by Judy Clemens
“You do what you have to do,” she said.
Eric cast her a curious glance, but didn’t pry.
“You brought Ellen here,” she said. “To get pizzas.”
“Yes. Why?”
She told him what the manager had said.
Eric frowned. “So she really did think… Why didn’t she tell me the details? What was she waiting for?”
“Maybe she only thought she had things figured out, and was waiting for confirmation.”
“But what could it have been?” His voice was strained.
“Something with HomeMaker. It had to be.”
Eric clenched his jaw. “If something was going on, there’s at least one person who should know.”
“But will he tell you?”
He gripped the wheel, his knuckles white. “I’m not going to give him a choice.”
“Okay. Good. When are you going to ask him?”
He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “If we get these pizzas in the refrigerator fast, we’ll have about an hour before dinner set up.”
“I can stay and get things started. That way you won’t have to hurry back.”
He gave her a startled look.
“What?”
“You won’t come with me?”
“To talk to your father? Why?”
He shuddered. “He just…if I go by myself he’ll shut me out. Or say he’s too busy. Or something.”
“But if I’m there he won’t talk. He doesn’t know me. He certainly wouldn’t remember seeing me in the drugstore.”
“You saw him?”
“Briefly.”
They traveled in silence for several minutes, and soon they were in town, parking behind Home Sweet Home.
“Please?” Eric said.
Casey closed her eyes and pushed her hair back from her face, holding her head in her hands. She let them drop. “All right.”
Together they crammed the pizzas into the refrigerator. Eric scrawled a quick note to Loretta, telling her to only use the number of pizzas necessary for one night, and that they would be back as soon as they could. He taped it to the front of the fridge.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go face the big, bad wolf.”
“Grrr,” Casey said.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The inside of HomeMaker wasn’t what Casey expected. Instead of a loud, chaotic atmosphere, smelling of chemicals and metal, what she and Eric walked into felt like the heart of an expensive hotel. Thick carpet, soft furniture, and what looked like original artwork on the ivory-painted walls. The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with gray hair curling gently around her face, sat behind a heavy wooden desk, wearing a headset. The name tent on the desk said, “Gloria.”
Her face lit up when Eric walked in. “Mr. Eric! So good to see you. What brings you here today?” As she spoke she rifled through her appointment calendar. “I don’t see you down for anything. Was someone to meet you in your office?”
His office?
Eric’s face reddened, and he avoided Casey’s eyes. “No, I was…is Mr. Willems in?”
Not his father, Casey noticed. But Mr. Willems.
The woman checked her phone console. “He’s on a call right now, but he should be off soon, and he doesn’t have anything else until the end of the day. I’ll let his assistant know you’re here. Should I also introduce your friend?” She looked meaningfully at Casey.
“Oh, um, this is Casey Smith. She’s working with me at Home Sweet Home, and she’s in the play.”
“The play!” Gloria clasped her hands to her chest. “And how are rehearsals going?”
“Pretty well. We’ve had to…adjust.”
Her face fell, and her mouth worked, as if wishing she could take back the question.
“Casey here is…filling in,” Eric said. “She’s an amazing actress.”
“That’s wonderful,” Gloria said, offering Casey a wry smile. “I’m glad you could help out.”
“Me, too,” Casey said. Although she wasn’t sure it was actually true.
“Oh!” Gloria said. “The light’s off. One moment.” She pushed a few buttons and talked quietly into her headset before turning to them. “You can go right on back, Mr. Eric. Nice to meet you, Ms. Smith.”
Eric led Casey to a large door beside the desk. “You want to go first, or shall I?”
“Oh,” Casey said. “Definitely you.”
He gave a small laugh, but Casey knew he wasn’t actually amused.
“Eric,” she said quietly, as they went through the door. “You have an office here?”
“I told you. There was a time he thought I’d be interested…”
He led her into another room, this one with several desks, only two of them filled. Casey couldn’t help but wonder which had been Ellen’s.
The women at the desks looked up, each brightening at the sight of Eric, their eyes flicking briefly—and curiously—toward Casey.
“Hello, Yvonne. Kathy. How are you?”
Both said hello, they were fine.
“So, we’re here to see my… Mr. Willems. We were told to come on back.”
The women’s demeanors changed at the mention of their boss, and they became suddenly more businesslike. Yvonne, the one closest to the door with Willems’ name, stood up. “Yes, that’s right…” She walked quickly to Willems’ door, her shoes quiet on the carpet. She knocked lightly, and at his summons slipped into the office, holding the door closed loosely against her back. She came back out, her face a mask of professionalism. “He’s ready for you.”
“Thank you.” Eric touched her shoulder lightly as he passed.
Casey pinched her lips together in a smile at the woman, but it wasn’t returned.
Karl Willems was waiting for them in a high-backed office chair, elbows on the chair’s arms, his fingers together. He watched as they walked across the expanse of office—at least fifteen steps just to reach the chairs in front of his desk—and pursed his lips as Eric pointed Casey to one seat, and sat himself in another. The desk was empty, save for pens and a metal letter opener in a wooden holder, one notebook, and a large crystal paperweight, with a butterfly forever doomed to display itself in death at the center of the cube.
