Misadventures of the Laundry Hag series Box Set, page 30
part #1 of Misadventures of the Laundry Hag Series
“No need to bother him, he’s a busy man, I’m sure.” I stammered. Not to mention a cold fish. Who goes into work after his wife has disappeared?
Sierra smiled at me as if I’d just won brownie points. “Oh, Mr. V insists on meeting any new team member, even the cleaning staff. We’re all like family here, you see.”
Garner nodded as if his head was on a spring. “Family, that’s right.”
Frigging great, family wages.
Sierra spoke into a small device, which I presumed was an intercom. “When you have a moment Mr. Valentino—”
“Be right out,” Came the clipped reply.
Surreptitiously, I shuffled back so I was partially obscured behind Richard and stared at the double doors.
“How’s your daughter, Sierra?” Garner filled the quiet.
“Zoe’s doing well, thank you, Allan. She’s been asking after you.” Sierra focused on me. “Allan volunteers as the community soccer coach, he’s wonderful with the kids.”
Garner blushed and mumbled what I presumed to be a thank you and lapsed into silence again.
“Now who do we have here?” Valentino boomed from the now open doors.
“Margaret Sampson and her associate, Richard Head, our new cleaning service,” Garner said, his tone implying that he’d escort us from the building at Valentino’s command. Clearly, Valentino took great pains to approve anyone who had access to his building.
“Pleased to meet you,” I mumbled, just as Richard sprang to life.
“Oh, Mr. Valentino, it’s an honor, sir.” He reached his hand forward and shook with fervor.
“Er…yes. A pleasure.” Valentino dropped Richard’s hand and glanced at me. Force of will alone let my gaze meet his. No hint of recognition lit in his eyes and he turned away almost immediately. “Well, I have something of a personal matter to attend to so if you’ll excuse me...?”
He pivoted and said something low to Sierra and I silently prayed it wasn’t a get this woman out of my building order. Striding back through the double doors, and pulling on a wool overcoat was the work of moments and my pulse throbbed in my eardrums while mutely watching.
“Be sure to dust the wires attached to the computers. The last service was sloppy about it.”
I started breathing again as the elevator doors swallowed him.
“Absolutely not,” Richard stared at me like I had a dust rag nestled between my ears. “How can you even suggest that?”
“For the love of grief, Richard, what did you expect?” I snapped on my rubber scouring gloves and propped the bathroom door open with a full bucket of water. We’d been in the building for ten of the longest minutes of my life. Richard was a whiner and a complainer to the nth degree and it was all I could do not to club him with my mop. “Haven’t you ever cleaned a bathroom before?” I asked, figuring it was a rhetorical question. My jaw hung open when he glanced away. “You haven’t, have you?”
Richard puffed up like a blowfish under siege. “Mother takes care of the cleaning, she’s very particular.” The way he said mother reminded me of Norman Bates in Psycho. I shivered involuntarily.
Even insidious premonitions couldn’t curb my tongue though. “So why on Earth would you want to tackle a cleaning job?”
He shrugged. “Leo asked me to come with you, said you needed help.”
Leo was going to receive a serious beating when next we met. “Is that so?” Help didn’t look to be on Richard’s agenda this evening. He’d dawdled at the security desk, chatting up the night guard while I made three trips upstairs with my supplies. I’d vacuumed and dusted the outer area before he graced me with a cameo. And then the whining started.
“Richard, you have a choice here. Either pull on a pair of gloves and help me scour out this restroom or go home without pay.” I may be a push-over, but even the laundry hag has limits.
“I’m allergic to latex,” he informed me.
“I bet you say that to all your dates,” I grumbled. He looked confused as my pithy remark flew over his head. I pushed past him to the cart and grabbed a bottle of ammonia. “Fine, go dust the offices.”
“Dust is bad for my allergies.”
I scrunched my eyes shut and sucked in a breath. Did I really cancel a date with Neil, who was not happy with me again, to work with Dick Head? “I mean it Richard; you’re not getting paid to watch me bust my hump here. Find something to clean or scat.”
