Joe nodded. "That's right. If I'm off in the swamp without my waders you tell me to get a map. If I'm on the money maybe you could suggest I remain dedicated to my plan?"
Cavender tapped a pen on his desktop as he considered Joe's proposition. He sipped his coffee, glanced at the calendar, then nodded. "Okay Mr. Enders, I don't suppose it'll do any harm to hear your narrative."
Joe slapped the desktop lightly and grinned. "I'm thinking that George was edgy the last week of his life. He checked on his business insurance policy, got some sorta lab results, consulted with his business lawyer and you."
Cavender nodded but gave nothing away.
"Something was sticking in the man's craw. Something was weighing heavy on his mind."
Joe slid George's calendar across the desk toward him and put it back in his pocket. "We know he was about to try a medical malpractice case that would likely end up with a multi-million dollar judgment. Could be he was a might nervous since his partner usually did the litigating. Then again, old George had been at this lawyering thing for a while. So even if he wasn't counting on being the star prosecutor, I expect he coulda handled it fine."
Cavender rocked back in his chair and settled in to listen to Joe as he cobbled the facts together to tell a compelling story.
"And bringing a new daughter into the family wasn't smooth sailing for nobody. I expect there was lots of confusion and a passel of resentment too. Poor George probably didn't know if he was coming or going. I'm sure he wanted to believe it was for real but being the pragmatic fellow he was, George thought he ought to make sure first."
He grinned and pointed at Cavender. "And that's where you come in, Mr. Cavender. George hired you to do a background check on Lily. To verify that her story was right and truthful. Naturally, paternity would be part of that and so that's where the lab tests come in. And since George was a man of considerable wealth, his lawyer was consulted about wills and such." Joe paused and held Cavender's gaze for a moment. "How's my road map looking so far?"
Quietly Cavender said, "I'd say your mapping skills are pretty good, Mr. Enders."
Joe's eyes slid around the small office. "I don't suppose I could get a peek at those lab results?"
"I don't suppose you could," Cavender agreed.
Joe took Cavender's response in stride and chuckled. "The only thing I ain't sure about is if George asked you to look into the partner or if he took that on himself." Joe paused for a reaction from Cavender but the man's expression never changed. "Or George might've wanted to keep that one close to his vest and take matters into his own hands when the time came. I expect, you probably had your hands full with the girl anyway."
"That's quite a story, Mr. Enders."
Joe nodded in agreement. "It sure is." He gave him the southern gentleman smile. "Have a mind to add anything to it?"
Cavender shook his head and smiled. "I'm afraid I'm not much of story teller."
Joe reached across the desk and shook Cavender's hand. "In that case, I thank you for your time." Joe got to his feet and told us with a look to do the same.
"My pleasure," Cavender said. "Best of luck in finding the right ending for your story."
He walked us to the door and sketched a final wave as we went out the door. When we were back in the Lincoln again, Zelda whooped. "That was awesome, Joe."
Joe looked at Zelda in the rear view mirror. "Why Miss Zelda, we've only just begun."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Joe drove us back to his office with instructions to go through the binder, start to finish. He was headed to the Hall of Records to dig up the death certificate and will. And he also had a pal in the Medical Examiner's office that might give him a peek at the autopsy report. "There's a list inside, waiting on you. So get to it."
Zelda pouted. "I thought we were going to talk suspects and bat theories around for a while."
Joe rolled his eyes. "We ain't nowhere near ready for that. Get to that list, and we'll get to other things in due time."
We stood on the sidewalk and watched the Lincoln roll down the hill and frowned. Then we turned and went up the walkway to Joe's office. "Lists? I feel like I'm at Harmony House on cleaning day."
I shrugged and opened the door. "He seems to know what he's doing."
Stepping inside, Eric greeted us with a grin. "I got something."
"What?"
"Come on." He led us into the back office. He dropped into his chair and tapped the keys of his keyboard. "I broke the password on the phone."
Zelda patted his back and her hand lingered longer than necessary. "That's great!"
We huddled behind him with our eyes on the monitor.
"Except the only thing on it is a video file."
I frowned. "He locked the phone to protect one video file. Of what?"
Eric nodded. "I know, weird, right?" He shrugged. "There are phone numbers too but the same ones from the calendar." He puckered his lips. "But the phone log is empty so we don't know when or how many times he called the numbers." He clicked his mouse. "Anyway, here's the vid."
The video showed George's office manager Peggy entering his office carrying a pink cardboard box. As she neared the camera, she went out of frame. When she stood up again the box was gone. Then she turned around, walked to the door and left. End of video.
Zelda frowned. "Why would he save this?"
"How did he film it without her knowing? I asked.
"Nanny cam," Eric said. "What I want to know is what's in the box?"
We ran the video frame by frame but that didn't reveal anything new. I remembered the photos I'd taken of George's office with my phone. I asked Eric to upload the pictures to his computer so we could get a better look.
