by Aaron Pogue
The thought nagged at her, no matter how she fought to push it away. She blacked the window, slouched down in her seat, and pretended to sleep for the rest of the flight. Her mind was buzzing, though, more accusation than ideas. When they landed in Little Rock, she had no idea what she needed to do.
7. Police Work
She stopped in the concourse, Ghoster almost bumping into her, and when he looked down she pinned him with her eyes. "I have an appointment at the Aggregator's office at two. I was too distracted to ask last night, but what do you intend to do here?"
He shrugged. "I don't know, watch over your shoulder. This is the regular police work, right? The part where you pretend Hathor doesn't exist anymore and do the hardcore sleuthing? I thought it might be fun to watch."
"It's not," she said. "Detective work is slow and tedious until inspiration strikes."
"Right," he said, a sarcastic smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing at all like programming."
"I guess what I'm asking," she said, still irritated and letting it show, "is what kind of help can I expect from you?"
"I'll find Martin for you," he said. "Hundred percent money-back guarantee." He watched her eyes to make sure she caught that. She wasn't paying him a dime. When he continued, his voice was less playful, dry. "I want to see how this thing shakes out. And, killer or not, Martin was my buddy once. I plan to make sure you make a clean bust."
It wasn't a friendly sentiment, but Katie could accept it. Either he didn't know her, and he was just generally suspicious of cops—or he knew more than she thought, about her father's involvement with TAMS, and he was worried she would make it personal. Rick's reaction to his presence at the office certainly gave him reason enough to worry either way. She was a clean cop, though, and she was prepared to prove it. Anyway, Ghoster had already proven useful enough to make up for his personality.
"Keep close, then," she said. "And keep your eyes open. And if you see something that I miss, feel free to speak up. I don't have your technical grasp." He nodded, once, and she turned toward the exit. "Hathor, I need a car to take Ghoster and me to the Helen building, now." By the time she got to the curb, the car was waiting.
It was a chill, sunny day, and as the car wove through traffic her stomach rumbled in complaint. Breakfast seemed a long way off, but a glance at her watch told her there was no time for lunch. The car deposited them out front of the Aggregator, and zipped off while Katie stood staring up at its facade.
She didn't need any time to consider it. She knew this building. She knew the whole block, from hours spent running up and down it, trying to gauge the exact size of the blackout. But now, seeing it in real life, there was an unsettling dichotomy of familiarity and strangeness. She'd never bothered to pull up source video, so she was used to seeing the blank white planes of the building's face, not the polished granite surface, sparkling in the early afternoon sunlight.
The people passing on the street were new, too. She hadn't spent much time in an active replay outside the young woman's office building, and all of that had been late at night, so the streets had been nearly empty. Now, in the light of day, the deathly alley she knew from all her research transformed into a bustling thoroughfare, and the people were all so cheerful, so friendly—something she definitely wasn't used to on the streets of Brooklyn or DC. For years, all her time in HaRRE had been in places on her home turf, so she'd long since forgotten what it was like to visit a familiar place for the first time, in real life.
So she stood staring until Ghoster looked up from his handheld, then looked up at the facade himself, then finally asked, "What?"
"Nothing," she said, then shook her head to try to lose the sensation. The thought of retracing her virtual steps through those doors, and riding up the elevator almost overwhelmed her, for just a moment, but she fought that down, too. "Nothing. Let's go."
She didn't stop for the receptionist, but said in passing, "Katie Pratt, FBI, I'm here to meet with Penelope Hein in Administrative." The second elevator on her left dinged open as soon as she approached, and Ghoster followed her in. She felt foolish for it, but she was glad he was there with her.
As the doors shut, he glanced at her over his shoulder, then fixed his eyes on the door once more. "It's weird," he said, "I wouldn't expect Martin to get involved with a place like this."
"What do you mean?" She felt awkwardly conscious of the courtesy recorder in the top corner of the elevator, saving everything they had to say, but Ghoster wasn't so shy.
