Murder at Fire Bay (19 page)

“I don’t want to hear about this crap anymore, Bronski. You got that?”

I could feel the flush start up my face. My little voice murmured in the background,
Hold it together, Bud. Your day will come
.

By some miracle I did. I answered with a mild, “Yes, sir,” just as I heard a click in the background.
 

“Talk to you later, Bronski.”
 

And with that he hung up. I wiped the sweat off my brow. That was close. A few seconds sooner and Ashley would have heard more than she should have.

My hand was still resting on the phone when it rang again. I picked it up like it was a hot tamale. “Yes?”

“Is this the postmaster?”

“Yes.”

“This is Bill Lane. Have you found my package?”

That turned out to be the nice part of the conversation. I was given notice what the man thought about government workers that sat around on their behinds and drank coffee instead of pushing the mail. I assured the man we were still looking for his package and we would get it to him ASAP. He grumbled a little more and hung up.

I felt for the recorder in my shirt pocket, making sure it was running properly and rang for Ashley. She came dragging into my office like an errant schoolgirl. I found this interesting, considering she supposedly held all the cards.

She stood there, hand on the doorknob.
 

I leaned back in my chair and gave her a big smile. I decided to goad her a little. “Ashley, you look like you lost your best friend. Didn’t you have anyone to sleep with last night?”

She gave me a tired look. Or was it the look you give a bug before you squash it?
 

“What is it, Bronski? I don’t have time to play your games.”

I motioned her into the office and pointed at a chair. “Ashley, a Bill Lane called and wants to know where his package is. You told me you would handle it. Where is it?”

Her head tilted up and her eyes flashed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I sat back in my chair and stared down at my clasped hands, knuckles going white.

“You don’t recall telling me on the phone that you would handle it? You must remember Bill lane?”

She practically sneered as she held up the photograph. “No.”

“Then why don’t you go find it, Ashley.”

“I . . . .”

“That’s a direct order, Ashley.”

Her mouth turned down. The hate literally poured from her eyes. That she slammed the door on her way out bothered me not a bit. I was troubled, though, thinking she might know I had a tape recorder. Was it a guess on her part? I had to believe it was and that I was dealing with a smart, devious woman, who had many experiences dealing with human relationships, both personal and professional. Very well, I would have to take other more devious steps myself. I stood up, stretched, and walked out of the office onto the main floor. I noted with something akin to pleasure that the new kid, or should I say, “man person,” was already busy at a case. Ashley might be a she-devil, but she knew how to organize. I wandered over to his case. Letters and first class mail were flying into their respective slots. I wondered about mistakes and just how long he could keep up the speed. Martha looked slow in comparison.

“I see Ashley already has you at work.”

His hands slowed their ballet for a few seconds. “Yes, sir. She said we could do the proper intake later, that the needs of the service came first.”

I nodded and smiled. “Yes, of course.” I moved on.

The room was quiet as a tomb except for the mail slapping the sides of the slots. I wondered what the troops were thinking. I hoped mightily they weren’t thinking mutinous thoughts. I came to Martha’s case and murmured, “Well, did you see the new man?”

She gave me what had become a trademark of hers—a raised eyebrow.

“Yes,” she murmured back. She gave me another look. “We need to talk—in private.”

Her eyes moved from left to right, obviously looking for some unseen enemy.
 

I raised my eyebrows. This was almost funny. “Now?” I whispered.

Her head nodded most emphatically.

I sighed and nodded back. “Let’s go to my office.”

I turned and left for my office with her close on my heels.

“Where are you two going?”

It was Ashley, the queen bee controller.

“To my office, is that okay?” I said, without stopping to even look in her direction.

There were snickers in the background. Maybe I had won a small point. But with someone like Ashley, small points don’t count in a war. Martha followed me into my office and I closed the door. I sat down at my desk and motioned Martha to take a chair.

“What’s this all about?” I asked.

Martha sat and let out a long breath. I guessed this was not going to be easy

“I need to turn in a grievance at step two.”

Now this did take me by surprise. “Whatever for?” I asked.

“For management doing too much union work, that’s what!”

There it was, an old bugaboo that’s haunted the Postal Service for years, especially in smaller offices. While a certain amount is allowed at times, the union gets upset if it continues in a regular fashion. Trying to keep a calm face, I asked, “Did you put in a step one?”

Martha grimaced. “Yes, and it was thrown back in my face with a laugh!”

I tried to keep from frowning. Ashley was going to bring the house down on us.
 

“Okay, Martha. I’ll look into it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You better. Just who in hell does she think she is? If this keeps up, nothing will get done. I am telling you, the troops are angry at her high-handed ways. Can’t you make her stop?”

I looked directly into her eyes.
 

“I said I’d look into it, Martha. I can’t promise any more than that. I think we better terminate this meeting!”

She got up from her chair and stormed out the door, closing it with a bang, mumbling about management being all alike. If only I could tell her the full story, but I couldn’t, of course. Now came the real fun. I wasn’t looking forward to the confrontation with the queen. With a heavy heart I picked up the phone, punched the numbers for the loudspeaker, and asked Ashley to come to the office. I sat back in my chair with folded hands and waited all of ten seconds before she came bursting through the door. She gave me a glare that would eat nails.

“Close the door, softly, would you, Ashley?”

To my surprise, she did just that, although I’m sure it took some control.

“All right, Bronski, what’s going on?”
 

By now she had folded her arms across her chest and moved around to the front of my desk. I gestured to the chair.