Eric pointed to the monitor. "There. That clock is probably the cam."
I remembered the art deco clock on George's credenza. I'd assumed it was an antique like his desk. The spy shop near Sessions' office came to mind and I wondered if George had purchased his nanny cam there. If nothing else, this investigation was revealing a side to George I never knew existed.
"I'll bet there's a fridge in the credenza," Eric said. "That would explain what happened to the box."
I smacked my forehead. "It was pastries. That was a pastry box she was carrying."
Zelda patted the top of my head. "Excellent deduction Sherlock, now tell me why George had a nanny cam in his office."
Eric smirked. "Duh, security. He obviously didn't trust somebody. Maybe the cleaning crew was stealing his booze."
Zelda cringed and behind Eric’s back mouthed the word, ‘security’, at me. I shrugged.
I shook my head. "No, it's closer to home than that. His partner Jake would get my vote."
Zelda nodded. "Yeah Jake's a creep. But there aren't any videos of Jake, just one stupid video of Peggy putting goodies in the fridge. I'm sure George didn't put a nanny cam in his office to film that." She looked at Eric. "Don't nanny cams film non-stop? Shouldn't there be a bunch of videos?"
Eric smiled up at Zelda and spoke softly. "Nanny cams can do anything you want. It depends on how you set them up." Eric rolled his chair back from the desk and stood up. "You guys hungry? I think Joe's got doughnuts in the fridge."
Zelda's always hungry and she gladly followed Eric out to the kitchen. Together they rooted through the fridge and cabinets for a nosh, while Eric continued his explanation. "You can do all kinds of things with nanny cams."
"Like what?" Zelda asked.
The kitchen yielded no snacks so Eric pulled sodas out of the fridge for each of us. "If you're smart, you set them up on timers or motion detectors — otherwise you'd have hours of recordings of nothing. But the motion detector setting is the default approach — that way, the cam doesn't record unless there's someone moving around in the room. And usually there’s a manual over-ride if you want to film something deliberately."
We plunked down at the banquette and sipped our sodas. "That still doesn't explain why there was only one video," Zelda
said.
Eric hunched a shoulder. "He probably put the older files on another computer or an online server." Zelda's undivided attention seemed to animate Eric. "There are hundreds of sites where you can store your files online. Really, it's more secure to store it in
the cloud anyway. Harder for people to hack because their servers have a lot more security than an individual’s personal computer."
"Then this is the last video taken by the nanny cam?" I asked hoping that Zelda and I weren't on a random video out there in the cloud.
Eric shrugged. "Not necessarily. He might've kept that one on his phone for a reason. Or never got around to archiving it. Or he could've had it set up so the video went directly to this phone." He smiled at Zelda again. "We need to find the online account that has the other files. And let's hope they're stored online because if it's on his personal computer our chances are pretty much zero."
I slouched in my seat and rested my head on my arms. "Maybe the other video files are on the flash-drive."
"It's possible — but online storage makes the most sense." He twisted his lips. "Still haven't cracked the flash-drive yet."
"It wasn't the same password as the phone, huh?"
Eric reared back. "You never use the same password."
"Oh," I said and decided not to tell him that I used the same password for everything. I raised my head. "Wouldn't it be funny if all his passwords were on the flash-drive?"
Eric gaped at me. "That'd be insane. Like giving somebody the keys to his kingdom."
I smirked. "If they could crack the password on the flash-drive, right?" Zelda scowled and kicked me under the table. I held up my hands. "Sorry, I'm just saying..."
Eric looked at Zelda and said, "Technically, the files are encrypted and need a key to decrypt. A little more complicated than a password."
Eric and Zelda fell into an enchanted conversation about hacking, file encryption, and password cracking. I put my head down on my arms again and closed my eyes. I must've dozed off because when I opened my eyes a half-eaten, large pepperoni pizza sat on the table. I put a slice on a paper plate and picked at the cheese and pepperoni.
While Eric and Zelda chattered on about all things digital, the Peggy video ran in a continuous loop in my head. Then it hit me. "Shit!"
Eric and Zelda stopped talking and turned raised eyebrows to me.
"It was the brownies. That's what was in the box."
Realization came into Zelda's face. "You mean the brownies?"
I nodded. "We have to talk to Peggy and get back into that office."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
When I called the law firm, a recorded message informed me that the office was closed. A phone number was provided in the event of a legal emergency, but otherwise, contacting another legal professional was the recommended action. I ended the call. "The office is closed until further notice."
Zelda cranked her hand. "Then call her cell."
I rolled my eyes. "Peggy and I aren't personal friends — I don't have her cell number."
Zelda scanned the room. "Where's your bag? I bet you've got her card in that thing. God knows you've got everything else in there."
I shook my head. "Nope."
Eric cleared his throat and waved. "Ah hello, hacker here."
