Armed (21 page)

“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 place is creepy,” Sam whispered. “Not as bad as that picture of Joan Van Ark after all those cosmetic surgeries, but close. I’m sorry for all the times I scared you with dolls.”

“Apology accepted. There. That must be the shipping area.” I pointed to a section full of mannequins and boxes with various destinations printed on them.

“What now?” Sam asked.

“Heck, I don’t know.”

We picked one up and shook it. Sam managed to lift a smaller model and I shined the flashlight through it. Nothing. And there didn’t seem to be a place where the mannequin could be opened.

“What do you think are in all these boxes? They’re too small to be mannequins,” Sam said, as she lifted one up.

“Those must be parts. Eyes and hair and paint kits.”

We poked around a little while longer until satisfied there were no drugs anywhere.

Sam looked annoyed. “I’m going to kill Millie.”

“Hey, you wanted to come too. I hope you’re satisfied.”

“Yeah, I guess. Can we get out of here now?”

We walked back to the door leading to the offices and went through. I shined the light down the hall.

“Millie. Millie! Where are you?”

“Oh great. Where the hell did she go?” Sam whispered.

“I don’t know. Maybe she got scared and came looking for us. Let’s go back and check.”

We made a quick walk-through and then went back to the reception area.

“Look, Alex. Isn’t that her hat?”

I shined the flashlight over by the mannequin display. Millie’s Santa hat sat on the floor and I walked over to pick it up.

“Well, where the heck did she go? Maybe she went back out to the van,” I suggested.

“She couldn’t have. I’ve got the key.”

“BOO!”

“Jesus Chr…”

I dropped the flashlight and fell back knocking over the Christmas tree. In my attempt to get up and run from a berserk mannequin, I got all tangled up in the lights and tinsel and stepped on most of the ornaments.

“Oh, my God. Alex! Are you all right?” Millie jumped out from behind a mannequin.

Sam rushed to help me.

“Are you out of your ever-loving mind? For God sakes, Millie, you almost gave us a heart attack!”

Millie and Sam looked down at me. Tinsel and broken bulbs covered me, and a tree branch stuck out between my legs. I touched my head and felt pine needles and sap sticking to my hair. They started to laugh.

“What’s so funny? Get me out of here!”

As Millie bent to help me up, I caught sight of something behind her and I could feel my eyes grow big as saucers and then I screamed. Millie turned to see the hand of a female mannequin placed firmly on her shoulder. The three of us froze with fright just as one of the male mannequins turned to join in.

“Holy shit! They’re alive!” Sam screamed, tumbling on top of me. We scrambled to get up probably looking like the three stooges in some old black and white movie.

I twisted around trying to get out from under Sam when a large shadow fell across us. I quickly lifted my arms to shield my head against a blow.

Sam and Millie rolled over at the same time. As the shadow fell across Sam’s face she let out a scream worthy of a banshee. Millie fainted.

Just then the lights went on.

Mr. Poupée loomed over us laughing so hard tears streamed down his face. Detective Van der Burg walked over to where I tried to get up and extended his hand.  “I like what you’ve done with your hair.”

I glared at him through my right eye; my left eye obscured by a piece of tinsel that had somehow managed to thread itself through the small hoop of one of my earrings, then over my eye, and where it now rested on my nose adhered with a small drop of sap.

“Mr. Poupée. I’m so sorry. I assure you I’ll pay for all the damage .” I shrugged free of the detective’s grip and pulled Christmas decorations from my body.

“No. I’ll pay for everything,” Millie said groggily as she came to.

Mr. Poupée continued to laugh. “No need to, ladies. We can get another Christmas tree. I’m just glad you’re okay. You are okay?”

Millie just nodded drowsily.

The security service, alarmed by a strange car in the lot, had called Mr. Poupée, who in turn called Detective Van der Burg. Millie was definitely not lookout material.

Sam, still picking tinsel off of her sweater said, “I still don’t get it. They’re
supposed
to move?”

“That’s right. It’s a new line of mannequins we’ve been working on. Very hush hush. Or so I thought.”

I turned my head slowly and glared at Millie. “So that’s what’s going on in the factory.”

“We have them set to move at night for testing. It would be a bit unnerving if they moved during the day.” His eyes twinkled.

“Hasn’t Disney already done something like this? They’ve got lots of things that move,” Sam asked.

“Yes, but these mannequins have limited movement and they don’t talk.”

“Thank God for that.” I yanked a pine needle out of my hair.

“To create something like they have in amusement parks would be too costly and our clients would never be able to afford them. These are a much simpler version.”

And then Detective Van der Burg, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, looked at me. “Just exactly what are you all doing here? I don’t think we’ve established that.”

I didn’t think the looking-for-my-purse idea would fly and decided on truth being the best policy. “We were looking for drugs.”

“Drugs! Dear Alex, whatever gave you that idea?” Mr. Poupée asked.

I raised my eyebrows and cocked my head once again in Millie’s direction. “I think Millie may like to answer that.”

Millie staggered to her feet and brushed a broken ornament from her sweatshirt. “A friend told me weird things were going on and now we know it had something to do with the mannequins, but thought it had something to do with drugs and Mrs. Scott found out and got killed.”

“You really don’t have any faith in me or the police do you, Ms. Harris?” Detective Van der burg asked. “We’ve already checked that theory out but thanks for verifying it. Another thing—this may seem like a joke to you, coming into the factory at night, playing detective, but there is a
murderer
loose somewhere in this city. Hasn’t that registered yet?”

We all looked shamefaced.

