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MARK BRADEN
An attractive,
well-built man of forty-five with sandy hair and brown
eyes, Braden had been a security specialist in the air
force and he took his job at Bancroft’s every bit as
seriously as he had taken his responsibilities to maintain
national security. Meredith not only trusted and respected
him, she liked him and that was evident in her wry smile
as she said, “I saw Agnes Fiorenza in the waiting room.
She wants me to tell you that you’re keeping her from an
important luncheon.”
Braden held up his free
hand in a gestures of helpless disgust and let it fall. “My
instructions are to let you deal with the old bat.”
“What did she filch this
time?”
“A Lieber belt, a
Givenchy handbag, and these.” He held out a pair of huge,
gaudy blue crystal earrings from the costume jewelry
section that would have looked bizarre on the diminutive
elderly lady.
“I’ll make you a deal –
you ban Fiorenza from the store and I’ll let the other one
off, provided she’ll admit to the theft. Deal?”
“Deal,” Meredith said
emphatically.
Braden smiled slowly as
if deeply amused, then without replying, he picked up the
phone and pressed four buttons. “Dan,” he sad to one of
his security agents on the main floor, “Mrs. Fiorenza is
on her way down. Stop her and insist she give you the
Lieber belt she has in her purse. Right,” he said into the
phone, grinning at Meredith’s stricken expression, “the
same belt you caught her stealing earlier. She just stole
it from my desk.”
When he hung up,
Meredith shook off her stunned chagrin and glanced at her
watch, her mind turning to the meeting that was scheduled
for that afternoon. “I’ll see you in the staff meeting
later. Is your status report ready?”
“Yep. My department
looks good. Losses are down by an estimated eight percent
over last year.”
“That’s wonderful,” she
said, and she mean it.
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