He scowled at me for an indeterminate amount of time before I turned my back. Part of me hoped he’d disappear; it felt like a new kind of torture to pay someone to annoy me while I cleaned. I’d never bitch about Marty’s work-ethic again. Then too, I wouldn’t have to sneak away from him to search Valentino’s office.
Luckily, I’d noted that while the third floor was monitored on security’s bank of screens, Valentino’s office wasn’t. I could just prop the door open, go about my business and the night watchman would be none the wiser.
Scouring the bathroom only took a few minutes, since it was in decent shape to begin with, and I signed the little chart when I finished and placed one of the Caution: Wet Floor signs in front of the door. Hefting my bucket of scummy water, I noticed Richard was halfheartedly arranging a tray of snacks in the break room. He so did not deserve Leo and I planned on telling my friend so at the first opportunity.
“I’m hitting the third floor now. Leave the exhaust fan on in the john so the floor dries before we leave.” My tone was matter-of-fact, but my heart rate jumped as I thought about the task ahead.
“Oh, I’m coming!” Richard sprang to life as though he’d just shot up adrenaline. “I want to see what’s in Valentino’s office.”
“We’re not going up there to snoop.” I fibbed while gripping the bucket in a shaking hand. Crap, I should have seen this coming after the way he’d greeted Valentino earlier, but I’d been so busy fading into the wood paneling that Richard’s reaction hadn’t sunk into my skull.
“Come on, I bet his office looks like Spacely’s Sprockets. You know, I read an article about him once in Wired. Apparently, he’s a real control freak, wants to approve every nuance of every sale. He’s also a real hustler when it comes to bidding on big projects.”
“So you’re a tech-guy?” I resisted using the word geek since I wanted him to keep talking.
“I dabble,” Richard replied with false modesty as he pushed the cart onto the elevator. “Valentino’s interesting, kinda like Bill Gates. He’s completely self-made, just a few lucky brakes and stellar timing equals a multimillionaire. From what I read, he’s developing the next generation power supply, based on solar technology. Tons of backers and he’s invested a huge chunk of his own fortune into the project. His corporate stock has gone through the roof with just the whispers of what this new battery can do.” The elevator opened with a ding and we unloaded onto the third floor.
I nodded, deciding I’d pay Richard in full, if for nothing more than information. “What exactly can it do?” I asked while taking out some furniture polish to treat Sierra’s desk.
Richard leaned in close like he was passing on top-secret intelligence. “Until now, solar power has been a daytime only source of energy, because the sun goes down at night. Well, last summer MIT developed this new catalyst made of all non-toxic materials. Valentino’s working on a storage unit that will house fuel cells so the solar panels collect the sunlight during the day to split water into hydrogen and oxygen for storage, Then at night, the cell will recombine the elements and poof, 24/7 energy.”
I cocked my head to the side. “What good is that?”
Richard gave me a are you totally stupid look. “Just end global warming and provide cheap, unlimited energy to the entire planet is all.”
“But aren’t solar panels like crazy expensive? And kind of fragile?”
Richard’s indignation was palpable. “With the technology we have available, manufacturers are working on super thin collectors. The holdup is storing the energy.”
“And that’s where Valentino comes in.” I nodded. “What’s it called?”
“Falcon. Like the bird of prey.” He was obviously tickled by the name. I was simply unnerved. Again with the birds, this couldn’t be pure coincidence.
“Are falcons anything like hawks?” I asked, trying to sound disinterested.
Richard rolled his eyes. “Duh. They are in the same order of birds, Falconiformes.”
Well, excuse me, Dr. Do Little.
The wall clock chimed ten and I took a deep breath. “I’m going to vacuum in here. Can you do me a favor, Richard? I left my invoices in my car. Do you think you could grab them for me?” I tossed him my keys.
Richard sighed, but I switched on the vacuum before he could come up with an excuse. He punched the down arrow on the elevator while I concentrated on dragging the carpet to make tidy patterns on the knap. As soon as he was gone, I shut off the vacuum and bolted to Valentino’s office. The doors were locked.
