massive lobby of the building, “this is only temporary. I told Skip, probably a month. Sandy and I are out of here. Out of this crappy community, out of this state, maybe out of this country. But you can’t say anything, James. I’m really relying on you two to keep this confidential. Just between us, okay?”
Sarah the looker. Sarah the hooker. I can’t describe the feeling, but it was kind of cool and kind of creepy to know that I’d dated a girl who had become a high-class prostitute. A hooker. I mean, as a kid-maybe in junior high-we used to talk about hookers. Girls who made money having sex. There were jokes, stories, rumors, and legends about hookers. And now, I was the pretend-boyfriend of one. Too strange for words. God, I wanted to ask her all kinds of questions, but I knew if I let her know what I knew, it would all be over.
“Ralph will be by in a little while to walk you guys through the building. He wants everything to go as smooth as possible.” She pointed at the entrance door to the company’s inner sanctum.
Ralph Walters was Sandy Conroy’s right-hand man. As VP of the company, he pretty much ran things as he saw fit, and he’d let me know he was in charge from the second I’d met him.
“Nothing happens in here that I don’t know about. Got that Mr. Moore? Nothing at all.”
First words out of his mouth, swear to God. I’d just been offered twenty grand, so I wasn’t in a position to argue. “I won’t do a thing without consulting you, Mr. Walters.” My mother wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t a great mother, but she taught me to be nice to people who signed my paycheck.
“We’ll get along fine then.” The short, balding man gave me a curt nod, glanced at his watch, and walked away.
And now James was about to meet the second in command. I just hoped he’d use his charm, and not revert to the smartass he could easily be. “Twelve bucks an hour, James. Just suck it up and agree with whatever the man says.”
Ralph Walters had been with the company for ten years. He told me that he’d been born to work at Synco Systems. “Let me tell you something, young man. The first thirty years of my life were simply preparation. This company is the final result.”
I’d nodded, not wanting to say anything to jeopardize the financial situation. Nothing to jeopardize what would amount to over $20,000 in my pocket. I know, believe me, I know there are more important issues than money. I haven’t found them yet, but I’ve been told by so many people, I have to believe it.
We sat in the expansive lobby, studying the artwork on the walls. Abstract paintings, appearing to be originals, with flashes of bright colors, bold strokes of pastel colors, and solid scrapes done with palette knives. Em had explained those things to me on a tour of her parents’ mansion. I couldn’t appreciate the talent, but I had the feeling that they were expensive pieces.
“She’s hot, amigo.”
“James, you know and I know. But you can’t let on. I’m serious, man. You tend to wear your feelings on your sleeves. Don’t.”
“She’s hot, Skip. You don’t want to bring Em into this, trust me.”
“No.” I agreed with him. The minutes became an hour. The hour dragged on twenty more minutes.
“Guys, I am so sorry.” Sarah stuck her pretty head into the lobby, like a nurse in a doctor’s office. “I’m going to find out what’s taking him so long.”
“If he’s in his office, why don’t we just come on back with you?” James, being the pushy son of a bitch that he can be.
She hesitated. “Okay.”
“Sarah. We don’t have to.”
“It’s okay.”
We stood up and followed her lead. Through the lobby doors, down the hall into a large room with computer stations, workbenches, and several dozen employees, all quietly working at their stations. Some ran small machines at the workbenches, but most were glued to their computer screens. I swear you could hear a pin drop. Five offices opened into the room from the far wall. Each office was numbered.
Sarah paused, turned and looked at us, and smiled. Bright white teeth, perfect in every dimension. Whatever she made in her escort life, she spent wisely. On cosmetic dentistry to start with.
She knocked on door number five. Knocked again, then louder the third time.
“Must have stepped out.”
“Should we come back? Later this week?”
“Skip. We set the appointment. He’ll be here.”
She knocked again. Nothing.
“Here.” James, the pushy S.O. B, reached beyond her and pushed on the office door. It swung inward smoothly, showcasing three-quarters of the spacious room. I looked over his shoulder and could see the massive oak desk, the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, some more art that I had no interest in, and two visible skylights that bathed the room in early morning light.
“Mr. Walters?” Sarah gave James a dirty look.
James just smiled. “The door was open. It must have been the Lord’s will.”
It probably wasn’t the smoothest thing to open someone’s office door. But James didn’t have an office, and he was good at sticking his nose into other people’s business, so it didn’t seem that strange to him.
“Mr. Walters?” More timid this time. Sarah reached for the doorknob to close the door, but once again James barged up to the doorway. He stepped into the office as Sarah whispered loudly, “Stop it. You can’t just-” she followed him in two steps behind.
“James, it’s time to go.” I’d just gotten the job and I didn’t want to lose it already.
“Pretty nice office. Guy must be pulling down some serious jack.”
“James, please.” She nervously looked around the office.
I stepped in. Not to see if Mr. Walters really was there or not, but to escort my good friend out. “James, I’ve met Ralph Walters. He’s a no-nonsense kind of guy, and he’s going to be pissed off if he finds us in his office. I can’t afford to lose this job, and neither can you.”
“Yeah,” he hesitated, obviously taken with the surroundings. I could tell he was picturing himself working in a fancy office like this. James was always dreaming about hitting the big time.
“James. Let’s go.”
“Okay, we’re out of here, pally.” James gave it one last look, turned, and exited. I was close behind. Sarah followed, backing out and starting to pull the door shut. I saw her stumble and stop.
“Oh, my God.” Her eyes were riveted on Walters’s desk.
“What?” She spun around, and in that hushed whisper she said, “Somebody’s feet are under his desk.”
“Where?”
“Under the desk.”
James and I both turned and looked. Sure enough, the soles of someone’s shoes, socks, and the cuffs of brown trousers were visible under the desk.
I looked at James, and he shrugged his shoulders. In his own hushed voice he said, “Maybe the guy takes naps there? Or maybe, just maybe,” he glanced at Sarah, “he has a mistress and they meet under the desk.”
She rolled her eyes. “Mr. Walters?”
No answer.
Finally James did what James does best. He barged back into the office and walked behind the desk, involving us again in a truly messy situation. I should never have involved the son of a bitch.
“Holy crap, Skip. Come here.” He grabbed the edge of the big oaken desk.
Sarah took several steps in his direction.
“Sarah, I don’t think you want to see this.”
The two of us reached the rear of the desk at the same time. Ralph Walters’s body had slid from the desk chair and was on the floor, his legs protruding from the front of the desk. In his right hand was a blue steel revolver and the left side of his head was blown away, remains of brain, bone, and blood spattering the veneer of the desk drawers.
CHAPTER FIVE
