Since discovering that he was the man in the Santa suit from the picture she’d been rethinking her whole theory about Rose and Santa. Yes, Rose looked like a woman in love in that picture. And yes, Rose had put it in her pretty frame. The picture was even on her Facebook page, although it’s placement stressed Rose more than Rose and Santa. For some reason, though, here at work she had put it behind the picture of her and her grandmother. If she didn’t want the picture anymore she could have just thrown it away or crammed it into a drawer. The fact that it was still in the frame, though, seemed significant.
Like Rose wasn’t ready to let the picture and its importance to her go.
Or like she was hiding it.
Cindy dug the piece of paper with the computer password out of the drawer since she hadn’t memorized it yet.
2KC1222!
Leo had told her they changed passwords every so often for security. Until the next time to change she really should memorize this one.
2KC... 2 Kenneth Cartwrights would be 222 much! she thought.
No, that didn’t take into account the 1 in front of the 222.
2 Kenneth Cartwright who played Santa on December 22 bam!
She froze. What date had the Christmas party been on? Had it been on the 22nd?
She’d been assuming that the password was randomly generated, but what if it wasn’t? What if the password held some significance to Rose?
Leo sat down suddenly at his desk, startling her. She’d been so focused she hadn’t heard him coming. She turned and looked at him.
“When was the last Christmas party?” she blurted out.
“What?” he asked.
“The date, do you remember? It’s for...something,” she finished lamely.
“Well, I left to visit family on the 23rd and it was the night before. So, it must have been the 22nd,” he said.
“Thank you!”
She stared down at the piece of paper. 1222 could be a reference to the date of the party.
You’re crazy, you’re totally stretching, she told herself.
She turned back to Leo. “Um, Leo, are the computer passwords generated randomly for us when it’s time to change them?” she asked.
“No, you’ll be prompted to choose a new password. When that happens you might want to write it down because after a while they all kind of mesh together in your head and it can be a real problem.”
“Thank you,” she said, feeling her excitement level rising. She looked again at the password. Rose had chosen this. Most people didn’t choose random letters and numbers unless they were real security nuts. This had to have meaning to her.
There were other things KC could be besides Kenneth Cartwright. A sudden memory stirred. The first time she’d logged into the computer there had been an auto-recovered document that looked personal. She had saved it and the file name had been KC.
She turned to her keyboard and quickly logged into the computer. She looked in the document folder, searching for the file, but couldn’t find anything titled KC. She next did a search of the whole computer. Finally, it pulled up a document with that title.
She held her breath as she began to skim the document. It was a love letter, of sorts, although there was something off about it, not a break-up note per se, but more like Rose trying to prove to the recipient that they belonged together. It was addressed only to KC. She kept reading, hoping to find a clue that would help her solve this whole mystery. Then, suddenly, her heart leapt into her throat. It was there, in black and white, the motive.
Before she could stop herself Cindy blurted out, “He killed her.”
21
“What did you say?” Leo asked, startled.
“Um, sorry, nothing. Just this mystery...this story... I’ve been trying to...um...I’ve been reading,” Cindy said, struggling to recover.
“Okay,” Leo said, sounding less than convinced.
Cindy carefully reread the letter. In it Rose wrote very vividly about how she had succumbed to her love for the letter’s recipient. She entreated him to ignore all the others who wanted his affection. Most importantly, though, she revealed that she was pregnant with his child. She ended the letter with the hope that they could be a family.
Cindy printed out two copies of the letter. The first she folded and put in her purse just in case something happened to the computer file. Then she closed the document.
She sat there for a moment, thinking. So far all she had was circumstantial evidence, and not a lot of it at that. She needed something more, proof of foul play, at the very least. She grabbed her cell and headed for the women’s room.
Once there she made sure that she was alone and then called Mark.
“Cindy, is everything okay?” he asked once he picked up.
“I think a woman at my work was murdered a few days ago. Have there been any dead bodies that have turned up since Friday afternoon?”
“Wait, what?” he asked. “Slow down and tell me what’s happening.”
“I don’t have a lot of time. I’m hiding out in the bathroom so I can call you.”
“Are you in trouble? I can be there in ten minutes.”
“No, just can you check for me, please?”
“Okay, does this woman have a name?”
“Rose Meyer. She was in her twenties, dark hair. She was pregnant although I don’t think she was showing yet.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Text me.”
“Will do.”
Cindy hung up and hurried back to her desk, heart pounding. She should have thought to ask Mark sooner. She knew from the trial that she’d been a juror on that if you didn’t have a body you needed to have a lot of solid evidence to even begin to try someone for murder.
She hoped she was wrong. She hoped that Mark would be able to somehow find Rose alive and well and just royally pissed off at her old employer.
Her stomach was twisting in knots as she waited for confirmation one way or the other. Her mind was just churning away, wondering how she could get a confession out of the man.
