When She Was Bad Page 5

  The man sneered. “You’re worse than the tobacco industry and the devil combined. There’s a conspiracy going on, and I’m going to expose it.”

  “Good day, Herman. Lori? If you’ll see Mr. Licht escorted out of the building, please.”

  Fucking liberals. Augustus hated them.

  His phone buzzed, telling him it was time for his next appointment.

  “Lori?”

  He was going to meet his son for lunch today and was looking forward to finding out how he was getting along.

  The door opened, and instead of Lori, his second assistant, Michelle came in.

  “Sorry, Lori had an appointment, so she left after showing Mr. Licht out. Is there something I can help with?”

  He looked at her, noticing something different. And then it hit him. She had lost a great deal of weight.

  “You look fantastic. What have you been doing?”

  The girl’s face brightened. She must have been all of twenty-six.

  “Thank you so much for noticing. I’ve lost seventy pounds.”

  “You certainly look amazing. I’m sure you’ve been busy fending all the young men off. How did you say you did it?”

  “Oh, it’s just the best thing ever. I’ve made so many changes. I’m meditating, doing yoga. I make sure I get outside every day. And, of course, I try to stand and walk whenever I’m on a call.” Seeing his look, she added, “But never when we have guests waiting.”

  “I appreciate that. We wouldn’t want to startle our guests.”

  She laughed. “That’s funny. But the biggest change I made was in my eating.”

  “Oh? Did you do one of those things where you count points or some such nonsense?”

  Michelle shook her head, and he noticed how pretty she was without the excess weight.

  “No, none of those work long-term. They’re all temporary and I’ve tried them all.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “Believe me, you lose a little bit, and then before you know it not only have you gained back what you lost but gained another fifteen or twenty pounds to add to it.”

  She smoothed her hands down the sleeveless, formfitting dress she was wearing, and he noted she didn’t have the usual look of one of those women who had undergone weight-loss surgery. No loose skin on her upper arms or that pinched look in the face. No, she looked like the picture of glowing health, and suspicion formed in his mind.

  Oblivious to what he was thinking, she went on.

  “So the biggest change I made was cutting out all junk food. Then I cut out soda and went completely plant-based.”

  “Plant-based—you mean vegan?”

  The silly girl had no idea the dangerous ground she was standing on. While it was perfectly acceptable to take care of oneself, she worked for Gier Foods, not some hippie commune.

  “No.” She shook her head, warming to her topic. “Plant-based means no animal products but vegan…while I’m still working on the no leather, wool, or silk, I still love honey. And my shoes are leather; so are the seats in my car. So vegan is more of a lifestyle and a philosophy, where going plant-based is really more of a food choice.” Michelle’s eyes sparkled. “Guess I’m a work in progress.”

  Instead of firing her on the spot and letting the gossip get around, Augustus waited.

  “Well, you look amazing. I’m heading out for my lunch meeting. Tell Lori I’d like to see her when I return.”

  The girl laughed. Too bad he had to fire her. Couldn’t have her out spreading her new religion around the company, becoming an inspiration. Gier Foods prided themselves on being good to their employees, offering unlimited sodas in all the refrigerators in the break rooms. He also had the latest snacks available in the afternoons, and every Monday morning he had a full breakfast set up. Not to mention on Friday afternoons they offered snacks and cocktails. It was pitched as a way for employees to try new flavor combinations that they were working on. The employees were the first focus groups before the flavors went on to be tested by consumer focus groups.

  No, this wouldn’t do. Making a note to have Lori set up a meeting with HR, Augustus jogged down the seven flights of stairs to the executive parking garage, where the attendant had his car waiting. When he had lunch with his son, he would see what he thought of this whole plant-based movement. Was it a threat?

  CHAPTER 11

  THE OUTBREAK OF SICKNESS HAD been a double whammy, practically shutting down the town. Maddy had been excited her school was closed, hoping the illness would work its way through the student body and they’d all be out for a week or more. Kids, gotta love ‘em. Looked like I’d be working the night shift from now on, and working doubles when they needed me. I was one of the few employees without children.

