Tansy Taylor (11 page)

Chapter Ten

My alarm roused me way to early the next morning. I had struggled to fall asleep and when I finally had it was troubled. What I wanted to do was hit the snooze and curl back up under my warm down comforter and get back to my McDreamy dream. Instead, I threw off my covers, pulled myself out of bed and headed toward my bathroom. I showered, washed my hair with some special frizz taming shampoo, brushed my teeth extra long, and actually put on a bit more makeup than my usual hint of mascara. I had to be at work at seven, and while I wasn’t a morning person, I wanted to make sure that I was prepared. I needed to find some way to disguise my pink hair. I also needed to make some coffee. I threw on some faded Levis and my favorite pink tee. If I was going to have pink hair, I might as well match. I grabbed my brown suede boots and my cute brown corduroy jacket and ran downstairs.

In the kitchen I discovered we were out of coffee. Instead I found a scone and rooted around in the fridge until I dug up a Coke. I took a bite of my scone and realized that I truly loved my roommate.

I walked in the door at work and tried to be as discreet as possible. I had opted to cover up my hair, rather than try and explain it. I was wearing a hat-wig combo that I had gotten a few years ago for Halloween. The good part was that the wig was the same color as my hair normally was. The bad part was that the hat was rather gaudy. It looked like it belonged on a beatnik or some other odd hippie type. I slunk down the side wall and moved swiftly for the cover of my mundane cubicle.

“Taylor!” Mr. Dunkan hollered at me from across the room. “My office, now.” Crap. This did not bode well.

I crawled into his office, clenching where I figured my uterus was. “Hey, Mr. Dunkan; what’s up? Sorry I had to miss yesterday; I was in a lot of pain. I really appreciate it. In fact, I still feel pretty crummy this morning, but as soon as I dose up on Pamprin I’ll get right onto my calls.

“No need Taylor. You’re fired.” He sat at his desk, calm as could be; his dark (were they actually black?) eyes boring into my own surprised ones.

My jaw dropped and I sprang to my feet; fake cramps be damned! “Fired! For what?” A million reasons filled my brain as to why he would want to fire me, but to actually fire me? I truly hadn’t seen it coming. I had been here for what seemed like forever and truth be told, after the first month had pretty much the same poor work habits as I did now.

“Well, Ms. Taylor, where shall I start?” He held up his hand and started ticking fingers off. “You’re late all the time, your phone skills are mediocre, and your average call time sucks, and I know for a fact,” he reached up and yanked my hat off, “you weren’t sick yesterday.” I dropped my hand from my stomach and slumped into the chair. Damn, how did he know?

“Please, Mr. Dunkan, I’ll do better, I’ll work harder! I really need this job!” This was all true. Without this job, I wasn’t sure how I would pay my rent.

He shook his head and handed me a box. “Ms. Taylor, there are no second chances here. Pack your box. And, next time, don’t have lunch at the diner that my secretary likes to frequent.”

I hung my pink head in shame and headed to my cubicle to pack up my meager belongings.

“What’s up?” Becca poked her head around the side of my cubicle.

“He fired me.” I was still in shock. I was now unemployed. Crap, what was I going to do?

“What? Fuck me! That’s total bullshit! Did he say why?” She glanced back at her monitor. “Hold on, gotta answer the line.” I could hear the beeping in her headset.

I loaded up my personal effects and then grabbed my favorite stapler. A rush of emotions, mainly the angry sort, flooded my body. Screw Psychic Friends and Mr. Dunkan. I could find something much better than this hell whole. I stuffed the stapler, some paperclips, and a few lonely pens into my box. “Bite me Mr. Dunkan and to hell with the corporate man!” I said, mostly to myself.

The overhead speakers crackled to life. “Taylor, you’d better put those supplies back or I’ll take it out of your final check.” Mr. Dunkan was standing halfway across the room, but I heard him loud and clear. Weird, I had never realized that Mr. Dunkan had any psychic powers, I just figured him for a manager of those with talent. Either he could read minds, or he had more cameras installed in this place than I had figured. I grumbled to myself and took the pilfered supplies back out of the box and thumped them back onto the desk.

