A Box Full of Trouble

by Carolyn Haines

  He felt under the keyboard to see if there was any paper that might have the password. Finding nothing, he stood up, eyeing things in her office, then yanked open the filing cabinet.

  Victor had his nose buried in a file labeled offshore oil drilling when the door banged open. He spun around just as Emmett yelled out, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Lifting the file out of the cabinet as easy and smooth as if he were not stealing something, Victor smiled sheepishly. “You startled me.”

  “I beg your pardon.” Emmett’s sarcastic tone was obvious. “But I repeat. What are you doing in here? You are not on law review.”

  Victor recognized Emmett as they were both third-year law students. He also knew that Emmett worked at the Draper law firm in the afternoons and that Layla thought he was an overly ambitious buffoon. But none of that solved the immediate problem.

  “Picking up something for Layla.” Victor held up the file as if to show it to Emmett. Everyone knew Layla and Victor were friends, so he hoped the lie would be believable.

  “Well, okay.” Emmett stepped up to Victor and eyed the file, squinting as if to read the label.

  Victor gave Emmett a quick grin and darted for the door.

  “Hey, why’s her PC on?” Emmett yelled after him. “Did you turn it on? And where’s your key? Show me your key.”

  Victor kept going.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Abby headed toward a study carrel in a corner, put down her laptop and her two bottles of green tea and pulled out the chair. It was going to be a long night.

  Layla punched in a number on her cell phone and sighed when she got voice mail. “Yo, Victor. It’s me. Abby and I are in the law school library basement and need your help. Come find us as soon as you can. Give me a call on your cell when you get here, and I’ll let you in the door.” Layla disconnected the call and glanced at Abby. “He’ll be here soon. He’s as reliable as Lassie.”

  The Layla-Victor relationship puzzled Abby, but lots of couples were on-again, off-again. She wondered if he flirted around like Layla did. Still, she had to accept it: Victor and Layla were an item, however dysfunctional their relationship might be. And Abby didn’t steal other women’s boyfriends.

  Layla plopped her backpack and laptop on a table near the carrel. She dug through a pocket and pulled out a stick of gum. Abby sighed as she watched Layla stuff the gum in her mouth. Smacking on the gum, Layla booted up the laptop. A second later, she sat down in a chair and hunched over it as if trying to cover up whatever she was typing.

  Abby frankly didn’t care if Layla was writing smutty emails to Victor or what, so long as she didn’t take long doing it and got to work soon.

  Ah, Victor. Abby couldn’t help but think about him yet again. Was he already on his way here to see Layla?

  Work, Abby told herself. Stop daydreaming about somebody else’s boyfriend.

  Abby opened her laptop, pulled up the incomplete trial brief and her notes, and reviewed them quickly. With any luck at all, she could whip through the first part and be ready to finish once Layla brought her the case law she needed. After rubbing her eyes, she opened her bottled tea and took a sip, looked at the calorie content, and made a vow to do two extra workouts tomorrow.

  At the carrel next to her, Layla kept typing like a maniac. Abby tried to pretend she wasn’t sneaking covert glances at Layla’s screen. With a sideways glance at Abby, Layla slammed the laptop shut and stood up. “Just law review stuff. Don’t worry, I’m all yours now.”

  Abby shoved a list of cases over toward Layla. “These are the main ones I need, really old stuff about dower rights and the rule against perpetuities.”

  “Okay. Keep an eye on my stuff, while I go dig them up.” Layla wandered off, chewing gum as she went.

  Half an hour or so into the typing, Abby needed to pee. She didn’t want to shout out for Layla to come guard their piles of stuff, yet she knew unprotected laptops were a frequent target of library thieves. She crossed her legs and tried to think about dower rights instead of all the coffee and tea she’d drunk that day.

  No, there was no getting around it. She needed to pee. She stood and looked down the nearest corridors between book cases and didn’t see a soul. Cocking her head like a curious cat, she listened. Nothing. Where were Victor and Emmett? Where was Layla anyway?

