Alex Harris 00 - Armed

CHAPTER ONE

    The first indication my day would be a bad one was finding my reserve stash of M&M’s empty.
    The second thing that cinched the deal was the dead body at my feet eight hours later. Literally. At my feet as my soggy shoe touched the hem of the dead woman’s pants.
    Maybe I should start at the beginning. My name is Alex Harris and along with my sister Samantha Daniels I own the Always Prepared temporary agency. Business hasn’t been so good lately. As a matter of fact things have been pretty boring around our office, hence the empty stash of candy, so when an urgent call came in from one of our clients, the Poupée Mannequin factory, I took the assignment. Truth be told I just wanted to run off to the store for more candy, but figured I might as well go help a client at the same time. I handed off my only appointment of the day to my assistant, jumped in my car, and despite blinding snow flurries, happily drove over to the factory—after a quick pit stop for reinforcements in the guise of two one-pound bags of M&M’s.
    While at the factory I hoped to talk with the owner, Mr. Poupée, about an upcoming job, but luck hadn’t been on my side and instead I found myself confronted by his unusually flustered assistant Elvira Scott.
    “Please have a seat, Ms. Harris,” Mrs. Scott said formally. “I’m sorry you had to be dragged out on such a day but we need to get our mailing out today.”
    I leaned forward. “It’s no problem. As I told you on the phone, I wanted to see Mr. Poupée. I know I don’t have an appointment, but, well, I’ve tried to make one.” I paused. It wouldn’t do me or my business any good to get on bad terms with Mrs. Scott. “I’ve been busy myself.”
    I smiled, trying to soften my position. “I thought this might be a perfect opportunity for us to discuss the upcoming expansion.”
    Mrs. Scott clasped her hands tightly together on the desk. “I told you I’ll speak with him as soon as I can.”
    “I understand. Just let him know I—”
    “Ms. Harris, please!”
    I drew back at the shrill sound. Mrs. Scott could be difficult but I’d never heard her raise her voice before. It seemed we were both having a bad day. Maybe I should share my M&M’s.
    “Why don’t I get you started on the mailing and I’ll see if I can arrange something for this afternoon. Will that do?” Mrs. Scott released her hands from their white-knuckled grip and stood up.
    I followed her to the mailroom where I folded and stuffed, occasionally giving a wistful look at a paper cut wondering if the blood loss was sufficient to warrant a trip to the emergency room and a reprieve from folding and stuffing. My only help had come from the mailroom clerk who lent a hand in between his other duties.
    At five-fifteen Mrs. Scott returned, looking more exhausted than she had earlier. “Oh. I did say I’d check on you, didn’t I? I’m sorry, I forgot.” Mrs. Scott sighed, her thin shoulders sagging beneath her sweater and her beleaguered expression belying the efficient executive assistant I knew her to be.
    “No need to apologize. Andy’s been a great help,” I smiled at the young clerk who looked more like he should be modeling underwear for GQ. “I should be done in about forty-five minutes. I could drop them off at the box outside the post office on my way home.”
    “No need. I don’t live far from the post office,” Andy offered. “I can wait until you’re done.”
    Mrs. Scott shook her head. “No. I need you to drop off some other packages before the post office closes. Here’s some petty cash.” She handed Andy an envelope. “Send them out priority and leave the receipt on my desk.”
    I usually dealt with Mrs. Scott over the phone. Today was the first time we met face to face in quite some time. Her thick salt-and-pepper hair covered her ears in a becoming style. The frames of her bifocals looked out of date and her blues eyes behind them tired. I studied her eyebrows for a second having never noticed how rounded they were¬. They seemed to give Mrs. Scott a sort of surprised look and the few age spots high on her left cheek gave the impression of a spotted owl.
    Andy grabbed his coat and looked at me expectantly.
    “You go along, I can handle the rest by myself,” I assured him while trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. I should have been done with this job hours ago, but the old copier jammed three times and ran out of magenta toner and Andy had to run out and get