Waiting for Armando (Kate Lawrence Mysteries) by Judith K. Ivie

available young woman. It was an old story with a familiar plot. I took a long sip of my drink and pulled myself together. “The question now is how do we get you off the list?”
    Ingrid blinked at me, bewildered. “We?”
    Margo and Strutter raised their eyebrows at each other. Perhaps there was hope for this fool yet.
    “Of course, we. You know everything there is to know about Alain Girouard’s office life, and after six years as his secretary, you must know a good deal about his private life, too.
    Ingrid shook her head.
    “Of course you do. You have access to his computer, calendar, address book, and probably his financial records, unless I miss my guess.”
    She shook her head again. “Most of the senior partners at BGB want their assistants to handle everything,” she began.
    Margo snorted into her glass, and Strutter slapped her on the shoulder.
    Ingrid frowned at them and continued. “But Alain kept his private life private, even from me. Other than knowing his wife’s name and birthday, the address of their house and Alain’s cell phone number, I didn’t know much about him at all.”
    “I guess if you’re in the habit of romancin ’ the hired help, that would be the only way to go,” Margo observed bluntly. “Otherwise, you’d have ex- lady friends tryin ’ to blackmail you six ways from Sunday, pesterin ’ your wife, all kinds of untidy goin’s on.”
    I returned to my point. “Whatever Ingrid knows is bound to be more than anyone else does, and what she doesn’t know about this firm, Strutter and Margo do. If they don’t, they have a pretty good idea of how to find out. Then there’s me. Everybody knows that I’m too new at BGB to have heard much of the gossip, so when we need someone to play dumb, I’m your girl. You know, that’s becoming an unattractive habit,” I said to Margo as she once again snorted with laughter.
    “I’m sorry, Sugar, but you said it.”
    “Let’s not forget your little stunt with the sign-in log,” Strutter chuckled.
    Ignoring their hilarity, Ingrid gazed at me thoughtfully, her head tilted to one side. “You mean you’re going to try to help me? You would do that for me?”
    “Well, of course we’re going to help you,” I said testily. “Who else? Do you think Bellanfonte or Belasovich or any of the other partners is going to spring to your defense? It’s not that they seriously think you’re guilty of knocking off Girouard . As far as they’re concerned maybe you did, and maybe you didn’t. They probably don’t even much care, but their clients will care. They’ve got to clean up this mess, look like they’re in charge, and at the moment, you’re the easiest person to pin this on. Silly little secretary, probably threw herself at the boss like a dozen others and then took it all too seriously, blah blah blah . Believe me, Ingrid, they’re sitting in one of their offices right now trying to decide how fast they can put some serious distance between you and their firm without risking an unlawful discharge suit.”
    Ingrid paled visibly. “But how can they prove I did something that I didn’t do? I can’t afford to lose my job,” she stammered.
    I felt like a snake and softened my tone. “It may not come to that. They aren’t interested in proving it, just in regaining their clients’ confidence. They need to save some face here. They’ll probably suggest that you take an extended leave of absence—paid, of course, just until this thing is cleared up—and you will look guilty as sin by implication.”
    Strutter started to protest, then closed her mouth. She knew what I said was true.
    I leaned across the table and met Ingrid’s eyes. “So we’ve got to figure out who did this, and we’ve got to do it quickly to minimize the damage. The police will be investigating, too, but they already have too many open investigations and limited manpower. We, on the other hand, can make this our top priority, and we will.” I looked around