Lisa Scottoline - Daddy's Girl

"Good idea." Agnes switched on a black Sony boombox on the credenza behind her. "Hope you don't mind the oldies station. I'm talking the fifties."

"Fine with me," Nat said, until a woman started singing that she'd die if a man didn't call her. No wonder women were so messed up. It's a wonder we could even walk.

"I'm a big Frankie Valli fan. He sang 'Sherry' and 'You're Just Too Good to Be True.' You know those songs?"

"Yes, sure." Nat went through the top papers. Another bill for John Taylor Residence, then some lumber ordered from Tague for the Shields Family Addition. She took both bills and went to the correct drawers, starting with the Ts, in case Agnes was watching her.

"They did a show about them on Broadway. Jersey Boys. I went with my girlfriends. Oh, did we have fun." Agnes's fingers flew across the keyboard, pounding like a rainstorm. "My friend Danielle threw a bra on the stage."

"Was it hers?"

Agnes laughed, and Nat kept her distracted.

"Is Frankie the ferret named for Frankie Valli?"

"Aren't you the detective!"

One can only hope. "No, I'd be a bad detective. I'd be a great construction worker, though. I used to think it would be fun to do the demolition part, like where you take apart rooms."

"Yeah, get all your aggressions out."

"Right. Do you have employees here that do that? Maybe I can get a transfer."

"Ha! The Mexicans do that, mostly. They don't even speak English."

Damn. "It still sounds like fun, except for the cleanup. Where do they take all that stuff? Throw it in Dumpsters, right?"

"Now that's not a job you’d want."

"You do that yourselves or you have a Dumpster company?"

"We use a company, whichever one's local to the job."

"So how long have you had Frankie?" Nat went back to the box, took off the top few papers, and held them close to her chest as she went over to the C drawers, for Chester County Correctional Institution. She wanted that job file.

"Five years, and I don't have him. He has me."

Aw. "I used to have a cat, so I know what you mean." Nat checked the Cs, which were spread over two drawers, C-A to C-I and C-I to C-U. She went for the bottom drawer. "I don't know much about ferrets. Educate me."

"First thing you have to know is ferrets aren't rodents. They're cousins of weasels, otters, and skunks."

Nat slid open the bottom C drawer as Agnes typed and talked.

"Ferrets are closer to dogs, more like dogs than cats. They make wonderful pets. Here's a fun fact. Ferrets are illegal in California."

"Why?" The stench? Nat thumbed through the C files. Chester County Dance Studio Addition, Chester County Petting Zoo, Chester County VFW Post. No Chester County Correctional file. Why?

"Discrimination, that's why. Discrimination and misinformation. The California legislature thinks that ferrets will turn feral, but they misconstrue the species." Agnes typed away. "Did you know that dog bites send a million people to the emergency room each year? But dogs aren't illegal. Ferrets are just plain discriminated against."

"That's not fair." Nat thumbed through the folders again, looking for the Chester County Correctional file. No luck. She searched the rest of the second drawer in case it was misfiled, but still no luck.

"Feral cats are lawful, and isn't that just so ironic? That's one of our arguments." Agnes's voice grew urgent, and she typed even faster. "I'm a member of Ferret Fanciers of America, and we petitioned California to legalize ferret ownership. Governor Schwarzenegger just isn't responding."

"That's too bad." Nat closed the drawer and went back for another set of papers. Where could that file be? She picked up some papers and rifled though them. "By the way, do you keep copies of these receipts at the jobsites, too?"

"No, all the paperwork is here at the office. It would get lost on site. These guys would lose their heads if they weren't attached."

"For every job?”

“Yes."

Hmm. So the prison file wouldn't be in the construction trailer at the prison. "That makes sense."

"There are a few special job files in Jim's office, though. He started keeping the real active jobs in there, since he's always referring to the files. If you have filing and can't find the job file, just give it to me and I'll go in to his office."

"Okay. I don't yet." Nat turned away with the papers. So that answered her question. "Now, you were teaching me about ferrets."

"Well, the Latin name of the domestic pet ferret is Mustela furo, and it's not a wild animal. They've been domesticated for a long, long time. Two or three thousand years."

"Really?" Nat filed the last few invoices, thinking of a way to get into the boss's office for the file.

"They're often confused with their cousins, the North American black-footed ferret, or Mustela nigripes"

Nat checked her watch: 12:05. It gave her an idea, and she straightened up. "By the way, have you eaten lunch? I haven't."

"It is that time, isn't it?" Agnes looked up from her keyboard, her eyes bright. "Goody! Let's go to McDonald's. I'll bring Frankie in his Ferret Ferry. I wear it on my shoulder, and it looks exactly like a purse."

Bet it doesn't. "I have too much filing to go out on my first day. Either you could go out if you wanted a break, or I could go out and bring you something back."

"Oh, right." Agnes thought a minute. "I should stay here to do payroll, so it would be great if you ran out and got the food. Do you mind?"

"Not at all. I'm the gofer."

"Gophers are in the Geomyidae family. Ferrets are in the Mustelidae family. We're ferret fans, here." Agnes laughed, and Nat smiled.

"Now, what would you like from McDonald's?"

"Do you know where it is?"

No. "Yes."

"Good. A Big Mac with a Diet Coke. Thanks."

"Okay. It'll be my treat, since you're giving me a chance today."

"You're too nice." Agnes smiled, and Nat grabbed her coat guiltily.

"Hang in. I'll be right back."

"We'll see you soon."

"We?"

"Me and Frankie."

"Right." Nat looked down at the ferret. His legs were still open. Okay, him I won't miss.

She hurried from the office and made noisy footsteps to the door, then opened the door so the chimes would ring and let it slam loudly, as if she had left the building. Then she hurried back, as lightly on her feet as she could, holding her breath as she slipped past the open doorway to Agnes's office.

She took a quick left, stole down the hall, and darted into Jim Graf's office, her heart pounding. She scanned the room in a flash. Desk, computer, TV, building codes. File cabinets behind the desk. She ran for them, opened the cabinet quietly, and thumbed through the manila files. Albemarle Residence, Boston Pizza addition, Chester County Correctional Institution.

There! Nat slid the folder out, shoved it under her coat, then closed the drawer silently. She ran out of the boss's office, tiptoed past Agnes's doorway, and hurried out to the front door-where she stopped, stumped. If she ran out, the door chimes would go off. It wouldn't take Agnes long to figure out which file was missing, and if she linked the prison file to Nat, her bleached-blond cover could be blown. She opened the door and closed it again, letting the chimes go off, then walked back noisily to Agnes's office and poked her head in the doorway.

"I forgot your order," she said, faking a frown.

Agnes looked up from the keyboard. Frankie slept soundly in his net, and somebody on the radio was wearing blue velvet. "Big Mac and a Diet Coke."

"Got it. Sorry. See you," Nat said, and took off. She couldn't wait to get out of there and read the folder.

It was almost Too Good To Be True.

Half an hour later, Nat parked the Kia behind a Wawa, sipped a fresh, hot coffee, and inhaled half of a turkey hoagie with provolone while she opened the Chester County Correctional file. It was at least three inches thick, and the top invoice was from CCWM, for Chester County Waste Management.