Tote Bags and Toe Tags

by Dorothy Howell

  I waited until there was a gap between arriving guests, then crossed the room and stepped in front of Mr. Dempsey.

  “I need to speak with you right away,” I said in my low it’s-important voice.

  Dempsey glared at me, as if thoroughly annoyed that I’d dared interrupt him.

  “I know who murdered Violet,” I said.

  That got his attention.

  “I have proof,” I said. “I want you to see it before I call the police.”

  I walked away and crossed the room, weaving my way between employees and guests who were milling around, talking, and helping themselves to beverages. When I climbed the stairs at the edge of the stage and walked into the wings, Arthur was behind me.

  The big TV screen illuminated the stage with the Dempsey Rowland corporate logo, but it was dark back here. A gooseneck lamp turned to face the wall offered minimal light.

  “I found a CD,” I said. “Violet made it.”

  I’d set up my laptop earlier—with the help of the tech people—on a small table near the heavy, dark stage curtain. Mr. Dempsey glared at it.

  “What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

  “Just watch,” I said, and turned the laptop toward him. “Come a little closer so you can see better.”

  He did. I stepped behind the table and I hit the PLAY button.

  The scenes I’d witnessed last night in Starbucks rolled, and Violet’s voice once again gave a vivid, detailed description of Arthur Dempsey’s years of excess, abuse, fraud, and corruption.

  When the CD ended, I hit a couple more buttons, hoping Dempsey wouldn’t know what I was doing. He didn’t seem to. He stood frozen in place, but his eyes swept back and forth, and I figured his brain was frantically searching for the best way to spin what I’d just showed him.

  “Lies. Facts twisted to make them look like something they’re not,” Dempsey said, pointing at the screen. “Put together by a disgruntled employee who was barely hanging onto her job. I should have fired that bitch years ago.”

  “Violet threatened to expose you,” I said.

  His gaze came up sharply and pinned me with a look of sheer hatred.

  “That’s why Ruth murdered her,” I said.

  Dempsey’s expression shifted. He was a crafty old bastard who’d had decades of experience at seeing an opportunity and going for it.

  “Violet was seen returning from the Executive Unit the day before she was murdered,” I said. “She was furious over something. I believe she came to your office, threatened to expose you, and Ruth decided to stop her.”

  He didn’t say anything so I kept going.

  “Violet was struck over the head with a blunt object,” I said. “It was probably her laptop. Violet’s is missing, and Ruth was seen carrying one through the office shortly after her murder.”

  Dempsey began to nod slowly.

  “I had lunch with Erma Pomeroy to discuss the memorial service,” I said. “Ruth saw us together. She must have thought Erma knew something that would incriminate her. After all, Erma worked in payroll. She knew how you’d underpaid Violet all those years. She had friends in accounting and contracting who could back up Violet’s claims that you’d made and accepted bribes for government contracts.”

  “Damn,” Dempsey swore. “I should have gotten rid of Ruth a long time ago, too. Stupid bitch. Just another idiot woman I had to put up with. Now she’s murdered two people and brought scandal to my company.”

  “Arthur!”

  From the edge of the stage curtain, Ruth rushed over. She’d followed Arthur and me back here, as I knew she would, then stood aside as a good assistant should, and listened to everything that was said.

  “Arthur, how can you say those things?” Ruth exclaimed.

  She was frantic, on the verge of tears, totally confounded by what Dempsey had said about her.

  “You don’t mean that. I know you don’t,” Ruth insisted. “How can you say I murdered Violet and Erma when you know very well that I didn’t?”

  “I don’t know anything of the sort,” Dempsey told her.

  “But Arthur, I’ve devoted my entire adult life to you. I took care of you. I protected you.” Ruth touched his arm. “I didn’t tell you this because I wanted to surprise you, but I’m retiring, too, when you do. We can go places. Finally, we can truly be together.”

  Dempsey jerked away. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I know you never loved your wife,” Ruth said.