Becca popped her head around the corner of the cubicle, covering her headset mike. “So, call me later?”

“Sure thing,” I said and did my best to smile.

“So long everyone! It’s been real!” I yelled over the top of the cubicles as I marched out the door, my head held high.

Minutes later, I sat slumped over the steering wheel in my car, parked outside the diner. I wanted to go in and expound my sadness over my job loss, but I really wasn’t sad about the loss of the job, just the paycheck. I’d already called in to file an unemployment claim, but was told I’d have to wait for a decision since I’d been fired. I decided to go in and treat myself to a self pity milkshake. It might make me feel better, especially if I get an extra cherry on top.

“Hey there!” Callie said, heading toward me. “Wait, why are you here, and not at work? Did you take another sick day?” I slid into a back booth and sighed.

“Nope, not a sick day, more like a permanent vacation. I got fired.” I flopped my head down on the table and glanced back up at her. “Can I get a chocolate shake with an extra cherry on top?”

She smiled. “Sure thing, it’s on the house.”

A few minutes later she set the shake in front of me, complete with two extra cherries. “You’re the best,” I said and plopped a cherry in my mouth along with a scoop of whipped cream. I was a sucker for a hand dipped milkshake and this one came complete with the frosty metal mixing cup for me to refill from. Pure heaven.

“No problem. I’ve got to finish up a couple of orders then I can take my break. Hang around for a bit? And, since you’re not working, you should come with me to the dealership as my lookout, kay?” I nodded and she went back to work. I sat there and sucked on my straw, drowning my pity in ice cream.

“Hey stranger.” I didn’t even have to look to know that it was Sam. He slid into the booth next to me. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work? You didn’t take another mental health day did you?” He gave my shoulder a jab.

“Nope, fired.” I said, and took another slurp off my straw.

“You’re kidding! That totally sucks!” He sounded genuinely disappointed for me.

I shrugged. “I guess that’s what happens when you call in sick when you’re not and aren’t the best worker.”

“I can’t imagine you’re a bad anything.” Sam gave me a one-armed hug. It was sweet and I appreciated the thought.

“That’s nice, but not entirely true. I was never very good answering calls from people willing to shell out a dollar a minute to have some stranger predict what will happen in their life. Most of them are desperate people, you know. I’m actually relieved in a way; I won’t have to try and get someone to talk longer just so that I make my stats look good.” I tried to grin, but it fell pretty quick.

“Oh, I see. I didn’t realize that being a psychic operator person was that corporate.” He stole my shake and took a drink. “Wow, that’s delicious! I think I’ll get one of my own; do they do a chocolate and strawberry mix?” He licked his lips and glanced hungrily toward the counter.

I shrugged. “I’m sure they can if you ask.” I went back to slurping on mine. Sam went and ordered a shake of his own and brought a big cinnamon roll back to the table as well.

“I brought something to soak up all the ice cream.” He stabbed a bite of roll onto a fork and held it up to me, frosted sugar dripping off. “Try it.”

I opened my mouth and accepted the bite. It was fabulous. “Yummy.”

Sam took a big bite of his own and closed his eyes. “It’s warm cinnamon heaven.”

I giggled; he looked like he was in the throes of passion. “It really does melt in your mouth, doesn’t it?” He stabbed another bite and groaned in ecstasy.

“Okay sexy cinnamon man, you’re making people stare.” I looked around the diner and several eyes were aimed in our direction. An older couple a booth over had stopped, forks midway to their mouths, and were now openly staring at us.

Sam still had his eyes closed. “They’re staring at your pink hair, not me eating a cinnamon roll.” He licked his lips, not quite getting all of the frosting off of his lip. I wanted nothing more than to climb over the table and help him clean it off. Instead, I cleared my throat.

“I doubt it. I think they’re waiting to see what you do next.” The couple had gone back to eating their food, but I could see them whispering and stealing glances every now and then toward our booth.

