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“Look…” Tess said, trying to calm herself while sort of wishing she’d brought Danny. He might not be one for hard work, but he could smile at the secretary long enough to let Tess sneak around into the PI’s office. “He knows something I need to know. It’s life or death.”
Maybe not exactly life or death, but how did Tess know that for sure? She didn’t. Her mom was dead, so it was about death. And life: her life.
The woman behind the desk wasn’t impressed. “I doubt that, ma’am. What is it? Your husband screwing some floozy?”
If that was all Russell Figgs did, Tess was in trouble. Her mom wouldn’t leave a message with someone who couldn’t be trusted. If his business was frivolous or ridiculous, he may not understand the significance of whatever Anne told him.
Sealing her lips, Tess drew in a breath through her nose. “My mother is dead.”
“You want the cops to investigate something like that,” the secretary said, hazarding no emotion. “Call homicide.”
“You know what…” Tess said, sidling down the length of the desk. “I think I’ll just go back there myself and talk to him.”
The secretary leaped to her feet. “You can’t do that! You can’t come back here.”
At only five feet two inches tall, Tess couldn’t delude herself that she could physically intimidate anyone. But determination had a lot to answer for.
“I think I can,” Tess said, trying to dodge the woman who wasn’t much taller than her but was doing her best to take up as much of the opening as possible. “I need to see him.”
“No! No, I’ll call the cops!”
“Go for it.”
She didn’t want the cops there, but in the time it took the woman to make the call, Tess could get to Figgs.
The door at the back of the room opened as the woman attempted to dodge and block. A tall, confused guy stepped out.
“What’s going on out here?”
“She’s a crazy person,” the secretary called out.
That could be true; Tess was beyond caring. “Mr. Figgs,” she said, keeping her attention on the panting secretary. “I need to see you.”
“I said no!” the secretary yelped.
“It’s important, Mr. Figgs.”
“I don’t see why—”
“My name is Tess Anderson and I—”
“Jesus,” Figgs said, interrupting her as he strode forward. “Let her by, Mavis.”
Figgs came over to sweep his secretary aside. He put a hand on Tess’s shoulder, then stalled and froze. Lifting it off slowly, he showed her both hands and stepped back, almost treading on the bamboozled secretary.
Mavis wasn’t the only one confused. What was up with this guy? Why was he suddenly wide-eyed and tense? Sweat beaded on his pale brow. The guy was nervous, scared maybe. Her resolve was firm, but the guy had height and a gut that could steamroll her if things got physical. No reason he should fear her… unless he thought she was armed. Except any weapon would have to be tiny to fit in the clutch she had looped around her wrist.
“Come,” Figgs said, gesturing her past him like he was directing traffic.
Turning, he kept his secretary at his back, blocking her as Tess passed to go into the office. This Figgs guy was a weird one. Inside, he rushed past her to retrieve a key from the desk with shaking fingers. He unlocked the closet in the corner and produced a box from the top shelf.
“I didn’t open it,” he said, carrying what appeared to be little bigger than a shoebox over to a circular table in the corner. “You can check the seal, all the way round, I didn’t open it.”
Figgs put the box down and held up both hands in surrender as he backed away. Tess just stood there looking at him, confused, wondering if she should worry about what might be within the package.
“Uh… thank you?”
He nodded, but didn’t make eye contact as he shuffled past her on his return to the door. “Take all the time you need. All the time. No one will disturb you.”
