In a pig’s eye. Cameron’s chuckle filled her head.
Remy’s middle finger went up. Luckily it still had the index finger to offset its usual meaning. “Second. No swearing.”
“Certainly not in a professional atmosphere.”
“Oh, I’m going to like you, Max. That’s what this place is lacking. Professionalism.” He beamed once again, and up went his ring finger. “Third. You do timecards. Report immediately to me on anyone who abuses overtime.”
“Abuses?”
Remy’s glower was as potent as his beam. “These hourly workers know every trick. They work thirty-seven hours one week, then forty-three the next and end up getting time-and-a-half for three hours. They’ll screw you out of every dime.”
She’d have to remember “screw” wasn’t a swear word. “Sounds like a real problem.”
“It won’t be if you do what you’re told.”
Her hackles rose. “I’ll report it to you immediately.” Dickhead, she added silently.
Remy’s pinkie, elaborately adorned with a ruby class ring, went up. Four unblemished fingers. Wendy had torn at the fingers around her throat. Remy didn’t have a scratch on him. Damn.
“Fourth,” he enumerated. “Never try to cover up a mistake.”
“You mean don’t lie about it.”
He gave her a wide grin. “You’ve got my number, Max. Be honest with me, I’ll deal fairly with you. But you lie, you die.” Not a second after he’d uttered those words, his face drained of all color. His eyes widened in horror. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
“Neither can I.” Normally, Max would have been sympathetic. Remy Hackett, however, needed to be cut off at the knees. “Don’t worry, though, I won’t tell the police about it.”
Flesh tones returned. Remy figured she’d made a joke. “They were here quite a while yesterday going through Wendy’s stuff.”
“Did they make an arrest?”
“Not anyone here.”
“Well, hopefully they’ll be able to find some evidence.”
Remy followed her lead perfectly. “I’ve heard they always look to the husband first.”
“And do you think they’d be right?”
He opened his mouth, on the verge of something, then shut it. A moment later, “We’re straying from our real topic. As long as you follow my four little rules, we’ll be set.”
She had the job, but she was pretty fricking sure she wasn’t cut out for this undercover detecting thing. She’d have a very hard time not giving Remy the finger he deserved. “I’m ready, willing, and able, Mr. Hackett.”
“Please. Call me Remy.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot.”
“Remembering is key, Max. Now, let’s get you started.”
The whole thing seemed like prostitution without hope for an orgasm.
*
“Remy Hackett did it. I don’t care that he didn’t have any scratches, I know he did it,” Max murmured to Cameron as she drove away from the store. She’d clocked out for her mandatory half-hour lunch, setting her watch to beep five minutes before she was due back.
“Little Hitler of Hackett Appliance Parts. But that doesn’t make him a killer, my love.”
“Details. Anyone with that many rules is neurotic. Plus, it was more than four. There was the one about doing what he wants when he wants. And the one about neat desk drawers.”
“Yes, but you wouldn’t have found Wendy’s appointment book if he hadn’t insisted you clean up her desk.”
“My God, what a mess.” Max shuddered. “I had to straighten all those piles of paper before I could even look at the drawers.”
“Speaking of neurotic.”
“I was speaking of the disarray.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t feel right. Her notebooks and binders were so neat and organized. Why was the desk such a mess?”
“Maybe the cops did it when they searched?”
“Yeah, well, they sure didn’t search very hard. True, the date book was shoved to the back with some rubber stamp pads on top of it, but...Columbo wouldn’t have missed it.” You had to love old reruns—which was just about all she got with her cheap-as-dirt basic TV service and her Goodwill-vintage fifteen-incher.
“Columbo had one case at a time.”
“And it only took him two hours to solve it. These guys’ll take months if I don’t help.” If she left it up to the police, she’d never get rid of Wendy’s spirit.
Max turned down a side street, away from the heavy traffic on the main road. It was an industrial area, no sidewalks, no trees, no grass. She pulled over and parked. Heat rose in waves from the concrete. With the top down on the Miata, the sun beat on her head. At least it was September with the promise of cooler weather around the corner.
She plucked Wendy’s planner out of her purse. She’d barely managed to shove the book inside before Remy returned.