Murder.com

by Betty Sullivan La Pierre

  Cliff stared into space as he listened. “I knew that company smelled too sweet.” Then he turned toward Tom. “Your computer man gonna make it today?"

  “Supposed to be there now. I gave him clearance."

  “Let's get over there.” Cliff stood and straightened his wrinkled coat. “It's going to be interesting to see what's locked up inside that computer."

  The two detectives drove to the Nevers building and went straight to Bud's office. Cliff pulled a chair over to the front of the desk where William Bird, the computer expert, sat transfixed. His round-rimmed glasses were perched on the end of his nose as he stared at the monitor. The printer hummed, spitting out one sheet of paper after another.

  “Yes!” Bird uttered, smiling and glancing up at the two detectives. “Just got the last one opened.” Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes and pointed at the printer. “I'm printing them out as you suggested."

  “So, how'd it go?” Tom asked.

  “It's not hard to break open these files, but if someone uses a code or a series of steps to get in, it's tedious. This man had about five different steps, but once I got the hang of what he did, no problem. Just each one had different codes with some crazy little steps. He probably taught himself. I have to admit, though, he had a pretty good system. Not just anyone would be able to do it. But now that I've cracked them, I hope you're not going to leave this computer here with free access to anyone."

  “I'll impound it immediately,” Tom said.

  Meanwhile, Cliff strolled over to the printer and began putting the papers in order as they finished. He had quite a stack by the time the last sheet printed out. He clipped them together and glanced at Tom. “This will take some time. I think we'll need an auditor next."

  “Think we better alert the accountant?"

  “Wouldn't hurt. He might need a lawyer."

  Tom turned to William Bird. “Thank you for your work. You'll receive a check within the next couple of weeks. And anything that you might have read in these files is to be kept confidential."

  Bird smiled. “Don't worry, I don't read them, I only open them."

  The detective walked him out the door, then motioned for one of the officers to come to the office. “As soon as Detective Maxhimer is through, I want this computer and all its paraphernalia taken to the station immediately, and put under strict security."

  Once the printing had stopped, Cliff motioned for the officers to come and get the equipment. Tom had alerted the receptionist to call Ryan Conners, the company accountant, to meet them in the office. A few minutes later, a small man with thick horn-rimmed glasses appeared at the doorway. The glasses looked too heavy for the bony, thin face lined with serious frown wrinkles. The right corner of his mouth twitched as he stood waiting, his arms folded in front of him.

  Cliff finally stopped shoving papers into large envelopes and turned around. He looked at the man from under the brim of his hat. “You the accountant?"

  “Yes sir, I'm Ryan Conners."

  “Sit down, Mr. Conners. I'll be right with you."

  The man edged over to the chair and stared at the vacant desktop where the computer had once perched. He crossed his legs and tapped his fingers on the wooden surface while watching Cliff stack the envelopes into a pile.

  Tom came back into the building after seeing the equipment out to the police van. He spotted Conners in the office. Not wanting to take notes, he reached into his pocket and flipped on his voice-activated recorder before entering the room. The minute Tom stepped inside, he said. “Mr. Conners, I presume?"

  The man leaped to his feet. “Yes, sir."

  “I'm Detective Hoffman, and this is my partner Detective Maxhimer."

  Conners nodded toward both men.

  Cliff scooted into Bud's chair behind the desk while Tom stood at the side.

  “You may sit down, Mr. Conners,” Cliff began. “We've just had the files unlocked on Mr. Nevers’ computer. They appear to be the accounting books of this company. I know you've made a statement to the police already. Is there anything else you'd like to add?"

  “No, sir. I've already explained that I'd talked with Mr. Nevers about the computer crash the day before he died. My data got lost. And now my back-up disk has disappeared."

  “Sounds like quite a coincidence, doesn't it?” Cliff asked.

  Conners jumped up. “I resent that. I've been with this company for ten years. I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize my job."

  Cliff lifted a hand and motioned for the man to calm down. “No one's accusing you of anything."

