“Oh Marc,” a man’s voice called out. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Mr. Staley,” Marc said, “what are you doing here?”
Mr. Staley laughed. It sounded forced. “I could ask you the same thing. I own the company, so it stands to reason why I might be here.”
“Of course,” Marc said congenially. “I wanted to make sure the McLain project was ready to roll out on Monday, since it’s our last day before Christmas vacation.”
“Listen, while you’re here, I think we should talk about the promotion.”
I didn’t hear Marc’s response as he closed the door to his office. For a good ten seconds all I heard in the large front office space was the soft whir of a few electronics. I was about to peek my head around the cubicle wall and see what was happening when the voices elevated enough I heard Marc cry out.
A few minutes later the door to Marc’s office opened.
“Go home,” Mr. Staley said, “and get some rest. You’ll be back here in a few hours. Whatever you were working on will keep until tomorrow. Merry Christmas, Marc.”
Nan and I whirled back against the wall. There was no sound except for heavy footsteps and then the clank of the stairwell door as it opened. Mr. Staley must have been parked in the back lot. When the metal door slammed shut, I jumped in surprise.
Unfortunately, my right shoulder bumped up against the bottom of a plaque hanging on a cubicle wall. I couldn’t grab it in time and it clattered against an office chair.
My heart fell to my stomach. I snatched the picture and stared wide-eyed at Nan. Before she could say anything, Marc’s voice rang out in the now-silent space.
“Who’s out here?” Marc yelled. “You better show your face now!”
My lower lip trembled in fear. What would Marc do to us if he found us? More importantly, what would the police do to us? Detective Carlson would arrest me for sure in connection with Margaret’s murder. He’d somehow assume my being here was nefarious.
“It’s just me,” a shaky voice said from somewhere far away. It was Bernie the night security guard. “Just making my rounds. What are you doing here, Mr. Mallard?”
“Working,” Marc snarled. “Did you make that noise?”
“What noise?” Bernie asked. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“It sounded like something fell,” Marc said.
The security guard gave a short laugh. “I hear crazy stuff all the time. I know I shouldn’t admit it, but it does give me the willies walking these rooms. Hey, Mr. Mallard, if you want to ride the elevator back down to the lobby with me, I have some sugar cookies the missus sent me that I wouldn’t mind sharing.”
Marc didn’t say anything for a few tense seconds. If he said no and continued his search, Nan and I were doomed.
“Sure thing, Bernie,” Mark said. “I’m finished here anyway.”
Chapter Eight
The minute the elevator doors swooshed closed, Nan and I flew through the stairwell door and hauled butt down the stairs. I slipped on the last three steps but recovered before I could go all the way down. I soared out the metal door behind Nan and into the dark, cold night. I bent over at the waist to catch my breath.
“What do you suppose Marc was told that made him so angry?” Nan asked.
I looked up from my hunched over position. “I think Marc didn’t get the promotion. They must be giving it to Linda.”
“I think you’re right. Wonder if he’ll be mad enough to kill her next?”
I gasped. “Do you really think so?”
Nan smiled, snatched her binoculars up from next to the trash bin, and started for the Bronco. “No. I think Marc will do whatever he can to cover his tracks on murdering Margaret. And that’s where we need to focus our attention, too.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. I intend to ask Blake tonight how easy it would be to send out fake emails. When I spoke to Tanya, she said she was fired because Mr. Staley was informed she’d emailed a rival company and accepted a job with them. He even had the email as proof. Only Tanya claims that never happened. She never sent an email. So who did? And how easy is it to forge that kind of stuff?”
Nan opened the Bronco and hopped up inside. “Just don’t go scaring this guy off. I think he’s totally interested in you.”
I scoffed, closed the Bronco’s door, and pulled on my seatbelt. “And what if he’s an accomplice? Do you want me to snuggle up to him then, too?”
Nan laughed. “You really are a strange girl.”
