Murder in Death's Door County Read Online Free Page A

sheepishly. Michael
subconsciously pulled at his collar and studied his hands with far greater
interest than they deserved. I saw Susan trying to catch my eye; I avoided her,
knowing any kind of smirk or shared laugh would be fatal at this point.
    “What?” Tessa shook those pom-poms
all around. She strode over to me and yelled, “Annie, I can’t hear you!” She
shook them in my face.
    “Team,” I said, slightly louder. I felt my
face get as red as a tomato. I slunk down in my seat a little more.
    “I still can’t HEAR you, Annie! C’mon,
Annie. We’re all waiting. If you don’t yell ‘Team’, I’ll tell everyone about
your little presentation and its true purpose on Friday. Do you even know how
to do your job anyway?”
    My vision started going dim. Everyone’s
face grew blurry. The harder I tried to focus, the fuzzier everything got.
    In my fog, I heard someone say, as if
from a distance, “Forget it! I’m not going to say I’m on your stupid team.
TEAM! Who the hell wears a cheerleading outfit to work anyway? You are my age!
And pom-poms! Why? Why would you have pom-poms? You look like an
idiot! I can’t take it anymore! I can’t take your phoniness anymore, Tessa!” The
voice grew closer, “And I can’t take being in a job that I hate! It is too much
to ask of anyone! I would rather flip burgers than stay here one minute more! I
QUIT!”
    As the fog cleared, I realized I had
shouted all of this while standing on my chair. And a huge crowd had gathered
outside of the conference room. And everyone was clapping?
    “Annie, are you okay?” Michael gently
touched my arm. I looked down at him and blinked a few times. “You look really
pale.”
    I shook my head to clear it more. I
realized I’d never felt better. I jumped down from the chair and smiled at
everyone in the room.
    Tessa appeared to be shocked into
silence. Her mouth formed a perfect “O” and steam seemed to be coming from her
ears. She narrowed her eyes, and looked like she could spit nails.
    “I’m A-OK.” I strode to the doorway. “Tessa,
you treat everyone badly! Eventually, this will come back on you! Don’t be
surprised when it does! Ta-ta!” I waved to her and almost skipped down the
hallway. The applause of my co-workers, er, former co-workers, followed me down
the aisle to the door marked “Exit.”

Chapter
3
    I LEFT ALL
OF MY JUNK IN THE CUBICLE and
vowed to never to work in one of those mini-prisons again. For that
matter, I never wanted to step foot in that building. I knew that CritiCentric
wasn’t a bad company, it really wasn’t. And I did appreciate that they had
given me a job and an opportunity for advancement; however, I learned a lot
about myself while I was there. I learned that my temperament and personality
were not really suited for having a traditional, nine-to-five job. The more I
thought about it, the more I realized I had an advanced case of burn-out.
I liked to work and be useful; so, I wasn’t lazy. I identified strongly with
Peter from “Office Space” and just preferred to do a different kind of work.
    I had very high hopes for this
ghostwriting gig, because my Plan B consisted of flipping burgers. In the
meantime, I figured CritiCentric could keep my calendar, mug, and anything else
I had left behind, for posterity. The laptop and bag stayed with them anyway.
    Once I got home, I changed into sweats
and threw my unruly dark curls into a ponytail. To celebrate my little victory
(and to avoid dwelling on reality), I put on some U2 and danced around to “Sunday
Bloody Sunday.”
    For dinner, I ordered a cheese and
pepperoni pizza from Giovanni’s. Giovanni’s had the best pizza in town,
especially if you got extra sauce. I added an order of garlic bread for good
measure.
    I finished a couple of slices and a
third of the garlic bread hunk.
    I poured myself some diet soda and
called Marcos.
    “Hello?” answered a soft, female voice.
    “Hi, um, is Marcos available, please?” I
pushed down my