I had maybe fifteen minutes before Richard realized there weren’t any invoices in my car, other than gas station receipts, and came back, so I scuttled to Sierra’s desk. Leisurely, I rubbed across the surface, ignoring the camera mounted in the corner. “Key, key, key…” I chanted under my breath, aware that precious seconds were slipping away. The longer I fondled the desk, the more likely the guard would be to come to check on me. Still rubbing in useless circles with my left hand, I slid my right down to open drawers. Her top drawer revealed only the leather-bound book, a tidy row of pens and a stapler. I reached under the desk and felt a button, probably a security alert, and I was careful not to trigger an alarm.
The bottom drawer held a bevy of manila file folders. I pretended to drop my rag and ducked behind the desk to reach inside the drawer, checking for a key secured inside. Nothing. The files were mostly marked with a name, client ID number, and date, except for one halfway back, which was blank. Shaking hands tugged it lose and I opened it while holding my breath. Several envelopes, like you, would get from a bank teller were lodged inside. I opened one and thought Eureka! As a shiny brass key fell into my sweaty palm.
“Let’s get cracking,” I muttered, pretending to bash my head against the desk and rub for the camera’s benefit. Wheeling my cleaning cart in front of the secured office I stowed the rag and made a show of emptying the trash. If anyone had been watching me, they must be bored senseless by now. Keeping my mental fingers crossed, I scurried for the office. I inserted the key with a whispered prayer and exhaled loudly when it clicked the lock open. After parting the doors, I flicked on the lights and scanned the room. An antique cherry desk, much like the one at his house, held a computer and matching bookshelves lined the walls. Most of the shelves had been drafted for storage purposes, but a few technical manuals interspersed the clutter. The mauve carpeting looked odd with all of the dark, masculine furniture, but I wasn’t here to critique the décor.
I strode to the desk, having no clue what I sought, but the need to find something gave me a natural high. The first thing I noticed was the lack of pictures, just like Sierra’s. Valentino practiced what he preached, but my heart broke for Candie. Every wife should know her picture was proudly displayed in her husband’s workspace.
“There I go again with the shoulds,” I chastised myself and opened a few drawers. Paperclips, legal pads, post-its still in the wrapping. No clues here then.
“Stop right where you are.” A harsh voice commanded my attention.
Busted. And not by Richard. But I knew the man, even if I’d never seen him in person before.
Come on, you worthless seven pounds of gray matter, churn out some brilliant excuse. Nothing surfaced and Lucas Sloan was closing in.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the laundry hag,” he smirked.
Chapter 29
“This office is strictly off-limits. What are you doing in here?” Sloan withdrew a walkie-talkie from his guard uniform.
“Um, cleaning?” I gestured to the mountain of supplies just beyond the door.
“Valentino asked you to clean his office?” His gravelly voice was laced with skepticism. I nodded eagerly, praying I could talk my way out of whatever Sloan had in store.
“So why did I see you scrounging through the desk out there on my monitors? And how come you’re in here, with all of your cleaning stuff out there?” He raised one eyebrow and I swallowed. Crap, there must have been a second camera monitoring behind Sierra’s desk. What, Valentino didn’t trust his employees?
“Sierra promised to leave the key with security, but I guess she forgot. So I took a shot that it was still in her desk. And I was just figuring out what I need in here. Mr. V was in a hurry this afternoon and I didn’t get a chance to scope out his set up.” Queen of B.S. working her magic.
“I’ll have to verify that with Tom.” Sloan obviously didn’t buy my excuse. “Step outside, hands where I can see ‘em.” It wasn’t a request.
Circling the desk, I moved purposefully out into the reception area and headed to my cart. “I hope this won’t take too long, I promised my partner we’d be done in a half-hour.” My nerves prickled like a startled hedgehog.
Sloan spoke into his hand unit. “Yeah, Tom, did Sierra or Mr. Valentino leave instructions for the cleaning service to take care of Mr. Valentino’s office?” I held my breath and accepted a time of reckoning was at hand. Static crackled over the walkie-talkie and the reply came, too low for me to hear.
