Time and Again(57)

"You make him sound like royalty."

"Remember when I told you about my visit to the Matisse gallery?"

"Yeah, I remember…oh, that's right, you saw him there."

"He was hard to miss. Mostly though, I heard him and how he talked to the owner. It was condescending, bordering on rude, and completely elitist."

"That sounds like every rich guy I ever met."

"How many rich guys you ever met?"

"I know the mayor and..."

"The mayor didn't seem too elitist when he was pouring you a beer last night."

"Well...I have run into a few like Garneau, but you are right, the mayor is a good guy. So we gonna go rattle his cage?"

"I thought we might try a two-pronged attack. I’ll get in to see him, and you hang outside to see if you can get the inside scoop from his driver."

"Sounds good to me...I bet I find out more than you do."

"It's a bet...lunch?"

There was a slightest tinge of pain, as Henry remembered all the bets he and Mickey had made, but he quickly got over it. "There’s one more thing. I want you to drive, let me out, and then park the car. My gut tells me there has been someone keeping an eye on what we are doing, but I haven't seen anyone."

"You want me to be your driver?" Mike said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes."

Mike didn't laugh as often as Henry, or most people, but when he did, it was a hearty chortle, to say the least. “I should probably call the captain and let him know we are going to canvas the bars later. He will appreciate us saving him some man hours, and the cooperation will win us a few points. Also, even though we don’t have any proof of a connection, he should know we suspect that those murders are tied into this whole art mess.”

“That is a good call…pun intended.”

Henry wandered out into Celine’s domain. “How is it going?”

“Everything is running like a well-oiled gazelle.”

“Mixing up your metaphors?”

“Not mixing up, mixing, with a giant verbal egg beater.” She made a little egg beater motion.

Henry really liked her. “I guess what I meant to say is, well, I haven’t given you much to do, but it looks like you have gotten the files in shape, made the office look like it has a tenant, and generally got it…”

“Oily gazelle…I know.”

“Exactly! When I find Mickey’s killer and we wrap up this case, we can sit down and figure out your official duties.”

She went to the filing cabinet, took out a plain manila folder, and handed it to Henry. The heading on the tab was "Celine’s Duties." Henry found a neatly typed list of daily duties under the heading "Maintenance," which included opening the office, watering the plant, making coffee, typing up case notes from the previous day, and logging calls.

“We have a call log?"

She handed him another folder.

“This is impressive. I am going to be able to handle a lot more...” Henry was handed another folder with the heading "Prospective Clients."

“There have been three people who have inquired about your services. I took their contact information, got a preliminary description of the type of case, and explained that we would call them as soon as the current case was completed. I hope you don’t mind me doing this?” she said, genuinely sounding as if she was worried that a boundary had been crossed.

“The only thing I mind is you using ‘your,' not ‘our’ services. How is petty cash holding out?”

“It is fine, though I did spend quite a lot on supplies, and the plant.”

“How is Betty doing?”

Celine’s eyes lit up. She clapped her hands together three times quickly. “You remembered! She is well. In fact, we just had our daily coffee and water break.”

“Does Betty take cream in her coffee?”

Celine liked this comment too, but wasn’t about to show it. “Yes she does, and two lumps.”

Henry took out a twenty and gave it to Celine. “For the petty cash. Buy whatever you or Betty need.”

Henry could tell Celine loved her new job, and the office plant. It was a much friendlier environment than she had working for Mr. Grabby Hands.

Mike came out of the back with his coffee cup. “I told the captain about our morning. He was pleased to get updated. Great coffee, Celine. Where can I rinse out the cup?”

Celine liked that he asked, but took the cup from him. “Don’t you worry about it.”

Henry handed Mike the keys, and they were off.





Chapter Forty-Eight



The door opened and Henry saw a maid, who was giggling. She wore a conservative long skirt, had her hair neatly pulled back in a bun, and had on sensible shoes. She asked who was calling, then Henry heard a voice coming from deep inside the house.