Businesses Should Really Pay More When They Expect You to Do Everything

"There! All done!" Mindy Cooper sat back and surveyed her desk. She'd removed everything that was in it and on it, scrubbed it thoroughly and then rearranged all of her supplies so that now her work space was as neat and as orderly as something fresh out of Office Max. Mindy looked around the rest of the tiny room that  Bernard referred to as her office. What a joke. The humane society had bigger kennels for their dogs than this room.

"How's it going, Mindy?" Bernard Morton came in, a distracted expression on his handsome face. He stopped when he saw Mindy's shining desk. "I see you've been busy."

"No offense but this place is a little on the crummy side. Don't you have a cleaning crew?"

"No, we don't. We believe that it should be up to each individual employee to clean his or her space. I'm glad to see that you already fit in with Kutrate Kemical's corporate philosophy."

Mindy stared at him. "Why don't you have cleaners?"

"We save a ton of money that way. Duh."

"Do you clean your own office?"

"Of course I do."

"What about the factory? Who cleans that?"

"The employees."

Mindy felt like her head was going to start to spin and fall right off her neck. Kutrate Kemicals had to be violating every rule in the EPA's book. "But you manufacture chemicals," she said slowly so that Bernard would understand her. "How can you have the people who make the chemicals be responsible for cleaning up too? I would imagine that keeping this place safe would take a lot of training."

"Oh, we train people. They know what they're doing. Of course," Bernard added reflectively, "we do have a fairly high turnover rate."

"People quit?"

"No, they die. Lots of sicknesses here. Kind of weird."

Mindy couldn't wait for Bernard to leave so she could start taking notes. "Was there something you wanted?"

"What? Oh, right. Yes. I need for you to order lunch for six. I'm having a meeting and we don't want to break for lunch."

Craning her neck, Mindy could see into Bernard's office. Five people were seated around the conference table. "How did they get in there? I didn't see anyone come in."

"I have a back door that I use for people who prefer to keep their identities anonymous," Bernard explained.

"Why would anyone want to be anonymous?"

"Mindy, this is a highly sensitive industry. Naturally people don't want anyone to know that their associated with it. Now please order three large pizzas--pepperoni--and two liters of diet soda. I'd appreciate it if you'd pick it up to save me the tip." He handed her twenty dollars. "Get them from the gas station. Pizzas are just five bucks there.

"Right away," Mindy said. "I'll bring it in when I get back."

"Don't bother," Bernard said quickly. "I'll come out and get it." Smiling his thanks, Bernard returned to his office and shut the door firmly behind him.

Hmmm. Who is in there that my new boss doesn't want me to see?

Mindy didn't know but she was sure that she'd find out before the day was over. She wasn't an intrepid girl reporter for nothing.

Schuyler Square Day 80 DeeDee Smells a Rat

"I'm telling you, Steve, there was something funny about all that produce that woman was buying."

Steve didn't look up from the model ship he was building on the kitchen table. All of his life he had wanted to do things like build models of ships and airplanes, have a garden, sleep late and drink beer every night of the week. Now that he was retired and now that they had their own house, those were the things he planned on doing immediately. He refused to let any of DeeDee's wild imagination rub off on him. "You were at a farmer's market, hon," he pointed out. "What did you expect her to buy? Horse blankets?"

"You had to have been there," DeeDee told him. "Rosanne--that's her name, Rosanne Olson, works for the Schuylers. I think everyone in this town works for the Schuylers. Anyway, she told me that she had to buy produce from Fred Somebody or other but she practically insisted that I buy it from the Henderson's. Then she wound up buying from the Henderson's anyway. Doesn't that seem strange to you?"

"Not really. Maybe she changed her mind. That's something you've been known to do a few times over the course of your life."

"It wasn't like that." DeeDee sat down at the kitchen table and watched Steve work. "It was like she was nervous or something. Do you suppose she was nervous because she knows we live in a haunted house?"

Steve shot her a tired glance from over the top of his bifocals. "Now how would she know that unless you told her?"

"I'm sure everyone in town knows who we are and that we live in a haunted house," DeeDee countered. "Speaking of which, Mindy Cooper and I are planning a seance next week."

Steve dropped his tube of model glue. "You're what?"

"We're going to have a seance. You know, cut to the chase. If we can get Mary Austin to tell us who killed her, it's going to save me a ton of leg work. Then once we get this ghost business straightened out, I can start redecorating. I'm telling you, Steve, you can tell this place was a rental and you can also tell that the Schuylers are cheapskates. The decorating in this house is enough to scare anyone away, ghost or no ghost."

"And what genius came up with that idea? The seance, not the redecorating."