“So.” Willems looked hard at Eric, and even harder at Casey. “What brings you here?”
Eric swallowed audibly, and Casey leaned forward, offering moral support. He didn’t look at her. “We’ve got some questions.”
“All right, but first aren’t you going to introduce your associate?”
Not friend. Associate.
“Oh, sure. This is Casey Smith. She works with me at Home Sweet Home.”
“Ah, I see.” His eyes narrowed as he turned to Casey. “Do you come from one of those large mission conglomerates? Go around the country to make sure the charities are functioning properly?”
Casey blinked. “No. No, I have nothing to do with that.”
“Then…?” He spread his hands. “You’re not one of the townspeople. I do know that.”
“I’m—”
“She just moved here, Karl.” Eric’s face had turned hard. “She’s not from anywhere.”
Willems’ lips twitched. “Really? Just dropped out of the sky?”
Eric shook his head briefly. “We’re not here to discuss her, Karl. We’re here to discuss—”
“Yes, what exactly are you here to discuss?”
He hadn’t moved from his seat, but watched his son over the tips of his fingers, his eyes flashing. From amusement or anger, Casey wasn’t sure.
“Last week,” Eric said. “Before Ellen….died…she told me that things weren’t as bad as they seemed. That everyone would soon have a job again.”
Something flickered in Willems’ eyes, but it was gone before Casey could determine what it meant.
“And you thought she meant here at HomeMaker?” Willems’ voice was even. Smooth. Cool.
“Where else would she mean? It’s not like any other big companies h
ave moved in.”
“No, they haven’t. HomeMaker is all there is. It’s too bad the union didn’t remember that when they were making their demands.”
Eric gripped the arms of his chair. “So what did she mean, Karl? How was HomeMaker going to give all of the jobs back?”
Willems regarded him for a few moments before leaning forward, placing his elbows and forearms flat on the desk. “You said yourself she didn’t actually say it was HomeMaker she was talking about.”
“No, but—”
“I can assure you, son, that things here have not changed. The books don’t look any better, and the negotiations are over. The union lost.”
“So no jobs are coming back?”
“And those still employed,” Karl held out a hand, as if indicating the workers in his domain, “will soon be looking elsewhere. The girls in the front office, the assembly line, the drivers…all gone. We’ll probably need to retain a few of the security guards to keep an eye on the building until we know what to do with it, but other than that…” He held his hands out again, in a gesture of helplessness.
“Ellen never talked to you?” Eric’s voice was strained.
Willems smiled briefly. “Not about bringing back the jobs. At least, not within the past month.”
“But she wouldn’t—”
“Lie? Make you hopeful for something that’s not going to happen? Take her own life?” He smiled sadly. “I would’ve hoped the answer to all of those things was ‘no.’ But it wasn’t to be.”
Casey’s muscles tensed, and she fought back the words coming up her throat. How long would it take for her to round the desk—or simply jump over it—and punch that smirk off the man’s face? Or simply pummel him with his own paperweight?
Death appeared suddenly behind Willems’ chair, hands clutching the handle of a large scythe, the kind pictured in so many images of the Grim Reaper. The scythe was raised, poised to slash down, to take the life of Eric’s father. Casey froze, her thoughts returning suddenly to the room, and the conversation.
“So is that all? “ Willems said, not knowing how his life hung in the balance. “You came here with the empty words of a woman who knew nothing of the inner workings of this business.” He indicated Casey with a tilt of his head. “And with another woman so new to this town I’ve never seen her before?”
Casey swallowed, trying to ignore the tableau before her. “But you have seen me.”
Willems pulled his head back, as if surprised she could actually speak. “No. I haven’t.”
“Oh, yes,” Casey said. “At the pharmacy the other day. You were picking up a prescription. One you pick up frequently. But you chose not to purchase a Hershey Bar with Almonds, even though it’s your favorite. That’s too bad. You never know when a chance for something sweet will be your last.”
Death looked hopeful, raising the scythe a little higher, as if to strike.
Eric sat as still as his father, both men looking at Casey as if she’d actually attacked the man the way she’d wanted to.
She stood. “Come on, Eric. He’s obviously not going to tell you anything. This is a waste of time.”
Willems stayed seated, his eyes flashing. “Who are you?”
Casey’s eyes flicked to Death, whose disappointment was evident.
“I am no one,” she said. “But the people of this town…they are the ones that must be reckoned with. The ones whose faces you should see each night, the ones whose names should roll off your tongue, with sorrow that their lives have taken such a turn. And those who have died? It would be better if you wouldn’t claim to know what they knew. The dead have a way of speaking the truth.”
Narrowing her eyes, and giving Death a nod, Casey spun on her heel, and left.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“My God,” Eric said, seeming to mean the words as the prayer they were. “What was that?”
They were in his office, where he had pulled her after their exit from his father’s presence. He’d shoved her onto a small couch, where she now sat shaking, her hands clutched together in her lap.
