Unknown - 16_Cat_In_An_Orange_Twist

Randy Newman’s satirical song had been wrong about short people: they deserved to live. But he hadn’t underestimated the uphill climb they faced in everyday life. Like a lot of other people who didn’t fit the desirable Madison Avenue image of tall, blond, young, white, thin, and therefore “perfect.”

“I’m really sorry,” Janice said, “that you had to be right there for that grisly discovery. I was back in Accessories and only heard about it later.” She made an unhappy face. “I’m also really, really sorry about Simon’s death. He was a gifted designer and a sweet guy on top of it. Too sweet, maybe.”

“You referring to his sexual preference?”

“No! To his personality. Matt said you had a theatrical background. You and I know the arts are a haven for sensitive people who might be discriminated against elsewhere. Simon was simply one of the good people: good at what he did and good to know.”

“Simply Simon. So you don’t think he was killed because of his sexual orientation?”

“I suppose it’s possible. It’s an ugly world. But … Maylords is very gay friendly, which is only realistic in the design subculture. Still-”

Janice frowned as she moved her chicken Caesar salad front and center. “Something is rotten there, something in the management. And then there are those Iranian secret-police types ; the company hires to do security. But all this is just gossip.” ” ‘Just gossip’ is what solves crimes.”

“Matt said you had a tendency to Nancy-Drew it through life.”

“Did he? Danny Dove happens to be a very good friend of mine. Danny saved my hide once, and maybe my life. Simon was the most important person in his life, and I am not going to let Simon’s killing be written off to a fluke. I want to know all about Maylords.”

“My sympathies to your friend Danny, but I can’t say I’m surprised something violent happened. Except that it happened to

Simon. The whole place is a snake pit, but why, I can’t tell you. Maybe it’s the celebrity thing.”

“Wong is pretty hot stuff media-empire wise.”

“Not Amelia Wong. Danny Dove. There’s a lot of … I won’t call it romantic rivalry among the Maylords staff. Maybe a corporate form of bondage and discipline. Look. There are a lot of gays on staff, and certain ugly hierarchies have been set up. It’s not a particularly gay thing. It could be a woman thing. Or a purple people-eater thing. It’s any place where power is used to put sexual pressure on anyone. There could have been jealousy because Simon was connected to such a high-profile person.”

“Oh, God, I hope that never occurs to Danny. It’d kill him to think he’s responsible, even indirectly. It’s gotta be something else. Amelia Wong gets constant death threats. It could be jealousy, as you suggest, but of her financial success and fame.

She’s the new personality that’s been injected into the scene for one high-intensity week.”

Janet nodded. “Is that why you’re determined to solve all this? It’s part of your job nursemaiding Wong for Maylords?”

“Exactly. I studied the company when they took me on as Las Vegas PR rep, but I also boned up on Amelia Wong and her kingdom of companies. Anyone can find that out on the Web. Now I want the inside dish on Maylords’s daily operations, onwho, what, when, where, and why. Then I might discover the who, what, and why Simon was killed.” “I doubt I can help you any more.”

“You’re the insider.”

Janice sighed as her fork explored her salad ingredients. “Matt said you were loyal, to a fault.”

“I don’t care what Matt said to you about me. I want to know what you’ve seen and heard at Maylords.”

“Why are you so concerned with Maylords?”

“Because it’s where a man died. That has to mean something.”

“It could have been a love triangle.”

“Uh-uh. There was no third leg to what Danny and Simon had. I saw that.”

“That’s your opinion. Maybe you aren’t the most accurate observer on the block.”

Ouch! Temple checked the tines of Janice’s fork to make sure her blood wasn’t on them.

Janice laughed and dug into her salad. “Relax. You’re right. Something is definitely rotten at Maylords, and the casual PR

rep is not in the position to document all the ins and outs of it.”

“But you are.”

Janice grinned at her. “You bet. I was wondering what I’d gotten myself into well before someone sprayed the model rooms with bullets or poor Simon came tumbling down out of that prize vehicle.”

“You did? Really?” Temple’s appetite was back as she tackled her hamburger hot dish. Funny how fluttery her stomach had been until Janice had started talking frankly. “Tell me.”

Now that they were into real “dish,” any personal tensions were forgotten. Or forgiven.

Janice chewed, probably a perfect ten times, then said, “You do know that the new staff has had a fully paid six-week orientation period before the opening?”

“Apparently that’s unheard-of in the retail biz. That fact was ballyhooed in my press releases. Kenny was really proud of

that.”

“Well, why then, just as that six-week freebie was ending-and just after Kenny Maylord flew in to meet the new troops-did we all get told we were dead meat?”

“I heard that, but it doesn’t make sense.”

Janice finished the half of her salad she was going to eat, then leaned back to study their neighboring diners.

Finally she leaned toward Temple again, lowering her voice. “From the beginning it was … interesting. First, there were the Disappeared.”

“The Disappeared?”

“You know, like in Latin dictatorships, the Desaparecidos. The first one I could understand.”

“How so?”

“Two weeks into orientation, she-and, boy, was she a `she,’-spent a whole meeting with a case of creeping hemline.”

Temple shook her head to show that she didn’t get it while also polishing off the last bit of noodle.

“She kept lounging lower on her tailbone on the folding chair and her skirt kept creeping up her thighs. I’ve never seen

anything like it, but I’ve missed a lot of R-rated movies. Pretty soon that skirt was hip-bone high.”

“She was an exhibitionist?”

“Sad, but apparently so. Anyway, none of us ever saw her again after that meeting.”

“Understandable.”

“Then, just before the ‘soft’ opening, which was a few days before the official opening, our leader had flown in from Palm

Beach to address the troops.”

“Kenny.”

“Right. And he spent half an hour telling us that we were the finest group of well-trained and qualified customer associates

Maylords had ever assembled.”

“Were you?”

“I think so, truly. Three-quarters of the sales force was hired away from the biggest established furnishing retailers in town by the upscale Maylords image. The interior designers deserted their stand-alone shops like lemmings, and they came from every high-end firm in Clark County. I was in Frames and Accessories, and they even had a plummy Brit, Nigel Potter, who had done table settings for the queen of England, working in Fine China and Crystal.”

“Do I know that! Nigel and his veddy, veddy British accent and monocle was a huge hit on local TV shows for a week before the opening. Rule, Britannia. The harried PR person can do no better on American TV than with a snobby Brit. It was almost as good as Princess Diana’s butler. Not to mention the queen’s ransom in expensive table settings he whipped together.

He almost upstaged Amelia Wong.”

“So there we were. The CEO said we were the best yet, and we were still basking in the praise when Mark Ainsworth took the stage.”