good as Rosemary and Lillian’s, but it should do.”
They fast-forwarded through Eric’s visit and the minutes of Yvonne typing, until they got to Todd’s arrival. They watched his entrance and exit, and fast-forwarded again, through the remaining office footage of Yvonne’s office work, all the way to the blue screen.
“Nothing,” Eric said.
“Let’s watch again.”
They did, but saw nothing much more than Karl’s door and Yvonne’s desk.
“I don’t get it,” Eric said. He tossed the remote onto the quilt and yawned, rubbing his hand over his face.
Casey picked up the remote and went back to the first frame of the footage, freezing the picture. She sucked in a breath. “Eric.”
“Yeah?”
“Look at the picture.”
“I’m looking.”
“What are we looking at?”
He shrugged. “Karl’s door.”
Casey shook her head. “What is in the middle of the frame?”
He squinted at the TV. “Yvonne?”
“And?”
He sat up. “Yvonne’s computer.”
Casey started the DVD again and jumped up from the sofa, standing with her face inches from the screen. “I can’t read the typing on here. It’s too small.”
Eric went to the player and ejected the DVD. “Come on. We’ll look on my computer.”
They left the lights off as they went downstairs, Casey avoiding windows. Eric’s computer sat in a messy office, one of the four bedrooms in his house. He put in the disk, and with the media player he enlarged the screen of Yvonne’s computer so they could see the typing.
“These are just bills,” Eric said. “They look normal. Nothing unusual about paying utility bills or insurance premiums.”
“You’re sure?”
“No, but I think so.”
“Okay. Move ahead.”
They fast-forwarded, stopping frequently, moving past payroll and inter-office memos about packing up supplies, announcements telling employees to be sure to sign up for their severance packages, and production lists.
“There,” Eric said. “What’s that?”
Casey’s stomach flipped. She knew the format. She knew it all too well. “It’s a contract.”
“About what?” Eric said, bending closer to the screen.
Casey noted the names at the beginning of the document: MIKE and PATRICIA MARLOWE.
“This contract is between HomeMaker and these people,” Casey said. “The Marlowes.” She read further, the hair on the back of her neck prickling. “It says someone died from using one of HomeMaker’s appliances.” She looked at Eric. “It was a dryer.”
Chapter Forty-One
Eric slid the DVD into its sleeve. “So it’s true. Ellen was right. Where do we go to find out more? HomeMaker?”
Casey shook her head. “There’s surveillance there. We’d be seen for sure.” She sighed. “Who would be the best person to talk to?” She held a hand up. “Other than Karl.”
“That’s easy. Yvonne.” Eric chewed his lip.
Casey watched his face go through several emotions. “What?”
“Talking to Yvonne is probably not the smartest thing.”
“Why not?”
He closed his eyes and shook his head.
“What, Eric?”
“Yvonne is…well, she’s married to a cop.”
“A cop? Which one?”
He winced. “The one who was here earlier.”
“Yvonne is married to the chief?”
“No. No, not him. The patrolman.”
Casey rested her forehead in her hand. “So how do we talk to her?”
“Do you think he’s home? I mean, wouldn’t he be out with the chief, at the scene?”
“He could be. He was with him an hour or so ago. But there’s no way to know for sure.” Casey stood up and paced the room. “What time is it?”
Eric glanced at the computer. “About one-thirty.”
“When do the workers take their lunch break?”
“At HomeMaker? Three-o’clock, I think. Why?”
“Is there a way to get from the factory part of the complex to the administrative offices?”
“Sure. There’s a hallway that connects them. Two hallways, actually.”
“And you have keys?”
He shrugged. “I have a master. I can get into anywhere except Karl’s office. What are you thinking?”
“Do the workers go outside during their break?”
“Lots of them. To smoke, or eat their lunches.” His face cleared. “We’re going to mix in with them, and sneak into the building, aren’t we?”
“You up for it?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“We’ll have to walk.”
“Walk?”
“If the cops spot your car, we’re screwed.”
“Right. Besides…” He grinned crookedly. “My car’s still back at Home Sweet Home.”
Casey grimaced. “Does that mean your keys are, too?”
“Just the ones for the car. Karl would kill me if someone got ahold of HomeMaker keys, so I keep those separate.”
“Good. Put on some shoes. And we need light blue button-down shirts. You have any?”
“I’m sure I do. While I’m looking, um…”
“What?”
He touched his lip. “You’d better clean up a little.”
Casey found his bathroom, and tried not to be too shocked at her appearance. It was a wonder Eric hadn’t fainted when he first saw her. Her lip was swollen to at least twice its size, and blood had spattered across her face and chest. There was even some in her hair.
Not all her own blood, she was sure. She swallowed down the bad taste that rose in her mouth.
She scrubbed her face, being gentle around her lip, and brushed out her hair with a comb she found in a drawer. She also found some ibuprofen, and took a couple of them with water from the sink, hoping they would ease the throbbing in her arms, back, and lip.
Eric knocked on the door. “Here’s a shirt.”
She took it from him and closed the door again, stripping off her long-sleeved tee. Untying the material from around her arm, she grimaced at the nasty cut on her shoulder. It should probably have had stitches, but after washing it off she used some regular Band-Aids from the medicine cabinet to pull it as closed as she could before