  “You’re right about that. He’s divorcing his wife,” I said. “But he’s already picked out the next Mrs. Dempsey, and she’s young enough to be—well, me. With bigger boobs.”

  Ruth looked at me, then back at Dempsey again. She was totally lost now.

  “You’re ... you’re marrying someone else?” she asked.

  “Hell, yes,” Dempsey told her. “What the devil made you ever think I’d want you?”

  A full minute passed while Ruth just stared at Dempsey, then I guess the truth finally sank in.

  “I didn’t kill those women! You know I didn’t!” she shouted at Dempsey. “I heard Violet in your office that day, threatening to expose everything you’ve done.”

  “Enough!” Dempsey told her.

  “You’re the one who gave me that laptop,” Ruth said. “You’re the one who told me to get rid of it.”

  “Shut up,” he demanded.

  “I told you I saw Erma and Haley at lunch together, then you left for the afternoon.” Ruth gasped. “Oh, Arthur, you killed them. You really killed both of them!”

  “Damn right I did!” Dempsey shouted. “I wasn’t about to let those two bitches bring me down!”

  “Oh, Arthur, no!” Ruth shook her head frantically. “I was afraid you’d done it, but I didn’t want to believe it. That’s why I had Haley plan this memorial service and said it was your idea, so you wouldn’t look guilty.”

  “Be quiet,” Dempsey insisted.

  I hadn’t known which of them had done the killings, but I figured one of them would rat out the other when it all went down.

  Ruth turned on me. “This is all your fault! None of this would have happened if you hadn’t found that CD. You’ve been nothing but trouble since you came here. I found your personnel folder hidden in Arthur’s briefcase, and I’m glad he took it from Adela’s office so the police would think you murdered Violet!”

  I flashed on the day I’d been nosing around in H.R. looking for the folders of the other new hires. Adela had shown up and interrupted me. Mr. Dempsey had been with her. He must have figured incriminating me was a way to keep suspicion off of himself and lead the detectives down a dead end.

  “For God’s sake, will you shut up!” Dempsey roared. He pointed at my laptop. “That CD is company property. Give it to me.”

  “Sure,” I said. “How much are you willing to give me for it?”

  His eyes narrowed to two beady pinpoints of hatred.

  “You’re known for taking bribes, and offering them, of course. It’s all documented. How much is it worth to you?” I asked. “Or do you plan to kill me like you did Violet and Erma?”

  “Listen to me, you little twit,” Dempsey said. “I’ll do anything I have to do—including murder—to keep my company in business. You’re expendable—and so were those two.”

  He glanced around, as if suddenly remembering where we were and who was in the conference room just steps away. “This isn’t the time or place for this discussion.”

  “Don’t worry. Everyone here already knows.” I pointed to my laptop. “The CD played on the big screen over the stage while you saw it here.”

  Fury rolled across his face as he looked from the laptop to me.

  “And everyone saw your confession,” I added.

  I pointed to the webcam affixed to my laptop, which I’d switched on after the CD played. I’d figured Arthur wouldn’t know enough about computer equipment to realize I’d mounted a webcam on my laptop, and even if he had, I’d doubted he�
�d notice it, either because it was dark backstage or because he was so caught up in the CD Violet had made.

  “Wave to the audience,” I said.

  But Dempsey didn’t wave. He let out a growl and swiped my laptop off the table, then lunged at me. Ruth screamed. I dodged left. Dempsey overturned the table and grabbed for me.

  “Stop! Police!”

  Detective Shuman ran from behind the stage curtain and wrestled Arthur Dempsey to the floor. Detective Madison trailed along behind, holding a gun.

  Dempsey fought and cursed as Shuman put the cuffs on. Ruth began to cry. Noise from the employees and guests in the conference room grew.

  “You, too,” Madison said. He holstered his weapon and grabbed Ruth’s arm.

  “What? What are you doing?” she wailed.

  “Accessory after the fact,” Madison said, as he snapped handcuffs on her wrists.

