Minfreda grabbed the carpet roll and dragged it to the construction chute, rejoicing that the opening was close to the floor. She was about to drop Vicki headfirst down the chute when she saw a pink heel on the floor. Minfreda put it on the dead blonde. Vicki's foot was still warm, and she had pale pink polish on her toes. They looked small and sad.
Minfreda shivered a little. But then she remembered what Vicki had done to her. She straightened her shoulders and walked resolutely back to Vicki's office. KILLER BLONDE 141
As she stood in the doorway, she could feel the rage she'd set loose in the room. But Minfreda had work to do. Fragments of the shattered coffee mug had flown every- where. She even found one chunk on Vicki's filing cabinet. She brushed broken bits off the desk, then crawled along the pink shag carpet looking for pieces buried in the thick looped pile.
She threw the shards in the rolled-up carpet. She was about to send the dead blonde down to the Dumpster when she panicked and remembered something important. The plans! Vicki's plans for her corner office were still on her desk. Minfreda shoved them into the rolled-up carpet.
Now, at last, she slid the bundled body down the chute. The carpet made a good solid landing, and stayed rolled up. No pink-painted fingernails showed, no pink shoes peeked out. There were no telltale hanks of blond hair.
But Minfreda took no chances. She threw plywood scraps, broken plaster, torn-out molding, and discarded ceil- ing tiles down the chute until Vicki was covered by a foot- thick pile of construction debris.
``Sorry I won't be in tomorrow, but I'm feeling just a little bit under,'' Minfreda said, and fought the urge to gig- gle again. If she started laughing, she wouldn't stop. She wanted to run through the building yelling, ``Ding-dong, the witch is dead.''
When Minfreda went back to Vicki's office, the atmo- sphere seemed less poisonous. She pulled Vicki's desk back in place, straightened her desktop, and righted the vase with the pink rose. She even refilled its spilled water. She vacuumed Vicki's rug. The office cleaning crew could be haphazard. She also vacuumed the hall and the path she took through the department, making sure there were no traces of the fight or the body removal.
When she finished, Minfreda's hands were grimy. She caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She was a mess. Her suit was torn under one armpit and streaked with dirt and grayish-white plaster dust. She had runs in both stockings. Her golden hair straggled down her back, and her makeup was smeared.
Minfreda washed and repaired her face and combed her silky blond hair. She threw away her laddered stockings, figuring bare legs would be less noticeable. She shook the 142 Elaine Viets dust off her clothes. She couldn't do much about her torn suit, but she had a plan to disguise it.
Now she had to write a farewell letter. Minfreda rum- maged in the janitor's closet until she found a pair of yellow rubber gloves. They made her hands feel thick and clumsy. Good, she thought. She would type more like Vicki that way.
Minfreda pulled out a sheet of Vicki's pink personal sta- tionery with her name on the top. She sat down at Vicki's typewriter and wrote:
Business is no longer relevant to my life.
I want to live! I want to love! I want to follow my heart! Call me wild, call me crazy, but call me gone. Please don't try to follow me. I want to be free.
Before I go, I'd like to set one thing straight. Minfreda should have had my promotion. I stole her ideas. I put my name on the report she prepared for Mr. Hammonds. Her original carbons on my desk are the proof. I was co-opted by the Establishment.
By resigning today I will lose my job, but regain my soul. Try not to judge me. I am leaving to be a new woman and a better one.
Good-bye and good luck.
Minfreda typed one last word at the end: Vicki. She wasn't going to attempt her late boss's signature. It was too flowery.
Minfreda bent her golden head, rereading and admiring her work. All those me s and Is. That refusal to accept any responsibility. It was so Vicki. It was so brilliant.
Minfreda typed one more letter and put it in a pink enve- lope. She took that one with her. She didn't want it found right away.