“You do that then. We’ll just wait here.” Sloan stared at me, a self-assured smirk on his face. “Tom’s calling Mr. Valentino at home, just to be sure.”
Not wanting him to see my panic, I bent over and stared at a bottle of Windex.
“Hands where I can see them!” Sloan ordered and I whirled to face the barrel of a gun leveled at my head. I raised my arms above my head, too fearful to feel ridiculous.
“Away from the cart, now.” His eyes cut to Sierra’s desk and I took the hint, stepping out of reach of my stuff.
“This is just a simple misunderstanding. Do I look like a corporate spy to you?” I wiped my sweaty palms on my bleach-stained jeans.
“Don’t play games with me, little girl. I know you lied about your identity to get this job. I ran your social security number myself and out popped the Laundry Hag Cleaning Services, much to my surprise. What I don’t know is why you lied, when you could have used me as a reference. I intended to find out.”
The radio squawked and Sloan reached for it with one hand while training the gun on me with the other.
His dark eyes narrowed. “He did. Huh. No, no that’s it for now.” Sloan replaced the unit on his belt and holstered his weapon while I concentrated on not keeling over in relief. Valentino had vouched for me? He must have recognized me then, but the question remained, why?
“I want some answers.” Sloan crossed his arms and stood with feet planted. The man was huge, bulkier than Neil and maybe an inch shorter, he towered over my five four stature. The thought of my husband gave me an epiphany. Maybe I could still spin this in my favor.
“My husband and I are having some troubles,” I told him. “Our marriage counselor, Dr. Robert Ludlum, suggested we take a break, to reevaluate our priorities.”
Something flickered on Sloan’s face at the mention of Dr. Bob. “That sounds like the quack all right. Next thing you know, you’ll be sitting in divorce court, wondering why you listened to the bastard, to begin with.”
Nodding I caught his gaze, hoping to fabricate a little solidarity between Dr. Bob’s hapless victims. “I guess I needed a clean break, you know? Using my maiden name was just a knee-jerk reaction.”
“Still doesn’t explain why you didn’t list me as a reference.”
I shrugged, striving for an unsure posture. “You hadn’t paid me yet and I didn’t receive any feedback, so how was I to know if you were happy with the results. I couldn’t take the chance; I need this job, especially if I’m headed for divorce court.”
Sloan scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know what you mean. Between lawyers, court fees and supporting two households, I’m seeing red wherever I turn.”
I shot him a confident smile. “So, can I get back to work now? I wanna be out of here before midnight.”
“Sure, sure. Tom will be leaving as soon as I finish my rounds. If you need anything hit star three for the security desk.” My new buddy tipped his ball cap at me and sauntered to the elevator. I made a show of pulling out a roll of paper towels, the Windex that almost got me killed and spritzing the open doors to Valentino’s office.
The elevator dinged and Richard stomped past Sloan. “There are no invoices in that God-forsaken vehicle!” he snapped.
“Really? I could have sworn I put them there earlier. Sorry about that, I guess I’ll call Mr. Garner tomorrow. Would you mind vacuuming in the office?” All this acting was giving me a migraine.
Richard grumbled, but I could tell his protests were halfhearted as he unplugged the vacuum and jauntily pushed it toward the open doors. I wanted to sag as the tail end of adrenalin departed from my system, but I was still on camera.
All that effort and I hadn’t unearthed anything noteworthy. The idea that Valentino had recognized me but played dumb this afternoon and then supported my phony claim turned my knees to jelly. What was his deal? He’d called the FBI about his wife’s possible abduction, but didn’t care enough to console her when she was shaken by the dead bird or display her picture in his office. I thought back to my brief conversation with Amelia. He wanted what someone else possessed and now someone else had his wife. But where the hell did I fit in?
Realizing I was standing around staring at nothing, I dropped the window supplies back into the cart and extracted my Swiffer duster to do the blinds and windowsills. The drone of the vacuum emanated from the open office, but it didn’t sound like Richard was moving it at all. I couldn’t muster the will to care, for once not at all concerned about my reputation. No way would I come back here, as I planned to tell Garner tomorrow. I refused to be a pawn in whatever twisted crap was going on with Valentino.
