How to Survive a Killer Seance (21 page)

Stephanie closed the office door behind me and gestured toward a chair. She took her seat behind her usually pristine desk, now filled with piles of paperwork. I imagined Jonathan’s absence had caused her workload to increase.

“So, any news on Jonathan?” I repeated, leaning forward.

She shook her head. “I’m really worried. The police have been here twice, but they don’t have any news either. They’re saying his fingerprints were on the candlestick that struck Levi, but I just can’t believe Jonathan would do something like that. I think something’s happened to him.”

“What about Lyla? Has she turned up?” The way they’d behaved the other night had me worried about her safety too.

“Oh yes. She called me yesterday when Jonathan didn’t come home. She thought he might be at the office—he’s here practically twenty-four-seven. She hasn’t seen him either.”

I nodded. “Well, at least she’s safe. Where is she, by the way—at their home?”

“Yes, she said she wanted to be there in case he showed up. The police searched the home but they found no sign of him. I just don’t know what to think.”

I sat back in my chair a moment, composing my thoughts. Lyla was back, but Jonathan was still missing. Interesting. I wondered if I should I share with Stephanie the phone call I’d received from Jonathan, or keep that to myself? At this point, I didn’t know who to trust.

“Stephanie, do you have any idea why Levi did what he did—why he exposed all of Jonathan’s affairs in front of everyone? Did he have some kind of grudge against Jonathan?”

Stephanie folded her perfectly manicured hands on her desk. “Not that I know of. Levi was an odd guy, granted, but then aren’t all computer programmers?” She hinted at a smile. “Maybe he was jealous. He wasn’t much of a social guy, unlike Jonathan. Maybe he had a crush on one of the women Jonathan had been . . . er, seeing . . . and figured that was the best way to get revenge. Who knows? I just hope they find Jonathan soon and get this all cleared up. We need him here. My work has grown exponentially.” She glanced at the stacks of papers on her desk.

“When I talked with Levi after the party, he denied having anything to do with changing the recording. Do you think that’s true?”

“Hard to believe, since he was the only one operating the 4-D,” Stephanie replied. “There aren’t too many employees who know how to operate it. It’s certainly way over my head.”

I took in a long breath and let it out slowly as I thought of the last time I’d seen Levi. He looked as if he were really trying to fix the machine rather than sabotage it. Was he just covering for himself? Or was he an innocent bystander?

“Do you know anyone else who might have wanted to kill Levi—or ruin Jonathan by making it look like he murdered Levi? Did someone else have a grudge against him?”

“Oh, Jonathan had plenty of enemies. I suppose any of those women who were mentioned during the séance could have been angry enough to kill Levi for exposing them. Then again, maybe one of the guests had a problem with Levi—a former employer, maybe? Or maybe someone in competition with Jonathan—”

I sat up. “Like Dane Scott from Stereo-Scope Graphics?”

Stephanie pulled at the crystal around her neck. “How do you know about Dane?”

“The Internet,” I said simply. Claiming the Internet as a resource was as easy—and believable—as it was vague.

She looked down at her desk, as if searching for an answer among the many papers that littered it. “Um, I . . . really can’t discuss our competition. But, sure, Dane was always trying to find out what Jonathan had up his sleeve. He’s as competitive as Jonathan. There was no love lost there.”

“Do you know anyone named Jerry Thompson?” I asked.

She thought for a moment, then said, “I don’t think so. No. Who is he? Another suspect?”

I saw no reason not to tell her. “He works at Stereo-Scope, too, as a manager.”

Stephanie dropped the crystal and refolded her hands. “And how does he figure in?”

“I saw him at the Séance Party.”

Her eyes flared. “What? Someone from Stereo-Scope? That’s impossible.”

“Well, he was disguised. He wore one of the phoniest mustaches I’ve ever seen. Plus glasses. And I assume he used some kind of temporary color on his hair. I saw his picture on the company Web site. Once I looked closely, he wasn’t hard to recognize, not with those beady eyes.”

“How could he have gotten in? He wasn’t on the guest list, and Jonathan knew all the invitees, at least by sight. There’s no way—”

“He was hired as a waiter.”

Her face colored and her voice rose. “You mean, your caterer—”

I held up a hand. “Nope. Not mine. The caterer Lyla used. Apparently Jerry Thompson was hired as a temp.”

Stephanie sank a little in her chair. She actually seemed to shrink a little. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “We never thought . . .” She didn’t finish her sentence as the repercussions of the infiltration sank in.

I figured I’d learned all I could from Stephanie at this point and rose from my chair. I reached out to shake her hand, but she was too busy playing with her necklace and didn’t notice the gesture. Maybe she was asking it for protection.

“I should get going. But I do have one more question.”

She came out of her trance and met my eyes. I had a feeling she wasn’t really looking at me, her mind still a million miles away. “Uh, what?”

“I thought I saw Zachary Samuels in the parking lot.”

She blinked several times, as if she didn’t comprehend my words for a few seconds. “You’re kidding. When?”

I checked my watch. “Probably an hour ago.” I decided not to tell her that someone had let him into the building. For all I knew, it could have been her. Although why would she risk giving a fired employee entrance into Hella-Graphics? Especially one who might be a killer.

Her hand shot to the phone on the desk and she punched three numbers. “Lisa, call security! We may have a breach.... I don’t know where! Have them check the building!” She slammed down the phone, stood up, and said, “You’ll have to excuse me, Presley.” She walked me swiftly to the front doors of the building, and left me there, wondering if I should have spoken up earlier. Or had I said too much already?

