Alex Harris 00 - Armed

going to happen…” I didn’t know how to ask without sounding insensitive.
    Mr. Poupée nodded. “To her body? There is no one. Dolly and I will handle all arrangements as soon as they release her body.”
    The phone on the desk buzzed.
    “I’ll be there in a minute.” Mr. Poupée hung up the receiver and looked at me. “A dedicated group. They need me in the design center. Alex, maybe you could come back tomorrow?”
    “Sure. But as long as I’m here, why don’t I start packing things up.”
    We walked into the outer office.
    “I suppose you can just put everything into a box and I’ll sort it out later.” Mr. Poupée looked at Elvira’s desk.
    After he left, I found a box and started in.
    “Ah, we meet again,” Detective Van der Burg said from the doorway causing me to jump.
    I studied him for a moment. Van der Burg . It sounded Dutch. I heard somewhere the Norwegians and the Dutch were tall people. He looked to be about six-one or six-two with straight posture making him look even taller.
    “Not working on another mailing, are you?”
    “No. I’m helping out. Mr. Poupée is feeling, well…” I tried to find the right word. “Vulnerable. And lost. And sad. We all are. I thought I might be able to help out for a few days and take care of some things. He’s going to be handling funeral arrangements, so I can help with that, too.”
    “And maybe do a bit of detective work?”
    The corners of the detective’s mouth twitched and in spite of myself, I again found his smile appealing.
    “Does that mean you don’t suspect me anymore?”
    “I work alone,” he said, and then left the office.
    “Geesh.”
    In less than twenty-four hours my life had been turned upside down. I found a dead body and was a suspect for murder. My relationship with Peter had ended and my business had slowed. Despite all these negatives, I felt energized. I had a mission. I needed to clear my name and that of Mr. Poupée.
    I walked into his office. His desk had several piles of paper but otherwise orderly. On a credenza, sat several framed photos of Dolly Poupée, one of their daughters and grandchildren. In another, what looked like a company picnic, several people gathered around the Poupées with Mrs. Scott smiling between them. I shut my eyes and shook away the image of the body. I wanted to remember Mrs. Scott like this—happy and smiling.
    But she wasn’t yesterday. She seemed nervous, pre-occupied maybe with a house full of relatives. But there were none.
    I leaned closer to see if I could detect anything that would hint to a secret relationship between Mr. Poupée and Mrs. Scott but saw nothing, no secret touch.
    “William? Oh, I’m sorry, I’m looking for William.”
    I’m no raving beauty but truth be told most of us aren’t. Most people are ordinary except for the one who stood in front of me now. She was so stunning I momentarily couldn’t speak.
    “William. Is he here?” she asked in a husky voice.
    Of course she would have a husky voice.
    “No. I’m sorry, he’s not. He should be back shortly.”
    The woman stood in the doorway, silent for a moment, her dark hair pulled back into an expertly fashioned French braid perfectly framing deep-set, cat-green eyes luminescent against the flawless skin.
    She sighed. “Fine. Could you ask him to call me as soon as he returns?” She turned to leave.
    “Excuse me,” I called after her. “And you are?”
    “Emmanuelle.”
    Of course. Emmanuelle with the husky, sexy voice. I walked out to the smaller office looking for a pad and wrote a message for Mr. Poupée.
    Ruth Grant stood in the doorway almost scaring me to death. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for me to be here.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, Ms. Harris? Can I get you a coffee? Tea?”
    “Tea would be nice and please, call me Alex. Thank you, Ruth. It is Ruth?”
    “Yes.” She hesitated. “I heard Mr. Poupée telephone you earlier.” She moved into the room and took a seat next to me on the sofa. “He thinks the police suspect him. I think they suspect all of us. Have you ever been involved in something like this? Of course not, people are only involved in murders in the movies. But this is real.” She bent her head. When she looked up her brown eyes sparkled with tears. “Elvira hired me. She gave me this job after my divorce. I hadn’t worked for several years and couldn’t find anything. Then I got this job.”
    “You’re the one who told the police Mrs.