  Beads of sweat formed on Conners’ forehead. “All I can tell you is that I've done nothing wrong."

  “Have you talked to Mr. Weber?"

  Conners stopped mopping his forehead with his handkerchief and looked at Cliff with a puzzled expression. “No. Why should I?"

  “Just wondered if you told him about the ABC Wafer Company?"

  The man's face paled and his Adam's apple worked up and down above his collar. “I don't know what you're talking about, sir."

  Cliff nodded. “Okay, Mr. Conners, you can go. But stay available if we need to talk later."

  Conners scurried from the room, still dabbing his face.

  Tom turned off the recorder and leaned against the desk. “I do believe that man is scared to death."

  “Wouldn't you be? Your boss murdered. A computer crash at a very convenient time. Your back-up disk disappears. Looks like someone is trying to point the finger at the little guy."

  Tom nodded. “Yeah, or the little guy is as guilty as sin.” He glanced at his watch. “The auditor should be at the station any minute now. We better get going."

  Cliff raised his brows as they walked to the car. “Well, you got a lot done today. You should rise before the sun every morning,” he chuckled. “So you can beat the traffic. It did you a world of good."

  Tom grinned at Cliff's dry wit.

  The two detectives had no sooner entered Tom's office when a sharp rap sounded on the facing of the door. They both turned. A tall grinning black man stood in the doorway.

  “Hello. I'm John Graves, auditor from Hames and Goode. I'm supposed to meet Detective Tom Hoffman."

  Tom stepped forward and extended his hand. “I'm Detective Hoffman. Nice meeting you. This is my sidekick, Detective Maxhimer.

  The three men gathered around the desk as Graves removed the ledgers from his valise. While he stacked them on the desk, Cliff placed the printouts from Bud's computer next to them. After explaining what they wanted and the comparisons that needed to be made, the detectives left. Several hours later, Cliff and Tom returned to the office. Cliff shoved a wisp of loose hair back under his golf hat and leaned against the desk. “Well, Graves. What can you tell so far?"

  John stood and stretched his tall lanky body, his hands almost touching the ceiling. “So far, I haven't found any discrepancies. You guys sure there's a problem?"

  Tom looked puzzled. “What about the ABC Wafer Company?"

  “Haven't found a mention of that company anywhere, but I'm not through yet. It might turn up."

  Tom rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Doesn't make sense. Crane claimed the company was listed and that he had pointed it out to Nevers. Why would he lie?"

  Cliff pulled the record book toward him. “Unless these are dummy books."

  Graves thumped the book with his finger. “That's been known to happen. However, all the disks my company has and the printouts you gave me coincide with this written record."

  Tom scratched his head. “How about Ken Weber's computer printouts? Do they also match?"

  “Yes. Everything matches so far."

  “Well, I'd cover my ass too,” Cliff growled. “Especially since Bud Nevers is dead and can't confirm what he'd been told.

  “I don't know what's going on,” Graves said. “But I can tell you the accountant takes the figures he gets and puts them down. He might not discover things aren't adding up until the end of the quarter, six mont
hs or even a year later. And even then, some companies send bills late, haven't paid them or get behind. This can really screw the accountant up. All he can do is watch a pattern take form. Then he might go in and warn the boss that something smells fishy. It might take him months to figure out the problem. Computers are making a lot of this much easier, but it's still difficult."

  Tom rocked from his heels to his toes several times while staring at the papers strewn across the desk. “How far did you get?"

  John bent over the book and checked the dates. “These records cover a five year period. I have two more years to bring it up to date."

  Cliff drummed his fingers on the desk. “We're going to leave you alone for a while longer. How much time do you need?"

  Graves checked his watch. “Shouldn't take more than three or four hours. I'll let you guys know if there are any problems when you check back with me. If it's going to take longer, I'll get back here first thing in the morning to finish up."

  Tom nodded. “Sounds good. We'll see you later."

  The two detectives closed the door behind them.

