[Critique Group 1] Leonard's comments on Martia's sub

[tuchyner5 at aol.com]

Great story.   @riting is excellent. Good build up of suspense. I wasn’t sure who Shelly is. There is a new suspect to the murder about to be committed. 



Also, someone has the keys toVeronica’s office. 



What else does he or she have thatshe or he shouldn’t?



What telephone call does Veronicahave to make as a result of the mysterious interloper 



who has his or her eye on  her. 



This gets better and better.




 


Chapter Thirteen



1099 words



Workplace Rivalry



 



Before I could close my office door,Michelle inserted the sharp toe of her shoe into the jamb.



           



“No-o-o  closed doors today,Veronica. Remember, this is an OOOpen house,” she said. To emphasize the “O,”Michelle blew a ring of cigarette smoke in my face. She then turned tointroduce another uninvited guest.



 



“Hope you don’t mind. I asked Mike,Millwood’s quality control manager, to join us for Claudia’s factory tour.”Michelle stepped aside and Mike Snyder stepped in. 



 



Chubby like a honey bear, Mike was agood old local boy, loyal and trustworthy like an Eagle Scout. Knowing that Iwouldn’t be rude in front of Mike, Michelle had invited him along forinsurance. For added protection, I saw she had also cornered Mr. Roberts,Millwood’s balding vice president of Manufacturing, to join us. My small officewas suddenly crowded with intruders.



 



“Nice to see you again, Claudia.Veronica can’t keep you all to herself,” Roberts chided. “You deserve the VIPtour. Mr. K and I are golf buddies, you know,” Roberts said as he grippedClaudia’s elbow. His Texas accent implied warm southern hospitality although wewere in the frigid Midwest.  He shepherded Claudia’s small entourage frommy office. 



 



Looking over her shoulder, Claudiastammered, “Veronica, my purse…”



 



“Don’t worry, I’ll lock my office.”My news would have to wait. “Seems you’re quite popular around here,” I said,reluctantly following the impromptu tour group. More curious onlookers packedinto the freight elevator with us. 



 



Emerging on the lower floor of thefactory, Snyder was forced to yell over the din of ear-splitting exhaust fans,piercing nail guns, powerful air compressors, and whirring sewing machines. 



 



“Sorry. It’s deafening at first, butwe want visitors to see the assembly process in action, not idle,” Snyderexplained. “Mind your step,” he cautioned. “Please stay within the indicatedwalkway.”



 



Claudia looked rapidly left andright. I flung out my arm just in time to stop her from stepping on Michelle’sheel. Striding with importance ahead of us, Hamilton had stopped abruptly topoint out the upholstery area. Massive bolts of intricate textiles andluxurious leather were arranged in tiers on A-frame racks reaching the ceiling.



 



“As Millwood’s Design Manager, I personally select all theupholstery,” Michelle boasted. “Designerscan select from a wide array of finishes and coverings so every order ismanufactured to their unique specifications. How about taking some photos for the paper, Claudia?”Michelle suggested.



 



A growing train of visitors scrambled topose with Michelle in front of the industrial size upholstery racks. I had to admit, Shelly sure knew how to work a room, evenone as big as a factory. Odds were, her photo would appear on the front page ofDoe Lake’s newspaper, maybe even be picked up by the Grand Rapids daily thatprinted The Messenger.



 



“This tour will take all day ifShelly stops to pose for the paper every stop along the way. It’s a big place,”Roberts said. “Let’s move on to the milling area.” 



 



“A big place is an understatement,”I whispered in Claudia’s ear. “There’s over 700,000 square feet ofmanufacturing space to tour.”



 



Conveyors buzzed overhead, movingchair parts from finishing to assembly to shipping. Hand trucks and forkliftscarted boxes and bins across the factory floor. Like an efficient colony ofants, factory workers hustled parts and pieces from the lumber mill to assemblyand joinery, sanding and finishing. Casters, hinges, drawer handles, andupholstery nails were piled on dollies and pallets. Masked employees grippedspray guns fed by Hoses attached to 55-gallon drums containing noxious glue andfinishes. 



 



Above the raucous machinery, Snyderhollered, “Workers are required to wear ear plugs, safety goggles, andrespiratory protection per OSHA regulations. We’re proud of Millwood’s lowrecord of workplace injuries.”



 



Roberts was compelled to embellishthe factory’s safety record. “Although it’s a hazardous work environment, we’venever had a work-related fatality.”



 



Claudia leaned into my ear and said,“The prospect of biting the dust while making furniture had never occurred tome.” 



 



“Knock on wood,” I said, tapping anunfinished desk top with my knuckles. 



 



“Speaking of biting the dust,”Roberts said, “that’s what the wood hog is for. Do you hear that constant droning,Claudia?”?”



 



“Above all this racket?” Claudiaasked. “I can’t even hear myself think.”



 



Roberts explained, “The wood hogconsumes about 95 percent of our scrap wood. A conveyorfeeds waste into the hog which pulverizes it into sawdust which fuels theplant’s boiler. It’s cost-saving and energy efficient”



 



“Waste not, want not,” I quipped.



 



“Folks, we’re nearing the end of ourtour.” Snyder nudged our group toward the shipping dock where an automaticstrapper wrapped blankets around each finished piece. A vacuum lift hoisted theweighty case goods into shipping cartons imprinted with the Millwood logo.



 



“Local dealers install the furniturefor the end user…. Any questions?” Roberts and Hamilton chatted with visitors,so I seized Claudia by the elbow and took a short cut back to the elevator.



 



“Hope you got some nice pictures,” Isaid. “Maybe Hamilton will look as priggish on the front page of The Messengeras she does in person.”



 



“That’s awful, Veronica,” Claudiagiggled in agreement. “I’ll pick the shot that shows off her most obviousassets.”



 



“Glad your sense of humor hasreturned, Claudia. Let’s go back to my office and I’ll tell you my news. Thatwill also make you smile.”



 



I unlocked my office and remindedClaudia to retrieve her purse.



 



Reaching for her purse under thetable, Claudia said, “Looks like someone left you a note.”



 



On the table, it’s corner pinnedunder my bottle of seltzer water, a message was written in black marker.



 



“I’M WATCHING you” was written incapital letters, like a 96 point headline.



 



“What is this?” Someone had enteredmy office after we went on the tour. But, I had locked the door, hadn’t I?Hadn’t I just unlocked it when we returned? The three words were ominous.



 



“This must be some kind of love note,”I told Claudia, laughing it off to one of my many admirers. Tell you what,Claudia,” I continued, feeling a bit unraveled by the message but not wantingto let on, “how about I give you a call later and we can talk more then. I justremembered an important call I have to make before 2:00.”



 



“Whatever works, Veronica? I reallyappreciate your lifting my spirits today. Hope everyone here will be happy withmy report, except for Hamilton, of course,” Claudia said on her way out.



 



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