Death Loves a Messy Desk (9 page)

“Most likely I’m mistaken about the names,” I said. “I was so shocked at having avoided a head-on collision. But I really could have sworn that they said Mel and Del.”

Fredelle shrugged. “I know everyone in this company, even the occasional drivers and the part-timers, and I’m one hundred percent certain there’s no Mel and no Del, and I can’t recall any names at all like either one of them. Did the truck have a Quovadicon logo?”

“I was kind of shaky. I didn’t notice. It was black and silver.”

She frowned. “Those are our colors. But I guess it’s not important right now.”

I reminded myself that Mel and Del were the only people who might have witnessed Barb Douglas running me off the road, so it was important and I didn’t really plan to forget about it. I said, “I’m sure it will all become clear. In the meantime, here’s an interim plan to help take the pressure off.”

“You have an interim plan? That’s so wonderful!” Fredelle actually clapped her hands.

I smiled and pointed to her chair. “Let’s hope. It’s fairly basic, but office politics can be worse than family dynamics. The big problem is often the most easily solved.”

“It is?”

“Sure, it’s the backbiting that will get you. Have a seat, Fredelle. I have some sketches and suggestions that might solve some problems. Most of them involve changing the placement of certain desks, including the IT area.”

She nodded enthusiastically, the silver curls bobbing in agreement. I raised an eyebrow and she sat primly at the edge of her chair.

I took the chair next to her. I flipped open my notepad to show her the design. “I noticed a couple of problems here in the layout of the office.”

The enthusiasm faded. “But the whole purpose of bringing you here is to have you fix Barb’s desk.”

“Actually it was to find a solution to the messy desk without causing Barb to get mad and quit.”

“Oh. Right. Yes.”

“So if we fix these other items, which really need to be fixed, then the solution to Barb’s problem won’t be as . . .”

“Insulting?”

“Among other things. I could help her get that desk under control, no problem. But you have to understand, that may not solve anything and you could end up looking for a new IT person.”

Fredelle sighed tragically. “What do you propose?”

“Three things: First, reorient the reception desk so that Autumn can see people coming through the front door. It’s a small change, but it will help her stay on top of her job and it will make clients and other visitors feel more welcome.”

Fredelle’s brow wrinkled. “You know, that desk used to be facing the door. I don’t know when it migrated to its current position. Maybe when Missy was here?”

“Easy to bring it back?”

“Very easy. Not that Autumn Halliday would necessarily pay any attention to visitors as they arrived. She’s a lovely girl, but I think you can see she may not be cut out for corporate life. But she loves it here and I don’t think she was cut out for college, either. Although her father can’t accept that.”

I said, “She’s still young.”

Fredelle picked up on that. “Not even twenty. She’ll find the right field.” Fredelle was back in office-mom mode.

I moved on. “Next, since Dyan is always snooping from the photocopier, let’s move that photocopier so that she doesn’t have to stroll across the office and preen in front of the boardroom and your office to use it. I imagine that distracts anyone in a meeting and annoys you.”

“You have no idea.”

“I bet I do. Does anyone else do any amount of photocopying?”

“Hardly anyone. It’s mostly her. And I’m pretty sure she uses it a lot more than she needs to. Most things are computerized now.”

“Perhaps you should start comparing bills and usage month over month with last year. See if your photocopying costs are up.”

Fredelle’s face lit up with the possibility of giving Dyan a bit of well-deserved pushback.

I added, “And in the meantime, you have an outlet nearby; if you put the photocopier right outside her office, she won’t get to use it as an excuse to swagger around. She may even use it less. That will save you money.” I did ask myself why Fredelle wasn’t on top of this fairly obvious situation. “I’d relocate any central printers there, too, in case she makes the switch to them.”

Fredelle looked a bit worried. “Do you suppose she’ll get the message?”

I couldn’t help grinning. “Oh, she’ll get it.”

“Wonderful.” Fredelle brightened at the thought.

“Be prepared for retaliation of some sort.”

“I will. And what about Barb and the point of the whole exercise?”

“First off, reconfigure the IT area so that Robbie and Barb aren’t visible on the path to the staff room or anywhere.”

Fredelle blinked. “Will her desk still be messy?”

“Most likely, but Dyan won’t have any business looking at it and therefore no legitimate reason to complain. It’s a stopgap solution, and it may even seem silly, but until I meet with Barb, it’s the best I can do.”

Fredelle’s round kind face fell. “What about the mouse droppings? The old food? Those are health issues.”

“I have a feeling they might have been added to the scene to give someone else ammunition.”

“Oh! So maybe this reconfiguration is all we need.” Relief replaced worry on Fredelle’s expressive features.

“Temporarily, for sure. It doesn’t simply target Barb. It tells people that you are doing something and their own tasks should be their focus. But you will have to decide how you’re going to deal with the desk if Barb doesn’t respond to my advice. You only have two choices: It’s okay or it’s not okay.” I thought about Jack’s desk and those of other creative people I knew. “Lots of creative people function better that way. Other people can really work much better when they develop new habits to create more order. There’s lots of debate about it. But as I keep saying, it’s not the desk that’s your big problem.”

Fredelle nodded slowly. “I don’t know how I let things get so out of hand. It used to be so easy in the old days.”

The door to the office burst open and crashed against the glass. I half-expected to find the entire window wall in shards on the floor. Robbie Van Zandt loomed in the door, his normally ashen face red and blotchy.

“Now you’ve done it,” he shrieked.

I dropped my notebook, and the design notes scattered on the floor. I’m not really used to men shrieking, I suppose. Although when you think about it, why should we women have all the best emotional outlets?