  The grocery was open twenty-four hours and picked up in the wee hours after the local bar closed. Weeknights I had a few customers, but not nearly enough to justify staying open like this. How could the Grab-and-Go afford to pay everyone? Why didn’t they close around midnight and reopen at six? Then again, what did I know?

  “Hey, Wilbur, how’s your wife doing?” I rang up double chocolate ice cream, baked beans, and hummus.

  He grinned. “She said she had to have these three things now. I’ll tell you, she’s been in a mood. Glad we only have another month to go.” Then he mock-whispered, “But don’t let her know I said so. I like my balls attached.”

  I laughed and handed him his change. Wilbur hadn’t been gone ten minutes when a loud alarm shattered the air, the lights blinked on and off, and the other cashier screamed.

  “We have to get out of here!”

  “Go through the employee exit and make sure everyone crosses the alley and stands on the right. I’ll make sure everyone is out.”

  “No, Hope. That’s the fire alarm. We need to go now. Let them find their own way.”

  “The fire department will be here in minutes. Go on, I’ll be fine.”

  The cashier ran through the store. While I wasn’t the night manager, I knew what to do. The guy had gone home early with the same food poisoning everyone else had. There was a faint scent of smoke so I went fast, checked each aisle, and paused at the meat counter. If there was a fire, the smell of roasting meat would do me in, reminding me of Aidan. Screw him. He deserved what he got after burning up his dog; we both know it. Movement caught my eye as Evan exited the swinging doors.

  “You’re the last one. Get on outside. I’ll be right behind you as soon as I check the bathrooms.”

  “Hurry, I smell smoke.” He rushed down the corridor as I turned and pushed through the men’s room door. No one was here, and the ladies’ was empty too. I was leaving when I saw one of the swinging doors to the meat room was open. A wrapper blew by and something niggled at me.

  Worried about a fire, I hesitated then stepped through the door. Up ahead I saw the door to the back room open. It was where the meat and seafood was brought in from the loading dock, and there were three small rooms off the short hallway.

  “Evan? Is that you?”

  There wasn’t any answer. At first I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. The room to my left was full of shelving, loaded with packaged food. On the floor was a price machine we used to mark dates on the items we prepared in the store. What was it doing back here?

  Discarded in a corner was a pile of empty packaging, not only for various packaged food items, but meat and seafood wrappers. I turned and looked at the shelving behind me to see they held new packaging, empty and waiting. That in itself didn’t mean anything—we kept a supply on hand, and cut up and packaged fish, chicken, and meat in the store. It made the customers feel like they were getting fresh-from-the-farm food. We also made a few prepared salads, sandwiches, and other ready-to-go hot meals right there in the store, but…

  Finally it hit me: it was the smell. The overwhelming, eye-watering scent of bleach and barbecue sauce. What the hell was going on?

  There was a five-gallon bucket full of murky water, and as I leaned closer, the smell almost knock
ed me backward. There was an object floating in the water. I used a slotted spoon hastily left on the floor and lifted out a chicken breast. On the counter I found more chicken soaking in barbecue sauce.

  It all made sense, but who else was in on it? Make those responsible pay, the voice inside my head cajoled me as I took in the changed dates, saw the packages that had been discarded, and newly packaged items bearing later dates.

  Anger threatened to overflow, and I took a few deep breaths. Not only were there chicken wrappers scattered around, but beef and seafood too.

