Copy Cap Murder (22 page)

“Is there any way you can tell me the number of Win's necktie?” I asked.

Reese pulled a tissue from the box on the shelf behind her. She dabbed her eyes and then slowly lifted her head to look at me.

“I'm sure it's in his personnel file,” she said. “But why? The police must have his tie in their evidence room, marked as exhibit A.”

I stared at her. Did I trust this woman? She had admitted that she had unrequited feelings for Win. She could very well be his killer. I glanced at her. Maybe it was just a gut instinct or a desperate hope, but I didn't think she had anything to do with Win's death.

“When did you see Win at the bonfire?” I asked.

“I didn't,” she said. “Not until . . . his body was found.”

“When I saw him earlier that evening . . .” I paused. There wasn't much point in bringing up the scuffle, so I didn't mention it. I cleared my throat and continued, “He wasn't wearing a tie.”

Her eyes went wide. “But they're required at company functions.”

“Win didn't strike me as someone who was hampered by the rules,” I said.

“Harrison—” she began but I interrupted her.

“Was wearing his tie all night,” I said.

“I know,” she said. “He's always very good about the business. You know I tried to suspend him?”

I nodded.

“I was wrong,” she said. “He's a good man. Despite the issues between him and Win, I know Harrison would never have harmed Win.”

“But someone did,” I said. “And they used one of your ties to do it.”

She nodded. She looked pale and a fine sheen of sweat had broken out on her skin.

“Are you all right, Reese?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “You know what this means, don't you? One of our own killed him.”

“That's sort of what I figured,” I said. “How can I get a list of the ties issued with their numbers?”

“We'll need to go to personnel,” she said. She rose from her desk. She looked a bit wobbly, and I understood but we really didn't have time to cater to it. Inspector Franks would be here soon and I wanted to have the information for him.

Reese drew in a deep breath and turned to me and said, “All right then, follow me.”

We went back into the hallway that lapped the inner offices like a racetrack. It was brighter now as the sun had risen higher and was streaming in through the windows on the east side. We passed several offices and then Reese pushed through a door marked
Personnel
.

A young woman sat at a desk that overlooked the files.
I figured this was some sort of punishment. All those windows and she got stuck in the room with a view of files. She must have made someone mad.

“Can I help you, Mrs. Evers?” she asked.

Reese forced her lips into a smile that could only be called one because her lips curved up. There was nothing happy or reassuring about the look.

“No, thank you, Rene, I just need to grab some paperwork for the new girl.” She paused to gesture to me. Rene looked appalled at my jeans but had the grace not to say anything.

I gave her a tiny finger wave and a superior look. She'd undoubtedly be on the phone to all of the other employees, trying to find out who I was, as soon as the door closed behind us.

“Wait, on second thought, would you mind terribly fetching me a glass of water?” Reese asked.

Rene looked irritated in a “that's not my job” sort of way, but she was obviously hesitant to balk to the boss.

“I wouldn't ask, but I have such a headache starting, and Mary”—she paused to gesture to me—“doesn't know where the watercooler is.”

Reassured that this was an emergency and not an abuse of power, Rene gave her an understanding smile. “Of course, I'll be right back.”

We waited while she left, closing the door behind her.

“Mary?” I asked.

“Scarlett is too unusual of a name. I didn't want to have to explain what we're doing,” Reese said.

“What are we doing?” I asked.

“Pulling Win's personnel file,” she said.

“Don't you have all of this stuff online?” I asked.

She strode over to the file cabinet and used the key she had taken from her desk to unlock it. These weren't your nineteen fifties postwar steel cabinets, oh no, these things were some exotic wood that slid out with a delicate whoosh of air. Very slick. Very expensive.

“We do,” she said. “But if I access them online, then I have to sign in and anyone else in the company can see that I am searching Win's file.”

“Including the killer,” I said.

She looked pained. “Let's just say it's better to do this the old-fashioned way.”

Reese pulled out the second drawer down and began flipping through the folders. She paused, studied the folders more closely and flipped through them again.

“Something's wrong,” she said. “His file isn't here.”

We stared at each other for a moment and then the office door began to open. Reese slammed the file shut and snatched a paper off the top of the cabinet.

“So you'll want to have these filled out and returned to me as soon as possible,” Reese said.

Rene caught the last half of the sentence, which Reese ended by thrusting the paper into my hands. She then smiled at Rene and took the paper cup of water from her.

“Thank you so much,” she said.

“No trouble,” Rene said and she resumed her seat at her desk. A glance at her computer monitor showed a complicated spreadsheet, so unless it was one of those quick-the-boss-is-coming fake spreadsheets, she appeared to be doing rather complicated work.

Reese guzzled the water with an unladylike gusto that
made me like her just a little. She crushed the cup in her hand and tossed it into the recycle bin.

“Feeling better?” I asked. I was going for solicitous but somehow I think sarcastic came out.

Reese nodded. Then she turned to Rene and said, “Tell me, has anyone been in to use the files recently?” Rene looked at her in surprise and Reese added, “I'm just wondering if we should do away with the old hard copies.”

“Oh, well, Mr. Wentworth was in here a few days ago,” she said.

Reese looked at me. I glared back. I was quite certain Harrison had a good reason for looking at the files. Really, I did.

“And Mr. Carson gave a file to the inspector, the older one with the mustache,” Rene said.

“Inspector Franks,” I said.

“That's right,” she said. “Why? Was there a problem?”