Robbie pounded on the desk. “I hope you’re happy now!”

Fredelle reached over and touched his arm gently. “Goodness, Robbie. What is the matter with you? You have to calm down. Please.”

He jerked away from her touch. “Calm down? Calm down? I’m not going to calm down. I’m mad as hell and I’m fed up. I’ve had it with this place. I’ve had it with these people and I’ve had it with you.” He shook his finger under her nose. As a terror tactic, the gesture didn’t do it for me. Sure, the crash of the door into the glass wall had been dramatic, but the finger pointing? Not so much.

Even so, Fredelle backed away and raised her hands in submission. “All right, okay. Please tell me what is wrong.”

His voice hit a new register, and the red flushed face turned almost purple. Robbie leaned farther forward and tapped his finger on Fredelle’s collarbone. “You know what’s wrong. You had it in for her. You want to get rid of her.”

I felt I had to intervene. I stepped between Fredelle and Robbie. “You’re mistaken there. Fredelle has nothing but respect for Barb Douglas. She is making sure that Barb is treated fairly.”

“Fairly? That’s a laugh.” He turned and banged on her desk. A pink china cat jumped. “Fredelle brought you in to put the nail in Barb’s coffin. To humiliate her in front of this crowd of . . .” He turned back toward the door and stopped.

Dyan stood watching us. She was in full bitch mode, a scarlet smirk playing around the corner of her enhanced lips. Playing against the stereotype, she held a watering can, now suspended over the peace lilies. Autumn had been passing behind her and now stood rooted to the rug, her hazel eyes wide and one hand to her mouth.

“You see. Look at them. It’s all for entertainment. And you—” This time he poked my collarbone with his index finger. “You made sure they got a great laugh out of the whole thing at her expense. She was the best thing to ever happen around this stinking hole and now you’ve got rid of her.”

I decided against telling him that the poking of fingers on collarbones technically constituted assault. Sometimes you have to pick your battles. I took a step back and found my voice. “What do you mean, ‘got rid of her’?”

“She’s not here at work, is she? We had a significant software installation planned for today. Well, no one can do it without her, so you’re all screwed.”

Fredelle said, “Robbie, I will go and speak to Barb. I must assure you she was not the target of any unkindness from me or from Charlotte. I like and respect her, although I am aware that not everyone does.” Fredelle and Robbie turned to glare at Dyan. I suppose I did, too. “But as office manager, I should have prevented this from happening. I will apologize to Barb.”

Autumn had rushed over from her desk to see this scene and now gazed openmouthed. One hand was over her heart now, and her mouth stood open. Dyan rolled her eyes and gave Autumn a nudge. “Apologize? To Miss Piggy? As if.”

I said, “You don’t owe anyone an apology, Fredelle, although I believe other people do. You were kind and considerate. This whole situation has been misinterpreted and stirred up by others. I will be happy to speak to Barb and explain what really happened.”

Robbie stared at both of us, his color still dangerously high. “What is the matter with you? Are you deaf?”

“Well, yes, a little bit, Robbie, you know that,” Fredelle said. “But—”

I sputtered, “I don’t think you should talk to—”

“She probably left town for good. And you know what, Fredelle Newhouse, you can apologize until the day they bury you, it won’t change what you’ve done here. And I will see that you pay for it.”

Autumn pressed herself against the exterior wall and Dyan deftly jumped aside as Robbie stormed out of the office. As he passed Dyan’s cubicle, he swatted at her tiger lilies and sent vase and flowers flying onto the floor.

Sometimes the phrase
watched openmouthed
doesn’t do justice to the reaction of onlookers.

Fredelle lowered herself onto the chair in her office and pulled out a tissue to dab at her eyes.

“Excuse me,” I said as I closed the office door in poor little Autumn’s stunned face. “Fredelle, are you all right?”

“Not really. But don’t mind Robbie. He’s upset. I thought he might have fallen in love with her. And he’s right,” she said. “This is all my fault. I mismanaged everything. I should have gotten rid of that tramp Dyan the first week she came in. We need to get Barb back here.”

“He had no right to speak to anyone like that, Fredelle, especially not you. He was way out of line.”

“I understand his feelings, though. Poor boy, he’s never had anyone. Such a shy, lonely boy. Vulnerable. And I could see that he was growing fond of her. It was one of the reasons I wanted to do something about this situation, before she got fed up with the sneers and digs and quit. And left poor Robbie behind, too.”

I stared at her.

“You’re right,” she said. “The absolute best thing would be if you went to see Barb and explain that we were just trying to improve the situation without embarrassing her. I don’t want to lose a good employee over this. I think that perhaps we mishandled things and drove her away.”

I said, “I’ll be happy to.”

“Once she meets you and sees what you’re like, I’m one hundred percent convinced that she’ll come around.” She added, “I don’t know what else to do. That system upgrade is being installed. I knew that. Why did I ask you to come here yesterday? Why didn’t I wait until things were less stressful? Why didn’t I speak to her about it? I feel like a total—”

“Okay, I will go and talk to Barb. I will explain and also say how distressed you are. And if I don’t succeed in persuading her to come back, then you can still try. Can I have her address, please?”

Fredelle just stared straight ahead, imagining Barb’s distress, I suppose.

“Fredelle?”

“Hmm?”

“Barb’s address, please. I think I should do this quickly.” I didn’t add,
before I lose my nerve
. This was the woman who had almost wiped out me and my car just a day earlier.

Fredelle opened the left-hand drawer in her desk and fished out a file. She opened it, checked the address, and wrote it out for me without appearing to pay any attention to what she was doing.