replies when I came across a snail mail letter from the last category of reader mail, the would-be blackmailer:
Dear Anastasia Pollack,
Yesterday I decided to decorate a pair of sneakers according to the directions in your June issue. I wasn’t going to be using them for a wedding, though. I’ve been happily married to the same man for forty-two wonderful years.
The cap on my fabric glue was stuck on the bottle, and when I tried to pry it off with my teeth, a large chunk of what my dentist said was my #13 premolar came with it.
This is a direct result of your crafts project, and I expect to be compensated for the expense. I’ve enclosed a copy of my dental bill.
If I don’t receive a check from you in a timely manner, I’ll be forced to turn this matter over to my attorney, who I am sure will suggest I also sue you for pain and suffering and that my husband sue you for deprivation of spousal affection. Obviously, because of the pain, I couldn’t give him any affection from the time the tooth broke until after my dental appointment.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Henry (Josephine) Holmes
The glue manufacturer probably received a similar letter. Josephine Holmes, like so many before her, thought she could make money from her own stupidity. I placed the letter and dental bill back in the envelope and walked it upstairs. Josephine would be hearing from one of our sharks. Trimedia didn’t take attempted shakedowns lightly.
~*~
At the end of the day, Cloris and I headed for the parking lot together. “I should’ve stayed in bed all day. At least I could’ve caught up on some sleep,” said Cloris.
“You and me both. All I did was answer reader mail. I didn’t check off a single item on my to-do list today.”
“Not even Find a Dead Body ?”
“That was on tomorrow’s list.”
“Then you’re ahead of schedule.”
“We shouldn’t be joking. Poor Philomena. Or whomever. No one deserves what happened to her.”
“What did happen?”
I shrugged. “Beats me. Batswin and Robbins remained tight-lipped, other than they hadn’t yet made a positive ID. Could be Philomena. Or not. Information only flows one way with those two, and it’s not from them to me.”
“At this point they probably don’t even know where she was killed.”
“Where is irrelevant,” I said. “With the body dumped in our models case, either she was killed at the Javits Center and dumped into the case after we packed up, which seems highly unlikely, or she was killed somewhere else, then brought here sometime last night after the cases were delivered. Either way, the killer is somehow connected to Trimedia.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time we discovered a killer in our midst,” said Cloris.
I sighed. “You had to say that? People are looking at me like I’m some homicidal version of Typhoid Mary.”
“There’s another possibility. If the murder occurred at the Javits Center, the killer may have used our models case simply because it was the most convenient place to dump a body.”
“A Dumpster or the Hudson River would have been more convenient. The case was packed. He had to unload at least half the contents first in order to stuff her into it. That takes time.”
“Right. I didn’t think of that. He’d risk someone seeing him.”
“Exactly. Which is why it’s highly unlikely the murder occurred at the Javits Center. Think about all the workmen busy breaking down one show to get ready for the next. That place is a beehive of activity in-between exhibitions. Batswin inferred the woman was beaten beyond recognition. Even with all the noise of forklifts moving up and down the aisles, hammering and banging, someone would have heard her screaming. Someone would have seen the killer dragging off a dead body.”
“Besides,” said Cloris. “I’m sure the Javits Center has security cameras monitoring every nook and cranny. Even if no one saw the killer, he’d show up on the security tapes.”
I stopped abruptly.
Dear Anastasia Pollack,
Yesterday I decided to decorate a pair of sneakers according to the directions in your June issue. I wasn’t going to be using them for a wedding, though. I’ve been happily married to the same man for forty-two wonderful years.
The cap on my fabric glue was stuck on the bottle, and when I tried to pry it off with my teeth, a large chunk of what my dentist said was my #13 premolar came with it.
This is a direct result of your crafts project, and I expect to be compensated for the expense. I’ve enclosed a copy of my dental bill.
If I don’t receive a check from you in a timely manner, I’ll be forced to turn this matter over to my attorney, who I am sure will suggest I also sue you for pain and suffering and that my husband sue you for deprivation of spousal affection. Obviously, because of the pain, I couldn’t give him any affection from the time the tooth broke until after my dental appointment.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Henry (Josephine) Holmes
The glue manufacturer probably received a similar letter. Josephine Holmes, like so many before her, thought she could make money from her own stupidity. I placed the letter and dental bill back in the envelope and walked it upstairs. Josephine would be hearing from one of our sharks. Trimedia didn’t take attempted shakedowns lightly.
~*~
At the end of the day, Cloris and I headed for the parking lot together. “I should’ve stayed in bed all day. At least I could’ve caught up on some sleep,” said Cloris.
“You and me both. All I did was answer reader mail. I didn’t check off a single item on my to-do list today.”
“Not even Find a Dead Body ?”
“That was on tomorrow’s list.”
“Then you’re ahead of schedule.”
“We shouldn’t be joking. Poor Philomena. Or whomever. No one deserves what happened to her.”
“What did happen?”
I shrugged. “Beats me. Batswin and Robbins remained tight-lipped, other than they hadn’t yet made a positive ID. Could be Philomena. Or not. Information only flows one way with those two, and it’s not from them to me.”
“At this point they probably don’t even know where she was killed.”
“Where is irrelevant,” I said. “With the body dumped in our models case, either she was killed at the Javits Center and dumped into the case after we packed up, which seems highly unlikely, or she was killed somewhere else, then brought here sometime last night after the cases were delivered. Either way, the killer is somehow connected to Trimedia.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time we discovered a killer in our midst,” said Cloris.
I sighed. “You had to say that? People are looking at me like I’m some homicidal version of Typhoid Mary.”
“There’s another possibility. If the murder occurred at the Javits Center, the killer may have used our models case simply because it was the most convenient place to dump a body.”
“A Dumpster or the Hudson River would have been more convenient. The case was packed. He had to unload at least half the contents first in order to stuff her into it. That takes time.”
“Right. I didn’t think of that. He’d risk someone seeing him.”
“Exactly. Which is why it’s highly unlikely the murder occurred at the Javits Center. Think about all the workmen busy breaking down one show to get ready for the next. That place is a beehive of activity in-between exhibitions. Batswin inferred the woman was beaten beyond recognition. Even with all the noise of forklifts moving up and down the aisles, hammering and banging, someone would have heard her screaming. Someone would have seen the killer dragging off a dead body.”
“Besides,” said Cloris. “I’m sure the Javits Center has security cameras monitoring every nook and cranny. Even if no one saw the killer, he’d show up on the security tapes.”
I stopped abruptly.
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