QUEENIE BABY: On Assignment (6 page)

“No. The man told us to unload the truck and that’s what we did,” insisted a tall, burly guy with a bald head and tattoos on his neck.

“Mr. Evans,” Carol said calmly, “the supervisor said that you and your crew did unload a truck; however, the truck had just been loaded and was in route to a customer for delivery when they realized the mistake. How do think the customer would have reacted upon receiving an empty truck?”

 
“Hey,” he shrugged, “that ain’t my problem, lady. We did the job like they asked. I don’t get why they fired us.” A couple of guys behind him agreed loudly.
 

This looked interesting, I thought. Carol saw me at the door with her beloved Monkey Bread and coffee and acted quickly.

“Mr. Evans, I have a job over in Crofton for the rest of the week. The last crew quit because the work was too hard for them,” she said, with a challenging look. “Is your crew tough enough or should I get someone else?”

Not five minutes ago Mr. Evans was ready to have a good argument with Carol, then go drinking for the rest of the afternoon, and sometime much later tonight go home and tell his wife how he was unjustly fired. But as much as he couldn’t wait to get that first taste of PBR in his mouth, he couldn’t admit to being a wuss.

“Oh, my crew can do it,” he said firmly. “Yes, ma’am.”
 

Carol jotted down the address. “Okay, do me proud Mr. Evans,” she said, as Mr. Evans walked away wondering what had just happened. One minute he was on his way to the bar, and the next he was headed to Crofton to do some job someone else didn’t want. What the fuck?

There was silence as the last of the work boots trudged out the door. I handed Carol her coffee and Monkey Bread. “Maybe this will pick you up,” I said with a smile.

Carol took off her glasses and rubbed her bloodshot eyes. “I’m not sure if anything will help, but it can’t hurt.” She took a big bite of bread just as the phone rang. I ran around the desk and grabbed the phone for her. “Greene’s Staffing Services how may I help you? Mr. Greene? Um, he’s not here right now. Can I take a message?” I looked over at Carol in alarm. “Yes, well, we expect him in later today. Okay, I’ll give him the message.” I hung up the phone and handed Carol the message for Mr. Greene to call someone named David back.

“Oh, God,” she said shaking her head. “I guess this means he’s coming. I was praying it was all a bad dream from last night.”

“So you haven’t heard from him since he called yesterday?” I asked.
 

“No, although he sent me an email right before I closed yesterday asking me to forward the spreadsheets with figures for the last two quarters to him.” She added, “That alone could have been enough to give him a heart attack.”

I scrunched up my forehead. “What is so wrong with the numbers? It seems like you’ve been pretty busy,” I said.

“Oh, the overall sales are fine, but they don’t match the receivables. We should have way more cash than we do,” she replied.

“So who has access to the cash?” I asked.

“The accountant, old Mr. Greene, and I guess young Mr. Greene,” she said.

“Well, as long as you can’t be blamed for it,” I said. “Maybe the accountant is doing some funny business.”

“All I know is that it doesn’t look good,” she moaned.
 

The front door creaked open. A tall, handsome man in an impeccably tailored suit walked in and removed his sunglasses. “Carol, I see you found your shoes,” he said with a smile.

Carol looked down at her shoes and then up at Mark in horror. “Mr. Greene?” she croaked.
 

“Yep,” he said and turned to me. “Hey, this isn’t a bar now is it, Queenie Baby?”

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

I WAS SPEECHLESS for about ten seconds. Mark was Young Mr. Greene. I had to let that sink in. Oh, poor Carol!
 

“You knew all along!” I said pointing a finger at him.

“Not all along,” he said. “But, yeah, pretty early in the evening.”

I glanced over at Carol. She had turned ghostly white. She started to say something . . . and then fell backwards in a dead faint. I gasped and rushed behind the counter with Mark close behind. I cradled her head in my lap and patted her cheeks.
 

“You are the most conniving asshole I have ever met!” I said angrily. “Look what you’ve done!”