“Here, have some more.” He held up another bite for me. The frosting dribbled down onto my chin as I took a bite. Before I could stop him he leaned over the tiny table and licked it off and then kissed me with a sweet cinnamon kiss. “Um, delicious,” he said.

“Ah-hem,” Callie was standing in front of us with Sam’s shake. “Enjoying the cinnamon roll I see?” She giggled just a bit.

“It’s fabulous, flat out the best cinnamon roll that I have ever had.” Sam said in all seriousness.

“So, I hear that you are not really Johnny the wash bay boy, but Sam the PI.” She slid into the bench across the table.

Sam gave me a stern look. “I thought I said not to say anything.”

“I only told her your name and secret identity after we pinkie-swore she would not talk or hang out with anyone from the dealership.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded and then looked at Callie. “It’s true, but you have to play along, okay?”

Callie nodded. “Oh, definitely, I’m hoping you might find out something more about Buster’s disappearance.”

“I’ll do my best. I sort of have to maintain my own investigation, since that is what is paying the bills.”

“Great, we’ll pass anything we find out to you too.” She started to scoot her way out of the booth when Sam grabbed her arm. I knew what was coming next and tried to head it off at the pass.

“What she means, is, that if we happen upon anything, you know, accidentally while going about our own day to day normal stuff, we’ll pass it along.” I was trying to communicate with my eyes, and luckily Callie caught on.

She nodded vigorously. “Oh, ya, totally that’s what I meant.” Sam released her arm and she continued to get out of the booth.

He continued to eye us both suspiciously. “You girls aren’t still investigating are you?” He turned his attention on me. “Not after what happened with Ronnie yesterday? Right?” I was touched he was really concerned about me.

“Well,” I started. His hackles immediately went up. “Don’t freak out! We’re going to snoop around a bit more, but nothing compared to yesterday. Callie’s going to stop by after her shift to pick up Buster’s things at Big’s. She figured maybe she’ll linger a bit in hallways, you know, see if she can’t pick up on any shady conversations, things like that. I’m going to go along, but I’ll stay in the car unless she needs me for some reason.” I took the last bite of cinnamon roll and then licked my lips. I could see Sam watching my tongue intently as it wandered over my lips.

He licked his own and then refocused on the conversation. “I suppose its fine; just as long as you’re being careful, and not doing anything foolish or dangerous.”

“Don’t you think that I can handle myself?” I asked; a bit offended that he would take me for the damsel in distress type.

“No, it’s not that. I just know one person has already disappeared and another was found dead at the dealership. Something’s going on, and I don’t want you to get caught up in it.” Again, he seemed to be more concerned for me than anything. I supposed I shouldn’t jump to the immediate conclusion that he thought I couldn’t handle myself because I was a girl.

“So, do you know who the dead guy was being taking out in the coroner’s wagon yesterday? Callie and I still hadn’t figured out who it was and the cops weren’t talking to the media.

“I know for sure it wasn’t anyone who worked there. It was actually a body in the trunk of one of the cars. It was weird. I’m not sure if they identified him yet or not, but basically, he was stuffed in the trunk, like a mob hit you would see in the movies,” Sam said.

“Like a Russian mob hit?” I asked, thinking back to the Russian guy I’d overheard, the recent news stories on growing problems with Russian gangs and what appeared to be a mob business in the Portland area.

Sam shrugged and slurped out the rest of his milkshake and smacked his lips. “I suppose it could be, but who knows. It could have just been a crazed wife who killed her husband, stuffed him in the trunk, and then took the car down to trade in. Those sales guys don’t always check the trunk when they take a trade; they wait for us to do it back in the wash bay. They figure anything left in the car is sold with the car. I know a couple of guys that have scored some high end mp3 players and cell phones.”

“That’s classy; they don’t try to get the property back to the owner?” Slimy used car salesmen, I thought to myself.

“Ya, right.” Sam snorted in agreement and then looked down at his watch. “Well, I’ve gotta get back. If you’re in the area later on, you should swing on by the wash bay.” He winked at me and I felt the blush creep up my face.