A Local Habitation
Page 51
“That isn’t important,” I said, cursing inwardly. Why had she picked now to start paying attention? I felt like hell, but that didn’t mean I wanted it pointed out. “How do you know the killer won’t come to you? And if you’re ‘totally safe,’ how do you know Elliot isn’t in trouble?”
“I . . .” She paused, looking at me sharply. “Are you trying to scare me?”
“Yeah, I am. If you get killed, your uncle will have my skin for a throw rug.”
“You’re probably right. It’s just weird to think anyone would want to hurt me.”
“You realize that if this is politically motivated, you’re in more danger than anyone else here?” I held up the drawer from Barbara’s desk. “I have information. Can I come in?”
Jan eyed the drawer. “What is that?”
“Evidence that Barbara was screwing you.” I brushed past her into the office. She closed the door, following me to her desk, where I put the drawer down atop a pile of papers. “That’s not the most important thing. I know why you can’t reach your uncle.”
“What?” Her eyes went wide. “What do you mean?”
“It’s the phones.” I outlined my conclusions, including the fact that calls placed from outside the knowe, or to phone numbers ALH hadn’t installed, worked just fine. I left out my discussion with Tybalt. It didn’t seem like something she’d need to know.
At first, Jan just stared. Then her eyes narrowed, expression going cold. “It really was one of us,” she said, in a soft, dangerous voice. I’d heard that tone from her uncle. It generally meant it was time to look for cover.
“I think so,” I said, and handed her the envelope I’d found in Barbara’s desk, with the seal of Dreamer’s Glass turned upward. “It looks like Barbara had a second job.”
She stared. “She was working for Riordan?”
“She was taking bribes. I don’t know any more than that—not yet, anyway. I will. There was a secret compartment in her desk. I also found her checkbook; if the dates are accurate, she’s been receiving payments from them for at least a year.”
“Barbara was a spy?” She hoisted herself onto the edge of the desk and crossed her legs, reaching for her laptop. “If Elliot ever calls me paranoid again, I’m going to spank him.” Flipping the screen open, she started to type.
“Uh, Jan?” I tucked my hair back behind one ear, bemused. “What are you doing?”
“Here at ALH, we pride ourselves on respecting the privacy of our employees’ personal lives,” she said, briskly. Then her tone changed, becoming more cynical as she added, “But if we have reason to believe they’ve been spying for the skank next door, I get to crack their computers like eggs and play with the gooey goodness inside.”
“Huh?”
“It’s called ‘hacking.’ Well, it would be if I didn’t own her computer. But I do, so it’s called ‘taking an interest in network security.’ ” Jan continued to type, fingers moving in sharp, vicious jabs.
“The computer was off,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as lost as I felt.
Jan looked up, and actually grinned. At least one of us was enjoying this. “That might matter if we were, y’know, in the mortal world. But getting electricity in the Summerlands is hard enough that it never works quite right, so we have to deal with kludges. Generators instead of ground power, lights on timers . . . computers that don’t realize they’re supposed to forbid network access when they’re turned off.” The laptop made a sharp pinging sound. “We’re in.”
“In what?”
“Barbara’s computer. I have full access.”
Now we were getting somewhere. “Can you do some sort of search for things that might have to do with Dreamer’s Glass?”
She looked at me, amused. “I can make this computer dance the polka if I want it to.” Her typing picked up speed, only to stop when the laptop pinged again. “And . . . whoa.”
“Whoa? What whoa?” I craned my neck to see the screen. “What did you find?”
“Only everything,” she said, mouth compressing into a thin, hard line. She tilted the laptop so that I could see the screen; it was covered by a list of file names so long that it scrolled off the bottom. “This is what I get when I search for files with the words ‘Dreamer’s Glass,’ ‘report’ and ‘confidential.’ ” She tapped the screen with the tip of one finger, and the first title lit up for a moment before a word processing program took over the screen, opening the file. “She was a busy little girl.”
“Yes,” I said. “It looks like she was.”
The file Jan had opened was a financial overview of the company, the County, and their performance over the last few years. It was annotated, showing where Barbara had interfered with the County to the advantage of Dreamer’s Glass. I glanced to Jan.
“We couldn’t figure out where the money was going,” she said. “Another two years and she’d have closed us down.”
“Would someone have killed her over this?”
“Possibly,” she admitted. “I might have strangled her myself. But . . .”
“But you wouldn’t have killed the others. Can you print Barbara’s records for me?”
“Of course.” She shook her head, frowning. “This is so . . . wow. Babs was our friend.”
“She was a cat. The Cait Sidhe have never followed the rules.” I shoved my hair back again. “Would Dreamer’s Glass have anything to gain by killing you all?”
“Just the land.”
“There’s nothing special about the knowe?”
“Not a thing. We dug the Shallowing ourselves.”
“Great.” Another dead end. “Make those printouts, and we’ll keep working. Just be careful. Getting yourself killed won’t bring anyone back.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t storm over to Dreamer’s Glass and confront the Duchess.” Her smile was mirthless. “Although when this is over, I’m kicking her ass.”