He looked surprised. “Me? She was drunk last night. Don’t you think that has more to do with her fainting than me?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “No, I don’t. I think you deliberately dropped in here just to freak her out.” I paused to take a deep breath and sucked in some ode de Mark in the process. Oh, why did he have to smell so good? “You think she’s somehow responsible for your messed up numbers. But she isn’t. She’s the only reason this place runs as efficiently as it does. What are you just standing around for? Get a wet towel!” I ordered.

He must have been feeling a little guilty because he rushed off to the bathroom.

“Is he gone yet?” Carol asked and opened one eye.

I looked down, surprised to see her staring up at me. Her color was much better. “Yes,” I replied, “how long have you been awake?”

“I never actually fainted,” she said. “I started to see black around the edges and then I had this sudden idea to fake faint.”

I think Carol was a little delirious. “So what now?” I asked.

Carol looked unsure. “I don’t know. My plan didn’t include what happens after I faint.”

“Not much of a plan,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said sitting up, “but it was all I had at the moment.”
 

Mark came back with a pile of wet paper towels. He looked relieved to see Carol sitting up. Maybe the fainting plan had been a good idea. He handed me the towels and I made a big show of patting Carol’s forehead and telling her to take deep breaths.

“There’s a man in the restroom taking a bath in the sink,” Mark said. “Should I call someone?”
 

“No, that’s Simon,” Carol said. “He bathes here on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” She grabbed for the desktop to steady herself. Mark jumped behind her to help her. She winced as she stood up, and it didn’t look like she was faking.
 

“Do I want to know why?” Mark asked, helping her into a chair.

Carol smoothed her jacket. “Because he lives in a shed and doesn’t have running water,” she explained.
 

Mark stared at her like she was speaking in tongue. “That doesn’t explain why he comes here to bathe,” he reasoned.

“He comes here,” said Carol patiently, “because he works at Harris Manufacturing and they like him. However, he smelled so badly they were going to terminate him. I offered to speak to him about his hygiene. My HR contact said if I could take care of the smell, then they would keep him.” She looked Mark directly in the eyes. “So, as that is one of our biggest light industrial accounts, he bathes here on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Simon is clean, the customer is happy, and we get paid,” she finished with some edge to her voice.

Mark shook his head as if to clear it. “Interesting,” was all he said.
 

The phone rang. Carol leaned across the desk to reach for it and winced again. “Ouch!” she exclaimed. “I think something is wrong with my back.”

Mark walked around her and answered the phone. “Greene’s Staffing Services,” he said glancing at Carol. “She’s not available at the moment.”

I took the opportunity to whisper to Carol. “Is this part of the plan?”

“No,” she said, “I think I’ve pulled a muscle in my back. It’s killing me.”

Mark seemed to be having trouble on the phone. “Just a second,” he said and placed his hand over the receiver. “It’s Shaquan Davis and she says that her baby’s daddy took her car this morning and she doesn’t have a way to get to work until eleven.”

Carol extended her hand to Mark and he gave her the phone. “Shaquan, it’s Carol. Do you want this job or not?” she asked sternly. “Your baby’s daddy is BCDC until next year at least. Can you get there in the next fifteen minutes or should I call someone who can?” Carol asked. “Okay, have a great day.” She handed Mark back the phone. He looked a little uncomfortable.

“If they hear a new voice, they think they can get one over on you,” I explained. I had learned this the hard way a couple of times when I first helped Carol out in the office.
 

“She was really convincing,” he said defensively.

“Yes,” Carol agreed, “they always are.”

I looked up at the clock. It was nine forty. “I’ve got to go,” I said. “Carol, I’ll call you later today.” As I walked to the front door I could feel Mark’s eyes on me.
 

“Wait up, Diana,” he called.
 

I kept moving. I had reached the sidewalk when he caught me. He touched my elbow. “I want to apologize,” he began. “I never meant for this to happen. I didn’t know you would be at the office this morning.”

“But you knew last night who we were and never said a word,” I pointed out and started walking towards my car.

“You’re right,” he said following me. “I didn’t handle it well. I should have said something.” He was making it hard to stay mad at him. I had to get away from his hypnotizing eyes and delicious smell.
 

“I have to go,” I insisted as we reached my car. “You’re going to make me late for work. I don’t think my boss would appreciate it. I’ve heard he’s kind of a dick,” I added as I opened my car door.

