Alex Harris 00 - Armed

incorporates ease of motion, flexibility, etc.” Mitch said. “Take a look at this one, really futuristic.”
    In addition to being more sculptured, this one didn’t have arms.
    “Then we have custom made ones with inflatable bellies for maternity shops or child-sized ones. Right now Poupée is looking to expand the business to include test dummies.”
    “Test dummies?”
    “Ones that can be used to test how well another product works like, say, a seatbelt. It’s just in the development stages, but we’re looking into the feasibility of producing something like that here. It might be too much of an investment,” he shrugged, “but it’s interesting. Ron, he’s the head designer—actually he’s a mechanical engineer—is working on a special design for the museum exhibit we’re hoping to get.”
    “What about eyes? I remember a flyer for eyes,” I asked.
    “That’s part of our unique line with interchangeable eyes and hair. The eyes are the contribution of Richard Sheridan. His claim to fame. It appeals to a certain market that can’t afford to change their mannequins frequently but like to have a different look.”
    “How do you change the eyes?”
    “They’re elongated. You pinch the ends and place them in the socket. Then when you want to change them, you just pinch at the raised eyeball part and they come right out. The actual color part is a soft resin-like substance that we can add color to.”
    It sounded creepy like everything else around here and I wanted to get off the subject of interchangeable eyeballs. “I suppose the police have spoken to you?”
    “Yes, they have. Mr. Poupée said you might be asking some questions. He wants us to cooperate. Seems to think maybe you can find out something the police can’t. Is this true? Are you some kind of super sleuth?”
    I felt my face redden and waved my hand. “Oh no, nothing like that. He just thought it might be easier to talk with someone less intimidating than the police and maybe people would open up to me.”
    He still smiled. I knew it sounded just as ridiculous to him as it did to me. What the hell was I thinking? I had no idea how to interrogate someone. Somehow, “your shorthand is excellent. Kill anybody lately?” didn’t get asked during my interviews with prospective clients for the agency.
    “Actually, I think he’s just upset and needs someone here to hold his hand and assume responsibility like Mrs. Scott did. I happened to be in the right place at the right… My word, what am I saying! That sounded so insensitive. I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t worry about it. This has gotten to everyone. So?”
    “So?”
    “Well, yeah, do you have any questions? That’s why you’re here.”
    I shrugged and started with the most obvious question and hoped a few others would pop into my head as I went along. “Okay. What time did you leave Tuesday night?”
    Mitch perched himself on a stool in front of his drawing board. “Oh, must have been five-thirty-five. I passed Elvira in the lobby and said good night but she didn’t hear me. I think I was the last one out except for the two of you.”
    And the killer, I thought—or was I sitting across from one? I shifted in my seat and moved it back a few inches. “You’re sure you saw her in the lobby, not her office?
    Mitch nodded. “Yeah. By the reception desk.”
    “Alone?” I perked up at this bit of information.
    “Yes.”
    “Did she have her coat on?”
    Mitch thought for a moment. “No. Not on. Maybe over her arm. Looked like she was about to leave.”
    I thought about this and wondered if it meant anything. Mrs. Scott had been about to leave. So why didn’t she? What made her go back to her office and then out to the factory?
    “Did you see anyone else?” I asked then.
    “No. Just Elvira.”
    “How about in the parking lot? See any other cars?”
    Mitch shifted on the stool. “Well, to be honest, I didn’t notice. I’m not even sure I saw Elvira’s car. It’s just something I never pay attention to.”
    “You went straight home?”
    “No, I went to the sports center. I played racquetball with Andy.”
    “Oh, right,” I said, “you said that.”
    “He got there a bit late so I practiced for a few minutes. After the game, we got a couple of burgers in the restaurant they have at the complex. Then I went home.”
    “Did you like Mrs. Scott?” I asked, remembering Sandy had said one of the designers didn’t.
    Mitch’s expression softened. “Well, yeah.