  If nobody was in the basement but them, nobody would steal their stuff, and she couldn’t wait. Knowing how fanatical Layla was over her laptop and backpack, Abby put them on the floor under the carrel and piled a stack of books and magazines from the library over them. Satisfied she’d hidden them well enough, Abby sprinted to the bathroom. Done, she hurried back, relieved to see the laptops were right where she left them. Ditto Layla’s precious backpack.

  Hoping for a boost, Abby reached for her tea, and took a long swallow. Odd, she didn’t remember it having such a bitter aftertaste. Bitter or not, she took another gulp, licked her lips against the astringent taste of the stuff, dug out her laptop, and started typing again.

  A moment later, she heard the steady padding of someone walking toward her and she looked up. Emmett approached, his face perky, yet determined. Suddenly she couldn’t stand the thought of Emmett chattering, buttering her up, and showing off. She wanted to get rid of him, and soon.

  “So glad Layla invited me to help.” Emmett’s voice practically chirped. “I am a skilled researcher and have an ardent interest in dower and the rule against perpetuities issues.” He grinned as if he’d made a joke. In a way, he had. Nobody had an “ardent” interest in dower and the rule against perpetuities.

  Once more, Abby wondered why in the world Layla had invited Emmett to join them. All Abby could think of was that Layla wanted Emmett to do the research so she could make up—and make out—with Victor.

  Emmett loomed over her, grinning. Abby wanted to shoo him away more than ever, but out of politeness, she struggled for a nice way of moving him along. “Layla said she’d invited you to help, but we’ve really got this under control. I’m sorry if you made the trip for nothing. Really. But thank you. I’ll be sure to tell Delphine how eager you are to help on this case.”

  “I doubt you’ll be getting much help from Layla. She’s up in the computer room, playing on Facebook.”

  Abby didn’t believe for a moment that Layla was on Facebook, but she didn’t want to argue with Emmett. “I’ll talk to you in the morning. Anything we don’t get done tonight, you can help with tomorrow. And, yes, I’ll be sure to tell Delphine you helped.” Abby renewed her determination to finish the brief tonight so she wouldn’t have to deal with Emmett in the morning.

  Emmett left and Abby went back to work. She kept listening for Layla or anyone else. Finally, Layla came back with her arms full of ancient-looking books. Abby was seriously yawning and moaned when she saw the stack Layla held. This stuff was boring. It was late. The library was quiet. A nap would have been nearly as blissful as a big bowl of ice cream.

  “Yo, wake up, Sleeping Beauty.” Layla dropped the books with a loud thwack on the table.

  “Quiet. It’s a library.”

  “And it’s pushing midnight and nobody is here except you and me and the Ghost of Christmas Past.” But Layla yawned too. “Where the hell are Victor and Emmett?”

  “Emmett came and I just couldn’t deal with him, so I sent him away. He’s such a toad.”

  Layla glared at Abby.

  “I’m tired, and you know what a pest he is.” Abby wasn’t sure why she had to defend herself to Layla, but Layla’s expression seemed to demand an explanation. “I just couldn’t stand the thought of him prattling about.”

  Layla hesitated a moment. “Oh, well, Victor’ll come soon enough.” She popped some gum, her face scrunched up like she was thinking hard. Then she shrugged. “I put bookmarks where the cases are in the books. Didn’t want to haul ass up the stairs to the copy machines.”

  Trying to fight her sleepiness, Abby opened one of the books. She had to grin.
>
  Layla had marked the right place in the thick book with a gum wrapper.

  “I’m going to try Victor again.” Layla stretched. “First some fresh gum.”

  Abby sighed as Layla pulled out her backpack from where Abby had covered it up, and dug around inside. She offered Abby a stick of mint gum. “Sugarfree.”

  “No, thanks.” Abby found gum somewhat disgusting.

  “Keep an eye on things, okay?” As she spoke, Layla piled some magazines back over her backpack as if to keep it hidden.

  “Yeah, I’ll be sure to keep your backpack safe from the Ghost of Christmas Past.”

  Abby laughed, more to try to wake herself up than because anything struck her as funny.

