“What did you say, Madam Mayor?” asked Wilbur Vickery, who was manning the cash register as usual.
“Nothing,” she said. “How much do I owe you?”
“Had a fight with the boyfriend, huh?” said Wilbur.
She’d been in the process of taking out her wallet and paused. “How do you know?”
Wilbur tapped his nose and grinned, showing a row of uneven teeth, decayed from too much smoking and too much snacking on his own store-sold candy. “Wilbur always knows, Madam Mayor. Wilbur makes it his job to know about his favorite customers.”
Charlene, who hated people who talked about themselves in the third person, was in one of those moods where one feels compelled to confide in another human being, even if that human being is Wilbur Vickery, the last man on earth anyone would ever want to confide in.
“My boyfriend called me old,” she said with a deep sigh. “And ugly. Said I wasn’t as pretty as I used to be twenty years ago, and I should simply accept the fact.”
“Alec is a moron,” said Wilbur knowingly. “He doesn’t know how to treat a lovely lady such as yourself.”
Charlene glanced around, and noticed she was all alone in the store. She wasn’t feeling particularly at ease being all alone with Wilbur Vickery, who was grinning even more now, his smile calling up visions of old tombstones—remnants of death and decay.
He’d recently shaved off his beard, she saw, which should have been an improvement over the ratty look he’d sported before. Unfortunately his skin was mottled and pockmarked, and the beard had actually been a boon to the man’s appearance.
“Not all men are like him, though, Charlene,” said Wilbur, getting up from behind the register and semi-casually leaning against the conveyor belt. “There are still men in this world who appreciate beauty.” He gave her a fat wink, not exactly being coy about his intentions.
“That’s great, Wilbur,” she said. “So how much do I owe you?”
“I know the perfect solution,” the shopkeeper said, “to get back at that boyfriend of yours.” He winked at her again and she shivered slightly. “You gotta make ‘em jealous. If for instance you’d go out with another fella, and really work that romance—I’m talking kissing and stuff—right under Chief Alec’s nose, I’ll bet he’ll be sorry he called you ugly.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” she murmured.
“Take me, for instance,” he said, tapping his puny chest with a puny fist. “I wouldn’t mind going out with you. Parading under the Chief’s nose. Don’t get me wrong, I respect Alec as a man and an officer of the law. But I’m one of those men that can’t see a lady suffer. And I can see you’re suffering, Charlene,” he added, eyes shiny as he leaned in.
He was puckering up those lips, she now saw, and she recoiled in horror.
“Um, you know what?” she said. “I just remembered I’ve got an urgent appointment.”
“But—”
“Sorry, Wilbur. I’ll have my secretary pick this stuff up, okay? Thanks!”
And with these words, she hurriedly fled the store, leaving a disappointed wannabe Romeo behind. Out in front, she encountered Wilbur’s fat cat, and for a fleeting moment thought she detected a smile on the cat’s broad face. Which of course was impossible.
And as she hurried in the direction of Town Hall, she vowed never to be caught alone with Wilbur again. The man was delusional if he thought he could be her rebound guy.
And as she passed the station, she saw Alec get out of his squad car, looking dejected.
So she held her head up high, and stalked right past the man, without saying a word.
“Charlene,” he bleated feebly. “Hold up—I need to talk to you.”
In response, she tilted her head even higher, hiked her purse up her shoulder, and charged past the man at full speed.
Old and ugly. Huh!
Still, even as she put some distance between herself and her now ex-boyfriend, she felt a pang of pity.
‘Why did you do that, Charlene?’ asked her little angel. ‘You know he’s a good man, with good intentions. Not to mention a great kisser.’
‘Good for you, Charlene,’ said her little demon. ‘Next time you hit him with your purse. That’ll teach him.’
“Oh, go to hell,” she muttered, and stormed into Town Hall.
Chapter 29
“Are you sure this is the right way?” asked Brutus.
“Of course I’m sure,” said Harriet. “Don’t you trust me, sugar pumpkin?”
“Um…” Brutus couldn’t really come out and say what he really thought about Harriet’s sense of direction so he prevaricated. “Max seemed to know where he was going. Maybe we should have gone with him.”
“Well, it was you who decided to go our separate ways,” Harriet pointed out.
“Only because Max gave me such a nasty look. Almost as if he doesn’t like me anymore.”
“You probably shouldn’t have made fun of his sixteen-pack. You know how sensitive Max is about his weight.”
“Yeah, I guess,” he said. He didn’t like to admit it, but this situation with Max was kinda weighing on him. He liked Max, and he liked Dooley, and he hated being in a fight with them. “I apologized, and you apologized. What more does he want?”
“I don’t know, Brutus. Can you please stop thinking about Max and focus on the mission? We’re here to find out what happened to Vicky Gardner, remember?”
“Yeah, of course,” he muttered, and slouched behind his mate, hoping she knew where she was going, in this maze of corridors, where one door looked exactly the same as the next.
“I’m sure that if we simply trust our instincts, we’ll arrive exactly where we’re supposed to…. A-ha! What do we have here?”
They’d arrived at an open-space office, where dozens of desks had been arranged like office islands, and where dozens of people were busily working on computers.
“Looks like an office,” he said. He didn’t like to admit it but Max usually had better instincts when it came to sleuthing than either he or Harriet had.
“I’ll bet we’ll be able to find out everything there is to know about Garibo Enterprises and its nefarious business practices,” said Harriet. “Including but not limited to the kidnapping of innocent women like Vicky Gardner, and her subsequent murder twenty years later.”
“So you think that dead girl was Vicky, do you?” he asked, not surprised. He thought that the coincidence of a dead woman looking exactly like a missing woman was probably too big to ignore.
“Of course they’re one and the same,” said Harriet. “Haven’t you been paying attention? Vicky was probably murdered twenty years ago, soon after she was kidnapped, and kept on ice all these years.”
“On ice?” he asked, intrigued by this novel theory.
“On ice,” said Harriet decidedly. “That’s my theory and I’m sticking to it. Now all we need to find out is who ordered the abduction and the murder, and how come they decided to dump her body two decades later.”
“Probably because they forgot to pay the electric bill,” ventured Brutus.
Harriet gave him a curious look. “You know, Brutus, that’s not such a crazy idea. The freezer they kept the body in must have lost power and so the body thawed out. And instead of burying her, they simply decided to get rid of her.”
All around them, people were busily gibbering into their phones, or tapping the keys of their computers, and as Brutus listened for a moment, he thought he knew what this was: the nerve center of Garibo Enterprises, or in other words the sales division, where customers could place large orders of the kind of candy Garibo excelled in, and that were shipped across the country.
“Your shipment will be arriving in two days, Mr. Franklin,” a young woman announced in an exaggeratedly chipper tone of voice. “Yes, that’s right! Two hundred boxes of Garibo Candy Mix to place in your store display. You’re welcome, sir!”
Unless Vicky Gardner’s body had been kept in the company freezer, and shipped out by the company dispatchers, Brutus didn’t really see the point of hanging around there.