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and hooker heels.

Vicki was blond, but compared to Minnie, her hair was brassy. I noticed she had a lot of split ends and her roots needed a touch up. Vicki didn't have Mr. Rick to work his magic.

Vicki knew that she was outclassed. She seemed to shrink into herself and look for an escape. But she brightened when her favorite boy, Jimmy, walked into the department. He stopped dead and his eyes nearly popped out of his head like a cartoon character. Then he gave a long, low wolf whistle.

Vicki smiled and simpered.

The smile slid off Vicki's face when he said, ``Minnie, you look like a million bucks.''

``Thank you, Jimmy,'' she said sweetly. ``But my name is Minfreda.'' Chapter 7

Word of the transformed Minnie--excuse me, Minfreda-- spread through the building. Even Mr. Hammonds, our sour-faced CEO, found an excuse to check her out. Natu- rally, the great man wanted to keep track of one the few females with executive potential. Or maybe he wanted to take Vicki down a notch.

The whole department trembled when he walked in. Mr. Hammonds was a balding, mean-mouthed man who looked like he wouldn't give his grandmother a dollar if she were begging on the street. But he had a glow of his own, the kind created by money and power.

Vicki smiled and wrung her hands like a kitchen maid summoned to meet the master. Mr. Hammonds walked past her as if she didn't exist, and Vicki's face turned to stone.

He kept on going straight to Minfreda's desk, and spent nearly ten minutes talking to her. I sailed by once to get some carbon paper and happened to hear some of their conversation.

``Unusually cool winter weather we're having,'' Mr. Ham- monds said.

``Why, yes,'' Minfreda agreed. Everyone always agreed with Mr. Hammonds.

After a few more scintillating exchanges, Mr. Hammonds left. Minfreda appeared slightly dazed, as if she were a peasant girl who'd been visited by the prince.

After Mr. Hammonds's visit, it seemed like everyone in the office had to find an excuse to see Minfreda. Some claimed they needed sales figures. Others wanted to know if she was coming to the company softball game or had

130 KILLER BLONDE 131 signed up for the midwinter picnic. A few women congratu- lated Minfreda on her new look and asked for the name of her hairstylist. They got points in my book for being straightforward.

Absolutely no work was getting done that day. Even the extremely proper Francine came back to our department, suddenly in need of a Social Security number I was quite sure she had.

``Maybe I should sell tickets to the show,'' I said, when Francine left.

Minfreda giggled. It was an engaging sound. I was en- joying this day way too much. I should have known that Minfreda would pay for her triumph.

Vicki sat alone in her pink chamber, taking no notice of the commotion, saying nothing to Minfreda. She was quiet. Too quiet, as the sheriff said in those Westerns before the cattle rustlers attacked the ranch.

About four o'clock that afternoon, Vicki called Minfreda into her office. She was all business.

``Well, you've certainly impressed Mr. Hammonds,'' Vicki said. ``The CEO has asked for long-range planning ideas for 1971, and he is particularly interested in what you think about our company's future. Your next promotion could depend on this report.

``If your ideas are good enough, you could move straight up to division manager. No slaving away as a lowly depart- ment head, like I did.'' Vicki gave a little self-deprecating laugh.

``Mr. Hammonds believes leadership is about ideas, and he definitely wants yours. But you haven't much time. I need your report by nine o'clock tomorrow morning. He'll announce his decision in two days."

Minfreda nearly skipped down the hall to tell me her news.

``I have a shortcut to that corner office, Margery,'' she said. ``Vicki wants me to prepare a long-range planning report. If I do a good job, I'll be the next division head.''

``It's a trick,'' I told her. ``Remember what Vicki did to you last time? This makes no sense. If you're the new divi- sion head, what happens to her? Vicki won't help you leap- frog over her to a better job.''

``She says Mr. Hammonds will make her a vice presi- 132 Elaine Viets dent.'' Minfreda looked as trusting as a newborn golden retriever puppy.

Open your eyes, I wanted to shout. Instead I said, ``I haven't heard a word about that, and I had lunch with Francine this week. Mark my words: Vicki is up to some- thing. You can't trust her. Don't forget how she had Bobby writing a report the same time as you. He got the inside information and you didn't.''

``Things are different now,'' Minfreda said. ``I checked with all three boys. None of them are working on anything.''

``Vicki's playing another game they don't know about,'' I said.

Minfreda patted my shoulder. ``Relax, Margery. You worry too much. I'll win. I've been thinking about how to improve this company for so long, I have that report al- ready written in my head. My buddy Jimmy swiped the projected production figures for next year from Vicki's desk. I have my own inside information. I'm a different person now.''

She was. But Vicki hadn't changed.

Minfreda didn't believe me. I think she took Mr. Rick's good-fairy wave with the butter knife seriously. She truly believed this was her blond destiny and she had blond power.

I truly believed Vicki was up to no good. I had only a few hours to find out what it was. I waited for Vicki to leave her office so I could search her desk, but she stayed rooted in that chair for the rest of the afternoon. She didn't even take a bathroom break.

When I brought Vicki an interoffice memo, I got a good look at her face.

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