by Lois Winston
“Fine. Anyone asks about you, you’re Secret Service, assigned to protect me because I’m running for president.”
“No one’s gonna believe that. You need to come up with a better explanation.”
“Not my job.”
We stared each other down for a good minute. Finally, Tino said, “Some crazy person’s sending you threatening letters. Trimedia hired me to protect you.”
I wondered how many of my coworkers would believe our tightwad owners would spend a dime to protect any of us, but what did I care if they believed the excuse or not? It was an excuse I could use to explain Tino standing guard outside my cubicle.
I might be paranoid in believing Gruenwald had someone from American Woman spying on me, but Tino’s first loyalty was to his boss. Logic told me the hulking chauffeur/bodyguard was under orders to report back to Gruenwald on my progress at the end of each day, not protect me from anyone. If he discovered I’d blabbed about my agreement with Gruenwald, I’m certain he’d rat me out. I shrugged. “Protect away, big guy.”
~*~
After checking in once again with Daphne, who was more than relieved to see me back on our floor, I settled into my desk chair, pulled the Human Resources files from the envelope, and spread them out in front of me.
I knew all four women: Nita Holzer, Gwendolyn Keene, Catherine Chenko, and Sandy Sechrest. None stood out as the type to associate with Philomena. Just the opposite. These women, all ranging in age from mid-forties through early sixties, struck me as probably never having heard of Philomena before Trimedia handed her a magazine to run.
I pored over the files, reading every single line over and over, trying to figure out what connection one of these women had to Philomena. None had gone to school in Philadelphia, nor listed any previous places of employment within fifty miles of the City of Brotherly Love.
Could one of them be related to Philomena? I studied their ID photos, going so far as to enlarge their faces with a magnifying glass. No matter how much I scrutinized every feature on each face, I found no resemblance between Philomena and any of the women. Not scientific proof by any means but narrowing the suspect list down to someone with the same eyes or nose would have made my day.
I really needed to brainstorm with Cloris, but with Tino standing sentry outside my cubicle, he’d overhear every word, whether we talked in her cubicle or mine. The only place we were assured privacy was the ladies’ room. I grabbed my phone and shot her a quick text: U need 2 powder ur nose.
“Just going to the ladies’ room,” I told Tino as I darted from my cubicle down the hall. Since he had a clear view down the corridor and would be able to watch me enter, he had no reason to follow. Which he didn’t.
“Was the shine that bad?” asked Cloris when she entered the ladies’ room a few seconds later, “Or are you dodging your Secret Service escort?”
“Tino means well, but I’m getting claustrophobic the way he shadows me like a puppy.”
“He’s keeping you safe.”
“The question, though, is from whom?” I quickly caught her up on what I’d learned so far. “If we stay in here too long, Tino will get suspicious.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“See what you can dig up on the four women who work in Human Resources. Ask Kim what she knows. She’s always the best source for company gossip, given her daily forays into the corporate realm.”
Naomi hated dealing with the suits upstairs. Whenever possible, she sent Kim to run interference, and Kim had become good friends with several of the secretaries on the fourth floor. If anyone knew anything about the four Human Resources women, Kim would scoop up all the dirt without drawing suspicion.
“I’ll probably have to tell her why.”
I shrugged. “I’m not worried about Kim. Gossip only travels one way with her—from corporate to us. She’s totally loyal to Naomi and the rest of us.”
“So you don’t mind if I tell her what’s going on?”
“Gruenwald demanded I swear not to tell anyone, but I never agreed.” Even if he was under the impression that I had. “Besides,” I continued, “he’s only interested in one thing: making sure neither he nor Mrs. Gruenwald is implicated in Philomena’s murder.”
“We can probably rule out Frau Holzer,” said Cloris.
“I’m inclined to agree with you.” Nita Holzer, dubbed the Human Resources Attendance Nazi, sat in a first floor office that gave her an unobstructed view of the building’s entrance. Every morning she monitored the door, taking extreme pleasure in writing up employees who arrived so much as a minute late for work. I’d personally racked up enough demerits that my file bulged with little yellow slips of paper. Although, I suspected no one paid attention to those demerits besides the Attendance Nazi herself.
We also suspected Nita spent much of her day monitoring the Trimedia employee computers. Nothing would give her more pleasure than catching someone playing Angry Birds, watching YouTube videos, or shopping online on company time. Any personal activity on Trimedia computers was grounds for immediate dismissal.
“Then again,” said Cloris, “isn’t the person you least expect of doing something often the culprit?”
“True, but The Queen of Bling hooking up with the Queen of Mean to commit fraud?”
“It is hard to conceive of a connection between the two of them.”
That’s when something occurred to me. “Unless there is no connection. Not with Nita and Philomena and not with any of the other three women and Philomena.”
“Then how—?”
“What if all those bogus employees are also bogus people? Maybe instead of padding the payroll with no-show jobs, the culprit stole the identities of dead people.”
“So the entire scam was set up by someone without Philomena’s knowledge or participation?”
“It’s possible.”
“And gave them all a Philadelphia connection to throw suspicion on Philomena in case someone discovered what was going on.”
