Meeting the Advertising Exec

Today is the last day of November—and my dad’s birthday. Happy Birthday, Dad!

If you are a new reader, you can scroll back to the beginning of our story, Dead As A Girdle, which started on Monday, November 5^th.

And now, back to DAAG.

Chapter Nineteen

Janelle fumbled with the mail as she sat at her desk on Thursday morning. Would Ben ignore her today as he usually did? After their dinner together last evening, she hoped he would stop by her desk and talk to her. Maybe ask her out…

She sighed. Better not to speculate. Sticking to her goal of solving Jed Thorne’s murder should be her number one priority. Today she needed to get into Jed’s office. How could the murderer leave his office when it was locked from the inside?

There must be an answer.

         A businessman carrying a briefcase walked into the office. Tall and thin, he was dressed in a gray suit and tie, and a tuft of blond hair surrounded the back of his bald head. He strode toward Howard’s door but stopped when he saw Janelle.

         “May I help you, sir?”

         “Oh. You’re the new receptionist.” His voice had a nasal sound. He stepped toward her desk and held out his hand. “Howard Chapman, head of advertising.” 

         So this was Howard. Janelle stood and shook his hand. “I’m Janelle Weaver. Glad to meet you.” His eyebrows looked like tufts too­­—fat tufts of blond hair over bluish-green eyes.

What had Ben said about Howard? “Kind of quirky, but I like him.” And Howard was the one who had that two-hour argument with Jed the day he was murdered.

         “So, it’s Janelle, is it?”

Howard put his hand over his suit coat breast pocket and pressed his fingers into it. A bulky rectangular something resided there. Too big to be a pack of cigarettes.

“Janelle Weaver, right?” The fat eyebrows rose then came down, meeting in the middle. “Tell me about yourself.”

With a little smile, she shrugged. “Well, I just graduated from college a few weeks ago and landed a job here as the receptionist.”

“Graduated from college, huh?” His nasal voice was loud. “What was your degree?”

“Psychology.”

“Psychology? Is that what you majored in?”

The guy must be hard of hearing. Janelle raised her voice. “Yes. A four-year bachelor’s degree.”

“You studied the mind for four years, huh? What in the world are you doing in a menial job like this?”

Good question. Janelle took her seat. “I’d like to be a private investigator, but my dad wanted me to get a job more suited for a woman.”

Howard leaned over the desk, his fat eyebrows dancing up and down. “And a lingerie company is certainly a woman’s job—about as far removed from a private investigator as one can get.”

Unless a murder had been committed.

Howard didn’t look like a murderer, but he seemed to be the number one suspect right now. And he was quirky—with those waggling eyebrows and grating nasal voice.

The outer door opened, and Ben and Elliot entered the office.

“Howard, old boy!” Elliot shook Howard’s hand. “You’re back in town.” 

“Yeah, thought I’d make an appearance.” Howard turned to Ben. “How you doing—Boss?”

“Fine.” Ben shook his hand. “Good to have you back.”

The men talked a few minutes. No one paid attention to Janelle. She rearranged the mail in piles and tried to look busy, but she kept darting glances at Ben. Finally Elliot and Howard moved toward their offices, and Ben went to his. He unlocked his door, then turned and winked at her. The door closed behind him.

Her heart thudded. She hoped Sherry was right and something happened—something like marriage.

* * *

Until Monday, may the Lord bless you with a good weekend!

A Bad Predicament

Ben is in a tight spot in DAAG! Let’s find out what happens in…

Chapter Eighteen

Cliff reached into his overcoat and pulled out a folded stack of papers. “This shows everything Jed bet and won or lost.” He handed the papers to Ben. “As you can see, he usually lost.”

         Ben glanced at them. They looked legitimate. “I’ll have my lawyer look—”

         “Lawyer?” Cliff thrust the revolver into Ben’s neck. “No lawyers! No police! Do you understand, Thorne? We’re giving you forty-eight hours to come up with the cash. And if you don’t, ‘it ain’t gonna be pretty,’ as they say. Got it?”

         With the point of the gun pushing into his throat, Ben nodded. The gun eased away. He breathed out his relief.

         “Okay.” Cliff opened his door and got out.

         Monty and Ben exited on the other side, and Ben pulled his car keys from his suit pocket.

