Night Shift (Book 1, the Night Shift series)

Chapter Nine

An arc of red splatters peppered the pattern of blue W's on the elevator wall. Petey was pale, and unmoving.

"Nonononono," Daniel said, crouching down. He looked closely at the stump; red liquid trickled out of tiny plastic tubes.

"Dismemberment?" Mary moaned. "That's the third time this month. I'm getting so sick of your practical jokes."

"Practical joke?" Daniel repeated. He swallowed a few times, trying to coax his stomach back down.

Petey opened his eyes, realizing the joke was done. "I can't help it," he said. "Ruth Ann screams every time, it only encourages me." He pulled out the fake stump and pushed his real arm out the sleeve.

Mary reached through the gate and dislodged the rubber hand. "I can't believe Willard's actually sells these gross things," she said, hitting the four button.

"Are you kidding?" Petey said. "These sold out in just a week! A new shipment came in yesterday." Mary looked like she was about to give him a lecture. "Relax," he explained, "it's just the display model."

Daniel regarded Petey suspiciously, then said, "You seem to know a lot about the inventory of the Toy Department."

Mary jumped in before Petey could answer. "Wait until Oscar hears about this," she scolded him.

"Who exactly is Oscar?" Daniel asked, still not sure if he might be sick.

"He's our supervisor," Mary explained.

"And he's really strict," Petey whispered. "Plus, he can sniff out a lie just by looking at you."

Daniel pretended to cough into his fist, convinced his earlier Peeping Tom act was written all over his face. He caught Mary's eye. "He knows about your babysitting situation, I take it?" he asked.

"Who you callin' a baby?" Petey grumbled, clearly insulted.

The elevator came to a stop on the fourth floor. "Anyway," Mary reconciled, "I'm sure he's no worse than Mr. Oliver."

Daniel took little comfort in that information. From Jonathan and Ruth Ann's conversation and what Mary's telling him, Daniel figures Oscar is the head guy who runs the store at night. But if that was true, why hadn't Mr. Oliver mentioned him?

They left the splattered elevator and stepped into The Matinee Room. Mary went ahead with Petey into the kitchen, giving him cleaning instructions.

From the kitchen, a deep voice mingled with Mary's while dishes clinked in the background. Daniel pictured a more crotchety version of Mr. Oliver, growling around the counters and appliances.

The kitchen door swung open. A man stood in the doorway with a plate of steaming spaghetti and meatballs in one hand, and a basket of bread in the other. Tall and dark, with an athletic build and wearing a dress shirt and slacks, the smooth ebony skin and stylish demeanor was the exact opposite of Mr. Oliver. He reminded Daniel of a sophisticated detective on TV—the kind who got paired with a sloppy and crass partner.

Daniel swallowed dryly; Mary and Petey weren't kidding. Oscar's stare was enough to make him sweat. He's sure PERVERT was blazing across his forehead in neon letters.

"Why, you're just a kid," Oscar said in a deep steady voice, sounding more shocked than condescending. He only had time to slightly lift an eyebrow before he got pushed to the side. A woman wearing a red cocktail dress and black stilettos strutted out of the kitchen.

She stood in front of Daniel, sipping a pink martini; her wrist was wrapped in strands of pearls. "Look at you," she purred. Her blond hair fell in perfect waves over one shoulder. She walked around him like a lion circling the nervous circus trainer. Daniel imagined dark blue sweat stains spreading under his arms.