The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag - #2 Swept under the Rug Read online

  “My rates are reasonable and I pride myself on a job well done.” I continued, wondering why I was here. Job interviews were not my forte, and groveling to clean a bunch of corporate bathroom stalls seemed utterly pathetic. And what exactly had I been thinking when I’d used my maiden name? Sampsons’ Cleaning Services sounded decent, even if it was no Laundry Hag, and with Marty on board, it was even accurate. Possibly, I was afraid that Lucas Sloan—who still hadn’t paid me—might be somehow involved in the hiring process. Or maybe I was hiding from Markus Valentino, CEO of this and several other companies because Laundry Hag would ring a bell with him. And no other business that I’d contacted was interested in hiring an unknown service. Promising Leo I’d find work for Richard was only part of it though, because I needed the extra income to foot the insurance plan Marty and I had settled on. Oh what a tangled web we weave.

  Garner smiled at me, a polite expression with no teeth bared. “Do you know what it is we do here?”

  “Something to do with batteries,” I shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to me. And it shouldn’t, because Laura had pointed out on the return trip from the luncheon, I was hardly more than the hired help. Unfortunately, I was too interested in what kind of operation Valentino ran, because I had no other way to investigate him.

  Yeah, that’s right. I wanted dirt on Markus Valentino, anything that might point to Candie’s whereabouts. He’d hidden the first note about the phoenix from the FBI, I was sure of it. And after meeting Amelia, I‘d settled on an image of Valentino as a school yard bully who wanted whatever someone else had.

  I needed proof to bring to Capri and the FBI. And to find evidence, I needed access to one of Valentino’s offices, preferably after hours when he would be elsewhere.

  Richard cut his gaze to me. No doubt, he thought I was a moron, and I promised myself I’d rectify the situation as soon as possible, for Leo’s sake.

  Garner stared at me for a moment, probably wondering if I was as vapid as I seemed, but then he couldn’t see my sensible shoes. I stayed silent, letting the chips fall where fate willed them. He fidgeted with his pocket protector and removed a pen to write something on his clipboard.

  “Do you have any references?”

  I dug through my tote, pulling out a sheet of paper with my phony references. Sylvia, Leo, and Detective Capri were all listed along with contact info. Garner’s hand shook. He reached for the paper and I wondered if he might be ill. His skin was the color of wet concrete and the trembling was pronounced. Parkinson’s maybe.

  “When can you start?” He asked his smile less glacial this time.

  I turned my head and looked at Richard. He wasn’t exactly leaping for joy. In fact, he appeared bored. “Tonight if you want,” I answered, figuring Leo would cover if Richard had other plans.

  Garner nodded, as if my reply suited him. “Be here at eight. I’ll notify the security desk of your arrival. We’ll issue badges for you and your crew by next week.”

  I stifled a wince. Crap, eight, when I was supposed to meet Neil for dinner. Sure, I could send Marty in my place, but that would leave Penny alone with the boys and me unable to snoop.

  “How about a tour?” Garner rose from behind the tiny desk in his windowless office.

  “Sounds like a plan.” I said, following suit. Richard remained seated.

  “Richard,” I prompted. “Mr. Garner is taking us on a tour now. So we’ll know our way around tonight?”

  “Tonight?” Richard asked, blinking up at me.

  “Yes, when we come back here. To clean.” Had he been asleep through the entire interview?

  “Oh, oh right. “ Richard got to his feet and I prayed he would follow as I trailed Garner, who’d been conferring with someone outside and missed the entire exchange.

  The level we were on was self explanatory, with cubicles and a break room, as well as a couple of offices like Garner’s. Here, we’d be responsible for vacuuming the indoor/ outdoor carpeting, emptying waste baskets and scrubbing down the john. Yippie.

  “Our primary function is sales and protection plans for companies who have purchased our battery back-ups. This is the customer service floor. The clean room surrounds the perimeter of the area, which is why there aren’t any windows in here. All high security.” Garner explained. He shuffled past several empty offices. “You will not have access to the lab, as several experiments may be running at any given time and our engineers are very sensitive to any, ahem…, interruptions.”