  “Good work,” Shuman said to me, as he got to his feet.

  My heart was pounding pretty good and—yikes!—I’d started to sweat, but I forced myself to calm down.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Not so fast,” Detective Madison said, over Ruth’s caterwauling. “You still have a lot of questions to answer.”

  All the other Dempsey Rowland employees left early, but not me. Detective Madison insisted I wait around the conference room, tell, and retell the facts leading up to Dempsey’s confession until even he was sick of hearing about it.

  I fudged a little—okay, I outright lied—about how I’d come into possession of Violet’s CD. I claimed I found it in my office.

  No sense in getting into the whole thing too deep.

  It helped that I’d called Detective Shuman last night when I’d made the discovery and he’d come to Starbucks and looked at it. He’d agreed to setting up Dempsey and Ruth today.

  Madison had called in other investigators who were doing whatever it was investigators do in these situations, but they were closing up their cases, putting away equipment, and heading for the door. I guessed there was a lot more action in Arthur Dempsey’s and Ruth’s private offices.

  Detective Shuman walked over.

  “You’re free to go,” he said.

  “Yeah, but am I really free?” I asked.

  If Madison still thought I was involved in these murders somehow, I wanted to know.

  “You’re cleared,” Shuman said. He gave me a totally non-cop grin. “You do good work.”

  My stomach felt a little gooey.

  “We make a good team,” I said.

  A few seconds passed while we just stood there looking at each other, then we both seemed to come to our senses.

  Shuman backed away. “See you around.”

  “Whenever,” I said.

  I left the conference room. The reception desk was empty. I saw only a few employees in their offices as I headed down the hallway.

  When I turned the corner, I spotted Max Corwin coming out of the breakroom. He spotted me and hurried over.

  “Good news for us, Haley,” he said. “With all the problems Dempsey Rowland will have now that this bribery and fraud has come to light, our background investigations will be pushed way back.”

  At one point I’d thought Max might have murdered Violet. Now I knew he hadn’t. But, somehow, the crimes he did commit seemed worse.

  “Tampa Avenue in Northridge,” I said. “Melanie, Misty, Mace, and Miles.”

  Max just stared at me.

  “El Segundo,” I said. “Mandy, Maddie, Micha, and Minnie.”

  He turned white. His eyes got big.

  “Make it right,” I told him.

  Max’s face flushed bright red.

  “Well, Haley ... well, now, I think you’ve got the wrong idea—”

  I was in no mood.

  “Make it right,” I told him again. “Or I will.”

  I walked away. Maybe Max’s personal life was none of my business. Maybe I should have left it alone. But what he was doing wasn’t right, and sooner or later it would blow up in his face. If Max was the only one who would suffer, well, okay. But he wasn’t. And that’s what bugged me about the whole thing.

  Tina and her mysterious trips to Mexico flew into my mind. I’d suspected her in Violet’s death also. I now knew she wasn’t guilty of murder, and maybe she was innocent of other crimes. I figured the border patrol would catch Tina if she was really doing something illegal.

  As I turned the corner and headed toward my office, I saw Adela walking toward me. She looked frazzled, weary, and super stressed out.

  I wished she’d retire before she died on the job.

  “Haley, I’m glad I caught you,” Adela said.

  She spoke in her this-will-be-bad-for-you voice.

  Great.

  “I’ve just come from a meeting with senior management. In view of these new developments and allegations, the future of Dempsey Rowland is in question,” Adela said. “Police officials are hauling away all sorts of documents from Mr. Dempsey’s office. It’s a given that a team of government auditors will be dispatched from Washington, probably by Monday. This will be a far-reaching, in-depth probe, going back decades.”

  A little ray of hope fluttered in my belly. Maybe that meant I wouldn’t have to work corporate events anymore. Maybe they’d want me to work with the government auditors.

  Wow, that would make a great addition to my résumé.

  “We can expect congressional hearings, eventually,” Adela said.

  Cool. Maybe I’d get a free trip to Washington.

