terror.
"Mary's cubicle is just down the aisle. If she were here, I'm sure I would have known."
Stan's and Dan's eyes followed Charlie's when they flicked toward Mary.
Mary tried to retract into her cubicle like a turtle.
"Hello, Mary.” Dan almost sounded spritelike.
Mary hadn't been quick enough.
"Can you come here?” Stan, in contrast, sounded fatherly, a stern father, like Charlie's father when Charlie's report card didn't quite rise to expectations.
Mary peered around her cubicle wall, then shuffled to Charlie's cubicle. Dan studied Mary's face the way a collector would study a face in a painting, looking for details, color, texture—lies. Dan examined. Stan spoke.
"I hate to be morbid, but the pathologist found something interesting when examining Geoffrey's body. It was hard to see at first because he'd been mangled pretty badly, but there was lipstick on his neck, red lipstick. Sorry to be gruesome, but it sorta blended in with all the blood, so we didn't find it until now."
Dan squinted and bent closer to Mary, studying her lips.
"What color red would you call your lipstick, Mary? Would you call that ‘blood red'?"
"No! It's ‘Fire Engine Red.’”
Dan nodded. Stan spoke.
"Do you always wear red lipstick?"
"Yes. Even though I'm a redhead, it looks great on me."
Dan nodded, then spoke.
"So it does. Do you have your lipstick here?"
"Yes."
"Please go get it for me."
While Mary scurried back to her desk Dan spoke to Charlie.
"The pathologist said the lipstick on Geoffrey's collar is by Lorelei."
Mary returned, holding out a small cylinder for Dan's inspection. Dan took it and held it out for Stan. Stan took it and held it out for Charlie's inspection. The label on the bottom of the little gold tube identified it as “Lorelei's Fire Engine Red."
"Mary, can we speak with you in the conference room, please?” Dan took the lipstick cylinder from Stan and led Mary away. Stan followed.
As usual, Charlie couldn't make out the words, only voices and tones. Dan spoke in a reedy, accusing voice. Stan maintained a firm, assuring, but direct tone. Mary pleaded in a nervous, vulnerable tone that made Charlie want to barge into the conference room, but he had no idea what he would do once he'd crossed the threshold. Telling Stan and Dan to leave her alone seemed ludicrous. The same repetitive word as before came through the door, in Mary's voice.
"No! ... No! ... No!"
When the door opened, Mary's posture reminded Charlie of one of the girls he knew in Catholic school when she had to face the Sisters over some disciplinary problem. Mary didn't look at Charlie when she zombie-shuffled past him. Her lips hardly moved as she spoke.
"Sorry, Charlie."
Charlie watched as she slipped into her cubicle, hangdog, droopy shouldered.
"Charlie.” Stan stood beside his desk, purposely speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “We are confused. You were here the night Geoffrey died. So maybe you can tell us how he got lipstick on his neck, if Mary wasn't here?"
Heads poked out from around cubicles, all except Mary's. Charlie watched for her to reappear, wondering if she was so scared that she would try to cast suspicion on someone who was trying to protect her from the accusations that would certainly be forthcoming if everything were known.
"I don't know. Did you check with Geoffrey's wife, to see what kind of lipstick she wore? Maybe she has the same kind of lipstick. Lorelei is a fairly common lipstick and Geoffrey's wife has similar coloring to Mary's. She's a redhead, too. Geoffrey liked redheads."
Mary's head poked out from her cubicle, completing The Bevy. Everyone watched Charlie. Charlie looked into Mary's eyes with protectiveness, seeking signs of betrayal. Stan and Dan looked at each other, considering the possibilities, then Stan looked at Charlie.
"Did he say why he liked redheads?"
Charlie studied Mary's eyes. Mary studied Charlie's; he was sure she could see something in them that had never been there before for her, the flicker of anger. Charlie saw fear.
"Of course. Geoffrey always had something to say about everything."
"What did he say?"
Mary's eyes widened. Charlie's narrowed.
"He said they were—loose. He liked them because they were loose."
Everyone looked to Mary. Mary looked to everyone. Dan and Stan surveyed them all. Dan's hand snaked out, extending a pointing, commanding finger.
"You! It's Sarah, right? Come with us."
Sarah followed Stan and Dan into the conference room. Muted tones of accusation, assurance, and pleading escaped through the conference-room door, repeating as each of The Bevy was called into the conference room again. Each time a Bevy-ite left the room, they glided past Charlie, muttering in an apologetic tone.