“Oh, no,” Reese said. “Like I said I was just wondering if they still got any use, and it looks like they do. If you'll excuse us, we'll leave you to it.”

“All right,” Rene said. She gave us a cheery wave, which I returned even though I felt like I was leaving her a prisoner in the windowless room.

Outside I was again trailing behind Reese. I wondered if Inspector Franks had shown up and was waiting for me downstairs. I wondered if I should call him. I wondered if Harrison was here yet, and if so, what was he going to say when he saw me? Yes, there was a lot of wondering happening but not a lot of doing, mostly because I was afraid to take my eyes off Reese.

My internal caution alarm was clanging and I thought
it might be advised to eyeball the viable exits. I had really admired the egg-shaped building from the outside, but now that I was in it, I wasn't so sure. How did one get out of here in case of an emergency? Or was I just panicking? Yeah, that felt about right.

“I'm going to have to go into the human resources portal,” Reese said.

She sat at her desk and clicked away at her keyboard. I chose to pace the length of her office and back. It was a large office. I wondered if that helped the executives think bigger thoughts. Maybe if everyone had spacious offices, they'd all think bigger.

Nervousness was making it hard for me to focus. Who had access to the files? Rene, obviously, but she didn't seem to have an ulterior motive. Still, I figured I'd better check.

“What's Rene's story?” I asked Reese. “She wasn't involved with Win, was she?”

“No,” Reese said. “She's new, fresh out of university and happily engaged. She spends more time planning her wedding than she does working.”

So the spreadsheet had most likely been a decoy, which made me feel better. It would have been appalling for someone so much younger than me to have a grasp of such a complicated form.

“Who else has access to the files in that room?” I asked.

“Only the senior staff members,” Reese said. She didn't look up from her computer. “Tyler, Harrison, Tuesday, Steve, Anne, and of course, Win would have had access as well.”

“Who are Steve and Anne?” I asked.

“Two other associates,” she said. “They've both just reached their five-year anniversary.”

“Tuesday and Anne, did they get neckties, too?” I asked.

“Silk scarves,” Reese said. “Do stop prattling, I can't look at this and converse at the same time.”

Duly chastised, I resumed pacing. I checked the time on my phone. There was a text from Inspector Franks:
Where are you?

I quickly texted back that I was on the thirty-third floor.

I waited but there was no immediate reply.

“I found it,” Reese said. She glanced at the small printer in the corner behind her desk. “The invoice for his tie is in his file and it lists the number stitched on it. I'm printing a copy of it.”

“Excellent,” I said. “Now if the police find that this number is different than the number on the tie he was strangled with, it could lead us to the killer.”

Reese moved to stand beside the printer. I noticed her hand was shaking as she pulled the invoice out of it. “I hate to think that it was one of our own.”

She moved back behind her desk and glanced at her computer screen. “That's strange.”

“What?” I asked.

“Win's file, the file I was just in, was wiped clean,” she said. She leaned over to examine the screen more closely and began clicking her mouse. “And I've been locked out.”

“Who could do that?” I asked.

“I think you'd better take this paper and go,” she said. Her voice trembled and the raw fear made the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

She held the sheet out to me. I started across the room to take it when her office door banged open.

“Reese, Rene tells me you have a new hire . . . what's this?” Tyler Carson stood in the doorway, looking perplexed. He stared at me. “You?”

“Hi,” I said.

I gave him a tiny wave as I reached out to take the paper. He was too quick for me, however, and snatched it out of Reese's hand before I could. He glanced at the paper and then at Reese.

“Explain,” he said. He sounded angry and I saw Reese flinch. Then she shook her head and blew out a breath.

“I know,” she said. “Everything.”

She shifted her feet, almost in a fighter's stance. This got my attention. Pale and tight lipped, Reese looked frightened and enraged all at the same time. Emotion was pouring off her in waves and my inner sense of caution was now clanging like a five-alarm fire bell. Something awful was about to happen.

“That sounds very dramatic,” Tyler said. He gave her a confused half smile. “Why don't we discuss this in private?”

“No, I know what you did,” she said. Her voice was low and growly, sounding more angry than scared now as if her courage had just needed a few minutes to build itself up.

Tyler heaved a put-upon sigh. “We've been over this and over this. I don't know what you think you know . . .”

“Win wasn't wearing his tie at the party,” Reese said.

“Pah!” Tyler scoffed. “Of course he was, it's mandatory.”

Reese pointed to me. “She says he wasn't.”

Tyler turned and looked at me. His gaze was sympathetic and kind as if he felt my tension and was pained by it. I felt myself relax. Tyler was such a nice man. He took
the care of his company seriously; I knew he wouldn't let someone get away with murdering one of his staff.

“You were mistaken, weren't you, Scarlett?” he asked. “You were overwrought at the party, which was quite understandable given Win's boorish behavior.”

I nodded.
Huh?
I shook my head.

“No, I was up close and personal with his shirtfront,” I said. I looked at Reese, who was shaking her head at me. “Not on purpose. It just sort of happened.”

Now she was shaking her head more frantically, which made me feel terrible given that she had just admitted to pining for a relationship with Win that he had denied her and here I was talking about his awkward pass at me.

“I'm sure it was because he was drunk and because he hated Harrison,” I said. I glanced back at Tyler. “But you're wrong. I am quite certain he wasn't wearing a tie.”

“That is quite unfortunate,” Tyler said. Then he lunged at me.