Elaine Viets & Victoria Laurie, Nancy Martin, Denise Swanson - Drop-Dead Blonde (v5.0) (pdf) Unknown (audio ebook reader .txt) 📖

Vicki started it, with her cruelly accurate Minnie imita- tions. She would hunch her shoulders, screw up her face, cry, and creep about.

Bobby was equally vicious. His cries of ``Squeak! Squeak!'' followed Minnie down the hall.

Trust Jimmy to use sex as a weapon. He brought in the infamous April issue of Penthouse, the first national maga- zine to show pubic hair. He left the thing open on her desk. It was pretty dirty for those days. Minnie blushed so vio-

114 KILLER BLONDE 115 lently, I was afraid she'd have a stroke. She couldn't bring herself to touch the magazine.

I picked it up and dropped it down the incinerator.

I was sure Bobby put that lifelike rubber mouse on Min- nie's desk. It made poor Minnie shriek.

Next, a mousetrap snapped at her sensible shoes.

Then a wedge of port-wine cheese found its way into Min- nie's typewriter. What a mess that was. I had to send out the typewriter for cleaning. If Vicki was any kind of boss, she'd have stopped the games right there. That cleaning cost the company thirty-nine dollars. The game was getting out of hand.

Irish Johnny would hang around, waiting for Minnie to make her next ugly discovery. He'd pretend to sympathize, then run back and report every agonized word to Vicki.

I couldn't do anything to stop Vicki and the boys, but I refused to take part in the harassment. I would check Min- nie's desk a couple of times a day for mice, cheese, or, once, Mickey Mouse ears. I threw anything I found in the trash.

I could always tell when she'd found another malicious surprise: Minnie would burst into noisy tears. That woman could weep waterfalls. I wanted to hug her. I wanted to slap some sense into her.

``Have you no shame?'' I asked Jimmy, when I caught him leaving more cheese in Minnie's typewriter. It was a slice of Swiss this time, a bit stinky but harmless. He shrugged but didn't answer.

``How can you torment that poor woman?'' I said to Bobby when I surprised him planting mouse poison on her desk.

``How can we not?'' Bobby said with a sneer. ``She's such a crybaby.''

I wished Minnie would stand up for herself. I tried to coach her. One Monday I found her crying in the bathroom after she discovered a windup mouse spinning in circles on her desk blotter.

``Now listen, Minnie,'' I said. ``Here's what you do: Don't cry when they leave that stuff on your desk. That's what they want. It just encourages them.''

``I can't help it,'' Minnie wailed. ``It hurts.''

``Thank them for the cute toys. Pretend you like the stuff, and this harassment will stop,'' I said. 116 Elaine Viets

``I c-c-can't.'' She wept. ``I don't like it.''

You can't give someone a backbone implant, I decided.

Finally, even these sadists were bored with Minnie's mo- notonous weeping. Either that, or they got tired of buying mouse novelties at the dime store and lugging cheese in their briefcases. Bobby forgot about a hunk of Limburger one August day and had to throw out a Dunhill briefcase. That made him almost as weepy as Minnie.

When that game ran down, Vicki started another. This one was more subtle. It took me a while to see what she was up to. She was suddenly, suspiciously kind to Minnie-- no mimicry, no mice, no mocking laughter. Poor Minnie started coming out of her shell, or her mouse hole. She even smiled a bit.

Then Vicki called Minnie into her office. Our blond boss was at her most charming. She had me fetch herbal tea for Minnie. I stayed outside Vicki's door to hear what she was plotting.

``Now, Minnie,'' Vicki said. ``I need you to work on a special project. The Redacher proposal is vital to our depart- ment, and only you can do it. You have to help me by doing the best job possible.''

These words were specially designed to appeal to Minnie. She threw herself into the task. Minnie came to work so early and stayed so late, I was worried about her health.

One day, I left a message on Bobby's desk while he was at lunch. I saw a file labeled REDACHER PROPOSAL under his phone. I opened the folder. Inside was a half-finished pro- posal, with sheets of in-house facts and figures that had to have been supplied by Vicki.

I knew Vicki's game now: She'd put two people on the same job, but had given only one the inside information. Bobby's proposal would be chosen.

I tried to give Minnie one of my ``Dutch aunt'' talks with- out going into details. I couldn't tell her I'd been snooping around Bobby's desk.

``You can't trust that woman,'' I told her. ``Did you ask her if you're the only person working on that project? Did she give you any in-house numbers? If she hasn't, Vicki is setting you up for a fall.''

``No, Margery, you're wrong. Vicki wouldn't do that. This is my big chance,'' Minnie said. KILLER BLONDE 117

She was hopelessly trusting. I'd failed again.

Meanwhile, Vicki invited Minnie for little salad lunches at Renee's Tea Cozy. She even took her shoe shopping, the ultimate female bonding ritual. Minnie bought brown lace- ups that would be too old for me now, and I'm seventy-six. Vicki bought herself frivolous pink heels.

After three weeks of nonstop work, Minnie put her fin- ished project in a serious black binder and came shyly up to my desk.

``Margery,'' she said, ``would you read this for me?''

I read it and declared it was the best thing Minnie had ever done. I meant it. Minnie was overjoyed. But I had an ominous feeling things were going to go very wrong, very soon.

I hung around Vicki's office and saw Minnie proudly hand in her work. Vicki