The ride back to the condo only took ten minutes. By the time Nan and I changed into our dresses, primped in front of the mirror a little more, and Nan got her combat jewelry on, it was almost nine o’clock.
O’Malley’s Pub and Grill was busy for a Sunday night. But I guess with Christmas only a few days away, this was a place to escape and relax. I saw Blake immediately when Nan and I entered the darkened pub. He was leaning against the bar laughing with a handsome, older man.
I looked at Nan and raised my eyebrows. “His granddad is cute!”
Nan ran her eyes up and down the man…then shrugged. “Let’s go see what these men have to offer amazing women like us.”
I bit back a grin. Nan had a way of making me feel like I was ten feet tall and bulletproof sometimes.
Blake lifted his glass in greeting when he saw us saunter his way. He gave me a quick wink before he turned to his granddad. “Grandpa, this fiery woman here is Melanie Adkins. Mel to her friends. She served as a nurse during the Vietnam War. I figured you two would have a lot to talk about since you both served. And this lovely lady here is her granddaughter, Amanda. Amanda worked as a temp for Staley & Thomas, but what she really wants to do is open her own bakery. Ladies, this is my grandpa, Colonel Milton Wellington.”
“My friends call me Milt.”
Milt Wellington was the spitting image of Blake…just a few decades older. He was tall, broad shouldered, and trim. But instead of flowing dark locks like his grandson’s, Milt’s salt and peppered hair was cut short. He had the same chiseled jawline and intense brown eyes…the only difference was Colonel Wellington had a few wrinkles and laugh lines.
“Well, Milt,” Nan said matter-of-factly, “what are you buying me to drink?”
Milt threw back his head and laughed. “What would you like?”
Nan looked down at his drink. “I’ll have what you’re having.”
Milt lifted one eyebrow and called to the bartender. “One vodka rocks and one…” Milt turned to me. “What can I get you, Amanda?”
I blushed and quickly scanned the special’s board. I hated ordering drinks because I never knew what to order. “I’ll take the candy cane martini.”
Nan snorted but Milt just called out my order to the bartender. We all made small talk for a few minutes until our drinks arrived.
“Grandpa,” Blake said as he handed me my drink, “ask Mel here about her jewelry. That should keep you two entertained for a while.”
“Is that so?” Milt asked.
That was all the prompting Nan needed. As she started to demonstrate what her gadgets could do, I turned to Blake and took a sip of my martini. The combination of vodka and peppermint Schnapps was a good choice.
“So,” I said as casually as I could, “I have a question about emails.”
Blake ran a hand through his shoulder-length brown hair. “Like what?”
I took another sip for courage. “How easy would it be to send a false email?”
Blake frowned and gave me a strange look. “What does that even mean?”
I set my drink down on the bar. “I mean, say someone has accused me of sending an email that I didn’t send. How hard would it be to track where the email originated from?”
Blake shrugged. “Not that hard.”
I fingered the crushed candy canes around my martini and lifted the hard candy to my mouth. Blake’s eyes followed my finger. I tried not to blush.
“That ain’t nothin’,” I heard Nan say. “Look a
t this.”
I turned and saw Nan had the shoulder of her dress pulled down. “Shrapnel.”
Milt laughed. “I got one better.” He pulled up his shirt to expose his rock-hard stomach. “Bullet. Nearly bled to death.”
“Nice,” Nan said.
Laughing, I turned back to Blake and grinned. I couldn’t help it. I wanted with all my heart for this man not to be involved with the murder. I liked him and his grandpa. It would be heartbreaking to find out otherwise.
“Looks like those two are hitting it off,” Blake said.
“Looks that way.”
“Why did you want to know about the email?” Blake asked.
I shrugged. “I gave the email I received supposedly from Margaret to Detective Carlson, and so I just wondered.”
Liar, liar!
I wanted to tell him about Tanya Clover and her accusation about the email sent that got her fired…but for some reason I was hesitant. I honestly didn’t want Blake to be involved.
