Death Goes Shopping. Jessica Burton

know it three seconds after they find him.”

      “Trust me, Helen, there's plenty strange, but who knows whether it's got anything to do with the shootings.”

      I looked up in surprise as the door swung wider, and in walked Michael Leung with Jim Evans, manager of Hart's Department Store, and Steve Walker from Williamson's, our other department store. As major players in Rosewood City Centre, Graham must have felt they should be privy to the update meeting. I just hoped he wouldn't let them sit in on the strategy decisions we had to make after George finished, or we'd be there all day.

      Leung owned and operated a small imported giftwares store on the lower level and, as president of our Merchants Association, he rightly felt he had a duty to uphold the interests of the small independent retailers whose operating procedures didn't always agree with those of the large chains and department stores.

      There's a standing resentment in the shopping center industry about the weight a large, national tenant can bring to bear on the mall management, yet those same small retailers only lease space because the mall has the large retailers in it. They want to be in with the big guns, because they know the big guns bring in the customers. It's a kind of “damned if you do, damned if you don't” thing, when you're one of the little guys.

      Bob Graham turned around and asked everybody to sit down. As usual, he was dressed in a three-piece suit and immaculately ironed white shirt. The rest of us tend to slack off a bit on a weekend if we're at work, but not Bob. He always looks like a page from some up-to-the-minute fashion mag. In his early fifties, Bob keeps his silver-streaked hair beautifully cut and styled, his nails manicured and always wears quiet but tasteful accessories. I call him 4M—Mr. Model Mall Manager— but never in his hearing.

      But he's not a bad guy, and most of the time, he's a decent boss, as long as you remember the credo, “Get the Rent”, which also translates as “Maximize the Mall.” He figures even the floor space I use for promotions should be making money, and every now and then he calls a staff meeting to see if there's a way the Merchants' Association budget can be charged for it. It'll happen one day. It's only a matter of time.

      Bob centred a notepad and pencil in front of him and cleared his throat.

      “I've invited Mr. Leung, Mr. Evans and Mr. Walker to join us for the first part of this morning's meeting.”

      I breathed a silent prayer of thanks. So far, so good.

      “In Mr. Leung's capacity as president of our M.A., he'll be a big help to us in communicating with the other tenants, and Jim and Steve, as the two largest employers in Rosewood City Center will, I'm sure, be able to help us maintain as normal an operating policy as possible during the next few days.”

      Dream on, I thought, looking at Leung, whose face had tightened at Bob's use of first names for the other two.

      “And now I'll turn the meeting over to Duty Inspector George Anderson. Inspector Anderson is in charge of the official investigation into yesterday's unfortunate occurrence.”

      “Good term for it,” Helen leaned over and whispered to me. “Two and a half murders, and he calls it an ‘unfortunate occurrence’.”

      Bob looked our way. “Did you have something to say, Ms. Lemieux, before Inspector Anderson begins? Something we should all hear?”

      “No, sir,” she said. “Please go ahead.”

      “Thank you,” he said. “Inspector Anderson?”

      George elected to stand and drew himself up to his full six foot four. He cut an impressive figure. Handsome, with blonde curly hair, dark brown eyes and a body you just wanted to stroke, I could see why Helen had been taken with him in the first place. His looks were enough to attract any woman, and I think that had turned out to be the problem. On a social level, George was quite charming and enjoyed the attention that invariably came his way. I guess he enjoyed it a bit too much to suit Helen, who's the one-at-a-time type.

      After living with him for just over a year, she'd called me one day and simply said, “I have to come and stay with you.” I said okay, and that was that. Plain and simple. I hadn't asked the questions, and she hadn't volunteered the answers.

      Because my job is a high-profile one in our community, I get invited to a lot of different functions, so I run into George quite often, and Helen stills sees a fair bit of him because of her numerous court appearances. From what I've seen recently, they appear quite relaxed and friendly with each other, so things must have progressed, but he always seems uncomfortable with me. I'm sure he believes I know all the intimate details of their relationship, and I can't think of a reason to tell him otherwise. It gives me an edge, and I like to have an edge.

      George walked over to the wall, where the site plan of the Food Court was pinned up, and positioned himself in front of it. He looked for a minute at some papers he was holding, then put them down on the table.

      “Good morning,” he said. “As Bob has told you, I'm the Duty Inspector in charge of the investigation into yesterday's shooting. As such, I'm here to give you a short update on what we've been able to determine took place yesterday and give you such details as we feel won't compromise our investigation. I won't speculate, and I won't answer any questions.”

      This was going to be short all right. I opened my lunch bag and took out a muffin. 4M glared at me.

      George put a finger on the Paul's Pizza location on the site plan. “At 11.33 a.m. on Saturday, October 31, my department responded to a 911 call from Helen Lemieux, your Security Chief. She reported that three people had been shot while sharing a table in the Food Court area of the mall, and she requested emergency response and assistance.

      “Due to Ms. Lemieux's police background, she knew the importance of securing the area, and using her own staff, immediately blocked off the area in front of the particular food outlet, Paul's Pizza, where the shooting occurred. Thanks to her quick action, the crime scene was preserved as well as could be expected, considering it's a public area.”

      Helen scribbled on a piece of paper and slid it to me. That won't hurt any when Jones comes calling.

      I hear you, I wrote back.

      George went on.