Just The Pits (Hetta Coffey Series, Book 5) Read Online Free PDF Page B

flexed his fingers and growled, "My eyes and ears are perfectly fine, Hetta ." He was heavy on the H and T to let me know he had no problem pronouncing my name properly.
    "Oh. Well, then you were just being rude and self-important? Sorry."
    Now I had his full attention. He stood to his full five-six, topping me by a whole two inches. I had to remember to dig out my high-heeled boots. As soon as he stood, I sat. "Please, Osvaldo. Say, was your mother a Wizard of Oz fan? Can I call you Ozzie? Anyhow, go back to what you were doing. I'll sit here until, well, quitting time. When is that, by the way?" 
    "Three-thirty."
    "Oh, goody, I'm on overtime, which I normally don't charge for unless I am being subjected to really annoying people. So, what do you do around here?" As if I didn't know. The guy was head of Purchasing, already a bad thing in my book. My history with purchasing managers was less than sterling. I'd already snooped his resume in the company files: Chicano (US born of Mexican parents), raised in Bakersfield, Business degree from California State University there, then worked in procurement for an oil company in the San Joaquin Valley for ten years before landing this job. Probably by virtue of the fact that he was bilingual, because nothing I saw in his resume qualified him as a Purchasing Manager for a construction project as big as this one. Maybe he has connections?
    "I am the Purchasing Manager, as my office indicates."
    He meant the sign on the door, but I was on a roll. "Gee, in that case, I must be the Mop Manager. You pick that office out for me?"
    "It is all we have for the moment. Arrangements are being made. I did not know you existed until last week."
    "Some people would like it to stay that way. Well, it was nice having this little chat. Let me know if you need anything more." I rose to leave.
    "Miss Coffey, I have been told you will be working for me."
    "Actually, Ozzie, I will be working with you. I answer to Bert," I said, using the project manager's first name to further annoy the prick. "Tell you what I'll do. Tomorrow I'll send you a list of what I need, document-wise, and you can have your people send them to my people. Oh, wait, I don't have any people. Well, never mind. I'm sure I'll have a few questions, so I can ask…just who are your people, anyhow?"
    "Perhaps your requests should come through Bert ?"
    Yep, I'd definitely gotten under his skin. Good. "Sure, if you insist. Hasta mañana ." I waved and left.
     
    Safety sidled into my office, a smirk on his face. He whispered, "Nice work, Coffey. You’re already the office hero."
    "I aim to please."
    "While we all enjoyed that little show, I'd watch it if I were you. The little Spic could throw a monkey wrench into your works. Nothing overt, just passive aggressive bull. Like that trailer with your name on it might fall off a truck on the way here."
    Safety using the word Spic didn't set well with me, even though I'm hardly a poster child for the politically correct, but I let it slide; I needed all the new friends I could get. "Message received, loud and clear, but if he dumps my trailer, that's okay. This closet is growing on me. It's cozy. Uh, this was Pardo's office, wasn't it?"
    "You heard about that, huh? Damned shame. Funny little dude. Nice, quiet, and spoke English with hardly any accent. He had a cubicle next to me at first, but he actually requested this closet. Sure wish I knew what happened to him." He shrugged, then asked, "Want a ride back to your boat?"
    "Oh, yes. Anything to avoid Pedro Knievel. Uh, does everyone here know where I live?"
    "Yep."
    I didn’t like the sound of that. Judging by what I’d seen and heard on my first day on the job, Lucifer Land might live up to its moniker.

Chapter 5
     
    WHEN ONE'S SHIP COMES HOME (Nautical Term): The successful arrival of a cargo ship—achievement.
     
     
    Early Saturday morning twelve large miners and I crammed ourselves into the tiny seats of Aero Calafia's single-engine