She checked her watch. It was eight thirty. The cleaning crew arrived at nine. She had to leave now, but her work wasn't done yet. She knew Vicki rented a small house off U.S. 1. Minfreda looked up the address in the company directory.
Minfreda found Vicki's purse and keys. She put on Vicki's pink coat, plus the head scarf and gloves she found in the pocket. She was glad it was a chilly night. KILLER BLONDE 143
The security guard at the lobby door said, ``Good night, Miss Vicki.''
Minfreda said nothing, which was typical Vicki. Her late boss didn't waste words on the hired help.
She drove Vicki's 1968 pink Mustang convertible. Min- freda longed to put the top down and feel the wind in her hair, but she didn't dare. She didn't want anyone looking at her too closely.
Vicki's home was in a subdivision with square houses on square blocks. It was pink, of course. Minfreda let herself in with Vicki's keys.
Inside, the place was a pulsating pink. The living room was pink and black, a sleek modern design that Minfreda liked. She thought it looked sophisticated.
The bathroom was pink, right down to the pom-pom poodle cover on the toilet paper.
The bedroom was a mad welter of pink ruffles--on the bedspread, the lamp shades, and the curtains. It was like walking into a live peony. All that throbbing color left Min- freda queasy, but the only thing she could find to soothe her stomach was Pepto-Bismol.
Minfreda kept on Vicki's pink gloves while she packed her boss's clothes, shoes, and makeup in three pink suit- cases. She also took Vicki's checkbook and savings account passbook, plus three hundred in cash she found in Vicki's lingerie drawer when she packed up her clothes. She cut up the credit cards and left them on the kitchen table, along with the note she'd typed at the office. It was addressed to Vicki's sister.
Dear Val, it said. It's time you had a little fun. I won't be needing my Mustang convertible where I'm going.
That was certainly true. But Minfreda hoped Val be- lieved her sister had taken off for Tahiti or Timbuktu. She also hoped that if Val got the Mustang, she wouldn't look too hard for Vicki.
The keys are on the kitchen table, the letter said. My rent is paid through the end of the month, and there's a first and last months' security deposit to cover any other expenses. Please give anything you don't want in the house to Goodwill.
Minfreda took an empty shopping bag, then locked up Vicki's house. 144 Elaine Viets
Fort Lauderdale has miles of canals. Minfreda drove to a deep-water canal and dropped the heavy suitcases off a bridge. She stood on the bridge, waiting to see if the lug- gage burst open and the clothes floated to the top. Her luck held, and so did the suitcases. They sank like concrete.
Minfreda neatly folded the pink coat, gloves, and scarf into the shopping bag and took a bus back to the office. It was midnight when she got to the company parking lot and slipped into her own car.
At eight the next morning, Minfreda put on the pink coat, scarf, and gloves one last time. She stopped at the bank and withdrew all Vicki's money. Minfreda planned to use the money to maintain her blond hair. She would never be called Mouse again.
She dropped the pink coat, scarf, and gloves in an apart- ment Dumpster on the way to work. Minfreda tucked the pink bundle under an old carpet, which gave her a sense of completion.
Minfreda was at the office at nine A.M., looking refreshed and rested.
And why not? She'd gotten away with murder. Chapter 9
Suddenly, there was silence.
Helen realized it was not 1970. She was back in the pres- ent, sitting by the pool at the Coronado. Her wineglass was empty. Margery's cigarette glowed in the darkness, like an alien eye.
``That's it?'' Helen said. ``How did you know Vicki was dead? Or that Minfreda killed her? Did Minfreda confess?''
``Oh, no,'' Margery said, refilling the glasses. ``She ne
ver said a word.''
Helen felt woozy from the wine, and oddly cheated.
Margery seemed to read her mood. ``This blonde got away with murder, remember? People who get away with crimes don't go around bragging that they killed someone.''
Right, Helen thought. I've been on the run for more than two years, and I haven't exactly announced it to the world. Even Margery doesn't know. Then Helen thought about the afternoon she'd caught her husband with their neigh- bor, Sandy, and how she'd picked up a crowbar and smashed her world. And I'd do it again.