"Oh, Charlie."
Charlie watched the last of them, feeling as if he were being sacrificed for the safety of The Bevy.
"Charlie, could you come in here?"
Framed in the conference-room door, Stan waited for him. Charlie entered. Stan shut the door. Dan began the questions.
"Charlie, everyone says that Geoffrey was very, very mean to you. That he regularly made fun of you and humiliated you in front of everyone."
"I suppose he did."
"How come you've never mentioned to us that this makes you mad? I would think it would make me mad. Does it make you mad, Charlie?"
"Yes, of course it does—did."
"How come you never mentioned that? Everyone said it was weird the way you never complained, kinda creepy the way you kept it in."
Charlie looked at the door, imagining his colleagues crowded together at the end of the aisle, speaking in low voices, getting The Story straight. Why had he always wanted to be a Bevy-ite?
"Are they all saying that they think I killed Geoffrey because he made fun of me?"
"Well, I don't know about that. But Mary did mention how hard you worked without ever getting Geoffrey's recognition."
Charlie continued to stare at the door, imagining Mary standing with The Bevy, speaking in the same low tones. Did he really still want to protect her?
"I told you I was here, but I left before Geoffrey did."
"Before the lights went out."
"Y-Yes."
"Well, that means you were the last one to see Geoffrey alive and his meanness toward you would certainly give you motive."
"Well, if being treated with malice is a motive for murder, then everyone had a motive."
"How's that, Charlie?"
Charlie searched the door, trying once again to picture The Bevy he'd always yearned to be part of.
"Well, Robert was supposed to get the promotion Geoffrey got. Geoffrey always gave the bad accounts to Larry, and kept the good ones for himself. Louise never got any bonuses and suspected it was because she never put out for Geoffrey. Sarah wanted to be Geoffrey's lover, but—but she wasn't."
"What about Mary, Charlie? Did she have any reason to want to kill Geoffrey?"
Charlie stared at the door, seeing Mary, so vulnerable, so in need of a man to marry, and Geoffrey wouldn't and now, couldn't.
"No. Mary had no reason."
"And you're sure she wasn't here that night?"
Through the door, Charlie pictured Mary, standing off from the others, eyes filled with remorseful guilt for her betrayal. He sighed. She had promised to go to lunch with him.
"No, she wasn't here that night, Stan."
When Dan opened the c
onference-room door for Charlie, The Bevy stood at the coffee maker, as he'd pictured. They stared at him with cattle-to-the-slaughter fear in their eyes. Charlie's shoulders drooped, knowing he'd never be one of them. He made eye contact with Mary. Her fearful eyes and slack, pleading mouth pulled Charlie's shoulders up. He nodded assurance at her.
Stan and Dan left, returning several times over the next week, always seeking time with one of the others, but not with Charlie. Everyone quit speaking with Charlie, refusing even to say hello. Late in the following week, Charlie stopped at Mary's desk.
"We spoke about getting lunch sometime. Do you have plans for today?"
Mary's eyes flashed around, surveying the reaction of the others.
"Sorry, Charlie, I don't have time."
"How ‘bout tomorrow?"
"I can't."
"Maybe next week?"
"Charlie, I'm sorry, but I'm up to my ears taking up the slack left by Geoffrey's death and this whole thing has been very unsettling. I'm not going to be able to go to lunch for quite some time."
"Charlie? Could you come here?"
Stan and Dan were standing beside Charlie's cubicle. Charlie walked over to them, feeling as if he were in a meat locker, chilled by Mary's aloofness. Stan pointed to Charlie's keyboard; the key for opening the elevator door lay on it.
"If you will notice, Charlie, the elevator key has the same orange stain on it as you have on your keyboard."
So it did. The key had been set on the keyboard, so that a nearly identical stain on it lined up with a stain on the keyboard. Dan spoke in his usual accusatory tone.
"There were stains like this on the circuit breakers in the closet by the elevators."
Stan spoke in his usual reassuring tone, but held out a folder of papers, payroll records.
"According to this, you're the only person here who didn't get a raise this year, or the last year or the year before. Did you ever ask Geoffrey for a raise?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"He said no. He said I wasn't directly involved in generating revenue; that Systems was a necessary liability, but still a liability. He said that I didn't quite fit in."
EQMM, February 2007 Page 9
