Dagger.” The voice was heavily accented.
It took a moment for the words to register.
“Is this a joke?”
The caller hung up.
What was that? And why wasn’t Clarence here to take these calls. Before Mo had time to consider further, the door to Harriet’s office opened, and the boss stuck her head out.
“Ah, Mo. There you are. Would you come in to my office?” Harry said with a stern frown.
“Yeah sure, boss.” Mo puzzled at Harry’s manner.
Harry slipped back into her office interior, leaving the door open for Mo to follow her inside.
“You don’t look like you have a broken arm,” Mo remarked wryly from the doorway.
Harry stood behind her desk. She ignored Mo’s statement and waved one arm toward the corner of the room that was obscured by the office door.
“I believe you know Mr. Dagger— I mean Mr. Grant,” Harry said.
Mo pushed the door closed and saw that her nemesis was in the room. He lounged, one leg propped over the other. Ross had dressed casually. He wore a black polo shirt, jeans, Nike sneakers and a smirk. His hands, with their long tapered fingers, pressed together to form a pyramid. His little pyramid screamed self-satisfied superior creep.
“Mr. Grant has been telling me all about your run in with him last night," Harry continued. "Frankly, I was shocked. Shocked and upset at how unprofessional and rude you were. I have assured Mr. Grant that this agency does not tolerate such behavior.”
“But, Harry, I was following orders.”
“From the receptionist?” Harry frowned, tapping her desk with the fingers of one hand.
Mo nodded.
“And did he say who this supposed client was?”
“No.”
“No one hired us to break into Mr. Grant’s car.” Harry snorted. “As if I would instruct anyone from this agency to break the law. I really don’t know what you thought you were doing, Mo.”
“But—”
“No,” Harriet held up her hand in a halting motion. “Don’t bother trying to defend the indefensible,” she said with a heavily dramatic voice. “Mo. You’re fired.” To punctuate her words, Harriet’s hand snaked toward Mo in a move like that of the guy on the television show.
The gesture would have been funny, except this wasn’t a reality show. This was real life.
“But—”
“Clean out your desk immediately.” Harry turned toward the still smirking Mr. Ross Grant and then offered her hand. “I’m terribly sorry about what you had to suffer because of someone in my employ. I hope we meet again under more pleasant circumstances.”
He stood to shake Harry’s hand.
“I appreciate your responsiveness to the situation, Ms. Hutson . It’s been a pleasure.” The custard turned toward Mo. “Good-bye, Ms. Tuttle.” And with that he walked out of the office, through to the reception area. The sound of the agency door closed with a click behind him.
After a few seconds of silence, Harriet began laughing and plopped down into her desk chair.
“Harry. What—” Mo’s legs shook under her.
“You should have seen your face when I did that snaky thing. I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Harriet said. “I love that show. It’s not quite as fun as the one where those celebrities try to dance, but still—”
“I don’t understand,” Mo said, her heart still lodged in her throat.
“Don’t look so upset, honey. Of course you’re not fired. That was all for Mr. Grant’s benefit.” Harry leaned back and put her feet on the desk. “The handsome devil. Bless his little heart. He is a charmer isn’t he? Like all the rest of them. Worse since he’s so blasted cute. Dammit . I wish I was a lesbian. It would make things so much easier.”
“I’m confused.”
“You and me both, honey. Did you have to pick on some spoiled celebrity’s car?”
“Clarence told me that you broke your arm. He said you had this assignment you wanted me to finish for you.” Mo collapsed into the chair opposite Harry’s desk. Her shaky legs refused to
Learning to Kill: Stories