Page 25 - Labelle Gramercy, On the Case

Polished Off

back to work unless somebody who can sign payroll checks calls
me.” She looked pointedly at me.
Lieutenant Gramercy assented. “Yes. We’ll be in touch. Please do
not leave town until this is resolved.”
“You mean what happened to Mariana? You really think
somebody did her in? I know, I know: you have to complete your
inquiries, et cetera. Well, so long, P.G., and thanks for the sandwich.
We’ll do lunch again some time, eh?”
She bounced out the front door. I noticed a file folder under her
arm, and hoped it did not contain any documentation crucial to the
estate—or to the case. But Labelle Gramercy was unconcerned. Did
she already know the contents of that folder? Could it be an
inventory of the costly volumes Iris hoped to inherit? Had Mariana
revealed the nature of that legacy to Iris? If so, what might have been
the clerk’s reaction? My ruminations were frozen by a screech from
Linsey:
“Bad cat! Get out of there!”

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I strode up to the desk where Linsey stood wide-eyed and almost
panic-stricken. “What happened?” I tried to get her to look at me.
“It’s Gutenberg,” she gasped. “He was in the office and I heard
something crash. Then I looked in there and saw him on the desk. I
yelled at him and he jumped down and ran away. You didn’t want
him in there, did you?”
Labelle was in the tiny room when I turned my head in that
direction. The yellow tape crossing the door about three feet above
the floor was undisturbed: had she gone under, over or through it? I
was beginning to believe she did not obey the same physical laws as
the rest of us.
“Ah, no, I suppose not.” I smiled—reassuringly, I hoped. “But it’s
not your fault. Cats do move around silently, and he certainly can’t
read the warning.”
Then, recalling how carefully Labelle had gone over the possible
crime scene, I called out to her, “Is everything okay in there?”

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