A Game of Murder by Elise M. Stone

Author:Elise M. Stone [Stone, Elise M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B014IGM0HC
Publisher: Civano Press
Published: 2015-08-25T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The next morning, Faith needed to think about business instead of murders. Earlier than she would have liked, she found herself driving through an industrial park near the airport, hunting for the address she’d been given over the phone. At last she spied the sign displaying the company name and pulled into the parking lot.

Faith started to get out of her car, then stopped and opened the console to retrieve the lint roller she kept there. Pixel, unhappy at being left alone this morning, had tried to persuade her to stay by rubbing up against her pant legs and rolling over on her shoes, leaving both decorated in orange fur. Not the best impression for a new client.

Clothes cleaned of cat hair, she approached the entrance to Arizona Cycling Products, evaluating the company by the appearance of its facility. The construction was relatively new, and the grounds evidenced the manicured appearance of professional landscaping.

The lobby was similar in nature, fairly large as lobbies go, with a receptionist behind a long counter. Photographs of El Tour de Tucson, the annual bicycle race, and the company’s products hung on the yellow walls. Rich brown carpet covered the floor, a nice change from the tile found almost everywhere else in Tucson.

“Faith Andersen to see Harry Kaplan,” she said to the receptionist.

“One moment.” The receptionist picked up the receiver and punched a speed-dial button while Faith perused the photographs. Most displayed a combination of high-end parts: frames and gears and pumps, and less-expensive—well, to be honest, cheap—accessories like streamers and grips and brightly-colored horns. A place of honor was given to a walnut plaque with a brass plate mounted in the middle, thanking Arizona Cycling for being a major sponsor of El Tour.

“Mr. Kaplan will see you now,” a female voice said.

Faith turned toward the voice. A woman in a navy blue suit—the kind with a skirt, not pants—carefully coiffed dark hair, and full makeup held open the door to the office area. Yikes! Faith thought. Good thing I put on my best black slacks and real shoes for this one. Even so, she felt underdressed.

The woman led her past a secretarial cubicle to an office as big as Faith’s living room. Maybe bigger. An elderly man rose from behind a desk large enough to seat six for dinner. He was all in gray: gray suit, gray hair, silver-gray wire-rimmed eyeglasses. Faith concluded he set the formal tone his secretary had adopted. He must not be from Tucson. Even in businesses, Tucsonans rarely dressed formally. Faith, already intimidated, tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach. She needn’t have worried.

Harry Kaplan gave her a warm smile and extended his hand. “Miss Andersen, I presume.”

“Yes. And you must be Mr. Kaplan.” She took his hand and, despite his age, his handshake was firm.

“Have a seat and let’s get to know one another,” he said, then glanced up at the secretary. “Please don’t disturb us for the next half hour, Grace.”

Faith liked the way he said “us,” including her as an equal.

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