"It's a skin market. Matchmakers, psh. I haven't seen one yet that stayed legit, once they saw the profit potentials on short-term matches." He shook his head. "Martin wasn't ever into that sort of thing. And, forget that. 'Helen,' for Helen of Troy? I'd think that would upset him even more." He trailed off, thinking. "I guess Cupid, Aphrodite, Venus—Adonis, even—they're already used up, but they could have done something better."
"What are you saying about Martin?"
"Hmm?" He glanced back over his shoulder again, and shook his head with a serious look. "Oh, Martin wasn't into the commerce side of his software. He was religious about it. This stuff was supposed to change the world." He sighed. "Maybe that's why he flipped. Finally—finally!—decided to take advantage of his wealth, picked up a trophy wife, and then she ends up working for a Hathor whorehouse." He nodded in a definite sort of way. "That's your motive right there. Guy would've gone ballistic."
Katie said nothing, but her eyes drifted back up to the recorder in the corner. She just hoped his imprudent words went unheard long enough for her to finish her interview. If Ms. Hein was listening in now, the entire appointment could be spoiled. The thought had barely formed in her mind when the doors fell open on a familiar foyer, and Penelope Hein stood waiting with a welcoming smile.
"Hey, y'all," she said, leaning on the accent for the sake of the Yankees, unless Katie missed her guess. "I'm so glad ya could make it down here. Terrible, terrible what happened to Janey, but we've got to get it behind us."
Katie returned the smile, and shook the offered hand. "As you know," she said, "I'm with Ghost Targets. We're involved because there are technical issues surrounding Ms. Linson's death that prevent Jurisprudence providing a reliable suspect, and your police department asked for our assistance to resolve it."
Penelope nodded vigorously, without her smile wavering. "Exactly, exactly," she said. "No, yeah, I'd heard there was something like that. It's just terrible. Terrible. She was such a pretty girl. So young."
"Well," Katie said, stepping past Penelope into the room. "All I need is a few minutes of your time. If I could speak with some of your other staff, too—anyone up here who really knew Ms. Linson, or might have known what she was working on recently."
Penelope frowned. "Isn't that...usually... I mean, we have courtesy recorders everywhere up here."
Ghoster pushed forward at that. "Actually," he said, "could you show me the controls for the recorders' access point? Sorry," he reached past Katie to extend his hand, and pasted on a salesman's grin to match the woman's. "I'm Jeremy Gustaud. I'm a technician supporting Katie's investigation."
"Of course," Penelope said. "We have...umm...."
"Maybe I could talk with your database admin?" His grin never slipped, but Katie could feel his opinion of Penelope change. "I mean, I wouldn't want to take up your valuable time with any of this."
"Of course," she said, and looked relieved. "Marco, send Diane up here to help out the technician." She turned to Katie, Ghoster forgotten. "We can talk in my office."
Ms. Hein's office was a vast space that felt more like a living room than a business office. On the far wall a monitor played some soap opera, and Penelope muted it with a spoken command as soon as they entered the room. There was no desk, but a pair of loveseats and a pair of plush armchairs gathered around a coffee table, next to a simulated fireplace. Penelope sank into the nearest armchair and waved Katie to the place next to her on one of the loveseats.
"Please, make yourse
lf comfortable," Penelope said. "Can I get you something to drink? A snack? Anything?"
Katie feared her stomach would rumble as she said, "No, I'm fine, thank you." It stayed quiet. "Ms. Hein, unless my technician can learn something from your local access points, we're finding your Hathor archive unreliable. Can you think of anything going on with Ms. Linson in the days before her death that might be useful?"
Penelope bit her lower lip, staring downward in a pose clearly intended to show her deep consideration. Katie knew almost instantly she was going to get nothing informative from this one, but she waited politely. Finally the other woman shook her head. "No, dear. I'm sorry, but no. Janey has always been a good worker. She's quiet, and she keeps her nose clean. That's what was so terrible about it. No one could have wanted her dead."
"In what way, exactly, did she 'keep her nose clean'? Do you know of any financial or legal troubles?" She saw some hesitation in Penelope's eyes, and pressed on. "We're not looking to slander her name, Ms. Hein. If we're going to get her any kind of justice, I need you to tell me what you know."
