Weddings Can Be Murder by Connie Shelton Read Free Book Online Page A

cigarette.
    “Um, yes. I’m here for an interview with Mr.
Proletti.” Juliette prayed she was pronouncing his name
correctly.
    “Al’s out on a job. He told me to talk to
you. Go ahead, have a seat.” Ash fell from the cigarette when the
woman—whose nameplate said her name was Sheila Page—pointed to the
chair in front of her desk.
    Juliette sat, tucking the hem of her skirt
under her legs and setting her purse on the floor.
    “The job is basic secretarial,” said Sheila,
“typing, filing, dictation. Sometimes the bookkeeper needs extra
help with ledger entries. You ever done that before?”
    Juliette cleared her throat quietly. “I had
excellent grades in school in both typing and shorthand.” Well,
fifty words a minute on the old manual typewriters in class. “I’ve
never done ledger entries but I’m very good at filing. I’m sure I
can learn whatever’s required of me.”
    Sheila stubbed out the cigarette and let her
eyes travel over Juliette’s chestnut curls, hazel eyes and the V of
flesh at the top of the lime-green blouse. A flicker of something
resembling acceptance crossed her face.
    “You’ll start at a thousand a month,” she
said. “If you want the job.”
    A thousand dollars a month! It was double
what she was making now and the office was so much nicer.
    She opened her mouth. Don’t seem too
eager. “Could I see where my desk would be?”
    “Sure.” Sheila stood, towering over Juliette
on five-inch heels. She led the way toward the hall Juliette had
noticed earlier. “That office there is Al—uh, Mr. Proletti’s,” she
said with a wave toward the closed door to the right of the hall.
“The one on the left is his father’s, but the old man isn’t here
all that much. He pretty much retired a few years back.”
    Juliette followed Sheila down the hall. The
first door on the right stood open, revealing a small office with
one desk, a row of brown metal file cabinets and a closed door that
must connect to Mr. Proletti’s office. But the big attraction was
the window. It faced the edge of the property and, once you got
past the driveway that ran beside the building and the chain link
fence surrounding the whole place, the view showed a lush park
filled with flowering oleander and tall trees.
    “How many people work here?”
    “The whole crew? A lot. It varies by how
many jobs we got going at the time. If you mean just the office
staff, besides the owners there’s me, the bookkeeper, a couple guys
who handle shipments of materials. And Mr. Proletti’s
secretary—that’s you, if you want the job.”
    Juliette couldn’t believe her luck. “Yes,
absolutely.”
    “Get yourself some decent clothes and plan
to start Monday morning at eight o’clock.” Sheila turned back
toward her desk.
    The comment about her clothes stung a bit
but Juliette wasn’t foolish enough to question. She studied her
co-worker’s outfit, a tailored pantsuit of obviously good material
and shoes that probably cost what Juliette currently earned in a
week. She would have to work up to those, but she could come up
with something to get started. She practically flew back to the bus
stop.
    She stayed with the bus, past her own
neighborhood, until it stopped outside the Surfside Mall. Near the
mall’s food court she found a pay phone and made two calls. Her
boss wasn’t happy that she’d phoned in sick this morning and was
now informing him that she quit. He let out a string of curses and
she hung up, wondering belatedly if she’d just lost out on her
final paycheck.
    Her second call went to Carol Ann Dunbar,
her best, and only, friend who’d moved to the big city with her
after graduation from Dalhart High. Juliette posed her question.
Thirty minutes later she spotted Carol Ann weaving through the
crowd and waved her over.
    “I told Bob I had a dental appointment
during my lunch hour, so I can always tell him it ran late or the
gas made me woozy or something. I doubt he’ll get too mad if I’m
not