Elaine Viets & Victoria Laurie, Nancy Martin, Denise Swanson - Drop-Dead Blonde (v5.0) (pdf) by Unknown (howl and other poems .TXT) 📕

for Minfreda, or simply told Mr. Hammonds that Minfreda couldn't make the deadline. Probably the latter. It would give her rival a double black eye.

Vicki was slick as a greased snake. Now she was going to slither into a cushy office and take the promotion Min- freda should have had.

Minfreda paced back and forth by her desk mumbling something I couldn't make out.

I knew there would be a confrontation when the office cleared out that evening. But I wasn't worried about leav- ing Minfreda alone with Vicki. She was no longer a mouse. She was a tawny blond lioness.

It was her turn to roar. Chapter 8

The miserable day was finally over. Most of our department was already in the bar at Harper's getting plastered.

Believe me, they weren't celebrating Vicki's promotion. They weren't holding a wake, either, although their hopes were dead. This was survival time. The men eyed each other warily, like dogs about to turn on one another. Every man there was drinking so he could do what he had to do--something scummy to keep his job.

Next Monday was the start of evaluation week, and it would be payback time for Vicki. The now all-powerful executive would wreak revenge on everyone she thought had snubbed her or laughed at her.

The boys remembered the times they'd done Vicki imita- tions, flirted with Minfreda, or taken the cameo blonde to lunch. Vicki was vindictive. The office deadwood could hear the echo of the ax.

As the day crawled on, the boys realized they would have to do some serious puckering to save their jobs. They were a spineless lot. I knew they'd turn on Minfreda. I couldn't completely blame them. They had wives, college-bound children, and thirty-year mortgages.

I had principles, but I could afford them. I didn't care about being promoted. The worst Vicki could do was fire me, and then I'd sit by the pool at the Coronado, drink- ing screwdrivers.

That's what I planned to do tonight. That blasted memo from Mr. Hammonds was going to send me to the vodka bottle. Every time I read it, it got worse. I think it was the third time through that I noticed something new. Vicki was staying on as the head of our department and running the

136 KILLER BLONDE 137 division. There would be no promotion for Minfreda. Vicki would force her out. Minfreda was a reminder of her boss's own treachery.

Minfreda understood this. She knew she had nothing to lose. That's why she was preparing for a showdown with Vicki tonight. If she lost, she wouldn't have a desk, much less a corner office. I watched Minfreda's cameo face freeze into a marble mask. Her hands clenched and unclenched. I could almost see her gripping a sword. She was a warrior princess, preparing for battle.

In a fair fight, Minfreda would win. But Vicki didn't fight fair.

I looked up Jennifer's phone number at Bradsco, and left it on Minfreda's desk. I didn't say anything. I squeezed her shoulder and went back to my desk.

It was after six P.M. when I put the plastic cover on my Underwood, watered my philodendron, and locked my desk. Only Vicki and Minfreda were in our office when I left.

What happened next is guesswork, but I think it's accu- rate, based on the evidence I found the next morning.

When the elevator doors shut on me, Vicki was in her purloined office. She'd stayed late to plan her ascendency to the division throne. No more girlie pink for her. Her new corner office would have power colors, burnt orange and brown. Vicki sat at her desk making little sketches of how she'd arrange the furniture and what she'd put on the walls. I suspected she'd buy herself a new wardrobe to match. Couldn't have her suit clashing with her sculpted shag carpet.

Vicki didn't notice that Minfreda was still in the office, but why should she? Minfreda always worked late.

Minfreda didn't bother knocking on Vicki's office door. She was bolder now. She swept into Vicki's office, blond hair swinging like a battle banner. Her eyes blazed with righteous fury.

Vicki looked up and said in a sugary voice, ``Why, Min- nie, working late again?'' Her pale pink blouse had a pussycat bow. She had canary feathers on her pink lips.

``My name is Minfreda.''

``You'll always be Minnie to me. Underneath that dyed blond hair is a scared little mouse.'' 138 Elaine Viets

``Not anymore.'' Minfreda slammed Vicki's door shut so hard the glass rattled. For the first time, Vicki seemed ner- vous. She glanced around the room.

``Don't bother looking for help,'' Minfreda said. ``They're all gone. It's just you and me, and we're going to have a serious talk.''

``There's nothing to talk about.'' Vicki sounded like she was trying to convince herself that she was in charge.

``Oh, yes, there is.'' Minfreda moved toward her, lithe as a golden cat. ``You stole my ideas and you stole my promotion.''

``I did nothing of the kind.'' Vicki sounded more snippy than scared.

``Liar!'' Minfreda screamed. That single cry unleashed years of buried rage and humiliation. Minfreda grabbed the pussycat bow around Vicki's neck and twisted it tightly.

``Stop!'' Vicki gasped, clawing at her own neck to pull away Minfreda's fingers.

But Minfreda only twisted tighter. Vicki's color went from delicate pink to stroke-out red. ``Not till you tell me where you hid those carbons.''

``File . . . M.'' It was all Vicki could manage, but it was enough.

``Don't move,'' Minfreda ordered as she marched to the file cabinet. There was no chance that Vicki would run away. She could hardly sit up. She was gasping and trying to catch her breath.

Vicki's natural color was coming back by the time Min- freda said, ``Aha!'' She had the pilfered carbons. ``What's your name doing on this title page?''

``I . . . I typed it,''