Bad Business Practice -Long Listed ONC2021

Chapter 11

Staines had camped outside Pope's apartment all night and stiffly sat up when he saw him burst out the front doors and march toward the subway. Today, maybe today. He pet the Herbert Hoover bobble head stuck on his dashboard.

George had listened to the tap he'd placed on Pope's phone and guessed - correctly - he was paying a visit to the detective so he was comfortably in position when Staines arrived, and watched him go in after Harold came out.

"I'm not really open for business any more today." Gunther made busy motions with things on his desk.

Staines opened his wallet, flashing his investigator's badge. "Tops yours, eh, Gunther? Tell me all about Pope, and don't say who or I'll add to those bruises you didn't cover too well."

"Aah, Jesus . . ."

********

Harold changed into his coveralls, slammed the locker door and began loading boxes onto the skids by the shipping door.

"Good mornin' to you too, son." Syd stood watching, hands in his back pockets. "Bed only have a wrong side today?"

"Not in the mood, Syd." Harold dollied the skid to the loading platform.

"Well better get in it, boy, it's mail rounds time. I got it all sorted for you."

Harold looked at the cart then at Syd and slumped inside. "I'm sorry, man. Thanks, I'll do it now."

"Cheer up, son, they're havin' a bit of a celebration on the manager's floor. Maybe they'll invite you in."

"What about?"

"Somebody's anniversary."

Harold nodded and set off with his cart. How the hell does he know all these things, stuck down here?

Syd was right, it looked like all work had stopped and groups stood around different cubicles talking and laughing, enjoying the champagne that seemed in abundance.

He dropped the mail off at the different cubicles and when he came to the end at Della's desk, Tony Renesto saw him and marched over, looking indignant.

"What are you hanging around here for, Pope? This is a manager's floor party."

"I'm not, hanging around, I'm delivering the mail . . . Renesto, and you aren't a manager either."

"Yeah, well I work on this floor."

It sounded like a school yard rebuttal and Harold shook his head. "I have mail for Miss Walker."

"Della is with her boss so move along."

Harold moved around his cart and stood uncomfortably close to Tony, whispering softly, "How's the snapshot business, Karsh?"

He stepped back as Tony's jaw sagged and his eyes went out of focus. The hand holding his champagne glass shook so hard the drink spilled onto his suit.

"Oops, that'll leave a stain." Harold's expression was hard. "Was it something I said?" He stepped closer again. "I have something else to tell you . . . Renesto, but you're going need to sit down and maybe get another drink."

"Not here . . . please."

"Sure, I have a diner I like." Harold told him where and shook a finger as a warning not to stand him up.

There was a burst of laughter and Peter stepped out of his office, all happy face and then he froze. His eyes bugged like a cartoon character and he lurched back inside.

"Della! Psst, Della!" He beckoned her from the crowd in his office and steered her into a cubicle across the aisle.

"What are you doing? What's wrong"