Working Stiff

Lucy, the receptionist, got out and stood there, staring. “Lord,” she said. “I was told, but I didn’t believe it. Is it true? Mr. Fairview, gone?”

“And Freddy,” Bryn said.

Lucy tore her gaze away from the damaged building and glanced over at her, lifting an eyebrow. “I’m not crying over him. Oh, you didn’t meet him, did you?”

“No,” Bryn lied. “I went home. After … after what happened to Melissa.” That, Fideli had told her, was the official story, and it made sense. More sense than what she’d done. “I guess Mr. Fairview and Freddy were working late. They say it was some kind of explosion and fire.”

“Some of those chemicals are real nasty,” Lucy agreed. “It’s just awful. Well, I suppose both of us are out of a job.”

“No.” Bryn took a deep breath. “I … I was Mr. Fairview’s niece.”

“You what? Why didn’t anybody tell me?”

“He wanted me to make it on my own. Without any special treatment. You know.”

“Well, that’s just like him, fair as always,” Lucy said. “What a good man. But still …” She let it go. “I guess you’ll be inheriting the place? I know he didn’t have a wife or any children.”

“Yes,” Bryn said. “I’m going to get it up and running as fast as possible. You still have a job, Lucy—if you’re willing to work for me, I mean. I really need your help. You know so much, and I have so much to learn.”

“You must be related to Mr. Fairview. You flatter just like him.” Lucy tilted her head slightly, her expression gone calculating. “So you want me to be more of an administrator, then.”

“Of course, there’s a raise,” Bryn said.

“How much?”

“How much do you want?”

Lucy seemed startled by that, but she didn’t let it throw her too far off. “Thirty percent,” she said. “That’s only fair. There’s a lot more to really running this place than just answering the phone and handing out tissues to the bereaved.”

“I’m starting to realize that. Yes, that sounds fair. Shake on it?” She held out her hand, and Lucy took it for a brief squeeze. “I don’t think we’ll get much done today. Maybe we should make lists of what we need to find first.”

“First thing, you’d better start looking for a good downstairs man; they don’t come cheap. I do wish we’d never let Vikesh go. And we’ll have to make sure these construction crews know which permits they’re supposed to get.”

“Do you think you can handle that last part?”

Lucy smiled. “That’s what you’re going to be paying me for, Ms. Bryn.”

“Did we have anything scheduled for this week?”

“We had Mr. Granberry down there in the freezer—good Lord, we’re going to get our asses sued off for that, I’ll bet. I’ll be in touch with our lawyer to see if he can get ahead of that and offer some kind of settlement. It’d just be the meetings you had yesterday we have to worry about, and I’ll take care of that.” Lucy thought for a second. “Hmm I think Mr. Fairview had some private meetings booked. I only know that because I worked late a couple of times and people came in looking for him.”

“Do you remember any names? Maybe I can contact them.”

Lucy leaned against her car and patted her carefully lacquered hair as wind skirled through the parking lot, picking up ashes and random trash and stirring them ankle-high. “You think he was doing something illegal?”

“Do you?”

Lucy was quiet a moment; then she crossed her arms and stared off at the wrecked building with a distant expression. “I don’t know. He was a good man, but he had his darkness, Mr. Fairview. I know that. Those folks that came in at night—they seemed scared. And desperate. But he seemed to be helping them.”

“Lucy, do you remember the names? It may be important.”

She shook her head. “He was right there, soon as they came in. I didn’t even have a chance to ask. There was a man and a woman; she looked familiar but I couldn’t place her. I saw them twice. She didn’t look so good the second time. You think he was selling drugs?”

“Maybe,” Bryn said. “We need to find out what was going on. Is there anything you can tell me that would help?”

Lucy hesitated this time for so long Bryn thought that she wouldn’t bite, but finally she said, “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“No, I promise I won’t.”

“I think …” She took a deep breath. “I said the woman looked familiar. She did. She looked like one of the clients we had. And the man—I know he was a paying customer. The bereaved husband.”

“By client you mean …”

“Corpse,” Lucy said. “Deceased. Gone on to glory. Must have been the dead woman’s sister, I guess.”

“Probably.” Bryn wondered how much Lucy really knew, or guessed, or didn’t want to guess. “What about the other person you saw? Could it have been … a paying customer? Or a client?”

“Clients don’t go walking around.”

“Lucy.”

She didn’t look happy about it, but she finally said, reluctantly, “Maybe one of them looked familiar, too. Bryn, what the hell was going on?”

“Is,” Bryn said softly. “Is going on. I don’t know, but we have to find out. Is the phone still working?”

“I tried the number this morning, and it rang through to voice mail. I changed the message to say that we were closed for repairs.”

“Good thinking. Were there any messages?”

“I’m not supposed to check the messages. Mr. Fairview always liked to do that himself.”

“Lucy,” Bryn said, and smiled. “Come on. You checked them, didn’t you?”

“Well … only because of the accident. There were a couple from hospitals about pickups, but I took care of those.”

“Anything else?”

“Two that were strange,” Lucy said, “but strange calls to a funeral home aren’t exactly breaking news. Half the ones we get are pranks during the day. Can’t imagine how many end up on the voice mail during drinking hours.”

“Can I hear them?”

Lucy pulled out her cell phone and dialed, then handed it over. Bryn listened as the recordings played. The first one was definitely a prank, complete with giggling and drunken college come-ons. She deleted that one. The second, though, was interesting. It came with a long leader of silence, followed by a shaky voice saying, “This call is for Mr. Fairview. I-I need to meet tonight; it’s important. I have the money.” A phone number followed, and Bryn quickly rooted in her purse for paper and pen to write it down.

“What are you going to do?” Lucy asked.

“Find out what he wanted,” Bryn said. “Wait. There’s another one.”

This voice didn’t sound at all shaky. It was a man’s voice, and it sounded hurried and sharp. “You were supposed to meet me,” it said. “Don’t stand me up again. You know where. Tonight, nine.” Nothing else. Bryn would have assumed it was a wrong number normally, but not this time. That’s him, she thought. The supplier. The Pharmadene leak. He hadn’t said his name, or left a number, or even specified a location. Fairview would have known.

But Fairview had taken it to his grave. Still, it was a lead. And if the number could be traced, maybe they’d have a name.

That fast? Bryn felt a surge of unease. If it had been that easy, McCallister wouldn’t have bothered to bring her back at all … and if she presented him with the solution on day two, what was there to keep her alive?

“Anything else?” Lucy asked, clearly interested now. “That one must have just come in. I only heard the prank calls, and that weird one to Mr. Fairview about having the money.”