The Temporary Detective

Chapter Thirty

Nikki was back at her desk on Wednesday morning. She didn't even look up when Isobel came in, which was fine, since she knew she couldn't look Nikki in the eye after the message she'd left for Detective Kozinski. It was a testament to how frosty the silence was that Isobel went off in search of warmth and acceptance from Stan and Conchita's quarter. Conchita was nowhere in sight, but Stan's door was ajar, and he was rifling frantically through a desk drawer. He started in surprise when Isobel rapped gently on the door.

"Is Conchita in?" she asked. She had no interest in speaking to Conchita, of course. She only wanted to gauge how much time she might have for a quick chat with Stan.

"She went for coffee."

Isobel noticed that his soft, smooth face was glistening with sweat. "Is something wrong?"

"No...I, uh, can't find something."

"Can I help?"

"It's nothing. Just a personal, um, item. I'm sure it will turn up." He mustered a wan, but unconvincing smile.

Isobel was itching to ask him about being blackmailed by Doreen, but he looked on the verge of nervous collapse as it was. Besides, if Conchita had only gone for coffee, she would likely be back any moment.

"If you tell me what it is, I'd be happy to keep an eye out."

"No, that's not necessary. I'll tell Conchita you're looking for her," he said, turning his back on her to inspect another drawer.

Isobel left, shutting the door behind her. Feeling the need to procrastinate further, she knocked on Frank's door and entered.

"Anything you need this morning?" she asked.

Frank looked up from his open desk calendar and nodded. "Good timing. Yes. I need you to make a lunch reservation. Two people today, one o'clock at Printemps, under my name. I also need you to file these." He handed her a stack of papers. "And I'll email you some correspondence to print out on letterhead."

She took the papers and headed back to her desk to call the restaurant. For once, she was grateful for the work. It would help her avoid Nikki.

If only she'd been a few moments longer with Frank, she might have missed Nikki altogether.

Detective Kozinski and Detective Harvey were at Nikki's desk, along with two uniformed policemen who held a handcuffed Tom Scaletta between them. An InterBank security guard hovered nearby.

The color had drained from Nikki's face, but it rose scarlet as her eyes landed on Isobel.

"You little bitch!" she spat.

Isobel glanced at Detective Kozinski, horrified that she might have revealed her sources, but an almost imperceptible shake of the policewoman's head telegraphed that she had not. Isobel decided to play dumb. She would show them all what a good actress she was.

"What's...what's going on?"

Detective Kozinski answered crisply, "Nothing that concerns you."

A small crowd was gathering. Conchita appeared next to Felice Edwards, holding two steaming cups of coffee, which severely impeded her ability to cross herself. Frank, Paula and Stan had emerged from their offices, and several others were craning their necks to see across the vast plain of cubicles.

Nikki glowered at Isobel. "This is your fault."

"New York is a tough town, but I didn't know you could get arrested for bad acting," Isobel said, unable to help herself.

"Terence is a genius, and you're too much of a bird-brained little no-talent to recognize that," Nikki snapped.

"Yeah? Well, how do you explain Justin?" Isobel asked. "Terence thought he gave an Academy Award-winning performance!"

Detective Harvey turned to Detective Kozinski. "Am I missing something?" Detective Kozinski shrugged.

"You weren't interested in Terence's class. You just wanted to mock me. Well, I hope you enjoyed your little joke, you and that trashy blond bitch. This town is going to swallow you both up, like it does every stupid, bright-eyed wannabe. I worked hard to get where I am, and it's clear that you don't have the talent to get there."

"I sure hope that's true," said Isobel sincerely, eyeing the handcuffs that Detective Kozinski was locking around Nikki's wrists.

"Nikki Francis, also known as Annika Franklin, I am placing you under arrest for fraud and suspicion of murder."

The InterBank security guard unplugged Nikki's computer and began packing it up. Nikki looked at the computer and then at Isobel. Her eyes narrowed. Isobel looked away.

"You were snooping yesterday, weren't you?"

The others shifted their attention to Isobel, making no effort to hide the natural distrust of outsiders they'd been nurturing in one way or another since her arrival.

"You had something to do with this." Nikki gestured toward the detectives with her shoulder. "And I thought we were friends. I tried to make it nice for you here, and this is what I get?"

She had, it was true. Isobel didn't know what to say.

"I'll bet you anything, you'll still be temping in ten years' time, you little snot," Nikki said nastily.

That was too much. "You were right about one thing, you know," Isobel said.

"Oh, yeah? What?"

"You were miscast as Alma Winemiller."

Nikki summoned what was left of her dignity and took in her entire audience. "Maybe so, but I was damn good." She tossed her head defiantly, and Detective Kozinski led her away.

Isobel decided to let her have the last word. After all, Nikki was being arrested, and she was not.