         Cliff grabbed them. “We’ll take the BMW as a down payment.”

         “Hey! Give me those keys!” Ben lunged toward Cliff, but he threw the keys to Monty.

         Cliff laughed. “Twenty thousand off your bill for the car.”

         “Twenty thousand?” Ben stared at him, pain forming a knot in his stomach. “This is nothing but car theft.”

         “Okay, forty. And that’s my final offer.”

         “You can not take my car.”

         “So we’ll take forty grand off your bill,” Cliff said, as if Ben had said nothing. “Now you owe us, uh, let’s see…thirty grand instead of seventy. Fair enough?”

         “No! I want my car back.”

         Monty started the engine. “Get in, Cliff. This thing really purrs.”

         Cliff opened the passenger door. “Forty-eight hours, Thorne, right here—with the thirty grand.” He dropped down to the seat as the car backed up.

         Ben jumped out of the way.

         Monty shifted gears and the BMW took off with a roar, racing down Main Street. Within a minute, silence pervaded the parking lot. The crickets took up their chirping, and lightning bugs flashed on and off among the tall weeds that grew near the wooden fence. 

         Ben’s shoulders sagged. Why had Dad been such a jerk? He looked up at the stars twinkling high above him. “Lord, why do I have to pay for the sins of my father? That’s not even scriptural.”

         With a sigh, he took out his cell phone. He knew he should call the sheriff, but he pressed Uncle Elliot’s number instead.

         “Hello?”

         “You won’t believe what just happened to me.” For the next few minutes, Ben related the details of the bookies and his stolen car to his uncle.

         “Cliff and Monty,” Elliot said when he finished. “Yeah, I know those two. Jed placed a lot of bets through them ’cause they’re so easy. They talk big, but they have the brains of a goldfish.”

“But what about the forty-eight hours? What about my car? Shouldn’t we call the sheriff to report a stolen vehicle?”

“Naw, don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. I know these guys.” He chuckled. “You can trust your old Uncle Elliot on this one.”

Ben wasn’t so sure.  

* * *

Until tomorrow, God bless!

Two Opposing Views

Back to our story, Dead As A Girdle.

Chapter Seventeen

“Nellie!” Sherry’s voice squealed over the phone. “I can’t believe you got stuck in the elevator with your handsome, single, eligible boss! And then he took you out to dinner? How cool is that?”

Janelle hugged her knees as she cradled the phone against her shoulder. The table lamp beside the wingback chair cast a soft yellowish glow in the corner of her dad’s study.

Thankfully, Dad was out of town.

“I still can’t believe it, Sherry.”

“So, do you think anything is going to happen?”

“Happen?” Janelle drew her brows down. “Do you mean—”

“Marriage!” Sherry laughed. “Is Ben Thorne the one?”

Janelle gave a happy sigh. “I don’t know. But I sure wouldn’t mind being Mrs. Ebenezer Jedadiah Thorne III.”

“He sounds wonderful—a Christian who’s a nice guy and a real gentleman, too.”

“Yeah.” Janelle closed her eyes. “He’s just the kind of man I want for a husband, Sherry. The kind of man I’ve been praying for.”

“Well, you helped me pray for my man, so now I’ll help you pray for yours.”

Was Ben Thorne the one? But the murderer was still at large, and Ben would be distracted until the case was solved. “I hope he’s looking for a wife, Sherry. He said he enjoyed our evening, but I wonder what he’s thinking right now.”

* * *

         These guys are going to kill me!

Ben sat on the backseat of his BMW, sandwiched between two men. Both wore black overcoats, sunglasses, and fedora hats—like gangsters out of an old 1940s B-movie. The man on the right pointed a revolver at Ben.

Outwardly stalwart, Ben looked from one to the other. Inwardly, he was quaking and praying for a divine miracle. “What do you want?”

         The man with the gun sneered. “We were friends of your father, come to pay our last respects.”

         “Yeah.” The other guy nodded. “Jed owes us big-time.”

         “Shut up, Monty.” The man pointed his gun at Monty. “I’ll do the talking.”

         “Okay, Cliff.” Monty raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Just trying to help.”

         “Don’t say my name!” Cliff removed his sunglasses, revealing dark eyes and a scar above his right eyebrow.

