Alex Harris 00 - Armed

for changes of hair, and the last sheet shows the sales figures for mannequins. It’s broken down to our sculptured style, our interchangeable eye style, and the old style you’re probably most familiar with.”
    I had never realized the amount of money spent on such things. I looked at the sheets for a few minutes unable to find anything related to murder.
    “Before we had the database system we had a hard time keeping track of who bought what, when, and how many. I’m ashamed to admit it but Poupée Mannequins has been behind the times when it comes to technology. Maybe it’s my fault. I’m from the old school where you typed spreadsheets quarterly. I imagine this will make everything so much more efficient. We can push a button and get up-to-the-minute figures for any of our clients going back five years!”
    I put my elbow on the desk and rested my chin in my palm. “So if the new system allows for total figures for a five-year period, why does this printout only go back two years?”
    Mr. Poupée pushed a piece of his white hair from his forehead and handed me one of she sheets. “Hmmm. Good point, Alex. There’s something else odd. Elvira hadn’t trained on the system yet. That’s something we were organizing for the coming year, training for all the office staff. So, who gathered this information and printed it for her?”
    I laid the paper on the desk and leaned back in Mrs. Scott’s chair. “If we can find that person maybe they can tell us what Mrs. Scott planned to do with this.”
    Mr. Poupée glanced at his watch. “I’m sorry, Alex, but I have to leave you for a bit. I have a meeting with Richard Sheridan. He’s been in Europe and we need to touch base on a few things.” Mr. Poupée started to get up and then sat back down. “Dolly wanted me to stay home today. I told the staff to leave as soon as the police gave them the go ahead, but I couldn’t stay home,” he said wistfully. “I don’t really want to be here, but it’s better to keep busy than to be alone with my thoughts. I’m afraid the police suspect me of being uncaring, probably the reason they’ve got me at the top of their list, but I just needed to be busy. Maybe if I go home the rest of the staff will go too.”
    “I think if they wanted to they would,” I said. “People mourn in different ways, and to be truthful, it probably hasn’t sunk in yet.” I felt my eyes welling up again and reached for a tissue.
    “Oh, my! I am insensitive. You found Elvira and here I am carrying on and asking for your help. It’s not that I’m not thinking straight, I’m not thinking at all!” Mr. Poupée raised his voice and looked startled. “This damned hearing aid.” He adjusted it and then added, “For God sake, Alex, please, go home.”
    “No. Mr. Poupée. Really, I’m fine. I feel like you do. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts either. Go. Go to your meeting. I’ll finish in here.”
    I spent the next hour going through the desk and a lot of papers and putting personal items in the box. Along with the framed photo of Irwin, I found a plastic rain bonnet, some hard candies, an emery board, and a personal pen and pencil set. There were some insurance forms pertaining to Mrs. Scott’s benefits package but other than a dictionary and new Thesaurus nothing else of a personal nature. I found some papers in an in-basket and a postal receipt on top of that. All very orderly just like the person it belonged to. I pushed a strand of hair out of my eyes and gave a wistful thought to the bottom drawer of my desk at the agency and made a mental note to do a little housecleaning.
    “Well, hello there.”
    I jumped once again at the sound of a voice and looked up to see a heavyset man wearing a wrinkled shirt standing in the doorway. He leaned against the door jam, his arms folded and his thick gray hair slicked back with some kind of oil or maybe he just hadn’t washed it for some time. He had a large head and a square shaped face. He looked like a cartoon character that my nephew liked, but I couldn’t remember the name.
    “That was quick.”
    “What was quick?” I decided on the spot I didn’t like him. I know, you shouldn’t judge a book and all that, but sometimes a person just rubs you the wrong way and there’s no rhyme or reason for it. It just is.
    “Elvira just died. I mean, she died last night,” the man emphasized as he leaned closer to the desk, “and here they’ve hired someone