“Please, Ms. Harris, I can’t stress enough how serious this is.”

Sam looked from Detective Van der Burg and back to me and I could see the wheels spinning in her mind. Great, now I would be interrogated all the way home. I should have just gone home and colored my hair.

“Well,” Mr. Poupée said, “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one evening. Why don’t we all go on home and get some rest. Good night, ladies.”

“Can I give you a lift home, Ms. Harris?”

Sam and Millie exchanged smiles and raised eyebrows as we all walked out.

“No. My sister will take me back to my car, but thank you, Detective.”

“Please stay out of it. It’s not a joke,” he said to my back. “I know you’re trying to clear your name so let me set your mind at ease. You’re off the list of our ten most wanted. So give it a rest.”

I stopped walking and turned to face him. “I can’t. I found the body. You don’t know what that’s like.” Tears filled my eyes.

“I do know what it’s like. That’s why I do what I do. Just let me handle it. You can continue to help Mr. Poupée, but please leave the detective work to the police.”

Then he put his hand on my arm and for a second I wanted to throw myself into his arms and have him hold me while I had a good cry. I had an electrified feeling standing so close to him and I thought, what the heck, take a chance. Throw yourself into his arms and worry about whether or not he has a wife later. Then I saw Sam and Millie and straightened my shoulders and took a deep breath.

“Well. Goodnight, Detective.”

He waited until we locked our doors and then drove off.

“I think he likes you,” Sam said.

“Nonsense. Let’s get out of here. I’m exhausted.”

I’ve lived in suburbia all my life. Correction. I’ve lived in one particular suburb all my life. I’ve always been content doing it. But here’s the thing; I’m actually a city girl. And I never knew it until I took a job in New York City. I worked there for a few years commuting every day, sleeping on the train or reading or sometimes knitting. I enjoyed it immensely but then Sam and I decided to open up our own shop.

I’ve never regretted it. But I still love the big city.

I like to fantasize I live in some only-on-TV wonderfully affordable apartment from
Sex and the City
and that I don’t need a car. I can walk anywhere or take the subway or a taxi. I like to imagine that after a hard day of work, I might stop in at my neighborhood market and get something fresh for dinner. And if I were lonely, I only had to step out my door and there were lots of people. Millions, actually. But I live in a little New England town and that works too. But every now and then I need my city fix and after the events of the last week—and especially my escapade last night, I could really use a day of fun. So I headed for New York City, on the train, with my mother and niece and nephew for a day of shopping, eating, and hot chocolate.

“Dear, you look tired. Maybe helping William is too trying. Or maybe seeing your grandfather did you in,” my mother smiled slyly.

I sat across from her on a glorious Saturday morning as our train sped towards New York. Across the aisle Kendall and wild Henry played a game of cards—at least Kendall tried to play cards while Henry made up new rules that would result in him winning each hand.

I gave a silent groan about Grandpa and then changed the subject to one far more agreeable—murder. “How did you know Mr. Poupée asked me to help?’

“We saw them last night. We hosted the Scrabble game.” My mother shook her head of expertly coifed thick hair. “This whole thing is just terrible. William received a call from the factory security service and had to rush out. I meant to call this morning to find out what happened.”

Now I squirmed in my seat. “Who won?” I asked, hoping to deflect the conversation away from the previous evening’s caper.

My mother beamed and I knew instantly she had done it again. “I did. I got stuck with the Q and the Z. I had a blank tile and luckily a U and placed QUIZZING using all my letters. I got two triple score squares and a double for my Z obtaining a score of 266 points for the one word! Your father looked dumbfounded and Dorothy about died. She thought she had the game all tied up and I would be left with those darned letters. We placed the bottle of wine next to all the others. I think I’ll open a shop.”

“Mother!”

“I know, I am being a braggart, but I do love a good game—especially when I win.”

My mother, Mabel Harris, is a good-looking woman. Her lush brown hair had turned gray many years ago. She wore it short and stylish and it looked great all the time even when she woke up. She’s tall and in her youth was quite thin. She’s still thin but the years, though kind, had added the inevitable thickness in certain spots. My mother has the ability to look chic even in a pair of pants.

Mom suffered with rheumatoid arthritis having been diagnosed in her teens and sometimes the pain could be horrendous but modern medicine finally caught up with the disease and her current medication provides much relief. I marvel at her stamina and, arthritis or not, nothing will ever stop her from placing letters on a Scrabble board or dealing a deck of cards. She got that from Meme. We all did.

We glanced over at Kendall and Henry, now thoroughly engrossed in counting out their allowance. Henry boasted that he had managed to save two-hundred percent of his allowance each week.

“Mom, didn’t you work at Poupée Mannequins at one time?” I asked.

“Yes. It’s been a long time. I think I worked there for about six months.”

“Did you know Mrs. Scott?”

“Yes. She started the year before. I would have liked to stay but being good friends with William and Dolly, I didn’t think it a good idea to mix our friendship with business. You had your braces on and the extra money came in handy. Look how nice your teeth turned out.”

I smiled obediently flashing a lovely smile thanks to my parents and a very good orthodontist. “Is there anything you can tell me about Mrs. Scott’s background? There doesn’t seem to be any family anywhere.”

“Well, let me see,” Mom said. “Elvira and I didn’t socialize outside the office, but we had lunch together at least once, and we often talked like people do. I remember she told me Irwin had been married when they met. His first wife was very sick, mentally sick. He spent a lot of time and money trying to help her but her parents resisted him every step of the way. Poor woman. When Elvira and Irwin met, he’d had enough and got divorced.”