Executive Dirt: A Sedona O'Hala Mystery (8 page)

Joe had probably had access to the modules, but would he have bothered to put the Pig Latin back in? And could it have been just for his ego?

Kovid worked in a line of cubes on the other side of mine, two down from Doll Baby.  She was on the phone when I walked past. She had been talking to the same person for at least an hour.

“Hey, Kovid,” I said.

He looked up.

“Did you take the Pig Latin out yet?  I need to request another phone or two for testing, but I want the latest stuff before I bother to load the code.”

The thunderous frown on his face stopped me from inventing more random excuses that were merely a ploy to obtain information from him. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“He wants it left in.”

“Joe?”

The frown vanished, replaced by astonishment. “Joe? He’s dead.”  Kovid waved his hand in dismissal of our expired co-worker.

“Then who are you talking about?  I thought Joe must have put the Pig Latin back in after you took it out.”

Kovid sighed. “Cary demanded I leave it in.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”  I lowered my voice, but only because Cary’s cube wasn’t very far away.  I was starting to wish it were in Siberia.

Kovid nodded. “I did the Pig Latin thing as a joke after Cary hired Joe. It was easy, quick. The translation worked with almost no failures because Pig Latin is merely a matter of rearranging letters. It was stupid, but something management could play with while we started the real language translations.”

“And Cary really thinks that Pig Latin is enough to earn him a spot on the patent?”

Kovid shrugged. “I don’t know if the Pig Latin was really his idea or not, but he’s not letting us eliminate anything that might give him a chance.”

“But it’s not even original! And there’s nothing inventive about it!”

“Agreed. But if we take the code out, he can’t even claim an idea. He’s now swearing he hired Joe for his language expertise to prove the concept.”  His forehead wrinkled.  “Or something like that. But I’m pretty sure I did the Pig Latin after hearing Joe interrupt a bunch of us engineers with his stupid phrases. No one suggested it as a real language for the phone. Honestly, I was making fun of him, which might not have been nice, but instead of shutting him up, he thought it made him important!”

I groaned. “And now all the phones are going to ship with a Pig Latin option?  I thought being hired at a startup company was supposed to mean working on cutting edge technology!”

Kovid rubbed his forehead as though trying to erase a headache. “Right now, it’s a hidden option.”

“He at least let you hide it?”

Kovid shook his head.  “That’s the weird part. I took that code out, I know I did. But whoever put it back in added a special key sequence to select it.  Once it’s turned on, the phone will translate and answer questions in both Pig Latin and English.

“All the other languages are selected by typing in the first four to six letters of the language after a verbal request. For Spanish, you say ‘Spanish,’ and then you type ‘S p a n.’ But when the modules were dropped back in, the Pig Latin was coded behind the words Joe Black.  And the entire name had to be typed in, no spaces.”

Goosebumps ran across my arms. “Joe must have put that Pig Latin stuff back in after you took it out.”

He looked away, staring blankly at his screen. “Who else would bother?”

My mind scrolled to Cary, but that didn’t make sense. Cary couldn’t have been planning the Pig Latin thing from day one because no one in their right mind would think it was patentable. “You can tell that the Pig Latin stuff was put back in before Joe died, right?”

“Of course he had to have done it while still alive!!” He swallowed hard. “When I saw that in there...It was like a bhoot, the ghost of Joe, was standing right next to me.” His glance shifted behind me as though he might be able to see the bhoot right now. I rubbed at the goosebumps and had to force myself not to look.

“I can tell from the date that the code was reinserted almost immediately after I took it out, but there have been two updates to the Pig Latin modules and one of them was yesterday.”

From the look on his face, it was obvious he hadn’t done the updates. And Joe had already been dead for a couple of days by yesterday.  I gulped. “Oh.”

He nodded. “Yeah. The file had been accessed. Something changed because the date changed, but whoever made the changes didn’t update the change log.”  He raised one hand helplessly and then shook himself. “Look, none of that matters. It’s just weird, is all. I’m almost finished with the code to allow the user to select the voice assistant name. If you don’t tell anyone, I’ll do a build with that code and you can start testing it.  It will be in the official drop at the end of the week.”