         Monty folded his arms. “You started it.”

         “Huh?” Cliff’s brow wrinkled, making the scar more pronounced.

         “You said, ‘Shut up, Monty.’ That’s using my name, ain’t it?”

         Ben’s heart slowed to a steady beat. These guys were as dumb as the Three Stooges! He hoped Cliff didn’t make any stupid mistakes with that revolver. “What do you want with me?”

         Cliff focused back on Ben. “We had a few business dealings with your dad, Thorne. Unfortunately, some of those deals fell through and we were left holding the bag.”

         “You’re bookies. Gambling debts, right?”

         Cliff raised his eyebrows. “Hey, you’re smart. But your father had to get himself killed, and he still owes us about seventy grand.”

         “Seventy thousand dollars?” Ben felt his head spin. More debts!

         Cliff smirked. “That’s about the size of it.”

         “Actually,” Monty put in, “we rounded up.”

         “Monty!” Cliff clenched his teeth. “I’ll handle this!”

         Ben folded his arms. “Do you have any documentation that proves my dad still owes you this money?” If they didn’t, he wasn’t paying them a penny.

Of course if he didn’t pay, they might kill him.

* * *

To be continued…

A Surprising Turn of Events

Chapter Sixteen

Ben pulled out his wallet. He hated to end this dinner with Janelle, but he didn’t mind ending the questions about his dad’s murder.

“This has been interesting.” Janelle stashed the notebook back in her purse. “Is your dad’s office still cordoned off? I’d like to look around tomorrow.”

“The sheriff is finished there, and no one has cleaned it yet.” Ben stood. “Ready to go?”

Janelle nodded as she rose. “Thanks for the dinner, Ben.”

“I should thank you for your company.” He smiled, enjoying her pretty face and petite stature, even in high heels.

After Ben paid for their meal, he drove Janelle to Thorne’s Bra and Girdle Company. Her Honda was the only car left in the back parking lot. He parked his BMW beside it.

“Thanks again.” Janelle touched the handle, ready to get out.

Ben turned off the engine. “Let me get your door.” He went around and opened it, and they walked to her car. She got in and rolled down the window.

He cleared his throat. “You know, I’m glad we got stuck in that elevator after all. I enjoyed our time together, Janelle.” He wanted to say more, but a sudden shyness overcame him.

She smiled up at him, her eyes lingering on his for a moment. “I was glad to get to know you.” She started the Honda. “I’ll keep working on the clues.”

Backing up the car, she gave him a wave and drove off.

Peace settled over him as he waved back. Janelle wasn’t like most women. In fact, she wasn’t like any woman he knew. She didn’t stare at him, try to seduce him, or talk about his money.

Not that he had any money to speak of since he inherited his dad’s overwhelming debt. Ben sighed with the enormity he owed from Dad’s credit cards and gambling losses.

As he walked back to his car, he felt—rather than saw—someone brush against him on his right side, then his left. Something hard pressed against his ribs as a gravelly voice spoke.

“Get in the car.”

* * *

          This doesn’t sound good for Ben! Until tomorrow…

Dinner Together

Happy Monday! Let’s look in on Ben and Janelle as they dine at Thorn’s Restaurant.

Chapter Fifteen

Ben couldn’t recall when he’d had a more pleasant dinner. And it wasn’t the food.

“More coffee, sir?” The waitress held out a glass coffee pot.

He shook his head. “I’m fine, thanks.” In fact, he was more than fine. He glanced across the table at Janelle. They had spent the past hour making small talk, mainly discussing her family. He learned about her older sister, who had a husband and three kids, and Janelle’s dad, the private investigator. When Ben offered to say grace over their meal, he was pleased to discover that Janelle was also a Christian.

The dinner crowd was thinning out at Thorn’s Restaurant. Most of the families with children were gone. He and Janelle had finished their dessert, but he didn’t want to leave.

Janelle rested her elbows on the table, folding her hands under her chin. “I’ve told you about my family, but I haven’t heard much about yours.”

Ben gazed into her green eyes. “It’s not a pretty story—not pretty at all.” Unlike her.

“You mean, with your dad’s murder?”