  The sound of the alarms dimmed as I focused on the scene in front of me and spied another five-gallon bucket next to a counter. There was a box of baking soda turned on its side. When I brought up the slotted spoon, I found shrimp and salmon. On the other counter, various seafoods and meats were stacked in piles waiting to go through the process. When I leaned down to sniff, I almost gagged from the rotten smell. And that wasn’t all I found: there were several packaged blocks of cheese, the corners missing. They looked like rats or mice had gotten into the cheese, and instead of throwing it away, someone had decided to cut off the ends and repackage it, sell it to consumers. No wonder people thought portions were getting smaller. Maybe that wasn’t it at all—maybe it was something like this going on. And the consumer paid the same price for old food.

  The sound of voices snapped me out of trying to figure out why, as I hurried through the swinging doors and ran into a fireman.

  “Miss, you’ve got to get out of here. There’s a fire in the broom closet.” Once he said it, I smelled the smoke.

  “Everyone else is outside,” I said as I pushed through the doors and made my way across the street. Evan was pacing, nervous from more than the fire, I’d bet on it.

  “What is it? What did they find?”

  I stared at the store, so many pieces floating around in my head but not yet fitting together.

  “Hope, what’s wrong? You took an awful long time to come out.”

  I coughed. “Thought I heard someone in the manager’s office, but there was no one there.” Another coughing fit had me doubled over when a bottle of water was thrust into my hand by a passing fireman.

  “They said a fire started in the broom closet. Shouldn’t take long.”

  Evan continued to pace as I watched him. Everyone was quiet as we waited for the firemen to tell us it was over. The guy removed his mask, wiping his face.

  “There’s not much damage. The smell is the worst of it. You’ll have to mop up, but the fire is out. Looks like someone was smoking in there and a roll of paper towels caught fire. They tried to cover it up and caused more damage.”

  “Thank you for coming so quickly.” The firemen left, and I turned to address everyone. “I think we better close for a couple hours and get this cleaned up.”

  A few of the others nodded, and Evan was by my side. “I’ll take care of mopping and setting up fans to blow the smell out if you want to send the others home.”

  “That’s nice of you.” I turned to the other employees. “Go in and get your things and then go on home. I’ll call Caleb and tell him the fire’s out and I’m sending everyone home.”

  Evan frowned. “I know you’re tired. Why don’t you go too? Get some sleep and we can reopen at seven.”

  I wanted nothing more than to shove his face in the bleach water, but I smiled. “I’ll be back to see how things are going.”

  While I called Caleb to let him know what was happening, I watched Evan hurrying into the building. The predator within crouched, tail twitching as its prey ran. When I ended the call, I went to my locker to get my things. My backpack smelled of smoke, and I swore I smelled the faint smell of rot. The swinging doors were locked as I passed by, the shade drawn over the round glass. I might have convinced myself there was an explanation for what I’d seen if Evan hadn’t acted so funny. Now I knew: the Grab-and-Go was making people sick.

  On my way home, I stopped at the store for a new backpack. When the news came on, I turned it up. The salmonella and E. coli outbreaks had spread to ten states, so there was no way the Grab-and-Go was acting alone. How far did this fraud go?

  When I got home, I stripped outside and trashed the backpack and everything I had on. As I threw the stuff in the trash, I smiled. All I needed was a bottle of bleach and a gun and it’d be like old times.

  There’s evil everywhere. You only have to open your eyes and look.

  In the shower, the hot water took away the stress of the night. As I climbed into bed for a couple of hours of sleep, I made a decision.

  CHAPTER 12

  I’D GONE IN TO WORK to find the worst of the smell gone, the fans whirring away, and Evan had cleaned up the evidence. When I called Caleb to update him, he told me to take the rest of the day off and get some rest—he’d made the decision to close until tomorrow afternoon. A cleaning crew would show up in a few hours, and he was hopeful things would be back to normal by then.

  “How are you feeling?”

  He groaned. “We’re all sick, and Caleb Jr. had to go to the hospital a few hours ago.”

  “I’m so sorry. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  “Just don’t get sick, I need you there.”

