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To his credit, Ned just forced a polite smile and raised a hand to calm her down. “That’s alright Deb, I’m sure it couldn’t be helped. You get back to the bar. I’ll handle this.”
She didn’t look all that convinced to me and I doubt my best reassuring smile did much to console her. However, when Ned gave her the nod and a dismissing wave, she backed out of the office. Only when the door shut behind her did all the smiles drop.
“What the hell do you want now?” Ned asked, obviously desperate to get the first hit and salvage some of his dignity.
Luckily for him, I was willing to ignore his attitude, to a point. “I told you to give the girl her job back.”
“I did. She didn’t want it.”
“Why?” I asked, walking across the small space to stand over him and his desk with my arms folded. It was a short walk. The room was hardly big enough to swing a cat in and had been filled with filing cabinets and dust-caked boxes of Beached Whale branded merchandise. It had a gorgeous sea view, though. Behind the desk, the huge panel windows looked out across the Salish sea. On a cloudless summer day, I bet Ned could see all the way across to Vancouver Island. Maybe that was why he had picked this glorified coat room as his office.
Ned swallowed, obviously trying to look unworried but failing miserably. “Why what?”
“Why didn’t she want it? Yesterday she said she needed it,” I pressed, leaning down and bringing our faces close enough for me to inhale his atrocious aftershave.
And see the sweat forming on Ned’s forehead.
“How am I supposed to know? What am I, a psychic hotline?”
Narrowing my eyes, I keep my voice low but stare at him hard as I ask, “What did you say when she came in?”
“Good morning, I think,” he said, his bruises turning ever deeper, more livid shades. “She took one look at me, screamed something, then threw off her apron and ran out.”
I arched my brow. “That’s all?”
“Yeah, that’s all,” He half shrieked, his eyes going wide again as he edged back in his chair to put a bit of distance between us. “Listen, I did what you asked. I called her up, apologised, gave her the job back, and even offered a raise. It’s not my fault if she changed her mind. What more do you want from me?”
Satisfied, I straightened up and smiled jovially down at him. “I want her address.”
Somehow, his eyes got even wider. “What? I can’t tell you that.”
“Her address, where she lives. Tell me and you’ll never hear from me again.”
“But… I can’t. It’s illegal to give out employees’ personal details.” He looked around desperately, as if trying to find a solution to this fresh problem written on the walls. One thing was sure, he wouldn’t find it out the window.
“She quit, remember.”
Giving up his search, he turned back to me but couldn’t meet my eyes. “It’s still against the law to give out personal details.”
At any other time, I could have admired his resolve, but right now, I needed her address. She had some explaining to do.
I swivelled my head around, looking around the office with exaggerated slowness. “Fine, don’t give it to me. I’m sure it’s around here somewhere. Maybe I’ll just pop by tonight to take a look for it. Then who’s to say where or how I got it-”
There was a loud knock on the door.
“Everything all right, Mr Gates?” A deep voice asked through the door and I remembered the fry cook with the big knife. Looks like Debra had followed through with her threat after all. Or had he heard Ned’s balling? He was making enough noise for the entire bar to hear.
Together we glanced at the door, then back. When our eyes locked, he knew he had to make a choice.
It was crunch time. He could break the law or call in the cook and risk getting a whole lot more broken.
He made his choice.
“Yeah, all good, Brian,” he replied, grabbing a pen and scribbling quickly across a notepad before tearing it off and shoving it my way. “Fine, there!”
“Thank you,” I smiled, taking it and folding it into my pocket.
It was time I paid Miss Jane Porter a visit.
