Hello! Welcome back to our story Dead As A
Girdle (DAAG). We
continue the story from Ben’s point of view as he leaves the office on
Wednesday.
Chapter
Eleven
The day
passed slowly, and Ben was thankful when five o’clock finally rolled around. He
was going to leave on time tonight. Last night he didn’t get home until seven,
and Aunt Ida kept raving about some woman named Nellie who said she was a
friend of his.
He
sighed. Aunt Ida’s memory got worse every day, and he didn’t know how to help
her. Her name was on the prayer list at church, and he hoped the Lord would
slow down the symptoms. If he had to put her in a nursing home, the expense
might bankrupt him. But Aunt Ida had worked at Park Center Nursing Home for
twelve years before she retired a few months ago. Maybe they would give him a
discount.
Ben gathered the papers he still needed to review and
stuck them in his briefcase. From the rack in the corner he grabbed his suit
coat, donning it as he opened his office door. Janelle sat at her desk,
studying a notebook.
“Did
Helga leave, Janelle?”
She
looked up. “Yes, she’s gone for the day.” She stuffed the notebook in her
purse, although the top stuck out. “I was just leaving myself.”
“Good.
Then I can lock up.” He switched off the light in his office.
He
followed her into the hall, taking a minute to make sure the outer door was
locked. Why did he bother? The only thing worth stealing in the office was that
historic mannequin in her underwear. Maybe he could sell her on eBay. He
laughed to himself. Someone would buy the old girl.
Janelle
waited beside the elevator where the down
button glowed. She was dressed up again, which always surprised him. None of
the other women dressed up. Today Janelle wore a yellow dress printed with
small blue flowers, and yellow pumps. High heels, of all things. Of course, she
wasn’t very tall, even in heels. She looked up as he approached, her pretty
green eyes surrounded by thick eyelashes.
Ben cleared his throat. “So, this was your third day
working here.”
She
smiled. “Yes, it’s a low-stress job. All I have to do is answer the phone and
open the mail.”
“Low
stress.” He sighed. “Wish I could say that. When Dad died, my stress level went
up a thousand per cent.”
“I’m
sorry about your father, Mr. Thorne. It must have been a shock to find him—well…”
She looked down.
“To
find him murdered?” Ben pressed his lips together and nodded. “Actually I
didn’t find him, but—”
The
elevator doors opened an inch, shut with a bang, then jerked back as if they
were going through an epileptic fit.
Ben
shook his head. “Do you know if Helga called the repairman about this thing?”
“I
have no idea.” Janelle walked inside. “But it seems to be getting worse.”
He
hesitated. Janelle Weaver would think him a coward if he didn’t step inside,
but for the past few days he’d been taking the stairs.
He
stepped in as Janelle pressed the first floor button. He would play Russian
roulette with this elevator one more time.
The
doors rolled toward each other, then stopped, leaving a three-inch gap. Five
seconds passed in silence. Janelle stared at the doors, still as a statue,
until her high-heeled toe started tapping.
Ben took his wallet from his back pocket and opened it. “I
have that repairman’s card here somewhere.” He flipped through some business
cards. “We’d better get out and take the stairs.”
“Helga
says it only needs a little convincing.” Janelle held down a button with her
thumb.
Suddenly the doors banged shut and the car descended with
a jolt.
“Whoa!” Ben grabbed the handrail.
Just as suddenly the car stopped.
Janelle screamed as they both fell to their knees.
* * *
To Be Continued…
LOL...classic.
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