A Geek Girl's Guide to Murder Page 2

  The decibel level rose behind me as golfers returned from early morning tee times or arrived for clubhouse services. The building was laid out like a compass. North was the front door and main parking lot. South was the exit for outdoor amenities and activities—tennis courts, group exercise, a pool and a café. Other compass points stopped at clubhouse services: pet groomer, hair salon, restaurant, conference center and a hall leading to employee offices. Natural light twinkled around me, illuminating dust motes in the air. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls showcased local flora and fauna, giving inside people like me the illusion of outdoor living.

  Scents of buttery hotcakes and syrup wafted through the Derby Steakhouse door. I breathed through my mouth to avoid unbearable carbohydrate temptation. One more whiff of pancakes and I might order a dozen hot doughnuts for second breakfasts.

  I dashed my coffee with cinnamon and grabbed a little wooden stir paddle. Bernie’s blog was right. There was trouble at the clubhouse. I pressed the cup to my lips and inhaled tendrils of bitter steam. My eyes slid shut while I counted to ten and organized my thoughts. What exactly were residents receiving in email? Whatever it was, it hadn’t come from me and I doubted it came from the clubhouse system. Could they be lying? How many complaints were there?

  A long shadow overtook me.

  My lids popped open, and I jumped to attention, stuffing swollen feet back into their luxurious torture devices.

  The shadow had a stiff-looking man in his midthirties at the end of it. “Mia Connors?” His voice was deep with a hint of Southern charm.

  Hmm. White dress shirt. Shiny shoes. “Are you a cop or a salesman?” I squinted through foggy glasses and set my coffee aside. “I met with our software rep last week, and we’re all up-to-date on licensing, so I guess cop.” Cops wore uniforms and carried twenty extra pounds but, for some inexplicable reason, most men liked being mistaken for one. He was definitely new to Horseshoe Falls. Resident? Guest?

  He frowned. “I look like a cop?”

  I wasn’t expecting the frown. I gave him another long look. The light bulb flickered on in my scrambled brain. “Oh.” I dug into my handbag, searching for my business cards. “Are you looking for some technical assistance?” I stage-winked. Detailed internet research was my specialty. If the information existed, I could find, compile and deliver it with great discretion. For a reasonable fee.

  “Technical assistance?”

  “Sure. Online. I can clean up anything you need or get details on anything you want.”

  He tented his brows.

  I backpedaled. “Research is a passion of mine.”

  He shifted foot to foot and stretched a hand in my direction. “Before you say anything else and this conversation takes a whole new turn, I need to introduce myself. I’m Jake Archer. I’m the new Horseshoe Falls Head of Security.”

  “You’re not wearing a uniform.” I gave him another once-over. “Why are you in a suit?”

  “It’s my first day. I’d hoped to make an impression. Disappointed?”

  Disgusted with my lack of insight. Of course he was the new guy. Bernie described him on her blog. Handsome. Sullen. “I thought you’d be more brooding.”

  He slouched forward and looked at me with narrow eyes. Like I wasn’t making any sense. Which I wasn’t.

  I pinched my lips between my teeth. “I mean, someone said you were brooding. Not me.” I flailed mentally. “Not brooding.” Swarms of staffers rushed past us. The meeting was over.

  A nervous laugh bubbled up, and I tamped it down. “I meant serious. You’re very serious. Probably in cop mode. Security mode? I’m sure you’re not at all brooding. I’ve got to go.” Ugh. I turned away, stuffing napkins and sugar packets into my bag for later. I’d finish mixing my coffee behind the safety of my office door.

  He followed me down the narrow hall toward the line of employee offices, easily matching his pace to mine. “Anything you want to tell me?”

  “I sometimes help people erase things they don’t want online. I also help them with research. I thought you were approaching me for my help.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why’d you assume I was a cop?”

  “Or a salesman.” I slowed my pace, relieved to reach my office door. “It was just a guess. You know, like when you go to a restaurant or a party and someone catches your attention, so you make up what you think they’re saying, what they do for a living and why they’re there. Then you get closer to see if you’re right.”

