The Vanishing Girls Callie Browning (interesting books to read .TXT) 📖

Dorothy’s shark-like disposition became apparent on the fourth day. Eileen didn’t know if it was the old adage of misery liking company that prompted Dorothy’s declarations, but if the desired effect was to make Eileen unhappy, it worked.

The heavy thud of thick soled shoes grew closer as Dorothy made her way through the back entrance toward the reception area carrying a box of flowers which she plopped on Eileen’s desk. “I saw the work you did at the other parlour and thought we could start doing arrangements here. We’ll need three wreaths for a funeral tomorrow; is this enough?”

Eileen nodded and took the box into the kitchen to fill a spray bottle with water and start creating the garlands. To her surprise, Dorothy followed.

“How do you like it here so far?”

“It’s good,” Eileen said with a half-hearted smile.

A thoughtful look crossed Dorothy’s face as she separated the baby’s breath into small piles. “You miss Holden, they all do.”

Dorothy’s words short-circuited Eileen’s brain; her hands stilled, her heart skipped a beat and her breath caught in her chest as she deliberated the implication of the four-letter word: they.

“I know what it is to be spurned, treated with indifference when people overlook you,” Dorothy said with disdain as she made nosegays.

The white carnations in Eileen’s hand trembled, but Dorothy didn’t seem to notice. “You don’t find it odd that two confirmed bachelors are content to just drive around collecting dead bodies? Or that they go through so many assistants?” She lifted a beefy shoulder as though even a blind man riding a horse in the middle of the night could see the obvious.

Dorothy picked up the shears and started clipping the stems on the baby's breath. “They make sure they get their money’s worth out of the assistants, is all I’m saying. That’s why Clifford never committed to any woman, not even his son's mother. As the old people would say ‘you don’t buy milk when cows are on the pasture.’”

Eileen felt sick but it mattered naught to Dorothy — she went in for the kill.

“Why do you think he didn’t choose you over Paul? Because soon there will be another Eileen, another tight young body to amuse him — or both of them. I certainly wouldn’t put it past them.”

Dorothy glanced up then and placed a meaty hand on Eileen’s shoulder. “Oh no…I didn’t mean to upset you. I just didn’t want another innocent to fall prey to their trap. Don’t worry, dear. It’s better for you to be here with me than there with them.” Her eyebrows knit together as she pulled a lacy white handkerchief from her bosom and dabbed Eileen’s eyes. It smelled of flowers and sweat. Eileen pulled away and wiped her face with the back of her hands before she sniffed and said shortly, "I hope you don't think I'm rude, but I'd like to finish up here and then head home if you don't mind."

Dorothy clasped her hands and smiled benignly. “You need some time alone, don’t you? I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but trust me… soon they’ll be but a distant memory.”

Eileen didn’t want to believe what she said, but there was no denying that everything was drenched with possibility. Holden had never denied that the funeral home had a heavy staff turnover and Eileen had never thought to ask why. Was it true that she’d just been another conquest, the latest in a stream of willing assistants to bump groins with her boss? Eileen’s hands trembled violently as she tried to arrange the flowers in front as Dorothy filled a water glass and headed back to her office. Alone at last, Eileen gave up on trying to appear nonchalant, her legs buckling beneath her as she fell forward onto the table.

Dorothy’s heavy footsteps echoed down the long hall, keeping rhythm with Eileen’s tears as they dripped onto the table.

* * *

“BOSS, EILEEN’S WORKING FOR DOROTHY."

Holden's head snapped up in surprise. "What? How do you know that?"

Clifford hadn't left the building all day because he'd been busy cleaning so when Holden realized that Clifford had been hoarding this knowledge, it rankled Holden's spirit in the worst possible way. He finally tried calling Eileen that morning, but the phone only rang and rang, leaving him to assume that she was avoiding his calls. Now he knew that she’d probably been at work.

"Seen her car there two days in a row." Clifford shrugged as he put two bulging garbage bags on the floor. "Only thing that makes sense at this rate."

Holden's pulse quickened and his nostrils flared as he took his time saying, "And you're only telling me this now?"

Clifford propped his feet on Eileen's old desk and skimmed through the newspaper without looking at Holden. "And if I had told you before, what were you gonna do with that information?"

He frowned at Clifford. "If I knew Eileen was right around the corner, I wouldn't have sat here for days nursing a headache."

"And?"

“I’m going to talk to her so I can make this right."

Swinging his feet to the floor, Clifford folded the paper and looked at Holden. "Listen here, young Davis. Ain't no time like the present; you gotta squeeze the day by de balls to let it know you in charge."

Holden winced. "As colourful as your analogy is, I’ll wait until she’s home instead of going to her job right now."

"I hope Eileen comes back. You's fun to laugh at and all, but she really brightens up the joint."

"Indeed," said Holden dryly. He glanced at his watch; it was almost 3 p.m. He stood, tossing the papers his lawyer had delivered earlier into his attaché case and checking his pocket for his car key. "Did you finish the cleaning?"

"Yup."

"Excellent. Lock up for me, please."

"Going home already?"

"I need broken biscuits and something from my back garden for when I visit Eileen tonight, so I'm leaving now."

Clifford squinched his forehead as Holden went through