Lisa Scottoline - Save Me

The other mom frowned. “But you do make peanut butter crackers. I saw them for sale, in the Acme.”

“We don’t make them, but we sell them under the Homestead name. They’re made by another company, out of state.”

Rose was thinking about Bill Gigot. “But you used to make peanut butter crackers here, didn’t you? I heard there was a peanut building here.”

“Yes, and we also made peanut-filled pretzel nuggets, but not in this building.” Linda gestured behind her. “We used to make peanut-butter crackers and peanut-filled pretzel nuggets on the other side of the access road, behind the train tracks. That was called the peanut building, but it’s been repurposed to make chocolate-filled pretzel nuggets. Now, time for the potato chips!”

“What’s that ?” asked the little boy with glasses, pointing at a long hook on a metal rod, hanging on the factory wall.

“That’s what we use if something gets stuck in the machine.” Linda led the group down the hall. “It’s like a big, long toothpick.”

Rose followed the group, lost in thought. It was entirely possible that Mojo had killed Gigot. It had happened on the night shift, in a smaller operation and a separate building. There would have been only one or two other employees there, and as Director of Safety, Mojo would have had free rein. It wasn’t impossible to make a forklift injury look accidental. Mojo could have hit Gigot on the head, killing him, then sat him on a forklift and sent it over the side of the loading dock. And Mojo would have known how to disable any surveillance cameras, with his electrical expertise.

The tour ended, and Rose walked to her car, getting out her keys and chirping it unlocked. She couldn’t stop wondering about Bill Gigot and if he’d been murdered. She wasn’t sure what to do to find out more, and she still didn’t know what his death had to do with the school fire, if anything.

She crossed the visitors parking lot, which was less full now, with the kids lining up to board their buses. It had to be after one o’clock, for them to get back to school in time for dismissal. She checked her watch, and it was almost two o’clock. She was about to get into her car but looked across the access road, where employees were leaving their cars in the parking lot and heading inside the factory. The second shift was starting at two, and she eyed the employees, wishing she could get inside the factory, to learn more about how Bill Gigot had been killed and see the loading dock in the peanut building.

Rose stowed her purse in the car, chirped it locked again, and slipped her car keys into her pocket, then walked toward the access road. She didn’t know how she’d get inside the peanut building, but she’d play it by ear.

It was a potato chip factory, not the C.I.A.

Rose followed the walkway to the other side of the corporate campus, across the access road. The land sloped down, and the walkway forked, with the right leading to the main plant and the left leading to a smaller building, also of corrugated metal, painted white with a yellow stripe. Next to it lay a single train track with round black tank cars, so it had to be the peanut building, where it was almost time for the second shift.

A small parking lot sat to the left of the peanut building, and employees were getting out of their cars, greeting each other, and heading together in a steady stream toward an entrance on its left side. There weren’t many of them, maybe twenty or so, which meant she would stand out, unfortunately.

She developed a plan on the fly and took the left fork, noticing yet another building, large and sprawling, with several satellite buildings attached to it by walkways. When she got closer, she was able to read the HOMESTEAD CONFERENCE CENTER sign, decorated with pumpkins and a spooky scarecrow. A parking lot to its right was filling up, and she guessed it was the people arriving for the Harvest Conference.

She reached the steps down to the peanut building, crossed into the employee parking lot and approached the entrance, two yellow doors. Employees swiped in with the laminated ID cards they wore on their yellow lanyards, and Rose fell into step behind two women, one older white woman and one younger black woman, chatting away. The young one swiped her ID card and started through the door, then her friend followed, then Rose.

She found herself standing in a hallway with the two women, who each took a card from a yellow tray on the wall and swiped it into a time clock. Next to that was a sign: NOTICE: HEARING PROTECTION REQUIRED IN ALL PRODUCTION AREAS, and a less official, SAFETY IS EVERYONE’S JOB!

The older woman turned to Rose, smiling politely. She had a halo of curly gray hair and bifocals. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, thanks.” Rose pushed up her glasses. “Is this where you make the chocolate-filled pretzel nuggets?”

“Yes, but you can’t come in here. It’s not open to the public.”

“I’m not the public. I’m Annie Hightower. I’m new.”

“A new hire?”

“Yes.” Rose smiled in a way she hoped was convincing. “I’m supposed to start working here next week, near the loading dock. I’m Tricia Hightower’s cousin, in PR. Do you know her?”

“Sure, I’ve met Trish, but there’s no job opening that I know of.” The older woman turned to her young friend. “Right, Sue?”

Sue looked nonplussed. She had clear green eyes, dark skin, and a pretty smile. “Not that I know of. We should call Trish.”

“We can’t.” Rose hid her case of nerves. “She’s busy with the Harvest Conference. She told me she’d meet me here and show me around, but she must have forgotten. Oh no, maybe I spilled the beans. It’s a job that’s going to be open. I was supposed to come and look around before I start.”

“Uh-oh, I understand.” Sue grimaced. “Somebody’s going to get fired. Who? Do you drive a lift?”

Jeez! “No, wait.” Rose wasn’t about to fake-drive a forklift. “Did I say this shift? Sorry, I meant the night shift. That’s why I’m here now. Trish wouldn’t send me to look at a job that somebody was working, right now. She said I’d be doing the same job, but I’d replace somebody on the night shift.”

“Oh, good.” Sue grinned with relief. “If you don’t drive a lift, I’d bet you’d be a screener. That’s right next to the loading dock.”

“I knew it!” Her older friend looked over. “Francine’s gonna get the boot, and she deserves it, for sure.”

“It’s about damn time.” Sue nodded in agreement, and the older woman turned to Rose, smiling and extending a hand.

“Annie, I’m June Hooster, and welcome to Homestead. You’ll love it here, it’s a great company. Juanita screens on this shift, and I’ll introduce you to her.”

“Great, thanks.”

“Wonder what Trish was going to do with you? Put you in a uniform?” Sue eyed Rose’s loafers. “And you got the wrong shoes on. You need ‘shoes for crews,’ that’s what we call ’em.”

“Sorry, she didn’t say.” Rose stepped aside as another employee walked in the door, punched in, then headed toward a room at the end of the hall. “I hate to go home after I drove all this way. I even got a sitter.”

“Now that’s a different story.” Sue laughed, patting her shoulder. “Don’t waste a sitter, I never do. I take the long way home if I have a sitter, just because I can.”

June smiled at Rose. “Come with us, and we’ll get you a uniform and show you the ropes. We’re not allowed to have cell phones or purses on the floor, so you can stow your valuables in a locker.”

“Thanks, but I left my purse in the car.” Rose followed them down the hall and through the door that read WOMEN’S LOCKER ROOM. She felt bad lying to them, but it was hard to stick to a diet.