Chapter Nine
Sam Clarkson, the day-time security guard, was on duty the next afternoon when I hurried inside the building. “Amanda Adkins. What are you doing here? I thought your temp job finished Friday?”
“It did,” I assured him. “But I’m sure you heard about what happened at the Christmas party?”
Sam clucked his tongue. “I sure did. A terrible thing!”
I nodded. “It sure was. But in the confusion, I left behind my dishes I brought to the party. I hoped I could go up and get them.”
Sam hesitated for only a second. “Sure. I don’t see why not.”
He waved me through, and I hurried toward the elevator, trying not to feel guilty for lying. I hadn’t left anything…I was headed to see Blake.
I scurried past the elevators and pushed through a metal door a few feet from the elevator. I’d never been in the IT department during my employment. There were four people milling around. I spotted Blake and Cooper over by the far corner.
“I’m glad I caught you,” I said breathlessly.
Blake blinked in surprise. “Amanda? What’re you doing here?”
I glanced hesitantly at Cooper before turning my attention back to Blake. “Can you look into something for me?”
“What do you need?” Blake asked.
“Last night when I asked you the question about the email, I didn’t tell you everything. I really need two favors from you today. Could you look to see where Margaret’s email to me originated from, and then I hoped you could hack into Tanya Clover’s work email and see about her emails.”
Blake’s brow furrowed. “Tanya Clover? Why?”
“I went by her house yesterday, and something she said bothered me. She claimed someone falsified an email to Mr. Staley. I thought maybe you could see where it originated from. I’m pretty sure if you could prove Tanya was set up, she wouldn’t mind you went into her work email.”
Blake frowned. “I’d love to help you, Amanda, but I’m really swamped right now. I have two more big-ticket items to take care of before I leave today for Christmas vacation.” Blake glanced at his watch. “And I have less than two hours to finish them. If I did that for you right now, I wouldn’t get my work finished. Could I work on that for you over the holidays?”
“I can look for you,” Cooper offered. “I only have one more work order I need to do.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Cooper. That would be a big help.”
“No problem. I’ll call you in a little while when I have your answers,” Cooper said. “It may be after we close. Is that okay?”
“That’s great,” I said. “No rush.”
Blake frowned at me. “Are you sure you should be snooping around?”
“Yes,” I said.
Blake gave me a crooked smile. “Good enough.”
I waved goodbye and hurried back out to the lobby. I was thinking up an excuse to give Sam as to why I didn’t have a dish in my hand when I ran smack dab into Detective Carlson.
“What’s your hurry?” Detective Carlson asked.
“No hurry. Just making sure I didn’t leave a dish behind at the party.”
“Is that so?” Detective Carlson asked. “Well, I’m here to wrap up a couple things. Hopefully I’ll have an arrest by tonight.”
I swallowed hard. “Good to hear.”
His eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t leave town if I were you.”
Insulted, I pushed by him and hurried out of the building. Okay, maybe I wasn’t so much insulted as I was scared. I needed to find Margaret’s killer, and I needed to find him or her fast.
I drove like mad back to the condo and hurried inside. Nan was at the stove putting on a pot of tea.
“Nan, I ran into Detective Carlson at the office this afternoon, and he said he would arrest someone by tonight. Then he told me not to leave town. I’m really worried.”
Nan turned off the stove and calmly measured out two teaspoons of my favorite loose tea and dumped it in the basket of the teapot. She then poured the boiling water over the loose leaves and snapped the lid shut on the teapot.
“Go get a pen and paper,” Nan finally said. “While the tea is steeping, we’ll narrow down our list of suspects.”
I gathered up the items she asked for and dumped them on the table. The timer went off and Nan poured a steaming cup of Orange Spiced Chai tea into both our cups and carried them over to the table.
“Make a list of possible suspects,” Nan directed. “Make sure you leave no one out. Next to their name put the motive behind the killing.”