  “Understood,” I said, a little disappointed. The name ‘clean room’ just beckoned to my inner neat-freak and I wanted to see for myself if it lived up to the hype.

  We loaded onto an elevator and Garner pushed the button for the third floor. The first floor was the lobby, where I’d met up with Richard. We’d just left the second and I crossed my fingers that pay dirt would be waiting on three.

  The elevator slid open and I gaped as a huge mahogany desk was revealed. The woman behind the desk seemed completely dwarfed by the thing, which was clean of any of the normal desktop clutter. No coffee mugs holding pens, no piles of paper, no family photos or beanie babies. A sleek computer monitor, a phone with more buttons than NASA control and a leather-bound book were the only occupants.

  “Sierra,” Garner addressed the woman who personified my vision of the naughty librarian. Her glasses feathered out at the sides and her tight and fuzzy ice blue sweater enhanced her boobs, which were as big as mine, but much more perky. I wished I could ask her where she purchased her underwire bras. She glanced at Garner and held up a well manicured finger while she finished her typing.

  “How are you, Alan?” Her low, husky voice sounded too intimate for the professional setting. Sierra rose from her chair and glided around the desk. Her black pencil skirt cut off just above her knee but seemed indecent as it clung to her flesh. Garner swallowed audibly, but Richard still appeared bored. Definitely gay.

  “I wanted to introduce Ms. Sampson and her associate, Mr. Head.” Props to Garner for not choking on the name. He was obviously more mature than yours truly.

  “They’re the new cleaning service.”

  A light went on behind Sierra’s eyes, making her all the more resplendent. “Excellent, I’ll notify Mr. Valentino and we’ll check his schedule….” She hustled behind the desk and Garner and I watched, each in our own stupor, him being lust-struck and me fighting panic. I did not want an encounter with Valentino when I was so close to my goal. His inner sanctum lay just beyond the frosted paned double doors and I scrambled for an out.

  “No need to bother him, he’s a busy man, I’m sure.” I stammered. Not to mention a cold fish. Who goes into work after his wife has disappeared?

  Sierra smiled at me like I’d won brownie points. “Oh, Mr. V insists on meeting any new team member, even the cleaning staff. We’re all like family here, you see.”

  Garner nodded as if his head was on a spring. “Family, that’s right.”

  Frigging great, family wages.

  Sierra spoke into a small device, which I presumed was an intercom. “When you have a moment Mr. Valentino—”

  “Be right out,” came the clipped reply.

  Surreptitiously, I shuffled back so I was partially obscured behind Richard and stared at the double doors.

  “How’s your daughter, Sierra?” Garner filled the quiet.

  “Zoe’s doing well, thank you Allan. She’s been asking after you.” Sierra focused on me. “Allan volunteers at the community soccer coach, he’s wonderful with the kids.”

  Garner blushed and mumbled what I presumed to be a thank you and lapsed into silence again.

  “Now who do we have here?” Valentino boomed from the now open doors.

  “Margaret Sampson and her associate, Richard Head, our new cleaning service.” Garner said, his tone implying that he’d escort us from the building at Valentino’s command. Clearly, Valentino took great pains to approve anyone who had access to his building.

  “Pleased to meet yo
u,” I mumbled, as Richard sprang to life.

  “Oh, Mr. Valentino, it’s an honor, sir.” He reached his hand forward and shook with fervor.

  “Er…yes. A pleasure.” Valentino dropped Richard’s hand and glanced at me. Force of will alone let my gaze meet his. No hint of recognition lit in his eyes and he turned away almost immediately. “Well, I have something of a personal matter to attend to so if you’ll excuse me...?”

  He pivoted and said something low to Sierra and I silently prayed it wasn’t a get this woman out of my building order. Striding back through the double doors and pulling on a wool overcoat was the work of moments, my pulse throbbed in my eardrums while I watched, mutely.

  “Be sure to dust the wires attached to the computers. The last service was sloppy about it.”

  I started breathing again as the elevator doors swallowed him.

  * * * *

  “Absolutely not,” Richard stared at me like I had a dust rag nestled between my ears. “How can you even suggest that?”

