Chapter Twenty-three
Janelle
glanced down the row of bras in Helga’s office. All size 36B. And all of them
looked new. Not one had been laundered.
What
happened to that eighth bra?
Helga
walked into her office carrying a large accounting book. “Yanelle. What are you
doing here?”
“Waiting
for you.” Janelle smiled. “I just had a couple questions. Elliot took me out to
lunch—”
“Elliot?”
Helga frowned as she set the book on her desk. “Don’t let him bamboozle you,
Yanelle. He is nothing but a playboy.”
“Oh,
I’m not—”
“All
those Thorne men—gamblers, playboys, thieves.”
“Thieves?”
“Ja,
thieves. Uff! You would not believe! I worked with Frank, I know.”
“What
did Frank do?”
Helga
took a seat at her desk. “Frank was a bookkeeper with me, but he never got his
numbers right. The account was always low, the money yust seemed to disappear.”
She eyed Janelle. “Now, does that sound like thief to you?”
Janelle
shrugged. “Well—”
“And
Elliot is yust like him—like all of them.” She sighed as she moved some papers
out of the way. “It is after five o’clock, Yanelle. You go home now. I vill see
you Monday.” Helga pointed at her. “And stay away from Elliot. He is no good.”
Janelle
nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” She left Helga’s office, closing the door behind her. She
would have more time on Monday to ask questions.
With
her purse strap over her shoulder, she rode down the repaired elevator and
exited the store. Walking back to the parking lot, she breathed in the warm
June air. Dad was out of town again, so she could spend a nice quiet evening at
home. She would heat up the left-over pork chop from last night, maybe fry a
few potatoes…
She walked by Ben’s BMW, parked with the engine facing
out. But Ben had left earlier with Elliot.
She stopped. Why was his car still here?
A
hand clamped across her mouth. A thick arm encircled her waist. “I got the
girl!” A man’s voice.
Janelle’s eyes widened as fear pierced her.
* * *
To be continued!
Now we're getting somewhere...LOL.
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