The Temp Who Knew Too Much
an excerpt

I opened my apartment door. Boxes seemed to fill my vision. Butler and I had spent the day here before I packed up the Bug, loading and unloading a small U-Haul truck. Butler would have gladly unpacked everything for me and put it all in very eye-appealing places, but I gently but firmly informed him that the unpacking and rearranging of the goods rested squarely in the lap of the girl who was moving. Right now, though, I was not feeling particularly enthusiastic about opening boxes and putting things away. There was just too much to think about with Audrey's business, and the missing Ronald. So many questions that had to be answered. Where to start? What questions to ask first, and who to ask them to?

I felt bad for the detective who had to know how to do all these things. But, how could Jack Fisher know any of this? He needed to know Audrey, Ms. Bloomer, and the rest, to know all their makeups, what drives them. In short, he needed to have worked with them before all this happened in order to understand how they ticked. And only I, only I could provide this kind of insight.

“Right, that tears it,” I said, filled with a sudden conviction. I would go to the police station and offer my assistance. Not in the norm, of course, but I felt this was not a normal case.

I turned to walk back out the door – and screamed. There was a person outside. It was Sylvia, of course, but it was easy to scream when you turn around and suddenly there is a face regarding you, even the face of a loved one.

“Sylvia!” I exclaimed as I opened the door. “You scared me. I felt my heart stop.”

Sylvia walked in and surveyed the mess. She looked me up and down as if sizing up my intentions. “Just as I thought. You were about to go out, weren't you?”

“Yes,” I said, suddenly feeling a little like I was being under interrogation. “I needed to go grocery shopping.”

“Don't lie,” she said good-naturedly. “You were just going to start clearing out these boxes and making a home of this place, and you don't really want to do it. So, your OCD brain thought that you would go play Nancy Drew. Don't bother confirming whether I'm right or not, I know I am. That's why I'm here. You are going to forget about the case of the missing accountant and get these boxes emptied, or else you'll be in for something I haven't thought of yet. C'mon, let's hurry up and get started. I have a gig tonight and I need you in the audience.” Sylvia picked up a box and brought it to the kitchen counter. I sighed and put down my purse. How can you argue with a friend who is always, always right?

“We'll go detectiving tomorrow, I promise,” said Sylvia.

“Really?” I said. “Great! I have to go to mom's for dinner tomorrow, too. Wanna go?”

“Not on your life.”