  “For the love of grief, Richard, what did you expect?” I snapped on my rubber scowering gloves and propped the bathroom door open with a full bucket of water. We’d been in the building for ten of the longest minutes of my life. Richard was a whiner and a complainer to the nth degree and it was all I could do not to club him with my mop. “Haven’t you ever cleaned a bathroom before?” I asked, figuring it was a rhetorical question. My jaw hung open when he glanced away. “You haven’t, have you?”

  Richard puffed up like a blowfish under siege. “Mother takes care of the cleaning, she’s very particular.” The way he said mother reminded me of Norman Bates in Psycho. I shivered involuntarily.

  Even insidious premonitions couldn’t curb my tongue though. “So why on Earth would you want to tackle a cleaning job?”

  He shrugged. “Leo asked me to come with you, said you needed help.”

  Leo was going to receive a serious beating when next we met. “Is that so?” Help didn’t look to be on Richard’s agenda this evening. He’d dawdled at the security desk, chatting up the night guard while I made three trips upstairs with my supplies. I’d vacuumed and dusted the outer area before he graced me with a cameo. And then the whining started.

  “Richard, you have a choice here. Either pull on a pair of gloves and help me scour out this restroom or go home without pay.” I may be a push-over, but even the laundry hag has limits.

  “I’m allergic to latex,” he informed me.

  “I bet you say that to all your dates.” I grumbled. He looked confused as my pithy remark flew over his head. I pushed past him to the cart and grabbed a bottle of ammonia. “Fine, go dust the offices.”

  “Dust is bad for my allergies.”

  I scrunched my eyes shut and sucked in a breath. Did I really cancel a date with Neil, who was not happy with me again, to work with Dick Head? “I mean it Richard; you’re not getting paid to watch me bust my hump here. Find something to clean or scat.”

  He scowled at me for an indeterminate amount of time before I turned my back. Part of me hoped he’d disappear—it felt like a new kind of torture to pay someone to annoy me while I cleaned. I’d never bitch about Marty’s work-ethic again. Then, too, I wouldn’t have to sneak away from him to search Valentino’s office.

  Luckily, I’d noted that while the third floor was monitored on security’s bank of screens, Valentino’s office wasn’t. I could prop the door open, go about my business and the night watchman would be none the wiser.

  Scouring the bathroom only took a few minutes, since it was in decent shape to begin with, and I signed the little chart when I finished and placed one of the Caution: Wet Floor signs in front of the door. Hefting my bucket of scummy water, I noticed Richard was halfheartedly arranging a tray of snacks in the break room. He so did not deserve Leo and I planned on telling my friend so at the first opportunity.

  “I’m hitting the third floor now. Leave the exhaust fan on in the john so the floor dries before we leave.” My tone was matter-of-fact, but my heart rate jumped as I thought about the task ahead.

  “Oh, I’m coming!” Richard sprang to life like he’d just shot up adrenaline. “I want to see what’s in Valentino’s office.”

  “We’re not going up there to snoop.” I fibbed while gripping the bucket in a shaking hand. Crap, I should have seen this coming after the way he’d greeted Valentino earlier, but I’d been so busy fading into the wood paneling that Richard’s reaction hadn’t sunk into my skull.

  “Come on, I bet his office looks like Spacely’s Sprockets. You know, I read an article about him once in Wired. Apparently, he’s a real control freak, wants to approve every nuance of every sale. He’s also a real hustler when it comes to bidding on big projects.”

  “So you’re a tech-guy?” I resisted using the word geek since I wanted him to keep talking.

  “I dabble,” Richard replied with false modesty. He pushed the cart onto the elevator. “Valentino’s interesting, kinda like Bill Gates. He’s completely self-made, a few lucky breaks and stellar timing equals a multimillionaire. From what I read, he’s developing the next generation power supply, based on solar technology. Tons of backers and he’s invested a huge chunk of his own fortune into the project. His corporate stock has gone through the roof with only the whispers of what this new battery can do.” The elevator opened with a ding and we unloaded onto the third floor.

