“Emerson Knight, here,” he said. “Could I talk with you for a few moments?”
Maxine was in her midthirties. Her hair was blond, pulled back at the nape of her neck, and secured with a simple gold clip. Her makeup was tasteful and perfectly applied but unable to hide the dark circles under her eyes. Her conservative designer suit was a snug fit, as if Maxine had recently gained weight. Stress, Riley thought. She’d seemed close to Günter when Riley was interning, and now that Günter was MIA she had to be worried.
Maxine looked past Emerson to Werner, who nodded his assent.
“Do you have any idea where Günter has gone?” Emerson asked Maxine.
“No,” she replied, shaking her head.
“Do you think he embezzled money and ran off with it?”
She shook her head again, more emphatically this time. “No. I know that’s what everyone is saying. But I can’t believe it. Not Günter. He’d just been given a new responsibility. He’d gotten everything he always wanted.”
“Everything?” Emerson asked.
“Well, everything within reason,” she said. “He’d just gotten back from a business trip to New York. He said it was going to make or break him. He was on the verge of something tremendous. He wouldn’t run out now.” She glanced over at Werner, and the line of her mouth tightened. “He is a good man.”
“Do you have any further questions for Ms. Trowbridge?” Werner asked Emerson.
“Not at the moment.”
Werner stepped away from Maxine’s office.
“I should tell you that Günter had not recently been given new responsibilities,” Werner said to Emerson. “And the New York trip was one of those long weekends he took. He wasn’t on company business.”
Emerson nodded. “Understood. I’m off to find Günter. I’ll report back when I’ve located him.”
“Wait,” Werner said. “Take Moonbeam with you.”
“Moonbeam?” Emerson asked.
“That’s what we call Miss Moon here,” Werner told him. “We all have nicknames.”
“What’s yours?”
“Everyone but me.”
“I’ll find a nickname for you,” Emerson said.
“Please don’t.”
“And why would I take Miss Moon with me?”
Werner shrugged. “You could use an assistant. Riley is good with people.”
“And I’m not?” Emerson asked.
“I didn’t say that. But now that you’ve said it, no, you’re not.”
“I can’t argue with that. Personal interaction has never been my forte.”
“Well, then, this is your girl. She can talk to anybody, can’t you, Riley?”
Riley had never before had a panic attack, but she thought she felt one coming on. Werner was giving her away. He was moving her out of the office. Had she just been fired?
“Trust me,” Werner said. “She could talk a dog off a meat truck. She’ll be a great girl Friday for you.”
“I’m not entirely comfortable with this,” Riley said.