know about it. She wouldn’t be flying back as planned this afternoon. She’d be in a jail cell in upstate New York. “What did he say?”
“That it must be a mistake. Who is this person you’re supposed to have killed?”
“Betty Quint. It’s a long story. I’d rather just go over it once when the lawyer’s here.”
“I left word at his office. They were going to try catching him at home so he could come directly here. Mayfield’s name carries some weight, I guess.”
“I’m glad of that!” The coffee had revived her and she was feeling a little more human.
“I’m pleased you phoned me, Susan. I heard you broke up with Russell and I can’t say I’m sorry about that. You know I’ve always had a fondness for you.”
“Fondness? Is that what you call it?” She decided to make things clear from the beginning. A night in a jail cell had intensified the anger she sometimes felt toward Brentnor, though she knew none of what had happened was his fault. “I phoned you because I didn’t want to wake Saul in the middle of the night, and yours was the only other Mayfield’s home phone number I had with me. I do appreciate your flying up here, but let’s not get the wrong idea.”
“All right,” he agreed, flushing at her harsh words. “Now tell me what-”
A guard came to announce that her lawyer had arrived. He bustled in looking like an upstate version of Mike Brentnor, though with more style. She had a sudden vision of him in a courtroom defending her on the murder charge.
“Hello, Miss Holt,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Irving Farber from the firm of Freeman and Farber. That’s my father in the firm name, not me.” A smile flashed across his face, then was gone. He was all business. “What happened here?”
“I’ve been arrested for murder is what happened,” Susan said, her anger rising again.
“Have you made a statement to the police?”
“I told them what happened. They questioned me for hours until I demanded a lawyer.”
“That’s good.” He took a yellow legal pad from his briefcase and started to make notes. “What about the assistant D.A.? Was he in to see you?”
She nodded. “After they photographed and fingerprinted me. I told him I wanted to phone a coworker to get me a lawyer. By that time all I wanted was some sleep.”
“All right, Susan. May I call you Susan? Suppose you tell me your story from the beginning.”
He glanced questioningly at Mike Brentnor and Susan said, “It’s all right if he stays. I have nothing to hide.”
“Let’s start at the beginning. What brought you to our city?”
Susan took a deep breath, as if she was about to dive into a swimming pool. “I work for Mayfield’s, the Manhattan department store. We’re opening our first location in western New York at your new shopping mall in Pembroke and I flew up to work out the details of some special promotions. Betty Quint was my contact here.”
More notes. “How long had you known Miss Quint?”
“I’d met her once at our New York office about six months ago. She stayed overnight at my apartment. We’d been in constant touch by phone, fax, and E-mail since then. This is my first trip up here because there was no point in coming until the store was almost ready to open.”
“When does it open?”
“Next Tuesday. A week from today.”
“Go on. Describe everything that happened.”
I took the Monday afternoon flight up from LaGuardia (Susan continued), arriving at midafternoon. Betty met me at the airport and drove me to the new store. She was a friendly, uninhibited young woman of about my age, around thirty. Seeing her again confirmed my impression of her from our initial meeting at the New York store. She was a good worker, perfect for this store, but perhaps lacking the cool sophistication needed for the Manhattan retail scene. She liked jokes and didn’t mind attracting attention to herself. I wasn’t surprised when she mentioned she was active in a local theater group.
We toured the completed Mayfield’s store, where clerks were busy unpacking merchandise for the shelves and racks. Betty consulted her notebook frequently as she led the way through the store, pointing out special features of interest. A small cafe was already open for the employees and we took advantage of it for coffee and a snack.
“I’m so excited to be part of the Mayfield’s team!” Betty gushed. “Have you been with them long?”
“About nine years. Ever since college.”
“I thought Manhattan was very exciting when I was there in the spring.”
“It is, but most of my excitement has come from traveling for the store. I’ve been to Tokyo, Iceland, Switzerland, London, and all over America.”
“Do you meet lots of men on the job?”
“Not too many,” I said. “I told you about Russell.”
“Are you back living with him?”
“No.” I felt like saying it was none of her business. Instead, I shifted the conversation back to the new store. “Do you have anyone helping you on promotions?”
“Sadie Shepherd, she’s my secretary.” Her face brightened. “There she is now! I’ll introduce you.” She called out to a slender dark-haired woman in her twenties who was already headed in our direction. “Sadie, this is Susan Holt, the promotions coordinator at Mayfield’s flagship store in Manhattan.”
The young woman had a pleasant smile and seemed eager to please. “So glad to meet you! Betty told me about the great time she had in New York.”
“It was fun for me too. Perhaps you can come down and see our store sometime.”
“I’d love that,” Sadie said, then turned her attention briefly to Betty. “I wanted to catch you before you left. Here are a couple of phone messages.”
“Thanks, Sadie.” She glanced at them and slipped them into a pocket of her notebook. When we were alone again she turned back to me. “It would be great if you could stay and help me through next Tuesday’s opening.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Betty. I have to fly back tomorrow afternoon. But we can go over lots of things while I’m here. If you’re free we can have dinner tonight. My expense account is fairly generous.”
“That would be great! We have a wonderful new French restaurant down by the harbor.”
“I’ll have to check in at my hotel first. I don’t want to inconvenience you. I should rent a car.”
“Why bother, for just one night? I’ll drive you to the hotel and then we can go to my place while I change.”
It wasn’t quite as simple as it sounded. Just as we pulled up at my hotel Betty received a call on her cell phone. She seemed annoyed at the caller, someone named Roger, and tried to get rid of him. “Look, I’m working right now, Roger. Sadie gave me your messages, but I was too busy to get back to you. Can’t we talk about this later?” She listened for a moment and then said, “I’m with someone from the New York office and we’ll be going back to my apartment.” When he said something else she uttered an obscenity and pushed the Off button on the phone.
I gave a grunt of approval. “Is Roger an old boyfriend?”
“Worse than that,” she said, but explained no further.
It took me a few minutes to check in and she accompanied me to my room.
“I just want to slip into a dress and we can be on our way,” I told her.
“It’s not a fancy place.”
“I’ve gotten a bit rumpled from traveling. I’ll only be a minute.”
She sat down on the bed. “Do you smoke?”
“Tried it. Gave it up.”
She’d opened her purse to take out a cigarette but then thought better of it. Meanwhile, I’d unzipped my overnight bag and removed this simple print dress I’d brought with me for early fall wear. I didn’t bother retreating to the bathroom for a modest change of clothes. We’d seen pretty much all of each other the night Betty stayed over at my Manhattan apartment. That was also the night she’d startled me by suggesting we stop for after-dinner drinks at the Plaza bar and then paying for them with a hundred-dollar bill.
“Can I use your phone?” she asked as I was freshening my makeup.
“Go ahead.” I motioned toward the nightstand.
She got an outside line and punched in a local number. When the party answered she started right in. “Roger