  She watched Layla walk off, blinked twice, and then caught Layla dropping her wad of gum into an umbrella stand by the elevator door.

  Oh, well, at least it wasn’t a potted plant. Abby started reading the first case. But slowly and completely against her will, her eyes began to shut.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Victor searched the main library for Layla. After satisfying himself she wasn’t there, he tried the law review access key to the library basement. The card worked like a charm and he cruised right down the stairs. He knew the scanner recorded the ID on the card, but since it would just show law review, no one would know he was in the basement after it was officially closed for the night.

  He spotted Abby right off, with her head down on her laptop, eyes closed, and making little kitten-like snores. No wonder she’d dozed off, he thought, looking at the pile of books and magazines beside the study carrel. She’d obviously been working hard that night.

  She was so cute that he just stood there, studying her. Her face rested on an opened book, its pages yellowed and contrasting with her creamy skin. He wanted to lean down and kiss her, but he knew better than to surprise her like that. Still, a slow smile crept onto his face. Just watching her sleep made him feel happy.

  He eased around to her other side to be sure her pile of books wasn’t going to trip her. As he did, the overhead light caught the shine in her hair, emphasizing its reddish color in a way that nearly hypnotized him.

  Finally, Victor shook himself out of the strange trance he’d fallen into while staring at Abby’s sleeping form. He wondered if he should wake her up. Then he wondered if Layla was with her, and he nosed around the carrel. He didn’t see Layla’s paisley laptop case or her backpack, just that large pile of books and magazines piled on the floor beside Abby, so he doubted Layla was in the library with Abby after all. Still he figured he’d better look around anyway.

  Leaving Abby, he searched high and low in the basement of the library, finding no one but the napping Abby. He camped outside the women’s bathroom for a bit, but drew the line at ducking inside to look. After a while, he was satisfied Layla was not in the bathroom or the basement.

  Easing back over to Abby, he found her still sleeping, her breathing deep and relaxed. Once more he debated waking her up, but she looked so peaceful. In the end, he’d decided the thing to do was just to stay near her, keeping a close and protective eye on her and her laptop. That way, he’d be there when she woke up.

  He settled into the nearest study carrel and started reading Estate and Gift Tax in a Nutshell. Immediately, he was bored. He stood up, stretched, and leaned over Abby’s carrel. She was still sleeping, and he decided once again to leave her be. But she had two bottles of green tea in the carrel. One was empty. He didn’t figure the little bit of caffeine in the other bottle would do him much good, but drinking it meant he could postpone reading more estate tax, if only for a moment. He didn’t think she’d mind if he drank it. He took the bottle and sipped, frowning at the bitter aftertaste. He walked around, finished the tea, put the bottle on his carrel so he could recycle it, and picked up the cursed estate tax book.

  He fought off the yawns and the sleep as long as he could, but something stronger than his own will power won. Inside an hour, he was fast asleep without ever turning his cell phone back on or checking his voice mail.

  * * *

  Abby’s landline rings, jarring me from a perfectly peaceful catnap on top of the couch. I lift my ears, waiting to see if the answer machine picks up a message. I glance at the clock, 1:05 at night, very late for a call. And shouldn’t Layla and Abby be home by now?

  Whoever the caller is, he or she doesn’t leave a voice mail.

  Despite a rising sense of worry for Layla and Abby, I pad quietly toward the kitchen, nosh a bit on the dried cat food Abby left for me, and contemplate whether further snooping serves any particular purpose. Just as I’m heading back toward Layla’s temporary room, I hear somebody at the back door that leads into the kitchen. It’s not like Abby to come in that door, so I’m immediately on alert. Keeping my head low, I run toward the sound. Pressed against the door, I hear the unmistakable sounds of scratching and prying—as if some beastly person is trying to break into Abby’s house.

  For the briefest second, I debate. Should I let the bugger get in and attack him or her? Or knock the phone off the hook and hit 9-1-1? But the burglar might be armed and my claws, ferocious as they are, are no match for a gun. And 9-1-1 would take too long—even if the radio operator understood a cat’s call for help.