DeeDee smiled and pecked her husband on the cheek. "Who do you think? Me, of course! You know me, Steve, I'm always thinking"

Schuyler Square Day 18 Ron Isn't Feeling Too Well

Ron Schuyler was pretty sure that he was aging faster than the average man in his fifties ought to be aging, which struck him as totally unfair. What was the point in being rich if it couldn’t guarantee him at the very least a healthy, stress-free middle age? But that didn’t seem to be in the cards for Ron, especially since the arrival of Veronica Channing in Schuyler Square. And now her son.

Correction: their son.

The pain in Ron’s stomach increased. It was probably an ulcer but he was in no mood to have it checked out and hear from the family doctor how he needed to go on cholesterol meds or start exercising more or have major surgery. He had enough on his mind without hearing that now his body was falling apart too.

Ron glanced at his desk calendar. Veronica had been back in town for a little over a month. She’d returned right before Lynnette died. Ron had never been too big on omens or signs but even he had to admit that Veronica's arrival and Lynnette's departure seemed to be too coincidental for comfort. Ron and his sister had never been close but having Lynnette die so suddenly shocked him. Lynnette's demise underscored the fact that he could--would--die someday too. Ron had chosen to deny his own mortality for so long that he really didn't appreciate being reminded of it so bluntly.


Then there was Kirk Channing coming to town. No wonder his stomach hurt. It was all too much for Ron to take and although he was fairly certain that no one else had figured out that the tall, good-looking Kirk was his son, it was playing hell with his nerves. It didn’t help that his niece was living with them too. Not that he saw all that much of Tiffany—other than when he went into the kitchen where the girl had apparently taken up permanent residence—but it still annoyed him to have an extra person around. He felt like his nerves were fraying faster than a cheap pair of Madras shorts and he didn’t like the sensation. Not one bit. Ron was used to being in control. 


Then there were the dreams he'd been having about Veronica, dreams that all too clearly reminded him of what the two of them had shared in bed. Veronica had been a fantastic lover, far warmer and more giving than Mavis had ever been. Knowing Veronica was back in town was making Ron wonder if he should try and rekindle those long ago flames.


Dear God, was he nuts? What was he thinking? Those flames would devour him now. He wasn't a kid any longer. If he managed to start things up with Veronica again and Mavis found out he had no doubts that his wife would destroy both of them

“Ron?” Mavis appeared in the doorway, startling him. “Are you ready?”

Ron squinted at his wife. “Ready for what?” Mavis appeared to be dressed for an evening out. She was wearing a long black skirt and a wildly patterned blouse in shades of red and pink and orange that made him feel slightly sick to his stomach plus all her heavy duty jewelry that she only wore when she went to the Schuyler Square Country Club or to a coronation.

“The fundraising dinner at the club,” Mavis reminded him.

“What are you raising money for now?” Ron asked irritably. He'd love to see the books on the money Mavis and her crew raised. He had the feeling that the charities they were supposedly supporting saw precious little of it.

“Ron, I told you already. For the policeman’s retirement dance that I’m helping organize.”

Vaguely, Ron remembered Mavis blathering about some dance that she was organizing but, like with most of the things his wife blathered about, he had only half listened. “I don’t want to go out tonight. You go without me.”

Steeling himself for an argument—You have to come with me, Ron! You promised—this is important to me—we always go to fundraisers together—Ron was pleasantly surprised when Mavis didn’t bat a false eyelash at him. “All right,” she said. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“You aren’t going to try and change my mind?”

The smile Mavis gave him was ingenuous. “Why would I want to do that, darling? I can see you have a lot on your mind. I’ll see you later.”

His wife leaned down to kiss him on the top of his head. “You’re wearing different perfume,” he said, surprised. Mavis had been wearing Joy for as long as he could remember.

“It’s called The Bolt of Lightening. Do you like it?”

“Sure,” Ron said. Actually the scent made him feel a little uneasy but that might have been more the name than the smell since he felt like he might get struck with lightening at any moment. “Have a good time.”

Mavis vanished without another word but the smell of her new perfume lingered in the den for awhile, making Ron even more uneasy. Somewhat was up with Mavis, too. Was it possible that she knew about Veronica and Kirk? If she did, why hadn’t she said anything yet? Mavis had never been known for either her patience or her compassion, although Ron sort of doubted many wives would be all that compassionate when they found out about a 27-year old love child.

It was probably all his imagination. Mavis was the same Mavis she’d been since he married her. He was acting paranoid because he knew that sooner or later everything was going to come out, hit the fan and there he’d sit, covered with his past indiscretions.

It was not something Ron was looking forward to.