Page 80 - Labelle Gramercy, On the Case

Overtime

satisfaction of governmental regulations. This, too, I comforted
myself in times of crisis, shall pass, and with a bit of luck I shall be
credited for its safe passage.
Monday morning my confidence was shaken. Sitting in my office
at eight a.m., absorbed in the faintly glowing display of a palm-top
personal computer, was a strange woman: strange, because I did not
know her, and strangers were not supposed to be wandering loose in
the building; and even stranger in appearance. I had learned to size
up prospective employees at a glance, knowing that first impressions
were worth saving for later comparison with résumés, test scores and
application forms. And my intuition said wolf in sheep’s clothing—in
this case a dark mauve knee-length skirt and jacket. Her dark hair was
swept back in a severe wedge-cut; it showed several traces of gray,
but her face, devoid of makeup, revealed that she was barely out of
her thirties. She wore sensible shoes suitable for a much older woman
and not a single piece of jewelry. My mind skipped over these
superficial indicators of seriousness or independence and stopped at
her eyes: emerald and unblinking.
“May I help you?” I uttered these innocuous words without a trace
of subservience and sat down at my desk, establishing myself as its
proprietor.
“Of course.” She stood up and closed my office door in one swift
motion before I could object. “I am Lieutenant Labelle Gramercy.”
A police badge pinned to the inside of her jacket proved it. “You are
Powell Taper, head of the personnel department here?” Her
interrogative was as pro forma as mine.
“Yes, but our name was changed long ago to human resources.”
She frowned and tapped a few keys on her electronic notebook.
“Obviously my information is out of date. I will need an interoffice
telephone directory and an organization chart as soon as possible.
And highest-level browse-only access to your computer network, of
course.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, stalling while I tried to gain mastery of the
situation. “What is this all about?”
“Were you not aware that Vincent D. Kates died in this building
Friday night?”
Aha, I gloated prematurely, she doesn’t know everything. “Yes, in
fact I found him Saturday morning and notified the authorities. I

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