I started my engine and pulled away, leaving Mark standing on the curb.
 

* * * * *

I knocked at The Count’s door at precisely ten o’clock. He answered the door immediately like he had either been standing at the door waiting for me to knock or had flown across the room like a bat. In either case, it was a little unnerving.
 

“Ms. Hudson,” he said warmly as he ushered me in. “So glad you enjoyed your work enough yesterday to return today.” He chuckled. He was sporting a red cape today. Maybe it was his Superman look.

I smiled back. “Was there any doubt?” I asked.

“Well, it has proved difficult in the past to keep a temporary more than a few days,” he said, shaking his head and taking a seat at his desk. “But I’m not sure why.”
 

Now there’s a mystery, I said to myself as I sat down in front of him.

“It’s been so difficult to find good help,” he continued, “that the last few times I’ve been in town Miss Smith has assisted me with the manuscripts herself.”

Imagine that. Carol had been Vann Pyres’ assistant the last couple of times he had been in town. If she wasn’t so beat up by life right now, I’d be tempted to take a jab at her myself.

“First, let me say that your work is marvelous, and so speedy, I might add,” he smiled encouragingly. “I think this is going to work out beautifully. Second, I would be honored if you would accompany me to lunch this afternoon at one. I would like to celebrate our successful partnership and discuss a couple of other projects that I have on the horizon.”

Lunch, really? Lunch with a man wearing a red cape. “How could I refuse?” I asked with a smile.

“Wonderful,” he said. “I will call for you at one and we will dine in the hotel restaurant.” He handed me another stack of illegible, hand-written pages and rose to walk me to the door.

An hour and two cups of coffee later, I had finished three pages. I was glad he appreciated my work and might have other projects, because the money sure was good. But lunch? Argh! My thoughts turned to last night. Man, why did Mark have to turn out to be such a jerk. If he had just said who he was at the bar, then maybe . . . Maybe what, I asked myself sternly, maybe it would have worked out? No. He would have had two strikes against him. I met him in a bar and I worked for him. No way this was ever going to be more than a sweet smelling dream.
 

My phone rang. It was my condo. Oh, God, what now.

“Yes, Granddaddy,” I answered.

“I’m hungry and we’re all out of jerky,” he complained.

“So find something else to eat. I’m working,” I said.

“Guess I could head out and see what I can find,” he said.

“Don’t you dare open that door,” I whispered furiously. “You promised that you would stay put until I got home to take you to Ashley’s.”

“That’s when I thought you had jerky,” he said stubbornly. “That man you had over last night musta’ ate it all up.”
 

“He was helping me get you two home,” I reminded him. “Now make yourself a sandwich or something and I’ll be home at four-fifteen.” I could hear him grumbling as I hung up the phone.

One o’clock rolled around and I was actually getting hungry. The hotel restaurant was close to the guest office space. At least we weren’t leaving the building. That definitely cut down on the chance of running into someone I knew while out with The Count. He arrived crisply at one, red satin cape flapping jauntily as he stopped at the doorway. With a look of distaste he said, “Diana, I can’t abide to be in the presence of those things.” He pointed at my computer. “I’m sure they will irradiate me with their poisonous electromagnetic fields.” Would it make that much difference? I wondered, as I saved my document and went to meet him at the door. Apparently, it was okay if I got irradiated by electromagnetic fields.
 

Evidently he had been to the hotel restaurant before, because no one seemed to notice his red cape. Not even when he flipped it out like a classical pianist sitting down at his instrument when we took our seats. He called the waiter by name. “Phillip, the lady and I will have the chef’s vegan lunch special,” he said handing both our menus back to Phillip. I looked up at Phillip for a little sympathy. Phillip was busy scribbling on his pad.
 

“And to drink?” he asked without looking up.
 

“Your best bottle of Chardonnay, of course,” said Mr. Pyres.
 

Well, I wasn’t happy with the food choice, but at least there was wine. “I don’t mean to be rude, Diana,” he said apologetically, “but I am particular about food. I can’t abide to see animal products consumed. So primal,” he added, making an ick face.