  Jake blinked. “No.”

  Of course not. Normal people didn’t do that kind of thing. Socially awkward girls with insane imaginations did. “Well, anyway. This is my office.” I turned my back to the door, hoping he wouldn’t follow me inside. “I’ve got work to do if I want to get the system’s problems worked out before we’re all fired, and I’m having a rough day anyway so...”

  He didn’t make a move to leave.

  My heart stammered. Why was he grilling me like this? I couldn’t take confrontation. I babbled. I behaved stupidly. I filled quiet moments with my personal brand of crazy.

  Two seconds later, I caved. “First, some jack—someone took my parking space, and now I have to fix whatever has happened to the email system or lose my job.” I exhaled deeply. “You should go.”

  His scrutinizing blue eyes pierced me to the door. “Why do I make you nervous?”

  I tugged at the neckline of my dress to circulate the suffocating air and chomped on the inside of both cheeks. You’re too close. Asking a whole heck of a lot of questions and way too close. My fingers curled at my side. I shut my eyes and cried out to the Universe, Help!

  “Nothing else you want to tell me?”

  I rolled the back of my head against the office door. “Uh-uh.”

  “Mia.” My name reverberated off the polished foyer floor. I smiled at the sound.

  My best friend, Nate, and his buddy Baxter moved confidently down the carpeted hall toward me, smiling widely and puffing for air. Jake stepped aside, rigid as a statue. Nate kissed my cheek and opened my office door. “Your lot is crammed. We had to park at the falls and run. We’re on our way to work and carpooled so we could show you something. Come on.” He grabbed my bag and tugged me with him through the doorway. Baxter followed.

  Nate had become my best friend the day I moved into his apartment building. Baxter was a New Year’s Eve mistake I diligently tried to forget.

  I concentrated on Nate, refusing to look at Jake, who’d entered the lair uninvited. “What are you guys up to?”

  Nate collapsed into my desk chair and spun. “Baxter has something for you.”

  Baxter gave me a creepy wink.

  “Stop it. What do you really want?”

  Jake took a slow nosy lap through the room. His critical expression irked me. I’d spent months designing and outfitting the IT office with the best of everything from equipment to furnishings. I’d agonized over the placement of every item for maximum efficiency and even consulted my sister, Bree, the psychology nut, before choosing a new wall color, quicksilver. She’d delivered staplers, penholders and tape dispensers in buttercup yellow as strategic accent pieces. Apparently quicksilver lowered stress, but we needed the yellow to keep us awake. As if I could sleep in an office this amazing. Our workstations were streamlined, feng shui accurate and accompanied with ergonomic comfy chairs.

  Jake returned from his tour with a grunt.

  Nate’s sharp green eyes twinkled. His gaze lingered on the oversize grump at my side.

  I waved a palm in his direction. “This is Jake. He’s new. What’s going on?”

  Nate nodded. He scanned the room and stopped on Warren, who was trying to look invisible at his desk several feet away.

  I smiled. “He’s fine, too. Tell me what’s going on.”
Energy buzzed through the room. Whatever they’d made a special trip at eight o’clock to tell me had to be big. “Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.”

  Jake cleared his throat. “Do you normally invite civilians into your office, Miss Connors? Am I wrong in understanding this room is the singular IT hub for all of Horseshoe Falls?” He rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows and crossed thick muscled arms over a broad chest. His grim expression dared me to let the guests remain in a room he’d declared off-limits.

  Challenge accepted.

  Baxter fidgeted with a string on his cuff, twisting it between his thumb and first finger until it broke. His peach dress shirt and yellow tie illuminated the unnatural flush of his olive skin. He moved a determined gaze to me. Ignoring Jake’s not-so-subtle hint that his presence in the IT office was inappropriate, Baxter moved into my personal space. His usual confidence wavered, but he didn’t stop. He lowered his mouth to my ear.

  I leaned away. “Knock it off.”

  He shot a meaningful look at Nate, then Jake. His fingers curled over mine, and I yanked free.