In under an hour, the best computer whiz in Los Angeles handed us Peggy's address and phone number. Gleefully ignoring Joe's list, we hopped in the jeep and drove through the pounding rain to Burbank.
Peggy's apartment was in one of those huge complexes that offers everything from saunas to state-of-the-art-gyms and charges top dollar for a 400-square-foot studio. I wondered how many charming little bungalows had been sacrificed to make way for the big grey stucco box that spanned a city block.
Zelda parked the jeep close to the entrance but we were drenched by the time we got to the door. Rather than buzzing Peggy's apartment, we buzzed the manager's unit. Since these places always have vacancies we were certain to get buzzed through. Without an inquiry, the door buzzed and we went through it shaking the rain out of our hair.
A middle-aged woman in sweats stepped out of the apartment next to the mailboxes and waved at us. "You looking for a rental?"
I shook my head. "Nope, we're here to see our friend upstairs." And we scooted into the elevator before the woman had a chance to question us further.
We rode the elevator up to the third floor and after a couple of wrong turns in the maze of hallways, found Peggy's apartment. I rang the bell.
Peggy came to the door but didn't open it. "Who's there?"
"It's Scotti and Zelda, Peggy."
Long pause. "What do you want?"
"It's about George." I cocked an ear but heard nothing.
Zelda whispered, "What's she waiting for?"
I shrugged.
Peggy opened the door but kept the security chain engaged. She looked harried and tired — and not happy to see us. "What about George?"
I couldn't get over the change in her demeanor. "You do remember me, don't you?"
She glared at me. "Yes, I remember you. What do you want?"
I didn't know what had happened to Peggy but it must've been bad for her to act that way. I lowered my voice. "It's kind of sensitive and you probably don't want to discuss it out here, in the hall." She just stared at me. "May we come in? Just for a few minutes?"
Just when I thought she'd slam the door in my face, she sighed, disengaged the security chain, and opened the door. "Five minutes."
Like Peggy, the apartment was a wreck, and I narrowly missed tripping over a banker box stuffed with office supplies. Peggy hovered near the cheerful yellow sofa with her arms crossed over her chest and a surly pout on her face.
I took a step closer. "Peggy, what's wrong?"
Her expression hardened. "You said you wanted to talk, so talk."
I held up my hands. "Okay, but I have to show you something. A video." I cued the video on George's phone and held it out to her.
She sighed, took the phone, and played the video. Her green eyes flared with anger.
"What is this?"
"That's what we want to know," Zelda said. "What's in the box?"
Peggy glared. "No, I mean what's going on here? They were spying on me too?" She dropped the phone on the sofa like it was poison. "And they sent you here to make me admit something?"
Zelda and I exchanged a 'what the hell?' look. "Nobody sent us here. Who would send us here?"
Peggy smirked. "Maggie Manston? Or was it Jake?"
I held out my arms. "I swear to you, nobody sent us. Peggy what happened?"
She scrutinized me. "You honestly don't know?"
I shook my head. "Don't know what?"
She sneered. "That I was fired?"
My mouth dropped open. "Fired? Why? Who fired you?" Out of instinct, I stepped closer to comfort her but she backed away like I was contagious. "What happened?"
"Maggie Manston. After which she changed the locks and instructed security not to let me in." Her anger dissolved into tears. "They won't even let me in to get my things. I have to wait for them to send them to me. Like that's ever going to happen."
"Maggie changed the locks?" The keys I had to George's office were now useless.
Zelda was a little slow in catching up. "Maggie fired you?"
Peggy sunk into the sofa and hugged a big blue pillow to her chest. "I worked for George for ten years — I've never worked for anyone else." Her voice cracked. "What am I supposed to do now? Who's going to hire me? George is dead and neither Jake nor Maggie is going to give me a letter of recommendation. I didn't do anything — but I'm screwed."
I perched on the arm of the sofa. "I don't understand — why were you fired?"
Peggy wiped her face with her sleeve and took a deep breath. "All of them — Maggie, George's family and Jake too, think the brownies killed George." She pointed to herself. "I'm the one who buys them for him. Bought them for him. Every Wednesday, I went to your diner to buy a dozen
of the special brownies that you made for George."
I nodded. "Yeah, I know. But I don't remember seeing you that day."
"That's what's so ironic. On that Wednesday I didn't buy them. But try telling them that."
"Why didn't you buy them that day? And if you didn't buy them, who did?" Zelda asked.
Peggy shrugged. "I don't know. That day was crazy — we were all scrambling to prepare for the Trumball case and I got behind. Usually, I picked up the brownies during my lunch break but there was too much to do so I bought a sandwich from the sandwich guy and kept working. At the end of the day, I realized I'd forgotten the brownies and knew George would flip if he didn't have them. So I went to my desk to grab my purse and there they were — sitting on my desk."
Coffee & Crime Page 17