“Totally fair.” I paused. “Is there any chance Gordan was working with Barbara?”
“I . . .” She paused, looking at me sharply. “Are you trying to scare me?”
“Yeah, I am. If you get killed, your uncle will have my skin for a throw rug.”
“You’re probably right. It’s just weird to think anyone would want to hurt me.”
“You realize that if this is politically motivated, you’re in more danger than anyone else here?” I held up the drawer from Barbara’s desk. “I have information. Can I come in?”
Jan eyed the drawer. “What is that?”
“Evidence that Barbara was screwing you.” I brushed past her into the office. She closed the door, following me to her desk, where I put the drawer down atop a pile of papers. “That’s not the most important thing. I know why you can’t reach your uncle.”
“What?” Her eyes went wide. “What do you mean?”
“It’s the phones.” I outlined my conclusions, including the fact that calls placed from outside the knowe, or to phone numbers ALH hadn’t installed, worked just fine. I left out my discussion with Tybalt. It didn’t seem like something she’d need to know.
At first, Jan just stared. Then her eyes narrowed, expression going cold. “It really was one of us,” she said, in a soft, dangerous voice. I’d heard that tone from her uncle. It generally meant it was time to look for cover.
“I think so,” I said, and handed her the envelope I’d found in Barbara’s desk, with the seal of Dreamer’s Glass turned upward. “It looks like Barbara had a second job.”
She stared. “She was working for Riordan?”
“She was taking bribes. I don’t know any more than that—not yet, anyway. I will. There was a secret compartment in her desk. I also found her checkbook; if the dates are accurate, she’s been receiving payments from them for at least a year.”
“Barbara was a spy?” She hoisted herself onto the edge of the desk and crossed her legs, reaching for her laptop. “If Elliot ever calls me paranoid again, I’m going to spank him.” Flipping the screen open, she started to type.
“Uh, Jan?” I tucked my hair back behind one ear, bemused. “What are you doing?”
“Here at ALH, we pride ourselves on respecting the privacy of our employees’ personal lives,” she said, briskly. Then her tone changed, becoming more cynical as she added, “But if we have reason to believe they’ve been spying for the skank next door, I get to crack their computers like eggs and play with the gooey goodness inside.”
“Huh?”
“It’s called ‘hacking.’ Well, it would be if I didn’t own her computer. But I do, so it’s called ‘taking an interest in network security.’ ” Jan continued to type, fingers moving in sharp, vicious jabs.
“The computer was off,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as lost as I felt.
Jan looked up, and actually grinned. At least one of us was enjoying this. “That might matter if we were, y’know, in the mortal world. But getting electricity in the Summerlands is hard enough that it never works quite right, so we have to deal with kludges. Generators instead of ground power, lights on timers . . . computers that don’t realize they’re supposed to forbid network access when they’re turned off.” The laptop made a sharp pinging sound. “We’re in.”
“In what?”
“Barbara’s computer. I have full access.”
Now we were getting somewhere. “Can you do some sort of search for things that might have to do with Dreamer’s Glass?”
She looked at me, amused. “I can make this computer dance the polka if I want it to.” Her typing picked up speed, only to stop when the laptop pinged again. “And . . . whoa.”
“Whoa? What whoa?” I craned my neck to see the screen. “What did you find?”
“Only everything,” she said, mouth compressing into a thin, hard line. She tilted the laptop so that I could see the screen; it was covered by a list of file names so long that it scrolled off the bottom. “This is what I get when I search for files with the words ‘Dreamer’s Glass,’ ‘report’ and ‘confidential.’ ” She tapped the screen with the tip of one finger, and the first title lit up for a moment before a word processing program took over the screen, opening the file. “She was a busy little girl.”
“Yes,” I said. “It looks like she was.”
The file Jan had opened was a financial overview of the company, the County, and their performance over the last few years. It was annotated, showing where Barbara had interfered with the County to the advantage of Dreamer’s Glass. I glanced to Jan.
“We couldn’t figure out where the money was going,” she said. “Another two years and she’d have closed us down.”
“Would someone have killed her over this?”
“Possibly,” she admitted. “I might have strangled her myself. But . . .”
“But you wouldn’t have killed the others. Can you print Barbara’s records for me?”
“Of course.” She shook her head, frowning. “This is so . . . wow. Babs was our friend.”
“She was a cat. The Cait Sidhe have never followed the rules.” I shoved my hair back again. “Would Dreamer’s Glass have anything to gain by killing you all?”
“Just the land.”
“There’s nothing special about the knowe?”
“Not a thing. We dug the Shallowing ourselves.”
“Great.” Another dead end. “Make those printouts, and we’ll keep working. Just be careful. Getting yourself killed won’t bring anyone back.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t storm over to Dreamer’s Glass and confront the Duchess.” Her smile was mirthless. “Although when this is over, I’m kicking her ass.”
“Totally fair.” I paused. “Is there any chance Gordan was working with Barbara?”