As I headed for my car, I realized I still had on my visitor’s pass. I ripped it off as I glanced around for a sign of Zachary. His dented car was still in the loading zone, unoccupied. I opened the door of my MINI, slid in, and stuck the key into the ignition.

An arm circled my neck.

“What the hell are you doing?” the low voice hissed.

I couldn’t have told him if I’d wanted to. He was choking me to death.

I saw spots before my eyes.

Blindly reaching up, I grabbed the assailant’s arm and dug my short nails into his skin. I still couldn’t breathe. I pinched some skin, twisted it, and he released his grip a little, freeing my airway.

I coughed, trying to catch my breath. The guy’s hairy arm tickled my nose. I shoved his arm to my mouth and bit the hell out of it.

He cursed and let go.

I reached for the doorknob.

He grabbed my hair and jerked my head back.

“Ouch!” I screamed.

“Calm down!” he screamed back.

Yeah, right. A man was mugging me and I was supposed to calm down. I thrashed out backward, trying to hit him in the face with flailing arms, but couldn’t make contact over the back of the seat.

“Calm down and I’ll let you go!” he shouted.

I took a breath and tried to relax but it was nearly impossible under the circumstances.

Slowly he released his grip on my hair. As soon as I was free, I twisted around in my seat and came face-to-face with Zachary Samuels.

His eyes were red rimmed, his face drawn and sallow, and the deep ridges between his eyes looked like he’d been wearing that frown all his life. His collar-length hair was greasy and uncombed, and the T-shirt under his fake delivery jacket sported stains. It looked like he hadn’t eaten, slept, or changed clothes in days. He certainly hadn’t brushed his teeth. His breath smelled of sour booze.

“What are you trying to do—kill me?” I sputtered, my voice still ragged from being choked. I’d reacted in anger, but quickly realized this guy was a viable suspect in Levi’s murder—and therefore dangerous. Plus, he’d tried to run down Jonathan with his car, nearly hitting me in the process. I regretted my choice of words.

“No!” he cried. “I just want to talk to you.”

His hot, alcohol-infused breath hit my nostrils again and I backed up. “You attacked me! In my car!”

“I didn’t attack you. I got you in a headlock and you overreacted. I needed you to keep quiet.”

I suppose my ADHD had something to do with my fight-or-flight response. Nevertheless, I’m sure anyone else in my position would have reacted the same way. I looked him over and instead of a killer, this time saw a mostly sane, nerdy guy who seemed to be in trouble.

“So what do you want?” I tried to keep my tone neutral.

“I want to know where Jonathan is.”

My jaw dropped. “How would I know that?”

“Because you’re probably sleeping with him,” Zachary said.

I choked out a laugh. “What? You’ve got to be kidding!”

I had no idea where this was going—or when it would end. Slowly, I reached for my purse on the seat beside me, planning to retrieve my iPhone without him noticing. At the moment he appeared calm, but there was no telling what might set him off again. I needed backup.

“There’s no way I would sleep with Jonathan,” I said, feeling the phone and easing it out slowly. “He’s a pig.”

Zachary sat back in the seat, rubbing his arm where I had bit him. I hadn’t drawn blood, but I’d left a nice set of teeth marks.

“I can always tell when Jonathan has a new girl in his life,” Zachary said, “because he’s always hanging around them. And he’s been seeing a lot of you lately.”

“That’s because I was planning a party for him! Not sleeping with him.”

“So you have no idea where he is?” Zachary’s shoulders slumped, his face fell. I was beginning to feel sorry for him. But he’d still attacked me. I clicked off the audio on the phone.

“No idea. The police are looking for him, but they haven’t found him either.”

“The police?” Zachary’s eyes widened.

“Yeah. They think he might have murdered Levi Webster.”

He pressed his lips together. “I heard.”

I glanced down at the icons on the phone.

“Personally,” I continued, feeling a little reckless now that I had the phone and was about to call 911, “I thought you might have done it.”

“Me? Kill Levi? Why would I?” He seemed genuinely shocked. “You know nothing about me.”

I pushed an icon and my e-mail came up. Wrong one.

“How about because Jonathan fired you from Hella-Graphics and replaced you with Levi. So you killed two birds with one stone. You murdered Levi and made it look like Jonathan did it.”

I was tossing out motives like confetti, but what the hell. I touched the phone icon. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the contacts screen pop up.

Zachary gave a harsh laugh. “What bullshit.”

His reaction surprised me. I’d expected anger. “So Jonathan didn’t fire you?”

“Well, yeah, he did . . .”

“But you didn’t try to run him down in the Winchester parking lot?”

“That was an accident. . . .”

“So, you’re completely innocent?” I raised an eyebrow, then glanced down at my phone and pushed Brad’s number.

He reached out a hand. “Give me the phone,” he said wearily.

“What?”

“I said, give me the damn phone.” His tone was patient but firm.

There was no point in pretending any longer. I handed him the phone. He laid it on the seat next to him.

“To answer your question, yes,” he said, “I was fired, but not for any real cause. Jonathan had accused me of planning to defect to another company.”

“Stereo-Scope Graphics?”

His eyes narrowed. “How’d you know?”

I felt like I was getting the upper hand—and I wasn’t about to stop and explain. “Go on.”

“Anyway, I wasn’t going to jump ship. And even if I did bolt, I wouldn’t be caught dead working for Dane Scott. He’s an asshole.”

“Okay, so Jonathan fired you and replaced you with Levi. You must have been angry.”

“Hell, yeah, I was. I wanted to kill the guy who got me fired.”

“Jonathan?” I was getting confused.

“No!”

A light went on. “Do you mean George Wells?”