  “At the least, there will be substantial fines and penalties,” she said.

  Did that mean my pay would be cut?

  “It’s doubtful the company will survive this,” Adela said.

  I got a weird feeling.

  Adela drew herself up and straightened her shoulders. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Haley, but we’re letting you go.”

  They’re letting me—what?

  “We’re laying off almost the entire staff,” Adela said. “Effective immediately.”

  A couple of seconds passed before her words sank in.

  “But—but I’m the one who solved Violet’s murder,” I said. “I’m the one who exposed Mr. Dempsey’s corruption.”

  “Yes, and thank you so much for that,” Adela said.

  I don’t think she really meant it.

  “Clear out your office tonight,” she said. “Any further dealings with what’s left of the company will be handled by mail.”

  Adela walked away.

  I trudged down the hall and into my office, feeling kind of numb.

  Jack flew into my mind as I glanced at the ceiling panel.

  I forced my gaze onto Ty’s flowers—not that I had a guilty conscience about the time I’d spent here with Jack, or how great I’d thought he looked, or that he’d tried to kiss me. Really. Well, okay, maybe a little.

  But how could I help having those thoughts when he’d looked so hot in that white wifebeater? He’d said that he expected to be paid for his help. He’d said he’d tell me what he wanted, when he wanted it. He’d told me that before, lots of times. Only this time—

  I decided not to think about it anymore. I had bigger things to deal with.

  I took one last look out the window at the Starbucks, gathered my things, and left.

  CHAPTER 27

  Oh my God, what was I going to do now?

  The question had been raging in my head all the way home and still I hadn’t come up with an answer. I’d lost my job—my really cool, mega-salaried, no-time-clock, corporate-credit-card job. How was I going to pay my rent, my bills, my car payment? And, more important, what the heck was I going to do with eight fully accessorized business suits?

  I got out of my Honda and headed up the stairs to my apartment, desperately searching for a silver lining in this pitch-black cloud that hung over me. I still had my job at Holt’s, of course, but that didn’t make me feel all that much better. I had my certificate of completion
from the University of Mixology. Maybe I could get a bartending job.

  I pulled my keys from my purse and opened my front door. At least I was home now. I’d had a totally crappy day. Things couldn’t get any worse.

  I walked inside.

  Things got worse.

  The place was still a wreck. The half-assembled grill stood in the middle of the floor surrounded by power cords, tools, and metal parts. Packing boxes, paper, and bubble wrap from the grill and the new TV were strewn everywhere. Some of the television cables that had been affixed to my walls with duct tape had come lose and hung in long loops. My furniture was still out of place, and two beer bottles—no coasters—sat on my coffee table.

  But none of that was the worst part.

  Ty stood in my living room. His duffle and garment bags were packed and lying on the couch.

  A few minutes passed while we just looked at each other. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. My chest felt heavy, my stomach rolled, my head ached, and my heart hurt so bad I could hardly stand upright.

  Ty didn’t look like he was doing so great either, but he spoke first.

  “I’m sorry, Haley, but I can’t be the kind of boyfriend you deserve,” he said.

  I just stood there.

  “I miss my work,” Ty said. “I can’t spend my days shopping, or sending flowers and thinking up thoughtful things to do.”

  I didn’t need all the things he’d done for me, but I did need more than he’d been able to give when he worked at Holt’s.

  Yet I knew that wasn’t everything.

  I’d seen that smile he gave Dale when they were at lunch, the look on his face when he’d spoken to her, when she spoke to him, when they laughed together over something. It was the same look Shuman gave his girlfriend. The look Ty had never given me.

  And all the flowers, packed lunches, frozen steaks, TVs, tuxedoed singers, and grills couldn’t make our relationship something it wasn’t.

  “I ... I understand,” I said, because, really, I did.

  “This is killing me,” Ty said. “But I think it’s for the best.”

  “So we’re ... done?” I said.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Me too.”

  We came together and hugged. Then Ty stepped back, picked up his duffle and garment bags, and left.