  * * *

  Chapter Thirteen

  Angie spent the rest of the afternoon trying to forget the encounter at Dr. Parker's office. She stopped at the beauty parlor, had her hair done and got a manicure. Afterwards she shopped for clothes that wouldn't remind her of Bud every time she dressed in the morning. The hours passed rapidly and she headed home around five pm.

  She was turning up the street leading to the gate when an older-model white Toyota Celica raced past her, kicking up dust from the side of the road. Angie jerked her head around in time to catch another glimpse before the car swerved around the corner. She pulled at her lower lip with her teeth. She'd have sworn that was the car Melinda drove away from Dr. Parker's office. Why would she be in this area?

  Angie glanced at the gate before pushing her remote control. It appeared tightly closed. Now, don't go getting all paranoid, she scolded herself. Continuing up the driveway, she parked in the garage and carried her bundles inside. Expecting to see Marty in the kitchen, she called her name, but received no answer. That's odd. She would normally be in here fixing dinner. Concerned over Marty's health, she decided to walk over, instead of calling her on the phone.

  When she reached the cottage, she knocked softly on the slightly opened door. Hearing muffled sobs, she shoved the door open. “Marty!” she gasped.

  Marty was curled in a fetal position on the floor, blood pouring from her nose. Angie raced to her and knelt by her side. “Dear God! What happened?"

  “I-I don't know, Mrs. Nevers. I must have blacked out from too much booze and hit my head. It hurts something awful."

  “Don't move.” She reached for the phone. “I'm calling an ambulance."

  But before she could dial, Marty raised herself up and waved a bloody hand. “No! No! Please don't call. I'll be fine, just banged my nose good. I'll be okay.” She staggered to her feet and headed for the bathroom.

  Angie hung up, but remained frozen to the spot. A small white envelope tucked partially under the telephone grabbed her attention. She immediately recognized the handwriting and picked it up. Turning slowly, she found Marty staring at her from the doorway of the bathroom, her eyes wide over the washcloth covering her nose.

  “Why do you have a letter here addressed to Bud?” Angie asked, holding up the envelope.

  Marty slumped against the doorframe, sobs shaking her body.

  By this time, Angie had slipped the folded sheet out of the envelope and read aloud. “If the payments stop, you'll be sorry. So you better contact me soon. Melinda."

  Angie felt that familiar spine-tingling sensation. Her hands trembled as she fumbled for a chair. She pushed back the stray hair that had fallen into her face, then slowly raised her eyes as pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “You're Melinda's mother, aren't you?"

  Marty nodded and choked out, “Yes."

  Angie rose and walked out of the cottage in a daze. When she reached the house, she stormed up the stairs to her bedroom and yanked all the pictures of Bud off the wall and hurled them into the wastebasket. “You son-of-a-bitch!” she cried. “Right under my nose you screwed our housekeeper. You knew I wanted a baby so bad. You bastard! No wonder you didn't want to adopt. You already had a beautiful daughter."

  She flung herself across the bed and wept. After her tears were spent, she retrieved the pictures from the trash and piled them on the dresser. “Didn't you know I'd have given anything for a baby?” she whispered. “I wouldn't have cared where it came from. And to think this child has your blood."

  Her eyes narrowed as she stared at their wedding picture. When did this affair with Marty start, and how long did it last? She reviewed the years, trying to remember any secret glances or smiles she might have observed between the two. But would she have noticed? She trusted them both implicitly, never dreaming anything would go on between them.

  Angie recalled how her parents had hired Marty's mom and dad years ago. The two girls had grown up together. Marty seemed the natural choice for a nanny for her and Bud's children. Of course, it never happened. But Marty worked hard and proved herself to be a good housekeeper and manager of the household affairs.

  Even as a child, Marty had been a natural beauty. Thin, smooth olive skin and a well-shaped figure. In her teens she'd been pretty wild, but once through those difficult years, she settled down. Her good looks still attracted men and she seldom went without a suitor. However, she had a problem with drinking. Even though it didn't seem to interfere with her duties, men shied away from her once they found out.