“Exactly,” I said. “The scam might be someone in Human Resources embezzling Trimedia funds, not Philomena padding the magazine’s payroll to benefit her gangsta friends.”
“And if Philomena somehow found out about the embezzling, that may have gotten her killed.”
“Unless the two crimes have no connection.”
We’d already stayed long enough in the ladies’ room that Tino might push the door open at any moment to check on me. “Tomorrow is payday. We need to find a way to see who picks up those checks.”
“How are we going to do that? You and I can’t scope out the post office all day.”
“We don’t need to. If someone in Human Resources is stealing the money, she’ll pick up the checks during her lunch break.”
“What if she sees you?” asked Cloris. “She’ll figure out you’re on to her.”
“I’ll send Tino.”
“He’s not suppose to leave your side.”
“I know, but I’m going to have to find some way to convince him to spend a few hours engaging in Human Resources surveillance, rather than shadowing me.”
I waited more than an hour after returning from the ladies’ room before I broached the subject with Tino. I didn’t want him to suspect Cloris and me of plotting instead of peeing.
“Not going to happen,” he said. “I’m supposed to keep an eye on you to keep you safe. What if you’re wrong, and the killer strikes again while I’m gone?”
I played to his logical ex-Marine brain. “Since I have no idea who killed Philomena, the killer can’t be worried that I’m getting close to fingering him. Besides, no one other than you, me, Marie, and Mr. Gruenwald even knows that I’m investigating Philomena’s death.”
Okay, so I lied, but I could trust the two other people who knew. Neither Cloris nor Zack killed Philomena. “I’m not in any danger,” I continued, “especially if I stay at my desk. Besides, it’s only a couple of hours, depending on when the thief takes her lunch break.”
> “What if I tail the wrong person?”
“You won’t. Go to the post office before any of them leaves for lunch. See which one shows up to empty the box.”
He mulled my plea over for a minute. “You promise you won’t go anywhere?”
“Office, break room, and ladies’ room. That’s it. I won’t even leave the floor.”
Tino scowled. “Mr. G. will have my head if he finds out. I could lose my job.”
“He won’t find out.” I held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
Finally, he caved. “Okay, your theory makes sense, and someone needs to see who picks up those checks.”
“So you’ll do it?”
He heaved a huge sigh. “I’ll do it, but you better not get yourself killed while I’m gone.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
TWELVE
The next morning I arrived at work to find my Hyundai gone and Tino once again waiting for me in the parking lot. I found Gruenwald’s insistence of a bodyguard shadowing me only at work quite absurd. If someone wanted me dead, he could strike at any time—at my home, on my way to and from work, while I walked the supermarket aisles. Not to mention the killer would have to be dumb as dirt to strike again at the same place he dumped Philomena’s body. All of this added to my conviction that Tino’s main responsibility involved keeping tabs on me for Gruenwald, not protecting me from a killer.
~*~
Once Tino left for the post office later that morning, I called Kim. “Got anything?”
“Let’s meet in the conference room,” she said. “We’ll have more privacy. Bring coffee.”
Before heading for the break room to grab coffees for the two of us, I stuck my head into Cloris’s cubicle. “Conference room. BYOC.”
Bakery box and coffee in hand, Cloris entered the conference room shortly after I arrived.
“Tell me those aren’t vegan,” I said, pointing to the bakery box.
“Not vegan.” Cloris raised the flap to reveal half a dozen mini cupcakes. “These are adult-only cupcakes made with different flavors of liqueur.” After she closed the door, the three of us settled into chairs around the table and each grabbed a couple of cupcakes.
“What did you find out?” asked Cloris.
“Quite a bit,” said Kim. “Only I couldn’t take notes because it would have looked odd.”
Cloris raised an eyebrow. “You think?”
Kim laughed. “Anyway, bear with me while I try to remember everything.”
She polished off a cupcake, took a swig of coffee, then said, “First, our favorite Human Resources employee, the Attendance Nazi. No one likes Nita, but I’m sure that’s not news to either of you.”
“Does she have motive to embezzle nearly three-quarters of a million dollars?” I asked.
“Three quarters of a million and counting,” added Cloris. “The longer this scam plays out, the more money she collects.”
“Except with Philomena dead, Bling!’s days are now numbered,” I reminded her. “No Bling!, no payroll. No payroll, no payroll padding.”
“Which makes you wonder why the embezzler would kill Philomena,” said Kim. “She’d lose her ill-gotten revenue stream.”
“Unless Philomena’s death was an accident. What if the killer didn’t mean to kill her?”
“The way she was beaten to a pulp?” asked Cloris. “You said so yourself: that’s a crime of passion, not an accident.”
“Perhaps Philomena’s death was an accident, but the killer panicked and beat the body afterwards to make the death appear personal in nature.”
“Thus, misdirecting the investigation,” said Cloris.
“Anyway,” said Kim, bringing the conversation back to Nita Holzer, “Turns out Nita and her husband bought themselves a McMansion at the height of the real estate boom.”
“I’m guessing that her house is now worth a lot less than what she paid for it,” I said.
