Not One Clue_ A Mystery - Lois Greiman [18]
Perhaps because of my clothing choice, the day went fairly smoothly. At least in comparison to the norm. Still, by 7:50, when my last client whistled out the door, I felt like I’d been dipped in battery acid and hung out to dry. Nevertheless, I felt it necessary to speak with my receptionist.
Shirley was just pulling her purse out of a big drawer at the bottom of her desk when I stepped into her domain. Seven plants had come to live in the area since her arrival. I never knew where they came from or what they were called, but they glowed with green happiness. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure,” she said, and pulled the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “What’s up?”
I didn’t want to broach the subject of her speaking with others about my clients, but the Board of Psychology can get a little testy about that sort of thing, and the truth is, I’d rather take a fork in the eye than face an uptight shrink with nothing better to do than looking into my affairs.
“You know my clients’ files have to be kept confidential, right?”
She nodded once, looking serious.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re a fantastic—”
“It was me,” she said, brow furrowed.
I stood there with my mouth open for a few seconds. No thoughts flew in. “What are you—”
“I worry about you, girl. You gotta be more careful. Your clients, they love you. I know they do, but they ain’t exactly comin’ here ’cuz they got all their ducks in lockstep, you know. I have to talk to someone.”
I was trying to think. Perhaps that wasn’t apparent by the look on my face. “So … you’ve been talking to Laney?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, ’cuz I don’t say this lightly, but … maybe you should get a man.”
I managed to shake my head. “What?”
She broadened her stance as if ready for a fight. “A man.”
“For …”
“I know, I know.” She waved at me as she came around the corner of the desk. “I kind of implied they’re worthless as a peashooter at a gunfight, but sometimes they come in handy. I mean, you drive out of here alone every night. Get here alone every morning. Pretty thing like you. What if someone’s waiting?”
Why was everyone suddenly so concerned about my well-being? “What am I supposed to do? I can’t just run out to the man store and pick up a sample.” I thought about that for a second. The images were appealing. I’ll take one in brown, one in white, and one in nothing at all. “Can I?”
She snorted. “Honey, if you wanted you could just walk out there and whistle. There’d be a dozen guys at your feet before you got done puckering.”
“Umm.” I shook the lovely image out of my head. “Thank you, but about confidentiality—”
“If you don’t want me talkin’ to Laney, I won’t. You’re the boss, and I’m grateful for the job, but I think you need someone in your corner. And you know Laney and me …” She shook her head once and tightened her jaw. “We got your back.”
For some reason, the way she said it brought tears to my eyes. I cleared my throat. “Yes, well, as long as you don’t talk about my clients to anyone else.”
“You know I won’t.”
“Okay, then. I guess that’s it. You probably want to get going.”
It took her a moment to lose the pugilist stance. “No hurry.”
“It’s late.”
“The next bus don’t go through for another fifteen minutes.”
“I made you miss your bus?”
“Don’t worry about it, honey,” she said. “Truth is, there ain’t nobody makes me do much I don’t wanna do these days. Besides, the 8:05 ain’t near so busy as the earlier rides.”
That was because all the commuters who worried about their continued survival were padlocking their doors as we spoke. “I thought you had a car.”
“I do,” she said, and didn’t bother to expound.
“Then why aren’t you driving it?”
“The boy needed it.”
“Dion?” It was a wild guess. Shirley had had a butt-load of kids. Oddly enough, she still loved babies. If I had popped seven kids out