“No, I mean the whole Thorne clan—my grandparents, dad, uncles, aunt.” Ben picked up his spoon. “The only good thing about our family is my mom. She became a Christian when I was little and raised me in church, but my dad wouldn’t have anything to do with Christianity.” He huffed out a breath. “He made her suffer for it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Janelle put her hands in her lap. “I don’t remember my mom. She died soon after I was born. Dad always said he would marry again but he never did. Sherry and I took good care of him.”

“I bet you did.” Ben was almost jealous. “Probably spoiled him rotten.”

“Sherry spoiled him more that I did. She has this instinct to protect people, which she gets from Dad—he’s really overprotective. He has definite ideas of what I should and should not do.” She shrugged. “But he’s a good dad.”

“Mine wasn’t.” Ben stirred his coffee. “I tried to stay out of his way. Dad was one mean dude—with lots of enemies. That’s why I don’t know who killed him. Could have been anyone.”

Janelle took the notebook from her purse. “Let’s narrow down the suspects.”

Ben studied her as she opened the notebook and wrote something on a clean page. In spite of the morbid subject, he smiled to himself. He really liked this girl.

Would it be wrong to date one of his employees?  

She glanced up. “If we can put the clues together, we can at least narrow down the suspects.”

“I’ve already told Sheriff Horton everything I know, and he can’t solve it.”

“He must be overlooking something.” Janelle’s eyes met his. “You’re not a suspect, are you, Ben? I mean, uh, you’ve been the one to inherit everything from your father, right?”

Only debts. “Actually, on that Friday I left the office early. My church had a men’s retreat in the Ozarks over the weekend. I came back as soon as I heard about the murder.”

Janelle scribbled on the paper. “Was there anyone else at the office who was not a suspect?”

“Marie Flanders, the receptionist. She left work before I did that day because her daughter went into labor, so she drove her to the hospital. The baby was born about the time of the murder. Marie quit her job as soon as she found out.”

Janelle nodded as she wrote. “How about Elliot?”

“No alibi. He said he was at home asleep.”

“Helga?”

“She spent the evening at home by herself.”

“How about Corrine?” Janelle looked up.

“She lives in St. Louis but spent quite a bit of time with my dad. She wasn’t here that day but the scent of her perfume was strongly present in Dad’s office when his body was found.” Ben leaned back in his chair. “Corrine says she was framed.”

“Of course.” Janelle scrawled across the paper. “Any other suspects?”

“Well…” Ben’s mind touched on his dad’s gambling buddies, all the women he wooed and dumped, the jealous husbands of those women… “No one I know of.”

“Who was the last person to see him alive?”
         “Howard Chapman.”

“The guy who’s out of town right now?”

Ben nodded. “He doesn’t have a good alibi either. He says he was at the Mall until it closed, but no one can vouch for his presence.”

“I haven’t met him yet.”

“He should be back tomorrow. Kind of a quirky person, but I like Howard.” Ben paused. “Dad and Howard had a big argument that afternoon. It lasted about two hours, and Helga and Uncle Elliot both heard it. When Howard left, Dad locked the door from the inside of his office and turned the deadbolt. By that time, both Helga and Elliot were gone.”

Janelle looked puzzled. “Your dad’s office has a deadbolt lock?”

“Uh, yeah.” Ben felt his face warm up. Janelle would never understand what a bad character his dad was. “Anyway, Helga came in for something on Saturday morning and noticed his light was on. She tried to unlock the door to turn off the light—she was upset because it was on all night, and the company would have to pay a higher electric bill—but the deadbolt was locked, so she called Uncle Elliot. They broke down the door and found Dad slumped in his chair.” He looked away as a wave of sadness washed over him.

“And that bra was wrapped around his neck?”

Ben nodded. “But there were no fingerprints anywhere, and the sheriff can’t figure out how the murderer got into the room.”

“Or how he got out­­, actually—since the door was bolted from the inside.”

“Right.” Ben grit his teeth as he watched Janelle write down the information. This was impossible. They would never find the murderer, no matter how much they discussed the case.

* * *

Until tomorrow, God bless!

Finally Released!

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving. How would you like to eat this turkey? Actually, he looks good to me after stuffing myself yesterday! We all need to go on a vegetable diet today.

And now to continue our story, Dead As A Girdle.

