Read Online Dos Equis by Anthony Bidulka - Free Book Online Page A

jiving with what Millie Zacharias had told me, moved into a
    nice apartment in the trendy Broadway area. After that, she seemed to spend her time flunking out of Secretarial College,
    Hairdressing school, and several University level classes taken one at a time. It didn’t appear she did much of anything else.
    She was twenty-seven when her father—aka the golden goose—died, leaving her at the financial mercy of her mother.
    Suddenly, Lynette began to add actual work experience to her paltry resume. Eventually she went back to school to earn a
    diploma in bookkeeping. She landed a job doing the books for a small local company that specialized in made-to-order
    cardboard boxes.
    I couldn’t find anything to indicate that Lynette was involved in any community volunteering, sports groups, or social
    organizations. The only group I could find which listed her as a member was called The Arm Chair Travellers. They met once
    a month, and seemed to spend entire evenings ooohing and ahh-hing over pictures of other people’s trips. Oh dear.
    There had to be more to Lynette than this.
    Throwing on my jacket, I locked up and jogged down the stairs to the main floor. I tossed Rebecca a see-ya-later as I passed by.
    “Wait! Mr. Grant! I have to go to lunch!” Her face was the colour of storm clouds.
    She didn’t really expect me to man her desk, did she?
    “Try Colourful Mary’s. Have the Blob soup, it’s delicious,” I threw back, quickening my steps.
    “So I’ll just lock up then? I’m leaving at three! They said I could leave at three!”
    I was out the door.
    Boxes Made to Order—catchy name—was located in the Hudson Bay Industrial area, just off Miners Avenue. The building
    was tired. The signage was tired. The man who stood behind the counter, looking dispiritedly at a computer screen, looked
    really tired.
    “Hi,” I said when the noise of the glass entrance door slamming shut behind me didn’t seem to attract his attention.
    “Yeah, hold on. I’m just in the middle of something here. Be right with you.”
    I sidled up to the counter. In the reflection of a glass cupboard behind the man, I could see his screen: he was busy spending time in FarmVille, a real-time simulation game on Facebook.
    After a minute, without even bothering to look up, the fellow said: “There’s a brochure on the counter. You can pick out
    what kinda box you need outta there. When you’re ready, I’ll take your order down.”
    “I’m ready now,” I informed him. I resisted the temptation to tell the Boxes Made to Order employee that I’d like some bags
    made to order. Just to screw with him.
    He looked up, but didn’t move away from the computer.
    “I’m looking for Lynette Kraus. I was a friend of her mother’s. I wanted to drop by and tell her how sorry I am for her loss.”
    “Well, good luck with that,” the guy said with a bit of a snort. “If you find her, let me know.”
    “She didn’t come into work today?”
    “Hasn’t been in all week. Don’t know where she is. Didn’t call or nothing.”
    I could have found this out over the phone. But I always find it preferable, when talking to a suspect for the first time, to do it face to face. Especially when they’re not expecting you. This plan, however, was not working out too well for me today.
    “Did you call her? Maybe she’s sick at home or something?”
    He shrugged. “I guess the boss’ll call her when he really needs her...or to fire her. Either way, can’t help you, buddy.” His dead eyes lit up. Something quite wonderful must have happened in FarmVille.
    Fortunately I didn’t need this bozo to tell me where Lynette Kraus lived. Her address was in the phone book.
    Catching light traffic on Circle Drive, I was parked outside of Lynette’s modest Confederation Park bungalow in under
    fifteen minutes. The street was quiet. It was the middle of the day and most residents were likely at work or school. I ran
    through my mind the best approach to take