Page 82 - Labelle Gramercy, Detective

Cat’s Paw

dropping her ungrateful offspring at piano lessons, I thought. The
woman (I was sure of that, at least) surveyed me coolly as she cruised
past at twenty miles an hour. I’m sure I gawked, but the entire
incident was over in a couple of seconds.
Weird, I thought, and hit the highway in the other direction.

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Anybody working in the Krass Building had to make his or her
own parking arrangements. I couldn’t afford much more than a
monthly space in an outdoor lot two blocks away. It didn’t do my old
Ford’s paint and plastic any good to be exposed to the elements year-
round, but its outward appearance was a matter of indifference to me
by then. After carefully guiding that overpriced product of Detroit’s
declining years into its assigned slot and opening the door just wide
enough to avoid hitting the Mercedes next me while allowing
sufficient clearance to unfold and extrude myself, I strolled casually
down Fourth Street toward the office, feeling rather contented.
The plan had taken shape in my mind already: nothing
complicated, but totally efficient. Hit the Lesley ménage early in the
morning with a belly full of coffee. Open every curtain and shutter
and turn on every light. Roll up my sleeves and get to work, as
follows: clear a space for the first pile as I quickly scanned its
contents. Then put a colored sticker on top of it to show it had
already been searched. Now I would have a new clear spot to use for
the second pile, and so forth. No chance of getting confused and
going through the same stuff twice. The beauty of this method
impressed even me; only a superior brain self-schooled in systems
analysis and computer hacking could have come up with it. Mallard
would be proud of me. A raise was imminent and—
“Excuse me, mister.”
I spun around, blown out of a pleasant reverie by a pleading voice
from behind, not five steps from the Krass Building’s once-gilded
portal. Expecting a panhandler with yet another tale of alcohol abuse
dressed up as homelessness, I instantly formed my features into an
implacable snarl. “What?”
Then I saw my mistake. It was a normal, wholesome-looking,
properly attired young lady who was trying to get my attention, not a

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