“Besides, I want to see your bedroom. I hear it’s gorgeous.”
“It is. But the bathroom . . .”
“Bathroom?”
“You don’t want to know.”
We hung up, and I was clearing clutter (stuffing things in drawers) when Brickhouse appeared in my doorway.
She clucked.
I closed my eyes, thought about thunking my head on my desk until I was unconscious. I didn’t have the energy for Brickhouse right now.
When I opened my eyes, she was right in front of my desk, a bowl in her hands. She set it in front of me.
“Eat.”
I peeked into the bowl. The smell that rose up on waves of steam made my stomach growl.
There were things in there I couldn’t identify. Little bits of pudgy rice-shaped pasta for one. The spices for another. I recognized the carrots, the celery, the bits of ground beef.
“What is it?”
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Heather Webber
“Soup.”
“Ha. Ha.”
“It’s an old family recipe.” She set a plastic spoon next to the bowl. “Now eat.”
I looked up, trying to gauge why she was being nice to me, and thought I saw a flash of maternal worry before her eyes switched back to their normal blue steel.
“Thanks,” I said, nearly choking on the word. Me, thank-ing Brickhouse Krauss. I never thought I’d see the day.
She nodded and walked out the door.
I scooped, I sipped, I
I just hoped it wasn’t poisoned.
Inside Growl, people stood four deep in lines. There were three people working the registers. Two looked like they could have been Goosh’s brother and sister.
I stood there twirling my key chain on my finger until Riley noticed me. He gave me the one-finger wait-a- minute sign again. I pointed down the hallway that led to the restrooms.
He nodded.
I didn’t see Noreen, and according to Tam, Bill had gone home early. This was the perfect time to check his office, see if those accounting books had miraculously turned up.
Black ceramic tile led me to the ladies’ room. I stopped, looked over my shoulder, and sprinted down the rest of the hallway toward the Employees Only door, Keds squeaking, keys jangling.
Pushing on the swinging door, I peeked in. Didn’t see anyone. Slipping through the opening, I looked around.
To my right, a short hallway led to the kitchen area and what looked like a break room. Someone stood with their back to me, chopping tomatoes.
There was an office to the left, the light off, the door open.
I ducked in, closed the door, turned on the light.
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The office was split down the middle by a partition. Each half matched the other, right down to the heavy oak desk and steel trash can. Two small supply closets faced each other on opposite walls.
One desk had a picture of Lindsey on it. Bill’s. My Clue-playing abilities never ceased to amaze me. Setting my keys on the heavy duty industrial carpet, I riffled through papers, opened drawers. No accounting books. Nothing that looked the least bit incriminating at all.
Working fast, I checked Russ’s desk as well. The man was a neatnik, I’d give him that. Tam would have appreciated his organizing. I looked for a financial file among the hanging files but couldn’t find one.
Bracing myself, I opened the closet door on Russ’s side, hoping nothing—namely a dead body—fell out on me.
It had been that kind of day.
There were several work shirts hanging on a rod, and shelves above and below that held office supplies. Printer paper, file folders, envelopes, and the like.
Quickly, I crossed the room to Bill’s closet, turned the handle.
It was locked.