Helen shrugged. ``Makes sense that Minfreda wouldn't talk,'' she said. ``But how did you figure it out? Did you see her hit Vicki''
``No, I missed the dramatic moment.'' Margery stopped then, and her silence was louder than anything she'd said. Helen saw the slow burn of her cigarette. She wished she could see Margery's face.
``I put it together from the evidence I found,'' her land- lady said. ``First, there was the resignation letter in Vicki's typewriter. I saw it when I got to the office the next morn-
145 146 Elaine Viets ing. I knew there was something off about it. Vicki was a terrible typist.
``Minfreda, on the other hand, was excellent. She'd tried to type in a clumsy manner, but the letter looked like a good typist trying to be a bad one. She had a steadiness to her touch that bad typists don't have. The letter had to be Minfreda's work.
``I also found a shard of the WORLD'S BEST BOSS coffee cup under Vicki's desk. I picked it up and put it in my pocket. Minfreda saw me do it, but said nothing.
``Plus my plastic typewriter cover was missing. And there was a dime-sized spot of blood on Vicki's desk. I wiped it up.''
Helen was shocked. ``You removed evidence of a murder.''
``She could have had a nosebleed.'' Margery blew smoke, which Helen thought was appropriate.
``The ripped-up carpet and the old curtains were in the back hall when I left work that night. The next morning I got there before the construction crew came on, but the curtains and a huge pile of debris were gone. The janitor didn't throw things down that chute. It wasn't his job.''
``No one reported that the trash was gone?'' Helen said.
Margery gave one of her Seabiscuit snots. ``You can't steal trash. Dumping debris is hot, sweaty work. Who's going to complain because someone did his work for him?
``I talked to the night guard, Sam, and got some interest- ing information. Sam told me that Vicki left about twenty to nine, before the cleaners arrived. Sam was a fat old guy, who slept at his desk most nights, but he kept an eye on the pretty women.
`` `Queen Vicki was her usual snobby self,' he said. `Didn't bother saying good-night to me. I'm not important enough to notice--but she expects me to put my ass on the line for her if she's attacked.'
`` `That's Vicki all over,' I said. `But she sure likes to get noticed. Did you see those weird earrings she was wearing?'
`` `Can't say I did,' Sam said. `Her face was hidden by that big pink scarf, like she was Julie Christie avoiding her adoring fans.' ''
Helen was confused. ``What earrings?'' she said.
``I made them up,'' Margery said. ``I wanted to see if KILLER BLONDE 147 Sam had really noticed her face. When he said that, I knew he didn't see Vicki leave. He saw her pink coat and scarf walked out the door.''
``That doesn't prove anything,'' Helen said.''
``There's more,'' Margery said. ``Sam told me Minfreda came back for her car at midnight, like it was big gossip. He couldn't wait to tell me that part. `That nifty little black suit was half-torn off her, too,' he said. He'd thought she'd had a hot date, the old lecher.''
``Date? That sounds like date rape,'' Helen said.
``You're looking at it thirty years later,'' Margery said. ``Anyway, I knew for a fact Minfreda wasn't seeing anyone. That young woman was married to her job at the time. She tore her suit hauling Vicki's body.''
``That sounds reasonable. Maybe,'' Helen said. ``But how did you know some of that stuff, like that bit about the dropped pink high heel and Vicki's warm foot?'' Helen said.
``Oh, I made that up,'' Margery said a little too quickly. ``I don't really know if Minfreda talked to herself when she moved the body, but I know I would. Little details like that make a better story. So I added a few here and there.
``But if you insist on just the facts, Ma'am, here's what I know for sure: Vicki was never seen dead or alive again. The cops may have bought the story that she sailed off into the sunset, but I didn't. Vicki was a corporate creature. And office was her natural habitat.