"Well..." she rubbed her hands together nervously, and glanced toward a potted plant in the corner which almost certainly hid a courtesy recorder. Katie had spotted four others in the room, too.
"Please, Ms. Hein," she said. "We have no other angles on this."
"Fine." She took a deep breath and let it out. "It's just, Janey getting the job here might have been just a little...questionable. I mean," her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, "she was single. And she wasn't even all that pretty."
Katie didn't answer at first. Her mind went back to Ghoster's comments in the elevator, but the girl had been working in a secretarial capacity. Katie didn't know how her appearance was supposed to affect things. Finally she shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't understand—"
"Look," Penelope said, "far be it from me to speak ill of the dead, but that girl was the worst administrative officer I've ever met. She couldn't keep her mind on the job. Terribly slow learner. She was always asking questions. How hard is it to approve paperwork? God. Err...God rest her soul. Poor girl."
"Do you know if anyone else on the staff felt the same way?"
Penelope shrugged. "None of them had to work with her. It was just me and Dee—the Senior Administrative Officer at Headquarters. Janey was always bugging one of us, wanting us to hold her hand—"
"And how long had she been with the company?"
Penelope snorted. "Weeks. I've got girls on the sales floor who've been here years—who are getting on, if you know what I mean—and if I have any say one of them is getting the position. Ms. Linson walked in off the street...." She kept on, complaining, but all Katie really got out of it was that the suspicious hole in the victim's employment history seemed to be entirely accurate. Hathor didn't usually make placement errors, though.
She waited for the other woman to run out of steam, then said, "You said Ms. Linson was single? Is that right?" Penelope nodded, and that was another bit of Hathor data Katie had doubted. She frowned. She glanced toward the hidden recorder, and sighed. "Ms. Hein, I know you're trying to be polite, but I need your honesty here. What are your suspicions concerning the victim?"
"I think she's a hussy," Penelope said. She shook her head, "I don't know who she could have got to, but she must've got to someone, to land that job. I don't care if they hear it. She was awful, kept poking her nose where it didn't belong. We need someone with a level head to replace her, I don't care what Hathor says."
That last sent up red flags for Katie. She leaned forward. "What do you mean? What was she poking her nose in?"
Penelope huffed, still irritated at the deceased. Then when she realized Katie wanted a real answer, she looked flustered. "Oh, you know. Details. Things that didn't matter, I mean. It's not like she was ever going to be a system admin. Girl's a secretary, no matter what they call her. She didn't get that, though. She wanted to know how our program worked. She wanted to see the code. She kept asking us to give her access to all the tools our technicians use, when she should have been working on her job."
Katie sat back. After a moment she said, "Did she have any friends here?"
"Becca," Penelope said after a moment. "She was the only one, really. But they talked sometimes. Becca made it worse."
"Becca's a...."
"Sys admin," she said, and then nodded. "She probably put the idea in Janey's head. Of course Janey wanted to be like Becca. Becca's one of my best girls."
"Could I speak with her?"
Penelope spoke into her headset. "Marco, send Becca to my office." She smiled across at Katie. "You're lucky. If Janey had been any prettier, she could have made friends with one of the sales staff, and they're all out of the office this time of day."
Katie smiled, her lips tight. "Lucky break," she said. When Penelope remained in her seat, Katie said, "Maybe I could meet with Becca at her desk—"
"Nonsense," Penelope said, waving it away with a smile.
"Then perhaps you would be willing to leave us some privacy," Katie said, and dropped the smile.
Penelope blinked at her twice before she finally rose. "Oh," she said. "Well, yes, fine. I'll go see how your gentleman friend is getting along." She left the room, brushing past Becca in the doorway.
Becca came on in and threw a curious look at Katie. Katie rose and met her halfway, extending a hand. "Hi," she said. "I'm Katie Pratt, Special Agent with the FBI. I'm here about Ms. Linson's death."
"Oh," Becca said, and Katie could hear the numbness of grief in her voice. "Of course," she said. "What do you need?"