Sierra smiled at me as if I’d just won brownie points. “Oh, Mr. V insists on meeting any new team member, even the cleaning staff. We’re all like family here, you see.”
Garner nodded as if his head was on a spring. “Family, that’s right.”
Frigging great, family wages.
Sierra spoke into a small device, which I presumed was an intercom. “When you have a moment Mr. Valentino—”
“Be right out,” Came the clipped reply.
Surreptitiously, I shuffled back so I was partially obscured behind Richard and stared at the double doors.
“How’s your daughter, Sierra?” Garner filled the quiet.
“Zoe’s doing well, thank you, Allan. She’s been asking after you.” Sierra focused on me. “Allan volunteers as the community soccer coach, he’s wonderful with the kids.”
Garner blushed and mumbled what I presumed to be a thank you and lapsed into silence again.
“Now who do we have here?” Valentino boomed from the now open doors.
“Margaret Sampson and her associate, Richard Head, our new cleaning service,” Garner said, his tone implying that he’d escort us from the building at Valentino’s command. Clearly, Valentino took great pains to approve anyone who had access to his building.
“Pleased to meet you,” I mumbled, just as Richard sprang to life.
“Oh, Mr. Valentino, it’s an honor, sir.” He reached his hand forward and shook with fervor.
“Er…yes. A pleasure.” Valentino dropped Richard’s hand and glanced at me. Force of will alone let my gaze meet his. No hint of recognition lit in his eyes and he turned away almost immediately. “Well, I have something of a personal matter to attend to so if you’ll excuse me...?”
He pivoted and said something low to Sierra and I silently prayed it wasn’t a get this woman out of my building order. Striding back through the double doors, and pulling on a wool overcoat was the work of moments and my pulse throbbed in my eardrums while mutely watching.
“Be sure to dust the wires attached to the computers. The last service was sloppy about it.”
I started breathing again as the elevator doors swallowed him.
“Absolutely not,” Richard stared at me like I had a dust rag nestled between my ears. “How can you even suggest that?”
“For the love of grief, Richard, what did you expect?” I snapped on my rubber scouring gloves and propped the bathroom door open with a full bucket of water. We’d been in the building for ten of the longest minutes of my life. Richard was a whiner and a complainer to the nth degree and it was all I could do not to club him with my mop. “Haven’t you ever cleaned a bathroom before?” I asked, figuring it was a rhetorical question. My jaw hung open when he glanced away. “You haven’t, have you?”
Richard puffed up like a blowfish under siege. “Mother takes care of the cleaning, she’s very particular.” The way he said mother reminded me of Norman Bates in Psycho. I shivered involuntarily.
Even insidious premonitions couldn’t curb my tongue though. “So why on Earth would you want to tackle a cleaning job?”
He shrugged. “Leo asked me to come with you, said you needed help.”
Leo was going to receive a serious beating when next we met. “Is that so?” Help didn’t look to be on Richard’s agenda this evening. He’d dawdled at the security desk, chatting up the night guard while I made three trips upstairs with my supplies. I’d vacuumed and dusted the outer area before he graced me with a cameo. And then the whining started.
“Richard, you have a choice here. Either pull on a pair of gloves and help me scour out this restroom or go home without pay.” I may be a push-over, but even the laundry hag has limits.
“I’m allergic to latex,” he informed me.
“I bet you say that to all your dates,” I grumbled. He looked confused as my pithy remark flew over his head. I pushed past him to the cart and grabbed a bottle of ammonia. “Fine, go dust the offices.”
“Dust is bad for my allergies.”
I scrunched my eyes shut and sucked in a breath. Did I really cancel a date with Neil, who was not happy with me again, to work with Dick Head? “I mean it Richard; you’re not getting paid to watch me bust my hump here. Find something to clean or scat.”
