Page 101 - Labelle Gramercy, On the Case

Overtime

among its employees. The social scientists could prove that people
worked better the closer their group resembled a loving, trusting
family, and they could promote structures and strategies to promote
increased productivity through such means, but the reality of
corporate capitalism constantly corroded all the pseudogemütlichkeit.
“What time did you leave this office on Friday?” asked Labelle.
“Just before five-thirty. Bendan—Mr. Beau—said I could leave a
little early.”
“Was he here when you left?” Labelle had slowly moved closer to
Ms. Storry’s desk as the conversation proceeded. She kept her voice
low but left no interval between Maud Lynn’s response and her next
question. The pencil in the secretary’s manicured fingers was near the
point of snapping.
“No. He left much earlier.”
“Is that usual?”
“Sometimes he leaves early on Friday to beat the traffic out of
town.”
“Where does he go?”
“He has a cabin up at Lake Libertino. But he takes work with
him—his correspondence and his laptop computer. Sometimes he
sends me an e-mail from there if something comes up Friday
afternoon and I’m still here.”
“Does anyone else from here go with him?”
“I wouldn’t know!” That was it: Labelle had crossed the line of
Maud Lynn’s endurance: intentionally? “We mind our own business
in this company!” That was so absurd that I had to hide a smile—
with little difficulty, as neither woman seemed aware any longer of
my presence.
“It’s Monday morning,” rejoined Labelle, taking her eyes off Maud
Lynn’s face for an instant to make a show of consulting her
wristwatch. I recognized it as a barely feminine version of a diver’s
watch, heavily reinforced against high pressure. It was certainly being
put to a kind of test in these interviews. “When will Mr. Beau get
here?”
Ms. Storry took a deep breath and looked down at her desk
calendar. “He didn’t say specifically, but he has a meeting with
Pesado and Lejeune at eleven o’clock, so he ought to be here in a few
minutes.”

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