I straightened and backed out of the cube opening. “Thanks. Shoot me an email when you have the latest ready.  Meanwhile I’ll brush up on my Pig Latin because if Cary gets his way, it will be our number one language.”

Mind boggling.  Just mind boggling.

Chapter 12

There were only so many nights I could continue to escape at a reasonable time, but tonight had to be one of them. My parents were leaving tomorrow, and I’d promised Mom I’d invite Mark over “for at least cake” before they left.  Was it my fault they had been busy at Sean’s until the last night they were in town?

I waited until Cary made his rounds just after five and then started a random test loop on one of the phones to run overnight.  The battery would likely die long before the test finished, but running any test still counted.

I also dutifully packed a phone to take home. Maybe I’d find a second or two to run a trial on it while I was brushing my teeth before bed.  There weren’t likely to be any other available seconds because I had a cake to bake and people to entertain the rest of the evening.

Just as I stood to head out, Cary’s voice drifted from somewhere down cube.  I ducked, but clearly heard him say my name and something about, “Of course, we discussed the idea of letting the customer choose a name for their phone assistant! Sedona was already testing the idea at my request.”

“Oh, for the love of patents, you liar.” Of course, now he’d come to my cube with some made-up test document. I didn’t have time for him. He probably wouldn’t let me leave until I agreed to sign an affidavit swearing the customer naming the phone assistant was his idea.

I crouched lower, adjusted my backpack and duck-waddled over to Joe’s old cubicle.  Monique was talking into her cell and walking out of her cube.  If she glanced over the tops of the walls, she’d see me scurrying along like a mutant marine.

I quickly grabbed my earlobe, but who had time to put earrings on in the morning? I was lucky to get my clothes on straight! The “lost my earring” excuse wouldn’t fly.

Joe’s cube was as sterile and empty as every other cube in the building.  No one had bothered to clean it after he died, although the police had taken his laptop. There was nothing but standard issue desk, chair and cabinet.

I wasn’t desperate enough to climb in the cabinet to hide, was I?

Cary’s voice closed in.

With a grunt, I pulled Joe’s chair aside and scooted under the desk, my back to the hallway side. I yanked the chair back in with me.  If Cary found me, he might be dumb enough to believe I was testing the cell phone reception under a desk. And if he didn’t believe me, who cared?

I shifted my backpack around in order to scrunch further into the corner. My butt landed on one of the support bars, sending a shooting pain into my rear.  As if Cary wasn’t enough of a pain in the ass without the extra jab.

I kept quiet. Cary’s khaki pants were just visible as he walked past into my cube. I leaned my head away from the opening and held the phone to my ear just in case he caught me.

There was the sound of papers being shuffled.  He was either leaving me a note or wadding up his latest “plan for a patent” draft.  I held my breath. There was nothing saving me but a thin cube wall.

His cell phone buzzed. He must have had it set to vibrate mode, but this close, the sound was quite audible.

After a silent moment, he said, “As soon as I find it.  He wasn’t wearing it.”  After another pause he said, “It’s hardly going to be discovered randomly, and even if it is, no one will know where it belongs.”

I peeked around the side again just enough to glimpse one of his legs. Who was he talking to? Who cared?  If he had to do some chore or other, he’d forget about me.

His voice faded, accompanied by the sound of footsteps and slacks swishing.

I pushed the chair the tiniest bit.  No sound of anyone.  I scooted and had to clamp down on a squeal.  The support post was either following me out or I’d sat on something that had moved with me, bruising more of my butt.

I felt along the floor until I located the offensive object.  It wasn’t too dark to recognize Joe’s watch because it lit up when my hand hit one of the buttons. “Eww.”

I had never noticed much about the watch other than suspecting Joe used it to help him translate Pig Latin faster. The thing obviously did more than tell the time, but the leather watchband was stretched oddly as though forced to fit the watch.  The holes for the buckling prong were very distorted.

A closer inspection revealed that the space between two of the holes was cut, forming one larger hole.  The watch must have fallen off his arm because it wasn’t possible to securely buckle the broken band anymore.

I gulped.  Had he raised his arm in defense and the leather been sliced with a knife meant for his head?  I stuffed it in my backpack.  I didn’t want to think too hard about it. My hand froze as the conversation I’d just overheard played in my head. “He wasn’t wearing it.”  Who wasn’t wearing what?

