Саманта Сильвер - Lipstick On A Pig

The man heading toward the stairs had obviously been told by his doctor that he had to try and get a bit more exercise. Everything about him screamed lawyer , so I was sure he worked at the law firm. His three-piece suit was expensive, he carried a briefcase, and his shoes were Italian. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was one of the two Forresters or Mr. Cork himself. He also weighed at least two hundred and fifty pounds, had about ten strands of hair left, and looked like the last thing he wanted to tackle all day were these flights of stairs.

Well, I was about to make his day for him.

“ Somnuroa, ” I whispered once more, and he fell to the ground. I grunted as I struggled to keep him from landing on his head. Sophie came over and helped me drag him to the closet, which took significantly longer than the last time. Panting, we finally got him in there, and I grabbed his hand and did the spell on myself.

“Corporoa transitora duo horoas .”

It was a strange feeling, like being on a roller coaster, but with my insides twisting around. A minute later, I looked down, and I looked exactly like a middle aged man about to go to work. I quickly did an unlocking spell on his briefcase, and a minute later realized that sure enough, I was now Lester Forrester. Apparently I was a personal injury specialist. Great.

“Ok, let’s say we have an hour and forty-five minutes,” I said to Sophie. “You go up first. I’ll follow a minute later. Find out whatever you can about Jessica Oliver.”

“Sure,” Sophie nodded, heading up the stairs. I closed the door behind the two people we were impersonating, locked it once more, and just for good measure set an unlockable spell on the door. If anyone came by with the real key, it wouldn’t work. Unless I reversed the spell, only magic would be able to unlock the door to the little closet.

A minute later I climbed up the stairs to get to the firm where Jessica had worked. Normally, it wouldn’t have been a problem, but by the time I got to the top of the first flight, I felt lightheaded, was sweating, and I actually had to stop and take a breather before continuing up further. No wonder Lester Forrester looked like he wanted nothing to do with these stairs.

Finally, I made it up and opened the door to the firm. The same receptionist as the day before was there. Thankfully, she was on the phone. I nodded a hello, the way men always do, and she handed me a handful of message slips. I continued past her and down the hallway, realizing suddenly that I had no idea where on earth I was supposed to go.

Great. This was going to be harder than I thought.

Just look casual , I thought to myself as I strolled past the offices, nodding hello at anyone whose eye I happened to meet. To my enormous relief, the doors to the offices were all glass, so it was possible to look into all of them. Three quarters of the way down the hall I spotted an empty room. I glanced in and looked at the certificates lining the wall. They all read “Lester Forrester”. Hallelujah!

I entered the office and sat down, trying to look normal. Glancing at the messages, I realized I understood precisely nothing about any of them. Hopefully I could just ignore them for a while.

I also wondered if anyone in the office realized Jessica Oliver was dead yet. After all, it was possible that Chief Gary hadn’t actually found out she worked here yet, and if she’d had a few days off, her absence wouldn’t have necessarily been noticed by anyone.

A minute later a short, efficient-looking blonde woman knocked on the door and popped her head into the room.

“Les, there’s a man in the lobby who wants an appointment with a PI lawyer. I’ve had Sally look over the essentials of the case, it’s going to be a tough, but lucrative one. A hospital surgeon left a clamp inside of him. Should I set him up for an appointment with you? You have an opening tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yes, thank you,” I replied curtly, hoping it was how Lester Forrester would act. The lady seemed satisfied; she nodded and quickly left the room.

The clock on the wall made me all too aware that I had already wasted fifteen minutes; I had ninety minutes tops to get as much information about Jessica Oliver as I could. Sitting here in my office certainly wasn’t going to do it. I decided I had to try and find the break room, and hopefully get some good gossip there.

Chapter 7

Getting up from my desk, I wandered through the halls.

“Oh, hello Les,” one of the men said, stopping me. He was in his thirties, and had that confident businessman look about him: hair that I was fairly certain he dyed to get rid of the grays, a smile so white it probably belonged on an ad, and that demeanour that screamed he was good at his job. “Will you have a few minutes this afternoon to go over some documents on the Horizons Inc case I was telling you about?”

“Of course,” I replied. “Come and see me a quarter past two and we’ll deal with it then,” I replied, wincing inwardly as I said it. The real Les Forrester was going to have no idea this was coming. I hoped he was a nice guy and not a terrible boss, for the sake of these employees.

“Sure thing. Thanks.”

A few minutes later I found a door leading into a small kitchen area, with a microwave, a full oven, a fridge, a dozen donuts sitting on the counter and a few tables for people to eat their food at. Realizing I hadn’t eaten breakfast, and figuring it was what Lester Forrester would do, I made my way to the counter and grabbed a Boston Cream donut. I chewed it while looking around. There weren’t that many people in here; just a couple of young women who looked a little bit surprised, and possibly a little bit confused, to see me. Maybe Lester Forrester wasn’t big on the break room.

“Have any of you ladies seen Jessica Oliver the last few days?” I asked. It wasn’t subtle, but I didn’t have the time to beat around the bush.

One of the ladies, a thin brunette who looked to be in her twenties, looked around nervously, like she was hoping someone else would come out of midair and answer for her.

“No, but she’s not supposed to work until tomorrow.”

“Is everything all right, Mr. Forrester?” the other girl, a friendly-looking redhead asked.

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, I thought you weren’t supposed to be eating donuts since you were diagnosed with diabetes last year.”

Oh boy. Great.

“The doctor told me it was getting better,” I replied. “I’m allowed a half donut every few weeks now,” I said, regrettably throwing the rest of the donut that I hadn’t eaten yet in the trash. Hopefully they were young enough and naïve enough to actually believe that was how diabetes worked.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” the brunette asked, and they both looked concerned.

“Of course I am,” I replied. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, it’s just, I’ve worked here for eight months, and not only have I never seen you in the break room, but I didn’t think you knew any of the interns names.”

I tried to look indignant. “Well, my name is on the firm’s door, I can come to the break room whenever I want.”

“Of course, of course,” the brunette replied, looking like she wanted to sink into the wall. I had a feeling Lester Forrester was not, in fact, the friendly, jovial boss type.

“And I do know the names of the interns here,” I muttered as well. I was glad the two girls both looked too scared to test me out, because the truth was I didn’t have a clue what either of their names were. Luckily, the awkward conversation was interrupted by Sophie—in the form of Annie—coming into the break room.

“Mr. Forrester, I’ve been looking for you all over the place! The police are here and they want to speak with you. It turns out Jessica Oliver, one of our interns, was murdered in Willow Bay last night!”