Once Upon Stilettos (Enchanted Inc #2) by Shanna Swendson Page B

I asked.
    “Hey, dollface, nothing much. Just doing a routine security sweep of the department.” He winked as he said the word “routine.”
    “Probably a good idea in these times. I left a memo for you in the security office.”
    “Thanks for the heads-up.”
    My final stop was the sales department. As far as I was concerned, the entire sales department was suspicious, but that probably had more to do with my personal experience with salespeople than with any actual evidence. Before I moved to New York, I ran the business end of my family’s farm and ranch supply store, and I’d dealt with more than my fair share of slick sales guys. The MSI sales force seemed like good people/elves/gnomes/whatever, but they came and went often and interacted with a variety of people outside the company. As long as they could get the information from inside MSI, they could sell it to almost anyone on the outside without looking the least bit suspicious.
    Most of the sales beings I knew were out of the office as I passed through the department. I went straight to the office of Mr. Hartwell, the director of sales, whom I was convinced was a giant Ken doll brought to life. He gave the memo a cursory glance, then put it aside as he said, “We need to have a meeting about marketing soon. It’s time to shake things up again.”
    “Of course. Let me know and I’ll put it on my calendar.” While I kept up a cheerful front, I groaned inwardly. Great, more to worry about. I had my usual job, and now this spying thing, and then I’d have to do more marketing. I was going to be busy. Then again, marketing would give me more excuses for investigating. But I could put him to work, too. “Did you get my e-mail about the winery?” I asked.
    “Yes, I did. We have them on record as a customer in the past, but they dropped off about a year ago. I’ll get Corporate Sales on it to see what happened. It sounds like they found another supplier.”
    I knew who that other supplier might be, and it wasn’t good. “Please let me know what you find out,” I said.
    I returned to Merlin’s office suite and found myself wondering about Trix as I looked at her desk. She had access to Merlin, which meant she had similar access to the rest of the company through her association with him. She was also out sick on the day Owen discovered the spying. I’d seen her Saturday, and she hadn’t looked particularly brokenhearted then, but she could have fought with Pippin on Saturday night or Sunday and still not felt well enough to be at work Monday. I left her in the “possible” column until I had actual evidence, but I reluctantly admitted that I needed to check out her story.
    Merlin’s office door swung open, and he and his latest victim emerged. The chairman of the magical committee for something-or-other didn’t look quite as shell-shocked as the Amalgamated Neuromancy guy had that morning, so he must have been cooperating. He and Merlin shook hands, then Merlin approached Trix’s desk once his visitor was gone.
    “How’s it going?” I asked him. “Are we getting allies?”
    He sighed. “They’re reluctant to accept change, to acknowledge that the cheese has moved.” Oh boy, he was now quoting from the business books. This was going to be fun. “I’m having difficulty persuading them of the threat inherent in one lone renegade. They seem to have forgotten the last few lone renegades who caused serious trouble in the magical community. They hide their heads in the sand until the danger is so dire they can no longer ignore it. Arthur was the same way about Guinevere and Lancelot and about Mordred.”
    It still blew my mind that he was talking about people I’d always considered fictional characters as people he knew and remembered. “Human beings haven’t changed all that much in the past thousand or so years,” I said.
    “And how is your investigation coming?”
    “It’s difficult,” I admitted reluctantly. “It’s all rumor and