Chapter Fourteen

Janelle walked with Ben up the stairs from the basement. He pulled the heavy metal door that opened into Thorne’s Bra and Girdle Company store. She never thought she’d be so glad to see mannequins dressed in women’s underwear. But here she was, wending her way around those life-size dolls with Ben Thorne following behind her.

“Good night, Clara,” Ben called to the white-haired cashier as they left the store.

The older woman smiled and waved.

“So that’s her name,” Janelle said as they walked outside. “Clara greets me every morning, Mr. Thorne, but I never asked her name.”

“Don’t call me Mr. Thorne. That was my grandfather. Everyone calls me Ben.”

“Okay––Ben.” A little thrill passed through her.

Walking beside him on the cracked sidewalk, Janelle’s thoughts drifted back to their elevator prison. They were stuck for over an hour, and Rod had talked to them for another forty minutes. Now the sun was dipping toward the horizon.

 Ben led her toward the parking lot. “How about eating at Thorn’s Restaurant? It’s a family restaurant—not my family, but uh, they have great food.”

“Sounds good to me.” Anything sounded good, as long as she could spend time with her handsome boss, and they could discuss the murder.

And she was starving.

She glanced across the street as they strolled back to the parking lot. An old black Cadillac was parked there. The driver adjusted his sunglasses as he faced them. Slowly the tinted window rolled up. She caught a glimpse of another man on the passenger’s seat. Hmm…suspicious-looking.

Were they being watched?

* * *

          Until Monday, I hope you have a great weekend!

Thanksgiving!

To all my dear Readers:

We’ll take a break from DAAG today since most of you are probably in the kitchen, making a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner for your family. We have so much to be thankful for, don’t we?

“O give thanks unto the Lord; for He is good: because his mercy endureth forever.” ~Psalm 118:1

May God bless you abundantly!

         (Come back tomorrow to see what happens to Janelle and Ben.)

Still Stuck!

Will Janelle and Ben ever get out of this elevator? Our story continues in…

Chapter Thirteen

Forty-five minutes later, Janelle sat beside Ben Thorne on the floor of the elevator and held her flashlight upright. The beam shed a circle of light on the car’s ceiling. After trying several phone numbers, Ben finally got in contact with Rod Madison, the elevator repairman.

Janelle was tired of waiting. The excitement of being imprisoned with the handsome boss who barely noticed her had worn off long ago. She was glad her father was out of town on a new case. He wouldn’t be worried that she was late coming home.

But being stuck in an elevator with Ben did have an advantage—it was the perfect setup to discover what he thought of his father’s murder.

         Ben snapped his phone shut. “Okay, Rod will be here in twenty minutes.” He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. “We should have taken the stairs.”

         “Well, how did we know the elevator was going to die?”

         “How did we know?” Ben looked at her.

Even in the semi-dark his eyes looked incredibly blue. Janelle’s heartbeat began a slow but steady march in her chest.

 “It’s been terminally ill for a week, and Helga never called Rod.” Ben unbuttoned the cuff of his left sleeve and started rolling it up. “Helga probably wanted to save money, but I knew someone would get stuck in here, and of course it would be me.” He rolled up the other sleeve.        

Janelle nodded, her pulse returning to normal. How could she ask him about the murder? So, who do you think killed your dad? No good. She needed a natural lead-in.

Trying to appear casual, she traced the top of the door with the flashlight’s beam. “Maybe Helga didn’t call the repairman because she’s been stressed out lately, you know, with—uh, with your dad’s murder and all. And Helga has her theory about that—she thinks Corrine killed him.”

         Ben glanced at her, then leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “She does, huh?”

         Okay, that wasn’t very natural, but at least they were on the subject now. “What do you think? Did Corrine kill him?”

         He shrugged. “Sheriff Horton says we don’t have enough evidence to pin the murder on Corrine.”

         “I know Sheriff Horton.”

         “You do?”

         She nodded. “My dad worked at the Greenvale sheriff department for years as a deputy before he retired. My sister and I went to all the department events and Christmas parties. We knew everyone there.”

         Ben raised his eyebrows. “Has Sheriff Horton ever solved a murder case before?”

         “I don’t think so. Murders in Greenvale are few and far between.”

He sighed. “Thank goodness for that.” He closed his eyes.