  I nodded, deciding I’d pay Richard in full, if for nothing more than information. “What exactly can it do?” I asked, while taking out some furniture polish to treat Sierra’s desk.

  Richard leaned in close, like he was passing on top secret intelligence. “Until now, solar power has been a daytime only source of energy, because the sun goes down at night. Well, last summer MIT developed this new catalyst made of all non-toxic materials. Valentino’s working on a storage unit that will house fuel cells so the solar panels collect the sunlight during the day to split water into

  hydrogen and oxygen for storage, Then at night, the cell will recombine the elements and poof, 24/7 energy.” I cocked my head to the side. “What good is that?” Richard gave me a are you totally stupid look. “Just end global warming and

  provide cheap, unlimited energy to the entire planet is all.”

  “But aren’t solar panels like crazy expensive? And kind of fragile?”

  Richard’s indignation was palpable. “With the technology we have available, manufacturers are working on super thin collectors. The holdup is storing the energy.”

  “And that’s where Valentino comes in.” I nodded. “What’s it called?”

  “Falcon. Like the bird of prey.” He was obviously tickled by the name. I was simply unnerved. Again with the birds, this couldn’t be pure coincidence.

  “Are falcons anything like hawks?” I asked, trying to sound disinterested.

  Richard rolled his eyes. “Duh. They are in the same order of birds, falconiformes.”

  Well excuse me, Dr. Do Little.

  The wall clock chimed ten and I took a deep breath. “I’m going to vacuum in here. Can you do me a favor, Richard? I left my invoices in my car. Do you think you could grab them for me?” I tossed him my keys.

  Richard sighed, but I switched on the vacuum before he could come up with an excuse. He punched the down arrow on the elevator while I concentrated on dragging the carpet to make tidy patterns on the knap. Soon as he was gone, I shut off the vacuum and bolted to Valentino’s office. The doors were locked.

  I had maybe fifteen minutes before Richard realized there weren’t any invoices in my car—other than gas station receipts—and came back, so I scuttled to Sierra’s desk. Leisurely, I rubbed across the surface, ignoring the camera mounted in the corner. “Key, key, key…” I chanted under my breath, aware that precious seconds were slipping away. The longer I fondled the desk, the more likely the guard would be to come check on me. Still rubbing in useless circles with my left hand, I slid my right down to open drawers. Her top drawer reveale
d only the leather-bound book, a tidy row of pens and a stapler. I reached under the desk and felt a button, probably a security alert, and I was careful not to trigger an alarm.

  The bottom drawer held a bevy of manila file folders. I pretended to drop my rag and ducked behind the desk to reach inside the drawer, checking for a key secured inside. Nothing. The files were mostly marked with a name, client ID number and date, except for one halfway back, which was blank. Shaking hands tugged it loose and I opened it while holding my breath. Several envelopes like you would get from a bank teller were lodged inside. I opened one and thought Eureka! a shiny brass key fell into my sweaty palm.

  “Let’s get cracking,” I muttered, pretending to bash my head against the desk and rub for the camera’s benefit. Wheeling my cleaning cart in front of the secured office I stowed the rag and made a show of emptying the trash. If anyone had been watching me, they must be bored senseless by now. Keeping my mental fingers crossed, I scurried for the office. I inserted the key with a whispered prayer and exhaled loudly when it clicked the lock open. After parting the doors, I flicked on the lights and scanned the room. An antique cherry desk, much like the one at his house, held a computer and matching bookshelves lined the walls. Most of the shelves had been drafted for storage purposes, but a few technical manuals interspersed the clutter. The mauve carpeting looked odd with all of the dark, masculine furniture, but I wasn’t here to critique the décor.

  I strode to the desk, having no clue what I sought, but the need to find something gave me a natural high. The first thing I noticed was the lack of pictures, just like Sierra’s. Valentino practiced what he preached, but my heart broke for Candie. Every wife should know her picture was proudly displayed in her husband’s workspace.

  “There I go again with the shoulds,” I chastised myself and opened a few drawers. Paperclips, legal pads, post-its still in the wrapping. No clues here then.