He scowled at me for an indeterminate amount of time before I turned my back. Part of me hoped he’d disappear; it felt like a new kind of torture to pay someone to annoy me while I cleaned. I’d never bitch about Marty’s work-ethic again. Then too, I wouldn’t have to sneak away from him to search Valentino’s office.
Luckily, I’d noted that while the third floor was monitored on security’s bank of screens, Valentino’s office wasn’t. I could just prop the door open, go about my business and the night watchman would be none the wiser.
Scouring the bathroom only took a few minutes, since it was in decent shape to begin with, and I signed the little chart when I finished and placed one of the Caution: Wet Floor signs in front of the door. Hefting my bucket of scummy water, I noticed Richard was halfheartedly arranging a tray of snacks in the break room. He so did not deserve Leo and I planned on telling my friend so at the first opportunity.
“I’m hitting the third floor now. Leave the exhaust fan on in the john so the floor dries before we leave.” My tone was matter-of-fact, but my heart rate jumped as I thought about the task ahead.
“Oh, I’m coming!” Richard sprang to life as though he’d just shot up adrenaline. “I want to see what’s in Valentino’s office.”
“We’re not going up there to snoop.” I fibbed while gripping the bucket in a shaking hand. Crap, I should have seen this coming after the way he’d greeted Valentino earlier, but I’d been so busy fading into the wood paneling that Richard’s reaction hadn’t sunk into my skull.
“Come on, I bet his office looks like Spacely’s Sprockets. You know, I read an article about him once in Wired. Apparently, he’s a real control freak, wants to approve every nuance of every sale. He’s also a real hustler when it comes to bidding on big projects.”
“So you’re a tech-guy?” I resisted using the word geek since I wanted him to keep talking.
“I dabble,” Richard replied with false modesty as he pushed the cart onto the elevator. “Valentino’s interesting, kinda like Bill Gates. He’s completely self-made, just a few lucky brakes and stellar timing equals a multimillionaire. From what I read, he’s developing the next generation power supply, based on solar technology. Tons of backers and he’s invested a huge chunk of his own fortune into the project. His corporate stock has gone through the roof with just the whispers of what this new battery can do.” The elevator opened with a ding and we unloaded onto the third floor.
I nodded, deciding I’d pay Richard in full, if for nothing more than information. “What exactly can it do?” I asked while taking out some furniture polish to treat Sierra’s desk.
Richard leaned in close like he was passing on top-secret intelligence. “Until now, solar power has been a daytime only source of energy, because the sun goes down at night. Well, last summer MIT developed this new catalyst made of all non-toxic materials. Valentino’s working on a storage unit that will house fuel cells so the solar panels collect the sunlight during the day to split water into hydrogen and oxygen for storage, Then at night, the cell will recombine the elements and poof, 24/7 energy.”
I cocked my head to the side. “What good is that?”
Richard gave me a are you totally stupid look. “Just end global warming and provide cheap, unlimited energy to the entire planet is all.”
“But aren’t solar panels like crazy expensive? And kind of fragile?”
Richard’s indignation was palpable. “With the technology we have available, manufacturers are working on super thin collectors. The holdup is storing the energy.”
“And that’s where Valentino comes in.” I nodded. “What’s it called?”
“Falcon. Like the bird of prey.” He was obviously tickled by the name. I was simply unnerved. Again with the birds, this couldn’t be pure coincidence.
“Are falcons anything like hawks?” I asked, trying to sound disinterested.
Richard rolled his eyes. “Duh. They are in the same order of birds, Falconiformes.”
Well, excuse me, Dr. Do Little.
The wall clock chimed ten and I took a deep breath. “I’m going to vacuum in here. Can you do me a favor, Richard? I left my invoices in my car. Do you think you could grab them for me?” I tossed him my keys.
Richard sighed, but I switched on the vacuum before he could come up with an excuse. He punched the down arrow on the elevator while I concentrated on dragging the carpet to make tidy patterns on the knap. As soon as he was gone, I shut off the vacuum and bolted to Valentino’s office. The doors were locked.
