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“I didn’t hurt her!” Ellison lifted her blubbering-splotched face. “I could have fired her, but I didn’t. I gave her another warning, that’s all.”
“What kind of warning?”
“About being late, and about forgetting to check the stock, and about how long she talked to customers. It’s not my fault she got hit by a car!”
“When did you give her the warning?”
“Which time?” Ellison sniffled now, blinked fat tears from her sparkly eyes. “I had to talk to her every month, explain again how uneven her evaluations were because she was never on time to work or from her breaks, and she’d end up talking to a customer for like ten minutes instead of selling anything.”
“Why didn’t you fire her?”
Ellison sighed. “Because when she did sell, she did really well, and a lot of customers came back and went to her, especially. And she was nice, you just had to like her. She had a really good eye for fashion, for what looked good. She always looked good, and she could—when she wasn’t off daydreaming—steer a customer to just the right outfit or accessory. I liked her. We all went to her memorial. I cried and cried.”
I bet, Eve thought.
“Did you warn her the day she went to the doctor on her lunch break?”
Those glossy red lips trembled. “I had to. It was evaluation day, and I had to. I told her she had to be on time, just had to show improvement in that area. She said she was sorry and she would. She always said that, and she’d usually be on time for a few days, even a week after eval, and then . . . But that day, she never came back from lunch.”
Ellison started to cry again. “I was so mad. We were really slammed—we had a major sale going, and I was really mad. I tagged her ’link, and got v-mail, and I was harsh. I said how if she didn’t respect me or the position enough to be back from her lunch break on time, she just shouldn’t come back at all. I didn’t know she was dead.”
“Okay.” Since she was actually getting information now, Eve softened her tone. “You were doing your job.”
“I was! If she’d told me she had a doctor’s thing, or if she’d tagged me up, let me know she was running late because of one, I wouldn’t have been harsh. I swear. I don’t want to die! I’m only twenty-nine.”
Official ID data said thirty-three, but Eve let that pass.
“You’re not going to die. Did you speak to Reginald Mackie after the accident?”
“We—we sent flowers and a sympathy note. And we went—a whole group of us—to the memorial.”
“Right. Did you speak to him personally?”
“I just couldn’t. I couldn’t stop crying.”
“Did he speak to you, at any time?”
“No. His—his daughter . . .”
“Willow Mackie.”
“Yes. She came into the store. I recognized her because she’d come in before, so Susann could help her find clothes. And she came up to me, right up to my face, and said how I had to be sorry Susann got killed because I didn’t get to be a big shot and fire her. How Susann and the baby were dead because I wouldn’t give her enough time to go to the doctor’s. And she said: ‘Enjoy your crappy job and your crappy life while you have them.’”
“When did this happen?”
“I guess about a month after the memorial. She didn’t even look mad or upset. She was sort of smiling the whole time. I was really upset, and I tried to say I was sorry, but she just walked away. She knocked over a display of T-shirts on her way out. On purpose!”
“Did she ever come back?”
“Not while I was working. I never saw her again, until I saw her picture on the bulletin. All I could think was I wasn’t surprised.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, I said how she didn’t look mad or upset when she came in and said those mean things to me? But she looked a little bit crazy. Darla said so, too. Darla’s one of our top salespeople, and she was right there. She saw the whole thing, and she said how that girl’s just crazy in the eyes.”
—
Eve headed back toward her office, and Peabody walked briskly out.
