Book Drawing Ends

WE HAVE WINNERS!

Congratulations to Misty, Davalynn, and Debra! Each of them will receive a copy of my first published book titled FOR THE LOVE OF BOOKS.

And now to get back to our story—Dead as a Girdle.

Chapter Two

         

An hour later, Janelle stood in the middle of the office and pivoted in a slow circle. She had found some dusting rags, and now the desk gleamed, its clutter thrown out or put away. She had dusted the frames of the portraits and the two chairs beneath them. She even managed to open the mannequin’s case and dust out the cobwebs.

          Clarence, the mailman—a rotund man who wheezed heavily—came in around ten-thirty. Helga showed Janelle how to sort the mail. In the meantime, Janelle answered eleven phone calls—two for Ben, one for Helga, and the rest for the store downstairs. If she could get rid of that lingering smoke odor, everything would be perfect.

          She put away the rag and sat on her desk chair. Now she had nothing to do. Tomorrow she would bring a book to read. Or maybe she should bring her Bible. With all the available time, she could read through the Bible in a few months. Speaking of time… she glanced at her watch. Almost noon.

          Helga opened her office door. “Did you bring lunch, Yanelle, or are you eating out?”

          “I brought a sandwich.” Janelle pulled a brown bag from her purse. “Is it okay if I eat at my desk?”

          “Come in here and eat with me.” Helga disappeared into her office.

          Janelle followed but stopped just inside. Helga’s office was huge—bigger than the outer office and paneled with that same old-fashioned brown wood. But that wasn’t what gave her pause in the doorway.

          On the left side of the room, eight busts lined a waist-high shelf. Seven of those busts, sans head or arms, exhibited a bra.

          Helga motioned to them. “Some of the bras we sold in the earlier years.” She walked to the shelf. “This one is Rhapsody, a best seller in the ‘70s.” She proceeded down the row, telling Janelle the name and year of each model. Janelle felt like she was at a car show, although she was viewing lace and straps rather than chrome and hubcaps.

          “These were my favorites,” Helga concluded. “I like to see them displayed.”

          Janelle raised an eyebrow. This woman had some serious issues.

          Helga pointed to a kitchenette at the other end of the room. “We will eat lunch.”

          Janelle passed Helga’s desk, stacked high with accounting books and littered with papers. An open Rolodex sat by the phone.

          The kitchenette was clean. A plate of salad with two hard-boiled eggs perched on the counter next to a stainless steel sink.

          Janelle took a seat at a small round table that had two chairs. She opened her bag and pulled out a ham and cheese sandwich. Bowing her head, she prayed briefly over her food. 

          She looked up to find Helga rummaging in the refrigerator. “What happened to the other receptionist?”

          “Marie?” Helga closed the refrigerator. “She quit as soon as she heard of the murder.”

          Janelle’s spine tingled. She had to crack this case! “How was Jed Thorne murdered?”

          Helga brought her plate to the table. She lifted a bottle of iced tea. “Would you like one?”

          “No, thank you. But I would like to know what happened to Mr. Thorne.” She took a bite of her sandwich.

          Helga sat down, a sigh escaping her lips. “It happened in his office late one night.” She pointed toward the wall in a vague direction. “He was strangled—by a 38B.”

          Janelle stopped chewing. “A 38B? Don’t you mean he was shot by a .38 revolver?”
         “No.” Helga pursed her lips. “A 38B—a bra! He was strangled by a bra.”

         “Oh. How horrible.”

         “Ja, strangled by a bra, and dead as a girdle. Ha!” Helga actually smiled. “Exactly what Yed Thorne deserved. Poetic yustice, if you ask me.”

Janelle’s appetite disappeared. Was she eating lunch with the murderer?