I did what she said, periodically stopping to blow on my tea. By the time I finished my list, I had a lot of question marks on information I either didn’t have or couldn’t figure out.
Nan set a plate of coffee cake down on the table in front of me then held out her hand. “Let me see.”
I gave her the sheet of paper then picked up my tea and sipped. I closed my eyes and savored the sharp blend of the spices. While Nan continued to peruse the paper, I picked up a slice of coffee cake and nibbled.
Just when I didn’t think I could sit still any longer, Nan set the paper down and took a sip of her tea. “Let’s go through it out loud. You have Marc Mallard’s motive as he wanted the job that Margaret was given. Because he knew ahead of time Margaret had gotten the job and that you were making a special cake for Margaret, he was actually the one who sent you the email regarding specifics for the cake. When the announcement was made, he slipped into the breakroom and dumped the poison on her cake.”
“Yes. And I pretty much wrote down the same thing for Linda Sellars.”
“I see that,” Nan said. “Instead of Marc doing the emailing and dumping of poison, it’s Linda.”
“Yes. Both had knowledge beforehand who would get the job. Both could have seen the sign-up sheet in the lounge that said I was baking Margaret a diet cake, and either one could have sent me the specific email about the type of design I was to bring.”
“But wouldn’t you have noticed if either of them had sent it and not Margaret? And if you didn’t, I’m sure the police would have seen who the sender was.”
“Not if the sender knew how to manipulate the email. At least, I think that’s how it works. I’m not really sure.”
“You have your name on here next to Tanya Clover,” Nan said. “Why?”
“Detective Carlson thinks I’m in cahoots with Tanya Clover. I know she threatened to get Margaret back because Tanya thought Margaret was responsible for Tanya getting fired and the vice-president job coming open. Someone at the Christmas party fed Detective Carlson that rumor. Someone wanted to throw suspicion on Tanya and on me.”
Nan let out a whistle. “Then you have down Blake Wellington and Cooper Stiles.”
I nodded. “One of them has to be involved. I can’t imagine Linda or Marc possessing the kind of IT knowledge needed to pull this sort of crime off alone. I think one of them sent the false email to Mr. Staley about Tanya cavorting with another agenc
y and for ultimately getting Tanya fired. It has to be an IT person. They are the only ones I can think of who could be that knowledgeable to tamper and not get caught.”
“But Blake?” Nan asked. “I don’t know.”
I rolled my eyes. “Only because you think he and his grandpa are both hot.”
Nan chuckled. “There’s that.”
We both sobered at the thought that Blake might somehow be involved with the death of Margaret. But what I couldn’t figure out was what Blake or Cooper gained in helping to kill Margaret?
I knew I was missing an important piece of the puzzle, I just couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.
The doorbell rang, and I jerked in surprise. “Are we expecting anyone?”
“Not that I know of,” Nan said.
Please, please, please don’t let it be Detective Carlson coming for me!
I opened the door and was surprised to find Cooper Stiles on the doorstep.
“Cooper,” I said as I motioned him inside. “What’s going on? Why’re you here?”
Cooper shook his head and slid his thick glasses farther up his nose. “I did some digging on the questions you had about the emails. I’m afraid what I found isn’t good. Can I come in?”
I felt my stomach drop. It was Blake! He was somehow involved with Margaret’s murder.
I led Cooper to the couch and we both sat down. Nan leaned against the doorframe between the kitchen and the living room. I gave her a pointed look when she zipped her pendant back and forth on her chain.
“What do you mean it isn’t good?” I asked.
“I think Blake may have sent the emails you were asking about. Emails both to Mr. Staley about Tanya and then again to you about the cake,” Cooper said. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. I’ve gone over this a dozen times, but I keep coming up with the same results.”
I covered my mouth with my hand. Compelling myself to take a deep breath, I nodded my head and lowered my hand. “I remember the night we met at the party, Blake told me he set up my email account because you were gone that day.”
Candy Canes & Corpses Page 28
