Damages

After the, shall we say, explosive incident on the premises the other night, said premises were shut down for what seems to be an indeterminate period of time. We were briefed by the valorous #2, who informed us that the Queen Bee had skipped town to collect her thoughts and that we'd be suffering a month's continuance on the Big Case, as the Vampire's grieving cohorts get their departed colleague's house in order.

So, a little vacation. What's a senior associate to do? An impulsive jaunt down to Turks n' Caicos for some sun and perhaps a glimpse of Bruce Willis' latest underage consort? Maybe a quick joyride in the Beemer up I-95 to hand over my hard-earned salary to the Mashantucket Pequot tribe at their reparative Foxwoods compound? A yoga retreat? Methinks not.

Ever curious, I've been doing a bit of pro bono surveillance on our very own New Girl. I can't say I'm proud of my semi-stalkery tactics, but hey, if they're good enough for the United States Gov't., they're good enough for me. (Why cling to a right to privacy anyway, when the open arms of Big Brother are right there, wide open, waiting to envelop you in a smothering embrace?)

After surreptitiously monitoring her arrival and speedy departure the night of the Vampire's self-sacrifice, I wondered what other kind of shared secrets existed between the New Girl and her secret patron. I mean, after all, hadn't she been fired only days before? I know the Queen Bee's methods have always been comparable with black-ops espionage, but this liaison seemed even shadier than usual.

I spent the next day tracking the New Girl's movements. Leaving her charming upper west side apartment building in the afternoon, making various errandy stops, returning to the apartment and leaving once again in what seemed like a state of discomfiture. Walking quickly, agitated, emotional. I followed her downtown, to the Home Office, and waited outside. When she emerged, she was carrying a blue gym bag (I'm calling it a "gym bag," though it could easily quality as a small duffel.)

From there, it was back uptown…to the Queen Bee's digs. Again, I waited outside. An hour or so later, the New Girl reappeared, led by the Queen Bee, who handed her a set of keys and departed the scene in her sleek black Caddy, most likely en route to thought-collecting. A few minutes later the New Girl took a lap around the block with the house mutt, and then she was in for the evening.

Around midnight, the Queen Bee's bratty kid made a quick trip in and out with a backpack. After that, it was quiet for quite a while. I nodded off for a bit, but woke up in time to see the doorman (creepy) let in a dark-haired man, well-dressed (also creepy), in the early morning light. Fifteen minutes later, the New Girl comes running out, in that same green overcoat, covered in blood.

(And I also remember this: right before the New Girl ran out, another car pulled up with two men in it. One, tall with a mustache, got out and started toward the lobby door. That was when the New Girl made her sanguinary dash. The 'Stache beat a retreat to the car and it peeled away. A surfeit of sinister-looking visitors at the Queen Bee's pad.)

I thought of following the New Girl, but I stayed put. Watched as the creepy doorman made a call. Watched as ten minutes later a few workmen showed up and were escorted inside. Watched as they came back down a couple hours later with a rolled-up carpet.

What was inside?