The Temporary Detective

Chapter Fifteen

Isobel couldn't bear the thought of undoing two hours' worth of filing, so she dumped the remaining contents of the box into the bottom of last year's drawer and kicked it shut. She wasn't even supposed to work for Paula anyway, and she didn't believe for a minute that Doreen had happily done anyone else's work but her own. Paula had a secretary, and when Conchita had used up both sleevesful of tissues, she could finish the damn filing.

Isobel surreptitiously plugged her flash drive into her computer, then transferred her résumé into a folder she had created and innocuously named "Background." Her printer was cheap and unreliable, so she had decided to take Nikki's advice and avail herself of the office equipment. She recalled Nikki's comment about InterBank Switzerland supporting the arts and smiled to herself as she sent ten copies of her résumé to print.

Nikki appeared a moment later. Isobel was about to call out a greeting, when she noticed the slump of Nikki's shoulders and her swollen, red eyes. Nikki sat down heavily at her desk with her coat still on. Isobel walked quietly past her to the printer and collected her résumés, but she couldn't ignore Nikki's obvious distress.

"You okay?" she asked.

Nikki nodded. "Acting class. I'll be fine in a minute."

Isobel sat down and began stapling the résumés to her headshots.

"Nice picture," Nikki said, glancing over.

"Thanks. Is your acting class always so traumatic?"

Nikki gave an insulted sniff. "It's not traumatic. It's exhilarating."

"Well, you look pretty miserable," Isobel said.

"I'm not. I feel cleansed."

"Oh."

"It's an emotional reality class," Nikki explained. "We do a different emotion each week. You bring up a past experience that triggers that emotion, and then you filter your monologue through it."

"What if your monologue doesn't have anything to do with that emotion?"

"Half the time it doesn't. But half the time your words don't reflect what's going on underneath emotionally. Life is subtext."

"Well, yes, I know, but it seems kind of manipulative to work it that way."

"What do you know about it?" Nikki snapped. "You said it yourself, singers can't act."

Isobel had only said that to the police to keep them from suspecting her. True, that was the stereotype, but she prided herself on her acting ability, particularly her comic timing. She gave Nikki a dirty look and turned back to her computer.

"I'm sorry," said Nikki a few moments later. "We did sadness today. I guess I didn't get rid of it all."

"I happen to be a very good actress," Isobel said stiffly.

"I'm sure you are."

"How often do you take this class?" Isobel asked.

"Once a week. I also do scene study on Thursday nights."

"What's the next emotion?"

"Joy."

"Well, that's a relief," said Isobel.

"Can I see your résumé?" Isobel handed it over. "Not bad," Nikki commented. "You don't list any acting teachers except your college ones. You should take class."

"Who's your teacher?"

"Terence Hoff."

"Thanks. I'll keep it in mind." Isobel retrieved her résumé and made a mental note to steer clear of Terence Hoff.