Mr. Cartwright was getting married on Saturday to the boss’s daughter. He couldn’t afford to have Rose and her child interfere with that.
He should have thought about that back in December, Cindy thought in disgust.
Mr. Cartwright still hadn’t come in yet even though he’d lectured her about being ready early in the morning. Every time she heard someone walking or Leo moved in his chair she nearly jumped out of her skin.
She tried to focus on organizing the documents on the computer which seemed to be in as much disarray as the papers in her desk had been. She kept glancing nervously at the clock.
Finally her phone chimed. She grabbed for it, nearly dropping it in her haste. It was a text from Mark.
No female bodies.
She slumped in her chair. She was wrong. She had been so sure that something had happened to Rose.
Suddenly there was a chime as another message popped up.
A Missing Persons Report was filed by roommate for Rose Meyer on Tuesday.
“I knew it!” she whispered, clutching her phone so tightly her hand started to shake.
Call me.
Cindy stood up and hurried to the restroom. There was someone already in there and Cindy spent what seemed forever staring in the mirror and pretending to fuss with her hair while she waited for the other woman to leave. As soon as she had she dialed Mark.
“Finally!” he exploded. “What have you gotten yourself into?”
She hastily filled him in.
“I agree that’s suspicious, but without a body or a confession, we don’t have a ton we can go on at this point,” he said.
“So, what, we wait for the body to show up?”
“We can do some aggressive follow up on the Missing Persons report, but without something more concrete, we’re just going to have to wait.”
“Mark, s
ome poor girl is marrying this creep in two days. We have to stop him before that.”
For all she knew the bride could be just as big a monster as the groom, but still, she deserved to know what she was walking into.
“Cindy, you’re not thinking of doing something reckless are you?” Mark asked, voice laced with suspicion.
“When do I ever do anything reckless?” she asked.
“Flying off to Israel last summer comes to mind,” he said sarcastically.
“Look, that was different.”
“Why are you so upset? Why are you caring so much about this?” he asked.
Cindy paused, trying to come up with an answer, not just for him but also for herself.
“Secretary’s Day is next week,” she blurted out.
“Excuse me? What does that have to do with anything?” Mark asked, sounding genuinely bewildered.
“Most of the time secretaries get ignored or taken for granted despite how much they do. We are not the executives or the ones in charge. Sometimes people think that because of that we are replaceable. Interchangeable. Look at the stupid temp agency I’m working for. A secretary gets sick or fired and the company calls them and has them send a temporary one over. Like we can just step instantly into each other’s shoes and know everything about the new company, the new role and responsibilities. Well, it doesn’t work that way,” Cindy said. She knew she was starting to rant, but she didn’t care. “I earned my job at the church every single day I was there. And some new pastor comes in and thinks he knows better than me what I need, what the church needs?”
“Um, Cindy-”
“It’s despicable. He wouldn’t last a day in my shoes. Not one day. And then I end up here. And I’m sitting in this woman’s chair, and I’m going through her things, her very personal things. And I’m just supposed to box up her life like she doesn’t matter, like she never existed, and carry on like nothing happened. Well, I’m not expendable and neither was she! And if I don’t push to bring her killer to justice, who will? The roommate? The guy here who was pining over her and too shy to say something? No. It always falls on the secretaries to clean up everyone else’s mess, even if they don’t get credit for it!”
She stopped, panting, near tears.
“Cindy, are you okay?” Mark asked softly.
“No, I’m not,” she said. “I hate it here.”
“Then I think you need to quit.”
“I can’t. Not until I’ve done something for poor Rose.”
“You’ve alerted the police. You’ve done all you can.”
She gripped the edge of the sink. “Actually, no I haven’t. I think I can get that son of a...I think I can get him to confess.”
“Cindy, what are you thinking?” Mark asked, panic in his voice now.
“I’m thinking Mr. Cartwright has met his match,” she hissed before hanging up.
Cindy stormed out of the bathroom and headed for Mr. Cartwright’s office. She didn’t know what she intended to do, but she felt compelled to do something.
The door was closed but she twisted the handle and walked in. He wasn’t there. Still.
Disgusted she was about to walk out when she realized that fate had smiled on her. She closed the door behind her and moved over to his desk. Maybe she could find something she could use, something that connected him to Rose.
She should have been terrified of getting caught, but she was too angry to be afraid. She sat down at his desk and began yanking out drawers.
Careful! Don’t give away that you were here! a voice inside her head cautioned her.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to slow down. She went quickly but carefully, making sure she left everything as she found it. She kept going, sure that she was going to find something that would make all the difference.
Then, in the last drawer, she found what she was looking for. Underneath a bunch of books there was an envelope. It was addressed to KC. On the other side there was a red lipstick print where the sender had literally sealed it with a kiss. She grabbed a tissue off the holder on the desk and used it to carefully slide the letter inside out just a little ways without actually touching it.
