It was Kirsten’s turn to check on the laundry: take reception of the clean laundry from the company contracted to handle the impressive volume Happy Home needed done every day, make sure everything was present and accounted for, and send off the dirty laundry for that day. She was still feeling under the weather and her mother had told her to take a sick day. The death of Henry, whom she had considered a personal friend, had plunged her into what could only be termed a general feeling of malaise. Coming on top of the trouble she’d been having with Desmond, it was as if a dark cloud had suddenly descended on her time here at Happy Home.
After talking things through with her mom last night, she had finally decided to launch a formal complaint against Desmond. That man’s behavior could no longer be tolerated. It was clear now that he would never stop. On the contrary: things had been steadily escalating, and when she told her mom that the man had placed his hand on her buttocks, Mom had even said they should go to the police. This was workplace harassment and even worse than that: a violation of her personal integrity. And who knows what he would do next. Corner her in the basement and force himself on her? The awful possibilities were too terrible to even contemplate, and it was obvious now that her safety was in jeopardy, and that something had to be done, and fast.
She descended the final couple of steps into the basement, where the laundry room was located. They had a couple of heavy-duty washing machines so they could handle part of the laundry themselves, as well as tumble dryers and ironing machines. But most of it was outsourced to a company that specialized in handling these large volumes. They also worked for their local hospital, and had other corporate clients.
And she was just about to take a left turn to head into the laundry room when she suddenly stumbled over something at the foot of the stairs. At first she thought someone had dropped a bag of laundry, but when she looked closer, she suddenly saw that it was a person. And when she saw his face, much to her horror she discovered it was… Desmond!
And he was staring up at her with dead eyes!
She must have yelled the whole house down, stumbling back up those stairs, and the first person she bumped into was Isaac, who must have heard her frantic screams.
“What’s wrong!” he asked.
“It’s Desmond!” she said between big gulps. “I think he’s—he’s—he’s dead!”
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It was all paws on deck when the story reached our ears that Desmond Palka had been found dead in the basement. Abe Cornwall soon arrived, and so did a small team of police officers to cordon off the area in an attempt to preserve the scene, as the vernacular goes. But by then about a dozen people had already traipsed up and down those stairs to take a look at the man. Half the building had probably heard Kirsten’s screams. The poor woman was the one who had found the dead man. Coming so soon after the death of Henry, this was the second big shock she had to sustain.
“Poor woman,” said Dooley as we watched the activity. Chase and Odelia were interviewing Kirsten, who looked very much impressed by the discovery of her dead colleague. “First Henry dies and now she stumbles over Desmond’s body.”
“Yeah, what are the odds?” I said, wondering how much of a coincidence it was that the man her mother thought posed such a threat to her died yesterday, and now the second person who had presented a clear and present danger was also dead. “People do seem to keep dying around Kirsten Williams,” I said.
“What are you saying, Max?” asked Harriet. “That somehow Kirsten is involved in the death of Henry and Desmond both?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “But it is an awfully big coincidence, don’t you think?”
“I think Kirsten’s mother is behind this,” said Brutus. “She’s one of those mother hens who will do anything to protect her children. If you so much as look at Kirsten the wrong way, Annette is going to come after you and make you pay.”
“You mean like a vigilante Mom?” asked Harriet. “I thought that only existed in bad B-movies?”
“It’s happening right under our noses, baby cheeks,” said Brutus. “Only Odelia and Chase refuse to accept the horrible truth: that they have allowed themselves to be used for Annette’s sinister purposes.”
“I don’t know if Annette is involved,” I said. “After all, she does have an alibi for the time of Henry’s death. And I’m sure Odelia and Chase will interview her and ask her where she was when Desmond died. When did he die, by the way? Has Abe confirmed time of death?”
But Harriet shook her head. She was the one who’d been keeping tabs on Odelia and Chase’s interview with Kirsten, and also on Abe’s progress. At least until the coroner had chased her away. No professional crime scene person enjoys the prospect of a bunch of cats traipsing all over their crime scene.