“Sit.”

“No, I’d rather stand.”

I rolled my eyes and went on. “Ashley, I was just handed a step two grievance about you doing union work. Why wasn’t I informed about the problem in the first place? Now we’ll have to work twice as hard to smooth things over. Or is it that you just don’t care, since you’ll be long gone, one way or the other?”

The queen spoke. “Bronski, you still don’t know who’s in charge around here, do you? I’ll leave when I get good and ready to leave. You see, Bronski, I found out you’re a drunk and you have little credibility with the Boss.” She sneered. “Your pitiful efforts to discredit me are a laugh. The Boss told me to keep a close eye on you. That you could go on a binge at any time. As for that little grievance, just shove it in your desk. Dear sweet Martha will get tired after a while and move it on to step three and that will take months to resolve. Bronski, you could have been rich, but for some stupid reason you choose to be dumb.”

 
She turned on her heel and left, the door banging its protest. I sat back in my chair, a little bit stunned. Had the Boss really told her that, or had she nosed around in Anchorage and found out about my drinking before coming down here? I refused to believe the Boss had told her to keep an eye on my potential drunk problems. After all these years . . .I shook my head, warding off those thoughts.

Chapter 26

I checked my watch. Noon, time to go feed the old bod. I grabbed my coat. I had to get out of the office before another catastrophe came down on me, like another customer complaining about parts. Before I ate, though, I stopped by the local drug store and bought another tape recorder. The war was not yet over and I intended to go down fighting.
 

Coming out of the store, I checked to see if Ralph or his car was in sight. I was gratified to see he wasn’t there. Maybe Ashley hadn’t had time to get Ralph on my trail. I sincerely hoped not.

Lost in thought, I gave the Jeep its head and, wouldn’t you know, I ended up in the parking lot of the Eat More. Happenstance has always intrigued me. Why do we go to a certain place without obvious guidance? Who plants these notions in our head? Well, never mind, I was there. Upon entering, I made a quick check of the tables, which were mostly full. If I had seen Ralph or Wattle sitting at one, I do believe I would have turned tail and left. Since neither was there, I made for the table where the raven-haired woman sat munching slowly on a sandwich while she read a romance novel. I felt a momentary tug in my heart for her, as I might for a daughter or sister who might never know a real love. I wondered if a good plastic surgeon couldn’t fix her mouth.

“Ah . . .Emily,” I began.

A trace of a smile came to her face. “Ah . . .Mr. Bronski.”

“That’s Leo, to you.”

I decided not to go into my litany of Mr. Bronski taking too much time to say. Instead I sat down without being invited. She put her book away and regarded me with a smile, buckteeth and all. And I thought I could be just a tiny bit in love with her vulnerability.

“How goes it?” she said.

“Uh . . .so, so,” I answered, and in a lowered voice caught her up to date about my actions at the post office.

“I have been doing some checking about Ashley,” she said. “Her last station was in Miami. She was not well liked and was transferred under a cloud of suspicion.”

“Oh really?” I said. This was beginning to sound good.

“What kind of suspicion?”

Emily looked around and leaned forward. “Drugs.”

“Whom did you talk to?” I asked.
 

“Hey, Mr. Postmaster, you want something to eat?”

I looked up to see the sweaty waitress standing there. She was one notch shy of being rude, but maybe if I worked in a too-warm place full of people, I’d be short-tempered too. So, keeping calm, I ordered a sandwich. I wondered if she reported to Wattle about me. Emily watched her walk back to the kitchen, before going on with her story.

“The Union steward in the Miami office.”

“Amazing!” I said. “You actually got to talk to the steward?”
 

“Yes, she said her boss was out of the office. She said Ashley had tried to get her fired.”

The sandwich slammed down in front of me. “Anything else, Mr. Postman?”

I looked up and put on my biggest smile. “Yes, a coffee. And you can call me Leo.”

Her voice softened a little.
 

“Sure thing, Leo.” Off she went.

“Do not trust her. I think she tells Wattle when she hears something she thinks might interest him.”

I looked back at Emily.

“It was nothing they could prove,” she said, “but the O.I.C. wanted her out and a deal was struck. The steward said the employees wanted to kill Ashley.”

“I’m not surprised,” I murmured. We went on making small talk. Before I left, I thanked Emily for the info. If I had my way, the noose was going to keep on getting tighter around Ashley’s pretty neck.

Emily daintily dabbed a crumb from the corner of her mouth and made ready to go. We said our goodbyes after agreeing on another date to meet, and off she went. Just in time too, as Ralph came sauntering in the door.
 

I gave him a nod and wondered if he had spent half his lunch hour searching the town for me. The thought gave me a good feeling. He ordered his meal in a voice that I did not hear at the post office. At the post office he seemed mellow, almost wimpy, but not here. This voice and the way he carried himself were full of confidence. There was no doubt about it; this voice was the one I heard that night at the party, the one that said, “Is he out?”

I paid my bill and left. This time the waitress gave me a small smile, which I counted as a small victory for me. Her smile let me know again that if you treat a person with respect and dignity, you’ll most likely get back spades full of friendliness.

Ashley was not at the office when I got there, which made me angry, as my lunch hour was from noon to 1:00 o’clock and her lunch hour began after I got back. It was my rule that either she or I was to be in the building at all times. Especially around noon, when an irate customer might come banging on my door.
 

Out on the main floor I meandered close to Martha’s case. Again, one of those happenstance things.