"Ms. Hein tells me you two were close." Becca shrugged, noncommittal, and Katie pressed on. "I'm sorry for your loss. I really am. I want to sort out just what happened, but we're having some trouble with the system."
"I know," Becca said. "I heard that guy talking to Diane. But I, uh..." she looked away, nervous. "I knew before. I've got a boyfriend in the PD. He asked me all kinds of questions."
Katie made a mental note to dig up that conversation, but didn't let it show in her eyes. "Ms. Hein gave me the impression Ms. Linson might have been snooping where she wasn't supposed to—"
Becca growled, cutting Katie off. "That..." she said, and then looked around, smart enough not to finish her sentence. "She hated Janeane. She always did. But, no, she's wrong. Janey wasn't involved in antyhing. That was just a hobby."
Katie frowned. "Your boss thought Ms. Linson might have had some thoughts of promotion."
"No," Becca said. "Nothing like that at all. Ugh." She sighed, then looked up to meet Katie's eyes, tears in her own. "Janeane never even wanted to work in Aggregators. But she grew up with it, so she was always a little curious."
"I understand," Katie said. She hesitated. "Ms. Hein told me Janeane was...single." Becca nodded, and Katie hesitated again. "I only ask because there has been some connection to a..." she pretended to check her handheld, trying to take the accusation out of the question, "Martin Door."
Becca laughed. "Martin Door? The system architect. You do know who that is, right?"
Katie fought down her irritation at the girl's tone. "I do," she said. "We suspect the name is an alias of a David Linson...."
"David?" Becca's mouth dropped open. "Martin Door is Uncle Dave?" She shook her head. "That's absurd."
"You know him?"
"Hmm?" She met Katie's eyes again, and frowned. "Oh, no. I knew Janeane in elementary school. I've known her forever. She...." Suddenly there were tears in her eyes again. "Her sixth birthday, her uncle Dave died." Her voice rose, dangerously close to breaking, at the recollection. "I remember everyone crying at the party, when they got the call. I remember her crying for a month. She wouldn't do anything. She loved him." She stopped and shook her head, tears flying from her eyes, then reached up daintily as she sniffled. "I'm sorry," she said, fighting to catch her breath. "I'm sorry. It's been—"
"I know," Katie said. She looked around and found a box of tissues on a book
shelf, and brought it to Becca. "I'm sorry, but I need to know what you know."
Becca dabbed at her eyes, then blew her nose noisily. When she looked back to Katie, her eyes were already swimming again. "I'm sorry. I don't know. That was fifteen years ago. I was five. I never met him, I just know how sad she was when he was gone." She took a deep breath, and a fierceness burned in her eyes. "He was a programmer." She chuckled, darkly, and shook her head. "No, I'm sorry, he wasn't Martin Door. You've got some bad information somewhere. But he was a programmer, and the way she talked about him was what made me want to become one in the first place. She never even considered it, though."
"Until she came here."
Becca teared up again, and Katie grabbed another tissue for her. Becca dabbed her eyes, then nodded. "She needed some money, and Hathor placed her here, and I kept telling her she could be sys admin if she just tried, but she wouldn't commit to it. She was... she was building up her courage to ask Penny for some training, I think, when...."
Katie nodded, and patted her reassuringly on the shoulder, but after that Becca was inconsolable. Katie finally left her to her grief, pulling the office door shut behind her as she stepped out onto the sales floor. Penelope Hein bustled up a moment later.
"Well?" she demanded. "What did you learn?"
"I can't say," Katie said. She looked past Penelope to Ghoster, just approaching, and asked him a question with her eyes. He shook his head, frustration clear on his face, and she nodded. "Ms. Hein, I think I have all I can get for now. Thank you for your cooperation, and keep a line open. We'll be in touch."
She turned toward the elevator, anxious to be out of there, but Penelope caught her elbow with a surprisingly strong grip. "Honey, sweetie, don't rush out of here." She smiled that sickly-sweet smile. "I looked you up, you know. I can find you someone perfect. It's not about confidences or numbers. It's about love. I can find you magic, dear."
