Into The Heat (Sandy Reid Mystery Series Book 6) (6 page)

N
igel Edwards arrived at the law office the following morning at his usual time, which was one hour before the normal opening time of nine. He parked along the north side of the building, leaving the first two parking spaces empty for Sandy and Martin. The attractive, one-story office building, designed with a Spanish flavor and built and occupied by Martin’s father, sat on a downtown lot back among mature mossy oak trees, a mere three short blocks from the county courthouse, the Park Beach city hall and the police station. The small building housed only the firm of Bronner and Reid.

Neither Sandy nor Martin were aware of Nigel’s self-imposed early schedule. He didn’t do it to score points, and he preferred they not know or else they might fuss about it. Obviously, they were aware he arrived at least a few minutes early because they’d find the front steps swept, the lights on in their offices, their computers running. His heritage was from a nation of shopkeepers, as the United Kingdom was sometimes called, and he knew how to get a place open for business. Sandy or Martin would occasionally show up early for some abnormal reason and remark about his being there before them; he’d shrug it off as if it were abnormal for him that morning as well.

He had been somewhat startled when they entrusted him with the office keys even before the end of his first week—the keys to the Bronner and Reid Kingdom. He appreciated the vote of trust, yet his new power over the front door lock meant nothing special to him, just an office—although an important one to the two law partners and their clients. His work with the computer in the law office could be important at rare times, but never particularly challenging. He knew himself well enough to know it would soon be boringly repetitive. He had a lot to learn about the law, of course, yet he was capable of so much more than they had him doing. On the technical side, not a fraction of his technical abilities was being used. He should be writing esoteric algorithms for the National Security Agency.

He wanted to make more money. Not out of need, but to assuage his pride. Simply put, he was worth more. Upon being graduated from Indiana State University, a campus recruiter for an IT start-up in Silicon Valley offered him a dream job. To his later regret, he turned it down thinking a good job could wait; he should take the summer off and “find himself.” In truth, what he wanted to find was what magical Florida was all about. He had always been attracted to places he hadn’t been and girls he hadn’t met, including those fabulous women he had heard about who rollerblade topless along South Beach.

Indiana State had some of the prettiest coeds in the country—the prettiest, not the easiest—in desperation, he’d turn on a British accent and that occasionally did the trick. However, his fake accent didn’t get him a second glance down at the more sophisticated South Beach. Even so, his quest did bring him to Florida—without enough money to leave.

Several meaningless jobs later, at age twenty-five, he grew tired of underachieving; his career was off track, and he couldn’t afford to let more years just slip by with no progress. At least now he was working and that was good. And he was appreciated by both of them. Sandy was sometimes unmannerly with people although certainly likable. Not quite as clever as she sometimes believed she was, but clever. He had to laugh at that thought because she’d be the first one to say it about herself. Martin was indeed a classic and belonged in nineteenth century England as possibly the Duke of Wellington, or some such. And to Nigel, seemed to be the type who tried to find at least some small thing he liked in everyone. They did make an appealing pair. With her seemingly being oblivious to his eyes feasting on her as though she were a bowl of cherries and cream. Nigel had naturally assumed, at the start, they were intimate. But soon realized they merely held each other in high, tender regard, which was nice but didn’t make sense. Nigel didn’t understand the absence of romance between them, someone has to be kidding someone. In his mind, he was certain that the status quo between them was unsustainable and soon some spark would set off climactic fireworks.

They would soon give him an increase in salary, of that he was confident, and he’d be appreciative of whatever increment they had in mind. He realized he couldn’t expect the wages there in the small ocean side town of Park Beach to match what he could command in the big city. As that was the case, he didn’t see himself sticking around permanently. He did love the small town environs, the beach and the weather. And he did love working with them and being a small part of their approach to justice and their defense of the rich and poor who showed up desperate at their door. They were genuine, no dirty-dealing in their office. Even so, would all that be enough to compensate for not having a satisfying career situation? One with unquestioned responsibility and contribution? Of course, if he ever got something going with his love life in this little town, his attitude about something as unimportant as money could change overnight.

At ten minutes to nine, his solitude was broken. Sandy and Martin had arrived and the phone would soon start ringing. The busy law office routine had begun and he loved it.

They had brought in an extra coffee for him, and they stood in the reception area while he briefly informed them of the messages left on the answering machine. She made a remark about how comforting it was knowing the office was in good hands.

It was hard for Nigel to imagine he was part of such happenings, he said, “I’m certainly glad we met, and I’m eager to be working here.” He thought back to how he and Sandy had met. “Do you frequently start up conversations with handcuffed young men being held at the Sheriff’s Department?”

“I don’t hang out there,” she said. “On that day, I was working a criminal case and waiting to speak to my friend, Lieutenant Triney. I must admit in your case I was guilty of profiling. You had the air of innocence not often seen around jails, standing there in a suit and tie with that vulnerable stare people get when they’re unjustly accused. When you told me you were merely a passenger in a no-injury accident, I wondered why they were holding you since you weren’t driving.”

Nigel looked over at Martin to explain. “The girl I was riding with was a student in the Adult-Ed computer class I was teaching in the evening. I needed a ride home after class because I hadn’t switched over my Indiana Drivers License yet. After the crash, the girl freaked and took off, leaving me to deal with the police. The deputy assumed I was driving, asked for my license, which was invalid and things went downhill from there.” He looked at her. “How did you get me released so fast? I figured on one night in the lockup, at least.”