  Angie let out a long sigh, went into the bathroom, freshened her face and brushed her hair. She couldn't retreat into her room like a teenage girl. These things had to be faced head-on. Her biggest decision was whether to keep Marty in her employment. She paced the room. Making a snap judgment wouldn't be fair after their long friendship. She made the decision to talk it out with Marty. Lay all the pieces on the table; then she'd know best what to do.

  When she went downstairs it surprised her to find Marty puttering in the kitchen. This would be a good time to talk or the problem would fester like an ugly sore.

  Marty glanced at her, then cast her eyes downward. “I want to prepare your favorite dinner of fried chicken before I leave."

  Her nose had taken on a strange swollen appearance. Both eyes had dark circles beneath them. No doubt, by morning she'd have two big shiners.

  Angie sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen bar. “You've decided to leave?"

  “I know that you don't want me here anymore. I've saved up a little money, so I'll be fine until I can find another job."

  “I haven't decided anything yet. I want us to talk first."

  Marty stood at the sink with her back to Angie. “It happened a long time ago and I'm so ashamed. I've brooded all these years about the day you'd find out."

  “Were you and Bud lovers?"

  Marty jerked her head around, her blackened eyes wide as if in shock. “Oh, no, Mrs. Nevers, it just happened one night when you, Mr. Nevers and Mr. Weber were all in the study. Not long after you lost the baby and before Mr. Weber met Sandy. You were taking some strong drugs and couldn't drink, so you went to bed. You were barely coping then, the worst time of your depression."

  Angie dropped her head in her hands, remembering the many nights when she'd left Bud and their guests alone. She'd felt bad about it at the time, but it didn't stop her from leaving. “Go on."

  “This particular night, Mr. Nevers and Mr. Weber were celebrating a really big contract. They had the music loud and were tipping that champagne bottle like crazy. When you left, Mr. Weber came into the kitchen and danced me around the kitchen floor. He said, ‘Marty come in here and join us in this celebration.’ I told him no, but Mr. Nevers yelled, ‘Yeah, get in here and share this champagne with us.’ They were both already pretty tipsy and Mr. Weber flirted with me a lot."

  Marty stopped talking f
or a moment, floured the chicken and put it in the frying pan.

  Angie watched her wipe the tears away with the corner of her apron. “So what happened?"

  “Please remember this happened over twenty years ago. I thought myself quite a good looker. I knew men noticed me. But I realize now how stupid I behaved. I'm so ashamed when I look back and realize how I teased those men."

  Angie didn't want to know what Marty did to entice Bud into a sexual encounter, but she remained silent and let her continue her story.

  We danced and drank that champagne until after midnight. I remember how I kept telling them to turn down the music and lower their voices, afraid of waking you. But Mr. Nevers said you were out like a light. Finally, I decided I better get to the cottage before I fell on my face. Mr. Nevers insisted on walking me. The next thing I remembered..."

  Heavy sobs shook Marty's shoulders. She had the corner of the apron over her mouth. “I woke up before daylight,” she choked. “Mr. Nevers lay across the foot of my bed and I didn't have one speck of clothes on. I woke him up, pushed him out the door and told him to get home before the sun came up. Nine months later Melinda came into this world."

  Angie felt confused. “Why don't I remember you being pregnant?"

  “I hid it for months by just wearing smocks and aprons up until near the end. Then, if you'll remember, you were doing much better and I took off for two months. Telling you that my sick aunt needed me. Mr. Nevers wanted me to abort. I told him I couldn't do that, but I'd make sure you never knew."

  Angie stiffened. “Yes, now I vaguely remember you telling me there had been a family emergency and you had to go away for a while. I thought it strange that you never gave me any details, but figured it wasn't any of my business. But how did you hide a baby for all those years?"

  “Mr. Nevers took care of all the details. He rented a small home and hired a woman to take care of her. I only got to be with her on the weekends. Then when she turned six, she lived in a boarding school. Not much of a family life for a young girl. But that's the only way I could have her. I couldn't bring her out here. Mr. Nevers felt guilty about the whole situation and wanted me to stay on working here for your sake."