With the quilts safely stowed on the backseat of her Honda and the paperwork on the passenger seat beside her purse, Harriet locked the house and studio and drove through the grey light of dawn to the Vitamin Factory.
There were two cars in the parking lot when she pulled into a visitor spot near the door marked office. She recognized Avanell's silver Mercedes. Harriet was surprised there weren't more cars. She certainly wasn't an expert on manufacturing, and she was probably being simplistic, but if Avanell was having trouble finding employees and the factory was falling behind schedule, shouldn't there be some people here working overtime? And shouldn't there be some underling sharing the burden? And what about her business-partner brother? If only Aunt Beth were here, Harriet thought. She probably would have some answers.
It should only take a few minutes to get Avanell's signature on the form, and she could be on her way. She stepped through the door. A plain young woman with long sandy hair and freckles sat at a scarred wooden desk.
"Can I help you?” she said in a voice that made it clear she would rather do anything but. She chewed a tired wad of gum and slowly flipped the pages of a magazine.
"I need to speak to Avanell,” Harriet said.
"I haven't seen her yet today."
"Isn't that her car in the parking lot?"
The woman kept her eyes on the magazine that was clearly more interesting than Harriet's questions. “Silver Mercedes? Yeah, that's hers. Maybe she's in the back. Sometimes she helps out in shipping this time of the month."
"Could you check for me?"
"They're too cheap to have an intercom here. You're welcome to go back and check yourself if you want. Just go through that door and follow the smell of vitamins.” She pointed at a blue door marked “Employees Only."
"Thanks for your help,” Harriet said and knew her sarcasm was lost on the girl.
"No problem,” she said without looking up.
The door opened into a hallway. A large glass window on the right revealed an employee locker room; identical white smocks floated like ghosts on a garment rack. The shelf above it held what looked like fabric shower caps. On the opposite wall was a bank of grey gym-style lockers with combination locks hanging from their clasps. A wooden bench cut the room in half. Assorted pairs of white shoes were lined up underneath. She could almost imagine the workers who would inhabit the costumes within the hour.
She wondered if she would be contaminating their space if she walked out into the production area in her street clothes. She could have gone back and asked the receptionist but was pretty sure it would be a waste of time.
Another blue door led into the vitamin processing room. Large funnel-shaped bags hung over narrow conveyer belts full of brown bottles that snaked through the area. A metal contraption that resembled a giant stamp hovered over the end of the conveyer. A large box of white safety caps sat on the floor next to a table with three chairs around it. Open boxes of surgical gloves were scattered throughout. This was obviously where vitamins were bottled and sealed.
Avanell was not in evidence, so Harriet crossed the room and exited through the door opposite the one she'd come in. She was in a short hallway. Restrooms were to the left. The first room to the right held printing and labeling equipment. The lights were off.
She chose the second door on the right. It opened into the large, high-ceilinged room that was the packing and shipping area as well as warehouse space.
"Avanell?” she called.
A single light fixture illuminated a corner at the back of the building. Harriet headed toward it. The warehouse had a concrete floor, and the heels of her shoes made a loud clacking noise that echoed off the rafters.
"Avanell,” she called again.
She stopped. The silence was deafening. A compressor started. She resumed her path toward what she hoped was Avanell.
"Hello?” she said in a louder voice. “Avanell?"
She arrived at the lighted corner. A large worktable was surrounded by stacks of boxes. A single chair was pushed back from the lone workstation. She came around the end of the table.
"Avanell!" she screamed.
Avanell Jalbert lay collapsed on the cold cement floor. It was as if an unseen puppet-master had abruptly cut her strings. Harriet dropped to her knees, avoiding the red stain that extended like a dark halo around Avanell's head
"Oh, Avanell,” she whispered. “What happened to you?"
A thin thread of blood had trickled from the corner of her mouth and joined the congealed pool under her head. Harriet looked away and fumbled in her pocket for her cell phone. She dropped it, and when she picked it up again, her hand was shaking so hard she had to punch the numbers in three times before she connected to the 911 operator.
"You have to come to the Vitamin Factory now,” she said. “Avanell Jalbert is dead… Of course, I'm sure.” She reached toward Avanell; by sheer force of will, she touched the outstretched hand. She recoiled. It was cold, the fingers unbending. She fought to calm her lurching stomach. Avanell was definitely dead.
She told the operator to send the paramedics to the back of the factory and then hung up to wait. She stood and moved a few steps away. A horrible feeling of déjà vu washed over her. She wished she was a strong enough person to hold Avanell's cold hand until someone arrived, but all the therapy in the world wouldn't have made that possible.
It was while she was avoiding looking at Avanell that Harriet noticed her friend's purse lying on the floor. It was upside down, its contents in a pile on the floor. She looked back at Avanell, and saw the rayon lining of her left skirt pocket sticking out. Someone had searched her after they killed her.
For the second time in twenty-four hours, Harriet heard the sound of Foggy Point's police sirens approaching. The factory was soon engulfed by a rush of firemen, paramedics and police. Avanell was quickly pronounced dead and the warehouse declared a crime scene. Harriet was hustled back to the front office. She'd given a brief statement to the uniformed officer who had arrived first and been asked to wait for the major crimes detectives.
She was sitting on one of the three cracked vinyl chairs in what passed for a waiting room when a squat man in an expensive suit and fake tan arrived. The family resemblance was unmistakable. This had to be Avanell's business-partner brother, Bertrand de LaFontaine.
"What's going on here?” he demanded. His left forefinger nervously spun a heavy gold band on his ring finger. His graying hair was thin and styled in a comb-over. It was damp, as if he'd just gotten out of the shower. “Clarice said there was a problem and I should come right away."
Clarice must have been the helpful young woman Harriet had met on her way in. She was nowhere to be found now.
Bertrand de LaFontaine looked at her. She gestured at the employee door; and he went through it, opening it so fast it banged against the wall as he did.
She was still waiting for the major crimes detectives when Darcy Lewis arrived.
"Boy, you're keeping me busy tonight,” she said without humor. “Is it true that Avanell is the victim?"
A nod was all Harriet could manage. Tears filled her eyes.
"I'm sorry,” Darcy said. “It's just this job. Avanell was my friend, too. Did you find her?"
Harriet nodded again.
"That must have been awful for you, especially after last night. Do you want me to call anyone for you?"
"No, that's okay. Besides, Aunt Beth is still on her cruise. Do you have any idea how long I have to wait?"
"Are you waiting for the major crimes guys?” She looked at her watch. “They were just going out on a call when I got in last night. That's why I'm here this morning. There was a big drug bust over in Port Angeles that was some kind of interagency thing, so a bunch of our people are over there. I'll bet you can go. Just give your phone number to Briggs before you leave. I'll send him up here. He has to clear the area so we can get started anyway."