10.26.2008 / EP. 50
PrePositioning
Arthur saw Milly return to her office. She looked better than when she’d gone to the washroom, but the difference came out of her purse. She’d thrown up. Like yesterday and the day before. The flu, she told him. Uh-huh, he replied.
Arthur was standing in Milly’s office. He carried a fistful of paper. The flu, she repeated. I’m Donald Duck, he answered.
“There’s something going around. I’ll go to the doctor, all right? My job’s getting done.”
“I’m not complaining and I’m not an enemy.”
“Then don’t act like one.”
Arthur wanted gentle treatment from Milly. He knew he should be angry that she’d jilted him. He should feel aggrieved and affronted. But there it was. Instead of the tough-guy emotions, he found bereavement, tenderness and compassion. He needed consoling and reassurance. Maybe he wanted her to say she really loved him after all, that she’d made a mistake.
A department staffer looked in through the glass panel. There was something about the look. “You’re pregnant,” said Arthur.
“That’s ridiculous,” Milly replied.
“If you were, would you tell me?”
“Not a chance.”
“You’ll have to eventually.”
“That’s right.”
And that was the end. Arthur could think of nothing else to say. It was a schoolyard encounter. Yes you are, no I’m not. Very successful, very impressive, he castigated himself as he closed the door behind him. I don’t even know what’s wrong. She could be taking chemotherapy. It might be flu. It could be anything. And Milly doesn’t have any close friends to ask. Lin has been hanging around, but Arthur couldn’t imagine phoning him to inquire after Milly’s reproductive health. Could the baby be Lin’s?
The contemptible prig wants me pregnant so he can ask if it’s his, thought Milly. And drown me in condescension. It’s another chip in the power game.
Unless, thought Arthur, Fred made her pregnant and regrets it. He’s rejecting her and Milly is at her wit’s end about it.
“I’ll be out for an hour,” Milly poked her head into Arthur’s office. There wasn’t time for him to reply. She was gone.
***
Milly saw Carrie through the steamed windows of the Chinese restaurant. Carrie was sitting beside a man with hair so black it looked blue. She was leaning against him. They weren’t holding hands, but their posture suggested they easily could. Milly rushed into the restaurant and saw it was Andreas. This is getting old, Milly said to herself; why can’t I recognize this man? She took a seat opposite them. They were lovers, Milly saw it in Carrie’s blush and how she drew slightly apart from Andreas. The woman couldn’t keep her secrets. Odd for a security officer. Sex percolated through Milly’s mind till Andreas interrupted her.
“I’m responsible for this get-together,” Andreas said. “I apologize for the public venue. I wanted a little privacy without arousing suspicion. There was some thought that our homes were being watched, whereas we could bolt from our holes for a sandwich during the day and not be missed.”
“Missed by whom?” Milly asked.
“Local police in the form of Brendan Shea, our bipolar Clouseau clone,” said Carrie.
“But more effective, I’m told,” Andreas added smoothly. He flashed a dazzling smile. “Carrie called me because of Daloux. She wanted me to dig at the Paris end. Which I did.”
“His name is on the car rental agreement. I know,” said Milly. The waiter came. They ordered a beer each, but Milly didn’t touch hers.
Carrie added, “The police still don’t know about the shooting outside Milly’s house, and they’ve made no progress on the killing in her office.”
“It was clever to transport the body to the park,” said Andreas. “And while we’re on the subject, what’s the current police theory about the break-in?”
Milly was stunned at how handsome Andreas looked. It was as if the man had thrown a switch. Of course, he hadn’t really become a Cary Grant. What had changed was her reaction. Hormones, probably. His urbanity delighted her: no chippy defensiveness, recycled humour, stilted outlooks, macho arrogance, offended innocence. He might have been asking what roses Carrie preferred for her garden this season. If not hormones, then I’m sleep-deprived. Carrie is preening too. We’ll start having our periods at the same time if we’re not careful.
“A political plot gone wrong. Like Watergate. That’s what they think unofficially. Publicly they talk about money and a couple of gym bags missing. The police haven’t formally been invited in. Government security and insurance companies are looking after it. The public has lost interest. In the burglary, I mean. In fact nothing more than some petty cash is gone. Money that could have gone missing the week before and nobody noticed.”
“Our investigators,” said Carrie, “found a large empty space in Milly’s credenza. I figure something was stolen, but Milly can’t remember what was there. And that’s an update on the burglary.”
Milly laughed. “I keep the credenza locked. Bank statements, cheques, bookkeeping folders, expense vouchers, that’s what was inside. Nothing sensational. In fact the opposite,” she said.
Carrie: “A loose memo about the life-extending drugs was there.”
Milly: “I’d like to see it. Everybody hopes they can make the drugs safe.”
Carrie: “I mean loose, as in part of a set from the FDA.” She looked suggestively at Milly, who replied that she knew nothing about any memos. The FDA was screening the drugs to find what caused the cancers. That was what she’d heard. As soon as possible, they’d be allowed into the US. Some countries used the drugs, but how could you call them life-extenders when people died early from cancer? It made no sense. Milly said nothing about selling the drugs on the street with pleasure additives.
“And forensics found the credenza locked,” Carrie said.
Andreas: “That makes sense. Milly kept it locked.”
Carrie: “Why lock a cabinet used for routine paper? Or if that question isn’t important, why did sophisticated thieves unlock a cupboard of accounting records? Or if that doesn’t matter, why lock it up again after removing some?”
“I agree,” said Milly. “It makes absolutely no sense. We have to start from scratch. Carrie assumes there was something there to steal. I tell you that’s wrong. Financial receipts and records aren’t worth taking. Who cares about the stub that lets employee Smith get reimbursed for dinner with employee Jones? It’s a nuisance to lose the paper, but nobody cares enough to break into a building for it.”
Andreas considered. “We should be talking about the opposite, the irregular paper, what people wouldn’t expect to be there. Which is why nobody reported it stolen.”
“Nothing unusual was there,” Milly showed her annoyance. Was she the target of an interrogation? She excused herself. “Flu,” she said.
When she returned, Andreas asked quietly how often she looked where the records were missing.”
“Rarely. The spot is in the middle where the sliding doors meet.”
“Maybe someone left a package there without telling you,” said Andreas.
“Of FDA memos?”
“Before the burglary, was there empty space in the credenza?” Carrie asked.
Milly was not happy with these questions. “It was packed last time I looked.”
Andreas: “And after the burglary?”
Milly’s exasperation rose. She called for the bill. “Let’s be precise. There was a gap two feet long by two wide and the shelves are a foot and a half high. But humour me,” she placed money on the table. “Tell me why anyone leaves a package in my office and then breaks into the Quall Building to pick it up.”
“It baffles me,” said Andreas. “But we can infer pieces of the answer. First, the place was safe; you were unwitting guardians of the parcel. Second, you rarely looked at the spot; they could have stood a hyena there and you wouldn’t have known. Someone knew your routine: when the receipts would be consulted and where you put what. Third, it was dangerous for the person to be caught with the package himself. Fourth, something changed after he left the parcel in your office. He couldn’t get it out. Fifth, the package was valuable enough to spend a lot of money breaking into the building.”
“Let me help with this another day. I’m not feeling well and I have work to do.” Milly took her departure. She didn’t mention Pam’s missing millions, the cash campaign contributions. It didn’t take a genius to connect the missing cash with the stolen parcel. The sum would justify the break-in.
Milly stopped her car to throw up on the curb.
