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Vicki said. She had a sandpaper rasp after her near strangling.

``So you did. But I typed the rest of this report.''

``You can't prove it,'' Vicki said.

``Oh, but I can. The page you typed was done on a differ- ent machine. You're not as good a typist as I am. Notice how your Ts float and your Ws jump? Even Mr. Ham- monds will be able to see that. And if he can't, I'll hire an expert to explain.''

Minfreda could feel the tension loosen in her neck and shoulders. She had the proof of Vicki's theft. She would sit at her beloved partners desk after all. KILLER BLONDE 139

``Now you're going to write a confession,'' Minfreda said.

But Vicki felt bold now that she could breathe again. She laughed, a sarcastic sound, sharp as a slap in the face. ``After you tried to strangle me? Over my dead body.'' Then she added a mocking, ``Mouse.''

Hot new rage flowed over Minfreda's old, impacted anger, and it ignited with a deadly roar. ``That can be ar- ranged,'' she said.

Vicki's desk was loaded with lethal weapons: a daggerlike letter opener, a pink granite paperweight, a silver memo spike. That last was so dangerous offices don't allow them anymore.

But Minfreda had sought the unconscious irony. She hit the world's worst boss with the WORLD'S BEST BOSS coffee mug. She hit her once, and felt the fragile bones on the side of Vicki's skull crack. Vicki stared at her in dazed surprise, as if her stapler had learned to talk. Her lip curled into a nasty sneer, but she didn't get a chance to speak. Minfreda hit her again. And again and again. Minfreda kept hitting her until the heavy mug broke and the side of Vicki's head was soft and squishy.

Blood spattered Vicki's blond hair and ran down her cheek. There was an ugly abrasion over her ear. But Min- freda had mostly battered the white bones beneath the pink skin. Vicki was deader than last year's vacation schedule. She sat in her executive's chair with a death's-head grin on her face.

The old mousy Minnie would have panicked when she saw her battered boss. The new Minfreda kept her cool blond head. She calmly considered what she needed to do.

Vicki's blood was dripping on her suit and heading for the floor. Minfreda whipped off her neck scarf and wrapped it around the dead blonde's head. Better, but blood was seeping through it already. Minfreda looked around for something else and saw my typewriter cover. I was the only person in the department who used one. The others didn't care about their machines. The cover was gray plastic. She bundled it around Vicki's dripping head.

She had to get rid of the body. Vicki was not tall or heavy, but she was a deadweight, no pun intended. Min- freda was strong, but she couldn't move the body without help. She went back to the construction area. 140 Elaine Viets

The old sun-faded curtains from the corner office were still in a heap in the back hall. She also saw a lumber cart, like the ones you get at Home Depot nowadays for hauling large purchases.

Minfreda bundled the curtains onto the cart and trundled them back to Vicki's office. She spread the curtains out on the lumber cart, then tipped Vicki's chair forward. The exterminated executive landed in the dusty drapes with a deadweight thud.

``It's curtains for you, boss,'' Minfreda said out loud, and tried to suppress a giggle.

The cart was harder to maneuver with the body on it. Minfreda had to shove Vicki's desk aside to get the cart through the door. The dead blonde's foot caught in the door frame, and her pink heel was pried off. Minfreda tossed it on top of the body, then cleared a path through the department, carefully moving waste cans and steering around desks until she got to a clear aisle.

Minfreda was sweating like a construction worker. The cart was heavy and awkward. She was worried someone would come back to the office. She kept her ears open for the ding! of the elevator doors. But Minfreda was no mouse. Her fear didn't paralyze her. It made her think more clearly.

Once in the dingy back hall, Minfreda pulled the cart near the old torn-up carpet and spread the rug out flat. Then she tugged on the curtains until the body slid off the cart and onto the carpet. She heard the rotted, sun-faded fabric rip, but not before she'd moved Vicki.

Minfreda had a sneezing fit from the dust, but she rolled up the carpet with Vicki inside. A Vicki taco, if you will. No, a Vicki crepe with a poison pink center.

Minfreda grabbed the carpet roll and dragged it to the construction chute, rejoicing that the opening was close to the floor. She was about to drop Vicki headfirst down the chute when she saw a pink heel on the floor. Minfreda put it on the dead blonde. Vicki's foot was still warm, and she had pale pink polish on her toes. They looked small and sad.

Minfreda shivered a little. But then she remembered what Vicki had done to her. She straightened her shoulders and walked resolutely back to Vicki's office. KILLER BLONDE 141

As she stood in the doorway, she could feel the rage she'd set loose in the room. But Minfreda had work to do. Fragments of the shattered coffee mug had flown every- where. She even found one chunk on Vicki's filing cabinet. She brushed broken bits off the desk, then crawled along the pink shag carpet looking for pieces buried in the thick looped pile.

She threw the shards in the rolled-up carpet. She was about to send the dead blonde down to the Dumpster when she panicked and remembered something important. The plans! Vicki's plans for her corner office were still on her desk. Minfreda

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