  After I ended the call, I decided it was time to pay my respects. First I drove to the old house. When Gram passed, she left the house to her best friend Ruth, and she’d left me the rest of her estate, including three and a half million dollars. I’d been shocked; I never knew they had that kind of money put away. They’d always been frugal, had a huge garden, canned and saved, though I didn’t remember ever wanting for anything. The lawyer said they’d both inherited money from their parents and never touched it, just saved it and let it grow. My gram knew by then what I’d been doing, and in leaving me her money I believed it was her way of telling me she understood, even if she could never support the things I’d done.

  A little over a month ago, Ruth had passed away in her sleep. Instead of leaving the house to the kids, who never had time for her, Ruth had wanted it to be sold, and the money given to several of her favorite charities. Gram would’ve approved. The house looked loved. There were toys scattered across the front yard, and as I sat there, two little boys came flying out of the house, shooting each other with squirt guns. A woman about my age with a baby on her hip, dressed all in pink, sat on the front porch to watch them. It was good to see the house full of life and laughter. There wasn’t enough of that left in the world.

  So while I didn’t have to work, I needed to—it was the only way to keep the darkness at bay. As I sat in the car, the crack of a bat made me cringe, taking me back to our house in Florida. My beloved dog Max, the scent of cinnamon in his fur, and the feel of his tongue when he licked me; it was so real I could almost touch it, but the memory turned dark, rufescent splashes across the walls, covering my mama and Max. The woman calling to her boys broke the spell as I rolled up the window and drove to the cemetery.

  It seemed like nowadays I was lucky if I found a few minutes of happiness within the day. But I didn’t complain, because I accepted this was the price I had to pay for the things I had done. The cemetery was pretty with trees and flowers, the air still yet welcoming. Peaceful. I made my way to the headstones, side by side, and brushed away dirt. My mama was buried here too, but not Daddy, never him. He’d been cremated. I wondered what Gramps had done with the ashes. He’d never said, and I wanted to believe he’d dumped them down the toilet or thrown them in the garbage, but knowing how kind my gram was, he probably buried them in the backyard.

  After I finished talking to them, catching them up on my life, and confessing what I was planning, I drove back to town, stopping at the Liquor Superstore. When I pushed the door open, the scent of alcohol drifted out to me. It was a wonder the guy working here didn’t have a buzz all day.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for a bottle of St. Germain.”

  The guy shook his head. “We don’t
carry it. Bit pricey for the clientele around here.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. I loved mixing it with bubbly. Let me look around and see what I might be in the mood for.”

  He’d already turned away to help another customer as I wandered up and down the aisles, trying to decide what I wanted. St. Germain and bubbly probably was my favorite drink, but I also liked an Old Fashioned. I picked up bitters and whisky, and then I saw the cognac. They had one kind and three bottles—why have that and not St. Germain? When I set my bottles on the counter, the man asked for ID.

  I handed him my license. “I’m surprised you have cognac but not St. Germain.”

  “Old man Johnson special-orders the cognac. There’s always a couple bottles left and they end up selling. I could special-order the St. Germain if you’re willing to take a case, but I don’t think we’d get much interest in an elderflower liqueur around these parts.”

  “That’s okay.” I shook my head. “I decided to make an Old Fashioned.”

  On my way out of the store I thought I saw a black Porsche SUV, but when I blinked again it was gone. He drove a Maserati, not a Porsche, but it was like I thought of doing something to violate our agreement and then the dark car magically appeared. Had to be my guilty conscience playing tricks on me.

  When I woke that afternoon, my stomach rumbled and Midnight sat in front of his bowl meowing because one tiny bit of the bottom of the bowl showed through the food. He’d look in his bowl, look up at me, and meow. Then he’d do it again as if I was too stupid to realize he was starving and there was no food left on the entire planet.

  “Fine.” I added a scant tablespoon, and he purred loudly as he settled down to eat. Meanwhile, I decided on Chinese from a place on the outskirts of town. Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door, and when I opened it, I found not only the delivery guy but Maddy, standing there with a hopeful look on her face.