I fingered the watch.  Obviously, Joe wasn’t wearing it when he died. Ick.  I dropped it in the pack. Cary couldn’t have been talking about Joe’s watch.  Why would he care about a watch?  Like it or not, I was obligated to return this to Joe’s heirs.  I guess that meant his mother.  Oh wait.  His mother could be involved in illegal dealings just like her son. Yeah. I did not want to involve myself with her any more than I had to.  Well, Huntington could give it to her, maybe after he arrested her.

I peeked around the chair. A pair of jeans went by without stopping. From that attire, it could have been any of the engineers, including me, except I was huddled under a desk like a fool. Why hadn’t I just run for the exit?  It was well after five.  I had a right to leave!

With a sigh, I pushed my way out. Would it be overkill if I crouched down on my way out of the rat maze?

Probably.

Roscoe and Kovid were chatting just outside cube city.  I gave them a weak smile and dodged around them on my way to the stairs. My walk was not a run, but it might have won a few races.

Someone called my name from behind me, but it was impossible to tell who with as hard as I was breathing. Besides, I could take the stairs way faster than Cary could ring the elevator up to the third floor.  I’d be out of the building and in my car before he arrived down on the first floor.

If you never look back, you can claim you never saw them.

Of course, just sneaking out of work to bake a tiramisu wasn’t enough of a challenge. At six o’clock when Mark was due to show up, I was outside helping Dad install the last of the blueberry plants in my new raised bed. Darkness was already creeping into the yard.

I didn’t remember gardening being this dim. “We could wait until morning,” I grumbled.

Dad ignored me, of course.

We dug about in the soil, unwrapped the roots and set them in the ground.  The blueberry bushes were nothing but twigs, with no sign of spring budding whatsoever.

Mom was busy puttering about inside, having generously offered to unbind the material from the serger and rethread it.

We hadn’t finished installing the last bush when she bustled out the back door and leaned over to whisper.  “Mark’s brother is here. It was very nice of you to invite him too.”

Of course I hadn’t done any such thing.  Huntington always invited himself places. “Steve?”

“He looks just like Mark, but his eyes are blue.  I think he’s taller too.”

“What’s he doing here?”  I slapped my hands mostly clean and then brushed them on my sweatpants.

Mom said, “Well, of course I invited him in for cake. It was obvious he is family since he looks just like Mark.”

“Yes, I know.  Dad, are you coming?”

“There’s still time to mulch these in.  I’ll finish that.  You don’t want them to dry out or for the roots to get too cold.”

Mom rolled her eyes at me and tugged me to the back door.

By the time we hurried back inside, Mark had also shown up.  Steve, being Steve, had had no problem letting Mark in while we were out back.

Mark had made more of an effort with his hair than normal.  Instead of it just being combed, it had been gelled into place. I gave him my best smile before turning to his brother.

“Steve,” I said coolly. “You’ve met my mother?”

He smiled, ever assured.  “The elegant and lovely lady who answered the door, yes. You look nothing like her. I’d never have guessed.”

He was right, but it was rude to say so.  Mom’s strawberry blonde curls were completely untamed, but gave her a soft, feminine glow.  My brown hair was almost always pulled into a messy ponytail that bespoke my laziness. Mom had bright green eyes and a smattering of friendly freckles. My eyes were darker, nearly gray, and I had a tendency to frown a lot, especially lately.

That changed when Mark moved to my side. Either because his brother had also shown up or just because, Mark put his arm around me and leaned in to give me a kiss.  He left his arm around my shoulders.

I grinned up at him. “I hope everyone likes tiramisu.  I need to wash up.”

Mom started pattering and asking mom-type social questions.

I hurried to change clothes and was just out of the bathroom when Dad came in.

Mom, ever the smooth social hostess, handled introducing Dad to Steve. Dad hadn’t washed up yet, but he shook Steve’s hand anyway. That was Dad; absent-minded and not too worried about a bit of dirt.  As soon as he spotted me, Dad said,  “Don’t over water, now.”  I helped him finish with, “Just keep the root ball damp.”