I had maybe fifteen minutes before Richard realized there weren’t any invoices in my car, other than gas station receipts, and came back, so I scuttled to Sierra’s desk. Leisurely, I rubbed across the surface, ignoring the camera mounted in the corner. “Key, key, key…” I chanted under my breath, aware that precious seconds were slipping away. The longer I fondled the desk, the more likely the guard would be to come to check on me. Still rubbing in useless circles with my left hand, I slid my right down to open drawers. Her top drawer revealed only the leather-bound book, a tidy row of pens and a stapler. I reached under the desk and felt a button, probably a security alert, and I was careful not to trigger an alarm.
The bottom drawer held a bevy of manila file folders. I pretended to drop my rag and ducked behind the desk to reach inside the drawer, checking for a key secured inside. Nothing. The files were mostly marked with a name, client ID number, and date, except for one halfway back, which was blank. Shaking hands tugged it lose and I opened it while holding my breath. Several envelopes, like you, would get from a bank teller were lodged inside. I opened one and thought Eureka! As a shiny brass key fell into my sweaty palm.
“Let’s get cracking,” I muttered, pretending to bash my head against the desk and rub for the camera’s benefit. Wheeling my cleaning cart in front of the secured office I stowed the rag and made a show of emptying the trash. If anyone had been watching me, they must be bored senseless by now. Keeping my mental fingers crossed, I scurried for the office. I inserted the key with a whispered prayer and exhaled loudly when it clicked the lock open. After parting the doors, I flicked on the lights and scanned the room. An antique cherry desk, much like the one at his house, held a computer and matching bookshelves lined the walls. Most of the shelves had been drafted for storage purposes, but a few technical manuals interspersed the clutter. The mauve carpeting looked odd with all of the dark, masculine furniture, but I wasn’t here to critique the décor.
I strode to the desk, having no clue what I sought, but the need to find something gave me a natural high. The first thing I noticed was the lack of pictures, just like Sierra’s. Valentino practiced what he preached, but my heart broke for Candie. Every wife should know her picture was proudly displayed in her husband’s workspace.
“There I go again with the shoulds,” I chastised myself and opened a few drawers. Paperclips, legal pads, post-its still in the wrapping. No clues here then.
“Stop right where you are.” A harsh voice commanded my attention.
Busted. And not by Richard. But I knew the man, even if I’d never seen him in person before.
Come on, you worthless seven pounds of gray matter, churn out some brilliant excuse. Nothing surfaced and Lucas Sloan was closing in.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the laundry hag,” he smirked.
Chapter 29
“This office is strictly off-limits. What are you doing in here?” Sloan withdrew a walkie-talkie from his guard uniform.
“Um, cleaning?” I gestured to the mountain of supplies just beyond the door.
“Valentino asked you to clean his office?” His gravelly voice was laced with skepticism. I nodded eagerly, praying I could talk my way out of whatever Sloan had in store.
“So why did I see you scrounging through the desk out there on my monitors? And how come you’re in here, with all of your cleaning stuff out there?” He raised one eyebrow and I swallowed. Crap, there must have been a second camera monitoring behind Sierra’s desk. What, Valentino didn’t trust his employees?
“Sierra promised to leave the key with security, but I guess she forgot. So I took a shot that it was still in her desk. And I was just figuring out what I need in here. Mr. V was in a hurry this afternoon and I didn’t get a chance to scope out his set up.” Queen of B.S. working her magic.
“I’ll have to verify that with Tom.” Sloan obviously didn’t buy my excuse. “Step outside, hands where I can see ‘em.” It wasn’t a request.
Circling the desk, I moved purposefully out into the reception area and headed to my cart. “I hope this won’t take too long, I promised my partner we’d be done in a half-hour.” My nerves prickled like a startled hedgehog.
Sloan spoke into his hand unit. “Yeah, Tom, did Sierra or Mr. Valentino leave instructions for the cleaning service to take care of Mr. Valentino’s office?” I held my breath and accepted a time of reckoning was at hand. Static crackled over the walkie-talkie and the reply came, too low for me to hear.
“You do that then. We’ll just wait here.” Sloan stared at me, a self-assured smirk on his face. “Tom’s calling Mr. Valentino at home, just to be sure.”
