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“It’s impossible to get a job at the Morris plant,” Betty said. “No one ever leaves.”
“There’s not much turnover here either,” Miranda said. “Of course, there’s a human resources job open.”
“I noticed they still have the crime scene tape up,” I said. “It’s a little creepy. When I came in this morning the receptionist took me to see Mr. Bogart. Didn’t the human resources guy have an assistant?”
“Nope. It was just him,” Betty said. “This isn’t such a big operation. Evelyn has the office next to HR. She does the clerical work for everyone, including Arnold. He’s the deceased. Arnold Zigler.”
“Who’s Evelyn?” I asked.
The round-faced chubby woman sitting across from me raised her hand. “I’m Evelyn.”
“Oh, wow,” I said. “I’m sorry. You must have been friends with…Arnold.”
“He was a nice man,” Evelyn said. “Quiet. Kept to himself. Took his job seriously. I didn’t know him beyond work.” She pressed her lips together. “He hated Bogart Bars. He was allergic to nuts. Not so bad that they bothered him in the plant, but he couldn’t eat them.”
“What happened if he ate them?” I asked.
“Hives,” Evelyn said. “I never saw them firsthand. He kept Benadryl in his desk just in case.”
I didn’t know what to say. I guess it could have been an ironic coincidence, but it seemed especially nasty that he’d been covered with something that made him sick.
“Do you have any idea who killed him?” I asked.
Evelyn shook her head. “No.”
Everyone else had the same response.
“Terrible,” I said. “I heard the nuts came from here. It had to have been done by someone who works here and knew him. Remember Jeffrey Dahmer, the serial killer who worked in a candy factory? Maybe there’s a serial killer at loose here.”
“So far only one person has been killed,” Betty said. “You need to kill a bunch of people to be a serial killer.”
“This could be the beginning,” I said. I looked around the table. “Do any of you know anyone who looks like a serial killer?”
“Marty,” Betty said. “He’s at the end of the line working the wrapper. He has shifty eyes. They look in different directions.”
“He told me about that once,” Evelyn said. “He has a glass eye. He poked his real eye out with a clam shucker. He said he’d been drinking.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Anybody got any weed?” Evelyn asked.
“I have some in my locker,” one of the other women said.
Evelyn perked up. “I’ll trade you for an egg salad sandwich.”
“Is it on sourdough?” the woman asked. “Do you have pickles?”
“Of course.”
“Deal.”
So now I thought I might be understanding everyone’s happiness.
• • •
My shift was over at four o’clock. I peeled the yellow jumpsuit off and dragged myself out of the ice cream factory. I got into my SUV and stared at the windshield.
Wake up! I thought. Snap out of it.
