Free Death by the Riverside by J. M. Redmann; Jean M. Redmann Page A

tottering scenery. Saturday had been spent watching Cissy’s (Melissa’s, formally) Little League team play. She made it sound like fun to be a single mom and have two kids.
    My “This evening?” and her “Sure, why not?” were the only discussion we had about breaking into the locked file drawer.
    The afternoon dragged slowly by. I wanted to go on an adventure, do something right, and impress at least one of the women in my life.
    At last, four-fifty-one arrived and we were in the copy room by ourselves. I crumpled up a piece of paper, then ran it through the machine. It ate the paper and got indigestion.
    “Oh, dear, the copy machine’s broken,” I said. Barbara started to giggle, then put her hand over her mouth to stop herself.
    “Oh, that’s too bad,” she said, in an exaggerated Southern accent.
    I started to laugh. Then forced myself not to. Our hands touched and we looked at each other for a moment. I thought about kissing her, but I backed away. Barbara was possibly going to be a very good friend. A much better friend than lover. I wanted to keep her around for a while, something I hadn’t been very good about doing with lovers. So I backed away. I think she caught it, but she didn’t say anything.
    We waited until there were no more people sounds from the office. Barbara took a quick look around just to make sure. Then we headed to the file room. She punched in the combination. We didn’t turn on the light, since there were two windows out to the street; instead we used a flashlight. I wanted to do this quickly and get out of here.
    I crouched down next to the file drawer, and Barbara held the flashlight on the lock. It took me a couple of minutes of fumbling before I could get the lock open. No alarms went off when it finally gave way. A good sign. We’d be out of here in five minutes.
    I slowly slid the drawer open. There was a flicker of red light, then it was gone. Shit. A bad sign. We had tripped some electronic eye.
    “Get out of here,” I said to Barbara. Better they find me than her. I grabbed the top notebook out of the drawer, stood up, and kicked the drawer shut.
    “But hadn’t you better re-lock it?” Barbara asked.
    “No, they already know.” Her eyes widened. “Electric eye,” I explained as we left the room. “Now, go, get out of here.”
    “But I can’t leave you…” she started.
    “Yes, you can. You’ve got two kids.”
    She was beginning to look pale. I didn’t blame her. I wasn’t feeling great myself. We hurried back to our side of the office. Just as we got to the hallway, I heard the guard getting off the elevator.
    “Get out of here. I’ll be okay,” I said again. Barbara nodded and headed for her desk. I ducked into the copy room because there was no other place to hide without running straight into the guard. I looked desperately around the room for a place to hide the notebook. If Ranson wanted it, she could find a way to come here and get it. I heard the guard in the hallway. He was talking to Barbara. Not good. I was hoping he would let her out since he knew her pretty well. But it didn’t sound like he was going to. Even worse, I heard the sound of a second guard’s voice. One to block the door and another to search.
    Where to hide this? There were stacks of paper and two copy machines, one with a broken sign on it. Inspiration hit. I opened up the broken copy machine, exposing the inner workings. That’s where I put the notebook. I had to sit on the cover to shut it, doing an untold amount of damage. Then I closed up the copy machine and figured it was time to bluff my way out of this place.
    I walked out of the door and into one of the guards.
    “What are you doing here?” he asked. What a clever question.
    “That damn copy machine. It always breaks down when you need it, and the little one doesn’t collate,” I said in the best helpless female voice I could manage. He led me down to the reception area where Barbara was waiting with the