Take Your Medicine by Pamela Crane

Author:Pamela Crane [Crane, Pamela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rockin' C Reads
Published: 2024-07-23T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

“Absolutely, unequivocally, under no condition can I do that,” Mr. Getty replied when Sam turned up at his office Monday morning begging for the ledger back. “You really are a thorn in my side, Miss Stanton. Are we done here?”

“Well, no, sir. We still haven’t resolved the issue about the ledger—”

A phone that Sam couldn’t find rang, interrupting her as Mr. Getty shushed her. When he lifted the lid of an ornate wooden box sitting on the corner of his desk, Sam saw the telephone receiver and dial pad hidden inside.

“Go for Getty,” he grumbled into the receiver. Sam couldn’t hear the rabble on the other line, but whatever it was seemed to be bad news as concern wrinkled Getty’s brow. “Yes, sir. Understood, sir.” He hung up and closed the lid of the fancy phone box.

“Another new contraption?” Sam wondered how on earth the newspaper budget afforded the growing number of luxuries cluttering her boss’s office.

“Are you admiring my Deco-Tel hidden executive box telephone?”

“Not really, sir.”

“I got it for a steal.”

Unless he actually stole it, Sam was pretty certain that her boss was single-handedly using up Women’s House Magazine entire staff budget on his latest gadgets.

Mr. Getty lifted his chin and yelled to the open door, “Betty, coffee me!”

Sam’s palm itched to slap him for the way he treated his secretary, like a dog fetching his newspaper, but she kept her mouth shut. As Mr. Getty’s “thorn in the side,” she was better off staying as still as possible unless she wanted to be ripped out and tossed.

Rustling into the room came Betty Number Five carrying a fresh cup of Nescafe—definitely not the burnt stuff from the office carafe—along with today’s newspaper. Mr. Getty sloshed the coffee over the desk as he grabbed it and slurped.

“So what do you want me to do about the ledger now?” he said.

“The ledger is stolen property. I simply want to return it to Thomas Cook.”

“No can do, Samantha.”

“But I could go to jail for taking it—which means you could go to jail for forcing me to do it.”

“Forcing you? Did I hold a gun to your head and demand you steal it?”

He might as well have, Sam thought to herself. He did threaten her job, after all. Sam was pretty sure that fit somewhere in the crime of coercion.

“You know what I mean. You were going to fire me if I didn’t.”

“No, what I told you to do was get creative in getting me dirt on Cook Pharmaceuticals.” Mr. Getty crossed his arms. “I have no recall of ever telling you to steal anything. The theft, my dear, is all on you. Besides, it’s too late to do anything about it now. It’s already out of my hands.”

“Out of your hands? What do you mean?”

He handed her today’s copy of the Pittsburgh Post. Splashed across the front page was the headline:

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