Lisa Scottoline - Save Me

“I don’t need a fake nose.”

“So what? I make the best noses in the business. It’s a shame you don’t need one. It’s like ordering the salmon, in a steak house.”

“No nose. Hurry.”

“Okay, you’re a masterpiece. Open your eyes.”

“Amazing!” Rose looked at her reflection and almost didn’t recognize herself. Her long dark hair was gone, dyed a warm red and cut into feathered layers that skimmed her ears. Annie had reshaped her eyebrows, changing their color to a red-brown, and darkening her skin with foundation. Nobody would recognize her from the TV or newspaper, and that was exactly what she needed for her plans today. She set down her coffee. “Thank you so much!”

“One more thing. Wear these.” Annie handed her a pair of large eyeglasses, in pink plastic. “Heinous, right?”

“Yikes.” Rose put the glasses on. “Where did you get these?”

“A vintage store in the Village. They’re circa 1982. Now you’re ready for Main Street, Anywhere, USA. Your distinctive natural beauty is gone, and you’re completely forgettable.”

“This is great.”

“You’re welcome.” Annie put the eye pencil back. “Are your Band-Aids okay?”

“Yes, thanks.” Rose checked her hand and ankle. The burns were healing nicely, and they’d gotten rid of her bandages.

“Now, please be careful and stay in touch. And don’t wear your sunglasses anymore. People look longer at people in sunglasses. Love your hair.”

“Me, too.” Rose shook her head, like Googie drying off. “I feel so free!”

“Every woman does.” Annie gathered up her compacts. “Only women equate a haircut with freedom. We’re free, ladies. We can vote now.”

Rose gave her a good-bye hug. “Mind if I leave you to clean up?”

“No worries. Go get ’em, tiger.”

“I’m off.” Rose went for her purse, but stopped short when she saw the TV. A local newsbreak had come on, and Tanya Robertson’s face filled the screen. On the screen behind Tanya was a school photo of Amanda Gigot. Annie came up from behind, and they both stood watching the news, neither saying anything.

Oh no. Please be alive.

Tanya said, “Young Amanda Gigot remains in a coma, fighting for her life this morning, while the town of Reesburgh reacts this morning to the official report of the county Fire Chief, who has ruled that the school fire was accidental. Students went back for their first full day on Tuesday, and plans are in place to rebuild the cafeteria, as life returns to normal in this lovely community, torn by tragedy and discord.”

Rose shook her head. “They’re not even looking for anything intentional.”

On the TV, Tanya continued, “The District Attorney’s Office reports that they are continuing their investigation, and indictments in connection with the school fire and Amanda Gigot’s injuries will follow as soon as they are complete.”

“That means me,” Rose said, newly worried, and Annie clapped her on the back.

“Get going, and prove ’em all wrong.”

“On it!” Rose grabbed her bag, rallying, and fifteen minutes later, she was back in the car, driving south on I-95. The sun was rising, the sky clear, and the road lay open ahead of her. Her short hair fluttered in the wind, and her resolve was stronger than ever.

She’d be there in two hours.

Rose pushed up her fake glasses and walked up to the counter, holding a steno pad she’d bought at a drugstore down the street. The office of the Maryland Occupational Safety & Health Administration was small and cluttered, with an old-fashioned coat rack, a fake ficus plant, and an umbrella stand. Mismatched government-issue chairs were grouped in the waiting area around a rickety coffee table covered with stacks of Maryland Department of Labor forms, a multi-colored brochure entitled Workplace Safety and YOU, and a beat-up copy of People magazine.

“May I help you?” asked an older African-American woman behind the counter, smiling in a sweet way.

“Hi, I’m Annie Adler.” Rose was sure this was going to be her last lie, but it was hard to quit cold turkey. Maybe if they had a patch, or something. “Joe Modjeska sent me. You know, Mojo? He worked here, until about six months ago.”

“Mojo! Of course, how is he? I love that man.”

“He’s doing great, working for Campanile, just over the border, in Pennsylvania.”

“I know. He always said he was meant for better things. A big man with a personality to match.”

“Tell me about it. He shoots a sixty-three now, and it’s all he talks about.”

“Golf, golf, golf! That man lived for golf!”

“Don’t they all? Me, I live for shoes.”

“Ha!” The woman extended a hand over the counter. “I’m Julie Port. How can I help you?”

“I’m a writer for Hunt Country Life, a magazine in southern Pennsylvania, where Mojo lives.” Rose brandished her steno pad. “We’re doing a short profile on him, and I wonder if I can ask you a question or two. He said you might not mind, and the good press would help him out.”

“Sure enough.” Julie checked the waiting room, which was empty. “We’re not busy today, and I can take a couple minutes. If it helps Mojo, I’m in.” She moved to the side, opened a swinging door in the counter, and gestured. “Come with me. We’ll go in the break room.”

“Thanks.” Rose followed her past a few workers talking on the phone and typing on computer keyboards, then they went down a hall to a lunchroom with round Formica tables, hard plastic chairs, and a bank of vending machines.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.” Julie waved her into a chair, sitting down.

“Thanks.” Rose took a seat, put her steno pad on the table, flipped it open to the first page, and slid a pen from her purse. “Now, he began working here about five years ago. He was at Homestead before that, wasn’t he? In Reesburgh?”

“Yes, he was. He was their Director of Safety.” Julie’s face fell into lines, her jowls draping her lipsticked mouth. “He took it very hard.”

“What did he take hard?” Rose didn’t know what she meant.

“He blamed himself, but it wasn’t his fault, any of it.” Julie clucked. “Forklift accidents are among the most common, and it wasn’t his fault that that man died.”

Whoa. Rose realized she meant Bill Gigot. “Mojo has such a big heart.”

“He surely does, and he was an excellent safety manager, I’m positive of that. He’s very diligent.”

“That sounds like him.”

“Yes, and from what he told me, the lighting was insufficient in the loading area where the man worked, and he wasn’t real experienced with the forklift. In fact, Mojo got him a job in the peanut building.”

Rose made rapid notes, for real. “Peanut building?”

“Where they made the peanut butter crackers. They had to use dedicated equipment and such, to protect people with peanut allergies. It’s FDA and state regs.”

“So you were saying.”

“Anyway, to get back to the story, the man didn’t have enough experience operating a forklift. Also, they require forklift travel lanes and the like. You can’t play fast and loose with a forklift.”

“Of course not.” Rose kept making notes.

“Mojo didn’t like to talk about what happened, but I could tell how sad he was, inside. The man went over the side of the loading dock, killed when his head hit the floor. Mojo found him, on his rounds.” Julie clucked. “He made sure the man’s widow got herself a nice check without even having to file or sue.”

“So that’s the kind of man he is, huh?” Rose made another note, and Julie shook her head.