Read Online Alex Harris 00 - Armed by Elaine Macko - Free Book Online Page B

up another chip and dipped it in some salsa chewing noisily before answering. “One of their new employees, Monica Ballister, was a great help. Seemed like a nice girl. She told me she lived in Redding.” Peter proceeded to cut his enchilada into bite-sized pieces exactly the same size. “Weren’t you thinking of setting up your offices there at the beginning?”
    “Redding. Yes, that’s right but we found the place we’re in now, and it’s so convenient we stayed here.” I wondered if anything else had gone on between Monica and Peter besides data entry—and realized with surprise I really didn’t care.
    Peter continued. “Getting back to Poupée, Monica entered a lot of the data herself. She worked on the order desk. She’s very bright and a natural with the database.”
    “You don’t recall meeting someone named Emmanuelle or Jerry do you?”
    “Emmanuelle, no. But Jerry is the factory foreman, I think. Is that who you mean?”
    “Yes. Someone mentioned neither of them liked Mrs. Scott. Did you ever notice anything like that?”
    “Not that I recall. Another guy there, Richard Sheridan, seemed sneaky. But that had nothing to do with Mrs. Scott. I never noticed any interaction between them at all.” Peter shrugged. “Anyway, we got the job done.”

    *****

    “Jeez. You take off for the police station I never hear from you again. It’s after nine-thirty. Where’ve you been?” my very agitated sister asked.
    I opened the door to my house and pushed the button to close the garage door.
    “I tried calling a few times,” Sam continued, “and when I didn’t get an answer I started to worry.”
    I looked at her and smiled. “You said that. As you can see, I’m fine.”
    “So where were you? At Poupée’s this whole time?”
    I took off my coat and walked into the kitchen. I put a doggy bag on the counter and filled the teakettle with water.
    “Los Tres Amigos?” Sam said incredulously looking at the bag. “I’m thinking all sorts of terrible things and you’re out eating dinner at Los Tres Amigos.” She shook her head and then peeked into the bag.
    “I had dinner with Peter.”
    Sam stopped and stared at me. “You did?”
    “Don’t give me that look. I needed to pick his brain about that job he did for Poupée a few months back.” I reached up into the cupboard and pulled out two mugs with a Christmas design. “Decaf or regular?”
    Sam sighed. “Oh, hell, give me the regular stuff. Can’t sleep over at my house with all the smoke smell anyway.”
    I smiled. “Do I want to hear this?”
    Sam waved her hand. “The kids and Michael thought they’d like to make a charcoal cake for dessert.”
    “A charcoal cake?” I grimaced.
    Sam leaned against the counter. “Yeah. It started out as chocolate cake, but things went one-hundred percent awry, to quote my son.” Samantha’s six-year old son, my nephew Henry, liked talking in percentages.
    The kettle whistled and I poured water into the two mugs.
    Sam took her mug to the living room and put her tea on the coffee table. “This should be a tea table. We never drink coffee.”
    I placed a plate of shortbread cookies beside the cups and sat at the other end of the sofa. I didn’t bother having dessert at the restaurant because Peter seemed to be getting the wrong idea about the evening. When the hand that had been scrounging around in his ear reached across the table to take mine, I knew I wanted to leave.
    “So?” Sam asked impatiently. “Tell me all.”
    I bit into a cookie. “Well, first I went to the police station. I don’t know if I convinced Detective Van der Burg or not. But at least I tried.”
    “He’s pretty cute, by the way. I wouldn’t mind having a few interrogation sessions with him myself.” She raised her eyebrows several times.
    “ Then I went over to Poupée,” I said, ignoring my happily married sister who would never dream of straying from her husband. “You know,” I took another bite of my cookie,