Not wanting him to see my panic, I bent over and stared at a bottle of Windex.
“Hands where I can see them!” Sloan ordered and I whirled to face the barrel of a gun leveled at my head. I raised my arms above my head, too fearful to feel ridiculous.
“Away from the cart, now.” His eyes cut to Sierra’s desk and I took the hint, stepping out of reach of my stuff.
“This is just a simple misunderstanding. Do I look like a corporate spy to you?” I wiped my sweaty palms on my bleach-stained jeans.
“Don’t play games with me, little girl. I know you lied about your identity to get this job. I ran your social security number myself and out popped the Laundry Hag Cleaning Services, much to my surprise. What I don’t know is why you lied, when you could have used me as a reference. I intended to find out.”
The radio squawked and Sloan reached for it with one hand while training the gun on me with the other.
His dark eyes narrowed. “He did. Huh. No, no that’s it for now.” Sloan replaced the unit on his belt and holstered his weapon while I concentrated on not keeling over in relief. Valentino had vouched for me? He must have recognized me then, but the question remained, why?
“I want some answers.” Sloan crossed his arms and stood with feet planted. The man was huge, bulkier than Neil and maybe an inch shorter, he towered over my five four stature. The thought of my husband gave me an epiphany. Maybe I could still spin this in my favor.
“My husband and I are having some troubles,” I told him. “Our marriage counselor, Dr. Robert Ludlum, suggested we take a break, to reevaluate our priorities.”
Something flickered on Sloan’s face at the mention of Dr. Bob. “That sounds like the quack all right. Next thing you know, you’ll be sitting in divorce court, wondering why you listened to the bastard, to begin with.”
Nodding I caught his gaze, hoping to fabricate a little solidarity between Dr. Bob’s hapless victims. “I guess I needed a clean break, you know? Using my maiden name was just a knee-jerk reaction.”
“Still doesn’t explain why you didn’t list me as a reference.”
I shrugged, striving for an unsure posture. “You hadn’t paid me yet and I didn’t receive any feedback, so how was I to know if you were happy with the results. I couldn’t take the chance; I need this job, especially if I’m headed for divorce court.”
Sloan scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know what you mean. Between lawyers, court fees and supporting two households, I’m seeing red wherever I turn.”
I shot him a confident smile. “So, can I get back to work now? I wanna be out of here before midnight.”
“Sure, sure. Tom will be leaving as soon as I finish my rounds. If you need anything hit star three for the security desk.” My new buddy tipped his ball cap at me and sauntered to the elevator. I made a show of pulling out a roll of paper towels, the Windex that almost got me killed and spritzing the open doors to Valentino’s office.
The elevator dinged and Richard stomped past Sloan. “There are no invoices in that God-forsaken vehicle!” he snapped.
“Really? I could have sworn I put them there earlier. Sorry about that, I guess I’ll call Mr. Garner tomorrow. Would you mind vacuuming in the office?” All this acting was giving me a migraine.
Richard grumbled, but I could tell his protests were halfhearted as he unplugged the vacuum and jauntily pushed it toward the open doors. I wanted to sag as the tail end of adrenalin departed from my system, but I was still on camera.
All that effort and I hadn’t unearthed anything noteworthy. The idea that Valentino had recognized me but played dumb this afternoon and then supported my phony claim turned my knees to jelly. What was his deal? He’d called the FBI about his wife’s possible abduction, but didn’t care enough to console her when she was shaken by the dead bird or display her picture in his office. I thought back to my brief conversation with Amelia. He wanted what someone else possessed and now someone else had his wife. But where the hell did I fit in?
Realizing I was standing around staring at nothing, I dropped the window supplies back into the cart and extracted my Swiffer duster to do the blinds and windowsills. The drone of the vacuum emanated from the open office, but it didn’t sound like Richard was moving it at all. I couldn’t muster the will to care, for once not at all concerned about my reputation. No way would I come back here, as I planned to tell Garner tomorrow. I refused to be a pawn in whatever twisted crap was going on with Valentino.