She recognized Rose’s handwriting. She replaced the letter then carefully put the envelope back where she’d found it. She wadded up the tissue and was about to throw it in the trash when she realized the trash was empty and he might notice the tissue and be suspicious that someone had been in his office. She shoved it in her pocket instead then rose on legs that were starting to shake and raced toward the door.
She heard the elevator chime to announce its arrival just as her hand grasped the knob. She twisted and jumped out the door, nearly slamming it behind her. A moment later she could see Mr. Cartwright step off the elevator and head her way. He glared when he saw her.
“What do you want?”
She could see the clock on the wall behind him.
“I was just coming to tell you that I was going to lunch unless you needed me right now.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Fine. But be ready to work when you get back.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, struggling to put a smile on her face. “I’ll see you in an hour.”
She walked toward her desk. She could hear him muttering something under his breath but she couldn’t quite make it out. She grabbed her purse and headed for the elevator. The clock was ticking, and she had lipstick to buy.
~
Mark was worried about Cindy. It wasn’t like her to go so crazy. He was just hoping she wasn’t about to do something rash. He was about to call Jeremiah and give him a heads up when his phone rang. It was Taylor.
“Hello?”
“Detective! I’m so glad I caught you. I finally found a motel on sixth street that I think the suspect is staying at.”
“What?” Mark asked, struggling to catch up.
“Mason Dunwoody.”
“Oh!” Mark said, guilt flooding him as he realized that since Taylor was working from home the man hadn’t realized that Mason had been found. Mark had never called him off the search. He was just about to apologize when Taylor continued, his tone very excited.
“There’s no Mason Dunwoody staying anywhere in the area. However, I found this motel where a Mason Grant is staying. I checked and Grant is Mason’s middle name. So, I faxed a picture to the guy at the front desk who checked him in and he confirmed that it was the same guy!”
Mark took a deep breath. “Great work, Taylor! I can’t thank you enough. I’m heading there right now.”
“Thanks, detective,” Taylor said, pride evident in his voice. “It took like twenty hours but I found him.”
“You sure did,” Mark said. “Now, take the next two weeks off like I told you to do.”
“Will do. And detective?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for believing in me.”
“You’re welcome,” Mark said before hanging up.
Now he just had to make sure that Taylor didn’t find out that his identification of Mason’s hotel room happened after the standoff at Rebecca’s shop. He probably should have told him the truth, but the other man had been so excited he was hoping that the win would help convince him to stay on the force.
“I hope I didn’t do the wrong thing,” he muttered out loud.
~
Cindy returned to work an hour later with all the pieces of her plan worked out in her mind. She’d done everything she needed to do before returning to her desk. Once there she took the copy of the letter she’d printed, put it in a fresh envelope, and addressed it to KC. Then she applied the lipstick she’d bought at the pharmacy and carefully kissed the envelope, trying to mimic the position of the lip imprint on the envelope in Mr. Cartwright’s desk. That done she cut through the tape sealing the box and put the envelope into the box, placing it near the top.
Finished, she grabbed a pen and a notepad and headed toward his office with a fake smile plaste
red in place. Once there she knocked on the door and heard him tell her to come in. She did, leaving the door slightly ajar again.
He was on the phone and he waved her to a seat. A moment later he hung up.
“I’ve got a list of things I need you to do next week while I’m gone,” he said.
“I heard you were getting married this weekend, congratulations,” she said.
“Thanks,” he said absently.
Not the enthusiastic response she would have expected from a man about to get married.
“So, you’ll be away next week on your honeymoon.”
“Yup. I won’t be in tomorrow either. Rehearsals and all that nonsense.”
“Understood.”
“Okay, ready, here’s what I need you to follow up on while I’m gone.”
She began to take notes. Most of it was very mundane. Forward certain types of mail to certain people, trash others. Send out a follow-up memo about the time clock that had been broken. He was having all his calls forwarded to her. He specified which types of calls to direct to other people.
She had the hardest time forcing herself to write as he droned on. Mostly because she knew that the company was going to have to get someone to take over his position permanently. And because she was equally certain that she wasn’t going to be there come the morning.
Still, she played her role and kept dutifully writing everything down. With every pen stroke she reminded herself to be patient. Finally he was finished.
“Okay. I’ll check back with you before I leave tonight to make sure there aren’t any last minute additions,” she said.
“That will be fine,” he said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.
She walked out, carrying her head high.
Just a few more hours, she reminded herself.
As soon as she sat down at her desk she found it impossible to focus. She willed the clock to speed ahead to the end of her work day so that they could get this all over with. She forced herself to continue going through the computer, cleaning up files. She kept an eye out for any others that looked like they might be personal, but didn’t find any.
Comfort Me Page 17