  The tinkering sounds get louder.

  With my keen cat reasoning, I realize that whoever just called was probably checking to see if anyone was at home. So perhaps the safest way to protect Abby’s house is to convince the wanker trying to break in that someone is home after all.

  I hop up on the kitchen counter and butt the switch. Light floods the kitchen. For good measure, I run across the counter to the other side and butt the switch for the backyard flood lights. Then I push the curtains back and poke my nose against the window pane. All I can make out is the quickly disappearing figure of someone wearing a hoodie and heading toward a large, dark car. I can’t even tell if the figure is male or female.

  In the exercise of extreme cat caution, I decide to leave the flood lights on.

  In fact, maybe I’ll just turn all the lights in the house on as I pace, room to room, worrying quite seriously now about Abby and Layla.

  * * *

  Victor was still deep in the Land of Nod when a scream roused him. He shook himself awake, and immediately checked on Abby, who was struggling to wake up, but appeared to be fine. At any rate, it wasn’t Abby who had cried out.

  “Did you hear a scream?” Victor asked.

  “I…I don’t know. Something…but what are you doing here?”

  Someone screamed again. Victor spun around and raced toward the sound. Behind him, he heard Abby hurrying after him.

  He crashed into a mop bucket right before he saw a maintenance woman standing in the doorway of the women’s bathroom. She was shaking and crying, punching in numbers on a cell phone. Victor pushed past her just as Abby ran up.

  “Stay back.” He put out a hand to stop Abby. But she gave him a sharp look and tried to barrel past him. “Let me go first.” Instinctively he reached for where his weapon would have been if he had still been on patrol in the Navy.

  He shoved into the women’s bathroom, every one of his senses on alert. A large pool of blood spread over the floor and splatters dripped down tiled walls. On the lavatory counter, a note stained with red curled in a puddle of water. Above the note, someone had scrawled “ransom” on the mirror in what appeared to be blood.

  “Layla,” Abby cried out as she pushed in behind Victor. “Oh, God, no.”

  Victor handed her his cell phone. “Go back outside and call 9-1-1. Let me search the stalls.”

  Abby took the phone, a horrified look on her face. He pushed past her and flung open the first stall door. Nothing. Frantically, Victor looked in each stall, but neither Layla nor anyone else was anywhere to be seen. He hurried back to Abby, who was still pressed against the wall, though she fiddled with his phone.

  “Ransom? Someone kidnapped her?” Abby’s speech sounded thick. “I
can’t make the phone work.”

  Victor snatched his cell from Abby, only to realize it was still turned off. He turned it on, and punched in 9-1-1.

  “She’s diabetic,” Abby said. “She can’t go without her meds. She’ll die.”

  Victor tried to close his ears to Abby’s worried words as he reported a possible kidnapping with violence.

  After he agreed to stay on the line until police officers arrived, he stared up at Abby, who was shaken, but functioning. She rushed to the woman with the bucket and the cell phone and began to question her.

  Victor’s gaze shifted to the bathroom floor. All that blood was a bad sign. Layla might already be dead. He knew better than to touch the stained note on the lavatory, but he suspected it might be a ransom note given the word scribbled above it.

  Yet, with all that blood, he had to doubt Layla could have survived. The ransom note must just be a ruse to confuse the cops.

  He turned to Abby as she moved back next to him. A few tears pooled in her eyes. He had to struggle to keep his own emotions in check.

  Someone had murdered Layla.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Abby rested against Victor, grateful for the strength and comfort he offered. They were crowded together on the floor as the first law enforcement officer on the scene had ordered them not to touch any furniture. The law school’s associate dean stood nearby as if guarding them. Abby pressed against Victor and he threw his arm around her, pulling her closer. They hadn’t said more than a few words in the twenty minutes or so since the associate dean had assumed watch over them, except when Victor assured her things would be all right.

  But it wasn’t going to be all right. How could it be? Layla had disappeared, there was enough blood in that bathroom for a scene in the worst slasher movie, and some horrid, cruel, dangerous person had scrawled “ransom” in blood above a note left behind on the sink.