“In fact, the last murder occurred about twelve years ago—before Sheriff Horton was elected. Dad got bored being a deputy, so he retired early. He loves solving murder cases, and I inherited that interest from him.”

Ben cracked open an eye to look at her then closed it again.

He certainly wasn’t the talkative type. “Dad started his own private company, Weaver Investigation Services, and now he has two employees. They take cases all over the United States.”

Janelle gazed at Ben’s handsome profile. Why didn’t he say something? She sighed. He was forcing her to ask questions. “So, uh, do you have any theories about the murder?”

“Nope.” His eyes remained closed.

She shone the flashlight on the wall, creating lazy circles with the light. “You’re not suspicious about anyone?”

“I want to know more than anything who killed my dad.” He glanced at her. “But I think we should let the sheriff and his deputies handle it. They’re trained for that sort of thing.”

“True, but I know about these investigations. If the murderer isn’t found right away, within the first few days, the case might never be solved. I mean, look at this case—it’s been three weeks.” She lifted her hands, causing the light to bounce around. “The trail is getting cold!”

Ben gazed at her, as if deep in thought.

She had to convince him. “That’s where I can be helpful, Mr. Thorne. I can ask questions, snoop around, gather facts. Then we’ll put all the facts together and come up with the murderer.”

Ben stared at her another second, and then that slow smile appeared. It was only the second time Janelle had seen him smile, and she was thankful she was sitting down.

“You make it sound easy,” he said.

“No, it’s difficult.” In fact, concentrating on the subject was downright difficult with Ben Thorne looking at her like that. “But someone has to snoop around.”

“Is that what you were doing when I saw you drive by Hillaker’s Restaurant? Snooping around?”

Janelle’s lips parted. At least he didn’t know she was inside. “Well, you see, I was driving—”

“Corrine said she saw you leave the dining room.”

The game is up! “Okay—I was there.”

“Snooping, huh?” The smile lingered. “So you already started your own investigation.”

“Well…" How embarrassing.

His smile faded. “What have you learned so far?”

“Not much. Basically, the only info I have is from Helga.” And Aunt Ida, who was not much help, but Janelle couldn’t tell Ben she was snooping at his house.

He leaned back against the wall. “I’m not surprised Helga thinks Corrine killed my dad. Helga always hated her.”

“I guessed that.”

“Of course, Helga hated my dad, too.”

“Really?” Janelle set down the flashlight and removed the notebook from her purse. “She told me the murder weapon—the bra—was made by Corrine’s Lingerie.”

“Yeah. Funny thing…”

Janelle poised her pen over the paper, ready to write, but Ben seemed lost in thought. “Funny thing about what?”

He stirred. “The sheriff had the bra analyzed. It had been laundered about forty times, although how they came up with that­—"

“Oh! That’s revealing!” Janelle scribbled her thoughts on the paper.

“Revealing? You mean, the bra?” Ben chuckled.

This was one embarrassing conversation. “No, the fact that it was washed. Do you know what that means, Mr. Thorne?”

He frowned. “It was clean?”

Janelle’s heartbeat picked up. Had she discovered new evidence? “I had pictured Corrine grabbing a bra box to do the job—just any size. But if the bra in question was laundered, someone had worn it. And since it was laundered repeatedly, that means it belonged to someone.”

Ben squinted. “And it probably belonged to the murderer. That makes sense.”

“Now.” Janelle wrote down her thoughts. “Helga is much larger than a 38B, but Corrine might wear that size.” She glanced at Ben.

His face tinged red.

Warmth flooded her own face. She hardly knew this guy, and they were discussing women’s bra sizes. “Uh, are there any other women who are suspects?”

The color drained from his face. “My mom.”

Janelle drew in a sharp breath.

“Hullo up there!” a male voice echoed from the heart of the building.

“The repairman!” Ben moved to the three-inch opening. “Rod, is that you?”

“Yep! I’m in the basement. Hang on! I’ll bring you down.”

“Thanks!” Ben moved back to sit beside Janelle. “Miracles never cease. You know, I’d like to keep discussing this with you.” His blue eyes gazed at her. “Would you go out to dinner with me when we get out of here?”

“I’d love to!” Miracles never cease, indeed!

Thankfully, she was sitting down.

* * *

Until tomorrow…