Alex Harris 00 - Armed

Ballister…the order desk administrator who had been such a help to Peter.
    “You’re welcome to wait or I can have Sandy call you when she comes in.”
    “Thanks, I’ll wait.” I took a seat. “You’ve been here almost a year. How do you like it?”
    Monica gave me a how-do-you-know-that expression.
    “Sorry, someone mentioned it.”
    “Are you replacing Mrs. Scott?”
    “Just temporarily. I’m Alex Harris. I’m a friend of Mr. Poupée, he’s asked me to help out.” I extended my hand.
    Monica had a firm grip. “Yes, I heard. Are you a cop? I already talked with some detective yesterday.”
    “No, just a friend. Mr. Poupée wanted me to talk with the staff and, well, try to keep everyone at ease during this difficult time.” It still sounded ridiculous.
    “So you’re here to snoop.” Monica pursed her lips and gave a slight nod. “I already told the police everything I know. Which isn’t much, I might add. I stay cooped up in here most of the time, which suits me fine. I’m not much for socializing with the people I work with.”
    She turned and her fingers sped over the keyboard. I thought that under the somewhat frumpy exterior, Monica could be a pretty young woman if she would relax a bit, maybe smile. She had shiny shoulder length hair the color of a new penny. Her eyes had flecks the same color dancing in the rich brown pools but they weren’t happy eyes. They were lonely. I instantly pegged her for a computer geek and assumed she spent her personal time with a laptop, glued to the Internet rather than out partying with others her own age.
    Something about her struck me as familiar. “Have we met before?”
    “No. I don’t think so. You don’t look familiar to me.”
    “Maybe I’ve run into you in town.”
    “Could be. I hang out a lot at the bookstore just off Plains Road. Do you go in there?” Monica asked, still typing in data.
    “Yes, I do. Unfortunately not as much as I’d like. They have a great mystery section. Do you like mysteries?”
    “I’ve never read one. I hang out in the computer section. They keep fairly current with their stock.”
    “Did Mrs. Scott hire you?” I asked, trying to get the conversation on the murder.
    “No, Sandy did.”
    “Did you like Mrs. Scott?”
    Monica stopped typing and turned to face me. “I didn’t know Mrs. Scott well. I work in here all day and other than seeing her in the break room or the ladies room I didn’t have much to do with her.” She pushed up a sleeve on her oversized sweater. “She seemed okay. Always said hi.” Monica stared at me for a moment and turned back to her computer. “I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful than that. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a rush project to finish.”
    I got up to leave. “Tell Sandy I’ll try to get back later.” I hesitated. “I’m sorry. One more thing. Did you by any chance ask Mrs. Scott to mail a package for you?”
    Monica looked bewildered. “A package? No. We don’t send out stuff from this office. Shipping does all that.”
    I walked back to my temporary little office. How temporary would it be? How long did it take to find a murderer? What if I never found one?
    I plopped myself on the chair and figured I had better get busy. So far I had spoken with two employees and hadn’t learned anything—except Mrs. Scott had been on her way out the door. I needed to talk with Ruth and Sandy and find out what they meant by their cryptic remarks. But despite not having made any progress, it felt kind of good to be asking questions, which, of course, made me feel guilty. Someone had died, after all, or else I wouldn’t be here. Nonetheless, I could understand why detectives seemed to thrive on their jobs, drinking gallons of coffee and eating donuts all day.
    I dialed the agency knowing Millie would be in by now. She answered right away. Millie Chapman had come to work for us right out of junior college. At first we hired her part time, but as the business started making money she had grown with the agency. We’d be lost without her.
    “Millie. Hi, it’s Alex.”
    “Good morning. Got your message. I checked your calendar. What do you want me to do about the copier salesman? He’s coming in this afternoon at five and Sam will be gone.”
    “Oh damn! I forgot about him. Listen, I’ll be back in the office as soon as I can. It’ll probably be late, maybe about four-thirty. I need to pick up some papers I left on my desk for that ad agency we’re going to