“I’m not sure. But aaah…” She shook her head once, hard. “He was so…so…”
“Infuriating? Pompous? Disgusting?”
Casey let out a short laugh, and Eric relaxed, sitting beside her and running a hand through his hair. “Wow, were you scary. It was like you were somewhere else for a minute. Or you’d been possessed by something. Shakespeare, maybe.” He smiled stiffly.
Casey couldn’t smile back, remembering the image of Death standing over Eric’s father, waiting for Casey to lose control… She had a hard time looking at Eric, his eyes concerned and full of trust. “I sort of was. But I’m back now.” She stood up and walked to the window, looking out. “There’s something.”
Eric came to stand beside her, joining her at the window. “What?”
“No, not out there. In here.” She turned, indicating the room, the building. “He’s hiding something.”
Eric snorted. “He’s always hiding something.”
“Something about what Ellen said. I think she was telling you the truth.”
“Of course she—”
“I don’t mean she wasn’t lying. I never thought that. I mean she was right. There was something that could’ve gotten these people their jobs back.”
Eric tensed. “You really think so?”
Casey remembered that flicker in Willems’ eyes, that split-second sign that there was a secret. “Yes.”
Eric’s face hardened. “Then we have to find out what it is. And we have to find out before…”
“Before it’s too late and this place is closed down for good.”
He nodded.
Casey looked at his desk. “What’s on your computer?”
“The usual. Production details. Payroll. Employee records.”
“Do you have access to everything?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Find out.”
He seated himself at his desk and turned on the computer. “I haven’t used this in weeks.”
Casey paced the office. “Ellen’s desk.”
He glanced up, his computer making the beeping and humming noises of booting up. “What about it?”
“Has it been cleaned out?”
“I’m sure it has. She left here months ago.” He looked toward the door. “But we can check.”
“I wouldn’t know what to look for on there,” Casey said, indicating Eric’s monitor. “I’ll go through Ellen’s desk. If that’s okay.”
Eric’s face had gone a bit gray with the past hour’s events, but he stood and went to the door. “I’ll need to tell Yvonne and Kathy. They won’t like it, probably, but if I ask they won’t make a fuss.”
Casey followed him out to the office, where he explained to the two women that Casey would be searching Ellen’s desk. He glanced nervously toward his father’s door. “What are his plans the rest of the day?”
Yvonne didn’t even have to look. “Nothing. I mean, he has no appointments. He could leave any time. If he sees…” The worry was easy to read on her face. She wanted to keep this job. Even if it was only for three more months.
Eric turned to Casey. “Maybe we’d better wait. Come back later.”
She considered it. “But if there’s anything there…”
“He’s not going to do anything with Yvonne and Kathy sitting out here.”
“And if he waits until they leave?”
Eric exhaled loudly, running a hand over his face. “If he comes out here he’s going to be angry.”
“He’s already angry.”
The two women were looking at them, fear apparent on their faces. Eric spoke to them gently. “She needs to look. It won’t take long.”
Yvonne grabbed a stack of papers. “I have things for him to go over and sign. I can keep him busy for about five minutes. Six or seven, maybe, at the most.”
That would have to be enough.
Casey motioned Eric back to his
office and stayed out of Willems’ sightline as Yvonne knocked, opened the door, and entered, closing the door with a soft click. Kathy pointed out Ellen’s desk and Casey raced to it, immediately turning on the computer. While it booted up she opened the drawers, beginning with the top middle and moving methodically down each side.
There was nothing there. No folders, no memos, not even a stray Post-It note. Quietly she slid each drawer out of its slot, looking under and over it, feeling into the space. Nothing.
She turned to the computer, searching for anything remotely personal. Again, nothing. The hard drive had been wiped clean of everything but boilerplate forms, the word processor, and the company logo. She glanced at the clock. Five minutes had already elapsed. The doorknob to Willems’ office turned, and she ducked behind the desk.
“He’ll be busy a few more minutes,” Yvonne said quietly, once the door was closed. “That’s all I can promise.”
Casey sprang back into the seat and went to the search engine’s history. Cleared. The bookmark column—empty.
Growling under her breath she flicked the computer off, slid the chair in place, and went to Eric’s office door. “Thank you,” she mouthed to the women.
They acknowledged her gratitude with obvious relief.
Eric looked up as she entered his office and closed the door behind her. “Anything?”
“Zip.”
His shoulders sagged. “Nothing here, either. At least, that I know of. This stuff isn’t exactly… I mean, I’m an actor.”
Casey swiveled, leaning her hip on the desk. “It’s too much to ask for it to be that easy. Is there any point in your looking further?”
Eric rested his elbows on his desk, his fingers twisting his hair until he looked like a mad scientist. He flicked a thumb toward the two secretaries. “If they knew something that would save their jobs they would have told somebody. Right?”
Casey rubbed her eyes with one hand, the other hand keeping her balanced on the desk. “Probably.”
Eric sat back, checking his watch. “We need to go. Loretta and Johnny will be waiting.” He stood up and pushed in his chair. “There’s nothing here.” His hands gripped the back of his chair. “Nothing but the livelihoods of hundreds of people in this town.”
