Alex Harris 00 - Armed

we’ll have ourselves a little look-see. What do you say, Alex?”
    “I wanted to highlight my hair tonight, but no, I had to come here.” I sighed. “Okay. As long as I’m letting you two talk me into committing a felony, let’s get our story straight. What if we get caught?”
    “Hey, no worries. You’ve got a key. You’ve got the code. You just say you forgot your purse and this being the weekend you’d need it before Monday. No problem. Who’s going to know?”
    It did sound appealing.
    “I would like to get this cleared up so I can come back to my own business. Okay. But just for a quick look. Five minutes and we’re outta there.”
    Millie smiled. “Sweet!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

    If Winston Churchill had planned an invasion, no doubt he would have crossed a Nazi U-boat-infested Atlantic, arrived at the White House for a week-long meeting with President Roosevelt, secured additional troops and equipment, gone back to England, and put his plan into action. He may have even had a decoy plan on the side to throw everyone off. He would have been prepared.
    Our much more modest plan consisted of the three of us climbing into Sam’s van, driving over to the factory, opening the door, and taking a look around.
    Millie sat in the back seat decked out in her Santa hat and black sweats she insisted on getting from the trunk of her car. She tried to talk us into painting our faces black, but with only a black felt marker in her desk, we mercifully nixed the idea. Armed with our own equipment, which consisted of a couple of flashlights, we headed out through the gaily lit streets of our little town to commit a crime. Christmas lights hanging from roofs and brightly decorated Christmas trees peeking out from bay windows did nothing to quell my apprehension. Key or not, a certain detective would see this as just another felony to add to my rap sheet.
    Sam pulled the minivan into a quiet parking lot totally empty of any other vehicles and parked under a light. “There’s no security guard, right?”
    “No. They have a service that drives around several times throughout the evening. “What if they show up, Sam?” I asked.
    “You’re just picking up your purse and we came along to keep you company because it’s late.”
    I unlocked the door and turned off the code. Sam grabbed my arm and whispered in a panic, “There’s somebody here!”
    “Relax. It’s just the mannequin display.” I turned to her and took her by the shoulders. “ Without courage all other virtues lose their meaning .”
    “Yeah, well, somehow I don’t think Winnie was entering a creepy mannequin factory when inspiration struck,” Sam smirked.
    “Are you going to turn on some lights?” Millie asked, sounding not quite as brave as when we were back in the office.
    “No. We’ll use these flashlights and there’ll be enough light from the parking lot. Now Millie, you stay here and watch to make sure no one comes. Sam you come with me.”
    “Wait a minute. You’re not leaving me here all alone with…with them.” She pointed to the corner where the display stood.
    “Someone’s got to keep a watch for the security service. You’ll be all right. Just go over and introduce yourself. They’re very nice once you get to know them.”
    Millie slowly walked toward the mannequins. “Fine, but I came up with the idea to begin with. You’re not going to be long are you?” she called over her shoulder.
    “No. We’re just going to go through that door, check out a few mannequins, and we’ll be right back.”
    We reached the end of the hall and I turned to check on Millie. She sat next to the display with her Santa hat looking like she belonged perfectly. I pushed through the factory door and turned on the flashlight. “If we’re going to find out anything I think our best bet would be somewhere over by the shipping area. It’s in the back by those big doors.”
    “Is this where you found her?” Sam winced noticing the area still cordoned off with tape.
    I looked down to a brown spot on the floor and silently shook my head as Sam patted my back.
    We made our way down long aisles lined with large equipment. Every now and then the shadow of a mannequin sitting in a corner or hanging from a hook caught my eye. The whole thing had a meat-packing plant quality. There were adult-sized mannequins and smaller kid-sized ones. Some hung from hooks, with no heads. And some were just torsos silently swaying as we passed.
    “This