She said, “At my request, Triney had the street sergeant give me their version, which included his deputy being unable to push the girl’s small car out of the traffic lane because the deputy couldn’t move the seat back far enough to get his legs in past the steering wheel. I laughed and told Triney to go in and take note of the long legs on the lad they were detaining. When he laid all that on the girl, she admitted she was driving, and they let you go.”

Martin said, “Sandy gave me a call from the sheriff’s office and said a charming young man, who simply dropped out of the clouds, would be a likely candidate for our front office here. She told me your parents live in the UK. However, you were born in the US, back when your father was in the British Foreign Service. You lived with your parents in Chicago during that time and later were graduated from Indiana State with a Bachelors in Computer Science. She wanted to know when I could interview you. I said if she like him, then go ahead and hire him on the spot.”

Nigel said, “We talked for a few minutes, and then Sandy gave me a one question interview. I must have answered correctly because here I am.”

Martin leaned forward in his chair. “What, pray tell, was the magic question she asked?”

She interrupted, “I asked him if he knew how to hack into other people’s computers.”

“What!” Martin said. “We don’t want him to do any such thing.”

“Even so, he confessed he could do it, which I thought was good. I figured unless he could do that sort of thing, he wasn’t a true computer nerd. I don’t want to hear the person we hire sitting in the front office moaning, ‘Oh golly, this darn computer is acting funny.’”

Martin looked serious. “Nigel, would you please assure me right now that you’d never engage in any such illegal action to obtain information on the Internet.”

“Certainly not!”

She asked quickly, “Would you admit it if you did?”

“Certainly not!”

She laughed. “You see, Martin, he’s the perfect addition to our office.”

“I intend to be quite useful. Of course, I need to study and learn about the legal aspect of things, but be assured no technical issue is beyond me.” Nigel paused to glance around the office. “One thing I would suggest immediately is to network all these computers so the same information, for instance client data, is available simultaneously on all computers. In fact, if you so desire, it would take a mere five minutes to configure the computers to function as a video intercom for you. So you could tell who was in the front waiting room. Very simple, really—any computer hobbyist could do it. As it is right now, I screen the calls and visitors at my front desk, and then have to walk down the hall to tell you.”

She shook her head. “I can’t speak for Martin, but I don’t like being buzzed, I prefer being spoken to. Our offices aren’t that large. We occupy only two of our four offices, then there’s a utility room and you up front. No one’s more than a step from anyone else, a cozy community. I like the way you do it now, walking up and down the hall, gently tapping on our doors. Besides, you’re an energetic young chap, you need to stretch those remarkably long legs of yours. What do you think, Martin?”

“I’m certain our guests appreciate being formally announced.”

No surprise there. She could have guessed that her punctilious partner would prefer the most polite, ceremonious manner. It had taken months to get to him to remove his suit jacket in her presence.

“Good, it’s settled then.” She looked back at Nigel. “Now if you could fake a British accent it’d be even better.”

Nigel laughed. “As a matter of fact, I can easily do what Yanks mean when they speak of a British accent. Not to mention, I do an hilarious nineteenth-century English butler.”

“Speak with a British accent around here and we’ll raise our fees,” Martin joked.

Later, about an hour before noon, a rather striking young woman entered and stepped up to Nigel’s desk. While she was staring down at the business card in her hand, he was sizing her up with raised eyebrows: black spiked hair, a pretty face naturally pale and normal except for the heavy, dark eyeliner around her large innocent eyes. Her shape was slim, and she wore black calf-length leggings, a short black skirt and black platform shoes.

She caught him staring and said, “Hello?” to bring him back into existence. “Is this the right place?” As she handed him the business card, he noticed the black fingernails.

It was Martin Bronner’s card.

This was a very interesting girl. “Why don’t you sit down for a minute and tell me your name,” he said officiously once he had himself together.

“How does someone like you get a job in a fancy office like this?”

He stiffened in his chair and touched the knot of his tie. “Someone like me?”

“I mean you’re young. I want a job like this.”

“We could talk about that sometime, I suppose. I know many people. I’d need to know much more about you, of course. Let’s start with your name.”

“Holly Davies. But what about Mr. Bronner?”

“What about him?”

“Well, dude, I’m here to see him not you.”

“Oh, yes, of course you are.” He tore his eyes away from her and checked the schedule on his computer, “Let’s see... you don’t have an appointment.”

“Look, he gave me his card!” She glared at him for a second. “I knew I shouldn’t have come... gimme his card back.” She snatched it from his fingers.

“No, don’t go. I mean… sit down. Please.” He held his hand up to keep her in place and hurried back to Martin’s office.

Martin remembered the name and followed Nigel back up to the front office. He smiled when he saw her, but would never get used to that look. “Holly, of course. You didn’t need to come by. You could have called. Do you have some information for me?”

She had a wide grin on her face. “You need that guy’s photo back? I pinned it up in the back room where all employees can see it.”

“That’s great.”

“I talked to each of the workers... there’s eight of us. No one remembered seeing the guy. Not a regular. Not what you wanted to hear, I’m sorry.”

“Holly, that’s marvelous. However, you really didn’t need to make a trip down here for that. Thank you very much.”

“No one believed that I knew you, not one of them, even when I showed them your card.”

“You’ve given me useful information. I appreciate it. Is there anything else?”

“The manager said some police dude had been in and showed her the same picture. But no police talked to me, or any of the others. So like, he wasn’t as smart as you.”

“He didn’t have Holly Davies on his side. So, thanks for stopping by.”

“Can I see your office as long as I’m here?”

“Well, you really need to call first, so I can give you my undivided attention.” He looked at his watch for emphasis.