“No need to guess,” said Kim.
“Someone upstairs told you this?” I asked. “The Nita I know would never admit that to one of her co-workers.”
“She didn’t.”
“Then how did you find out?” asked Cloris.
“She bragged about the house when they bought it, showing off pictures to anyone she could corner, not only at the time of the sale but for quite some time afterwards. Then the bragging suddenly stopped. I put two and two together and typed her address into Zillow.”
“Sneaky,” said Cloris. “You better hope she wasn’t monitoring your computer.”
Kim held up her iPhone. “I didn’t take any chances.”
“Is the bank foreclosing?” I asked. If Nita were at risk of losing her home, that would give her incentive to skim money from Trimedia.
“The house had been listed for sale but was taken off the market.”
“When?” I asked.
“About six months ago, shortly after the inception of Bling!”
“Rather coincidental,” said Cloris. “Sounds like she’s our suspect, at least for the embezzlement if not the murder.”
“Not necessarily,” said Kim. “Wait until you hear what else I discovered.”
“You found dirt on someone else?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t call it dirt but definitely financial motive to pad the payroll.”
“Who?” I asked.
“All three.”
“Dish!” said Cloris.
Kim ate her remaining cupcake before she continued. “Wow, these are good! I thought the amaretto was fabulous, but this Mojito flavored cupcake is even better.”
She washed down the cupcake with more coffee, then continued. “Two of the other women are dealing with major family medical issues. Catherine Chenko’s husband suffers from Alzheimer’s, and he’s at the point where she needs to put him in a nursing home.”
“That’s rough,” said Cloris. “And expensive.”
“A husband with Alzheimer’s doesn’t excuse stealing,” I said. “What about the others?”
“Gwendolyn Keene’s son has cancer,” said Kim.
As much as I felt sorry for both women, family health issues didn’t give them a pass to commit fraud. “What about Sandy Sechrest?”
“Her husband lost his job over a year ago and hasn’t found a new one yet. They’ve got a kid in college and one graduating high school next year.”
“Any one of these women could have masterminded the payroll plot,” said Cloris.
“I just don’t see any of them viscously beating Philomena and dumping her body in the models case,” I said.
“Unless one of them had help,” said Kim. “Or maybe all four were in on it. They all need money. The four of them together could have killed Philomena and dumped her body.”
“You’re forgetting the missing security cameras,” I said. “Do you honestly see any of these women rappelling off the roof and down the side of the building to disconnect and steal those cameras?”
“I can,” said Kim. “Holzer has a photo on her desk of her and her husband mountain biking in the Rockies. Maybe she also rock climbs.”
“She’s brawny enough,” said Cloris.
“What are you going to do now?” asked Kim.
“Wait to see who picks up the checks today,” I said.
“And then?” asked Cloris.
“Place a call to Detective Batswin.” I’d had my fill of tangling with killers.
~*~
Tino arrived back at my cubicle two hours later. “None of those women showed up at the post office,” he said.
I glanced at my watch. “It’s only two-thirty. Someone might take a late lunch. You should have stayed.”
“No need. Some guy emptied the box a few minutes ago.”
“An accomplice?” Perhaps Nita’s husband? “Did he look familiar?”
“Not to me.”
“I don’t suppose you snapped a picture with your phone.”
“I tried, but given where I parked, I couldn’t get a clear
shot.”
“If you were in your car, how do you know he emptied the box?”
“High powered binoculars. When I arrived, I first checked the location of the box. I realized if I hung around in the post office lobby for too long, some employee would get suspicious. So I parked at an angle that gave me a sight line of the box just in case someone other than any of those women picked up the checks.”
“Brilliant.” Why didn’t I think of that possibility? Maybe because I’m not an ex-Marine. “Did you get the guy’s license plate?”
“MAN-TOY.”
“You’re kidding!”
“On a late model black Escalade. Shouldn’t be hard for the cops to track down.”
With all the money she’d embezzled, Nita could afford to pay off her mortgage and buy a luxury SUV. I picked up my phone. “I think it’s time to give Detective Batswin a call.”
She answered on the first ring. “Staying out of trouble, Mrs. Pollack?”
Damn, sometimes I really hated Caller ID. “Trying my best, detective.”
“Why do I sense a but coming on?”
“I’ve uncovered information about Philomena’s death.”
“Didn’t I tell you to leave the investigating to the professionals?”
“Have the professionals discovered embezzlement linked to the victim?”
“Embezzlement?”
“Nearly three-quarters of a million dollars so far and counting.”
Batswin sputtered, letting loose a barrage of quite colorful expletives, then asked, “Where are you?”
“In my cubicle.”
“Don’t leave. I’m on my way.”
~*~
Less than ten minutes later both Batswin and Robbins arrived, apparently breaking all local speed laws along the way. Neither showed any sign of surprise upon finding Tino filling up a good percentage of my cubicle floor space, but emotion rarely registered on the faces of those two. They definitely aced Blank Stare 101 at the police academy.
“Let’s go somewhere private to talk.” I grabbed the personnel files and led the way to the conference room.