``Here's another fact: Minfreda was extra jumpy all htat week. She haunted the back hall by the construction chute. She would stand there, pale as a ghost, staring down at that Dumpster, which got fuller each day. Lucky for her, it was a chilly week in Lauderdale.''
``Why was that lucky?'' Margery sighed. ``Use your head, Helen. What do you think one hundred pounds of spoiled meat would smell like in hot weather?''
``Oh, yuck,'' Helen said, when she thought about it.
``Minfreda didn't relax until the construction company carted away that Dumpster a week later. Then she was a different person. She smiled for the first time since Mr. Hammonds's stupid memo.
``One more thing: She never went near the back hall again.'' 148 Elaine Viets
Helen's head was spinning, but she didn't know if it was from too much wine or too much information.
``How did the office react when Vicki didn't show up?''
``I was the first to know,'' Margery said. ``I found the letter in Vicki's typewriter. I took it and Minfreda's carbons straight to Mr. Hammonds's office. Francine read the letter, examined the carbons, and clucked, `Margery, I never did like that young person.'
`` `Me either,' I said.
`` `No sense of responsibility,' Francine said. `What's she thinking, running off with her boyfriend like that? Mr. Hammonds gave her an opportunity no other woman at this company has ever had. Selfish, I call it. She makes all women look bad.'
``People talked that way then. You weren't a good or bad boss. You represented the entire sex.
`` `There's another deserving young woman here,' I re- minded her.
`` `Yes, there is. And we must not forget those were really her ideas and that Vicki person misappropriated them,' Francine said. `We must right this wrong. Wait here, Mar- gery, while I talk with Mr. Hammonds.' She went straight into the CEO's office. Francine was a determined woman, with a strong sense of what was fitting.
``I waited maybe half an hour. Then Francine came out. `Mr. Hammonds would prefer you say nothing about this until he makes a decision,' she said.
`` `I'll have to tell people something,' I said, `or the rumor mill will go crazy.'
`` `Then say that Vicki has taken an unscheduled leave of absence. That is the truth.' ''
``Speaking of the truth,'' Helen said. ``Did you mention your doubts about the resignation letter?''
``They were doubts, not facts,'' Margery said. ``Mr. Ham- monds didn't like anything that wasn't cut-and-dried.''
``And you liked Minfreda.''
``I did. I still do.
``Our department went through the motions for the next week. Everyone was asking me: Was Vicki gone for good? Was she still our boss or not? Everyone but Minfreda. She knew the answers, of course. she didn't ask me anything. She seemed curiously lifeless. KILLER BLONDE 149
``The boys didn't know whether to wear black armbands or break out the champagne. They had the lip balm ready and were prepared for some career-saving smooching. But Vicki's posterior had vamoosed, and they weren't sure if Minfreda would be sitting on the departmental throne.
``Our CEO took his own sweet time deciding, too. Evalu- ation week was canceled for our department, but that made everyone even more nervous. It wasn't natural.
``Mr. Hammonds's announcement came the Monday after evaluation week. We found his memo on our desks first thing in the morning.
``It said that Vicki had resigned. Period. That was all o
n that unlovely subject. Then the memo said, `Because of her impressive record and innovative ideas,' Minfreda was our new division head of our department.
``There was no explanation for why Vicki resigned and no mention that she'd stolen Minfreda's ideas. Mr. Ham- monds couldn't admit that he'd made a mistake promoting Vicki. I had the feeling that Minfreda would always be a little tainted because of her connection with the episode. Not too tainted, though. Minfreda was now the highest- placed woman in the company.
``There were whoops of glee throughout our department. We were finally, officially, Vicki-free. `Congratulations, Minfreda, I knew you could do it,' Bobby said, though he knew nothing of the kind.
Elaine Viets & Victoria Laurie, Nancy Martin, Denise Swanson - Drop-Dead Blonde (v5.0) (pdf) Page 16