  “What are you doing?”

  His insistent nature was almost charming over pizza and drinks on the weekend, but at work, in front of everyone, I was shocked and appalled. It wasn’t like him to be so public.

  Baxter wrinkled his face. His expression morphed from worry to determination. He settled a warm hand on my shoulder. “I just need five minutes. Alone.”

  My heart raced at his nearness, and a traitorous shiver rolled down my spine.

  Jake stalked forward. “Seriously. What is going on in here?”

  Embarrassment burned my cheeks. Had everyone seen me shiver? A quick look confirmed they had. Nate, Jake and Warren stared at Baxter and me.

  I rose onto my tiptoes and forced authority into my voice. “This isn’t the time or place to be alone. Please step back or else.”

  He stepped away, hands fisted.

  Jake moved to the door and pressed wide palms over trim hips. “I’m going to have to ask your guests to leave. This is a restricted area. You can meet with your friends outside this room and on your time.”

  Nate wrinkled his nose. “Sure. Yeah. Okay.” He stood and exchanged a look with Baxter. Their height differences were almost comical. Baxter and I were eye-to-eye when I wore the right heels. Nate towered over everyone in the room. That was true in any room.

  Whatever they wanted to tell me, they were both clearly disappointed to have lost the chance. Nate pressed on. “See you at home?”

  “Yeah.” At least at home we could split a pizza and talk about it as long as we wanted. Whatever it was.

  Baxter’s expression was just short of a kicked puppy’s.

  “You coming, man?” Nate moved to Jake’s side and shot him a sidelong glance.

  Baxter looked repentant as he passed. “Sorry. That didn’t go down like I planned. Look me up later, okay?”

  I entered the space between my desk and Warren’s, matching Jake’s bossy stance. “Sure. Are you okay?”

  Baxter dipped his chin and disappeared through the doorway.

  Jake escorted them outside. He lifted a palm to stop me from joining them.

  I slid onto my seat. “What’s his problem?”

  Warren shrugged.

  I sent Nate and Baxter a quick text. Sorry about the new guy. Pizza tonight?

  They both responded immediately. Pizza tonight.

  Warren swiveled in his seat. “Where should we begin with the email things?”

  “Why don’t you perform a system scan to check for changes since the last backup? We want to rule out the possibility someone invaded the system. I’ll see what I can do to soothe irritated residents and take a look at the server log.”

  I composed a heartfelt email for the Horseshoe Falls community on behalf of the clubhouse staff. I apologized gratuitously for the confusion over coupons, discount codes and links sent to them for the purpose of scheduling appointments from home. Putting the blame on myself wasn’t fun, but there was no reason to alarm residents into thinking someone contacted them with malicious intent. Paranoia was contagious.

  I hit Send and moved to Warren’s desk. “Anything since the last backup?”

  “Nope. Nothing’s changed here. I went back three weeks. You want me to go further?”

  I tapped my nails on his stapler. “Yeah. If there’s something to find, let’s find it.”

  I fell back into my seat and pulled up the email server log. It didn’t take long to confirm what I suspected. “No emails were sent from this system with the subject or content Randall described. I’m going to tighten things up anyway.”

  I ran a complete diagnostic of the system before finishing my coffee. Everything looked solid. I updated the firewalls and changed all my access codes anyway. Someone had accessed email addresses for multiple Horseshoe Falls residents. They didn’t necessarily get them from my system, but if someone had been in my system before, they wouldn’t find their way back.

  Time evaporated as I combed the system, locking it down by extreme measures.

  Baxter sent a text at seven to confirm our plans for pizza.

  I responded affirmatively, with a pizza emoji and a quick message. Working late. Lost track of time. Be there soon. Time to find out what those goofballs came to work to show me.

  * * *

  I stopped by Nate’s apartment on my way home. He didn’t answer, which worried me. He hadn’t returned any of my calls or texts since I confirmed with Baxter. Not even the smiley face emoticon with glasses and a ponytail got a response. I pounded a little louder on Nate’s door, and the door beside his popped open.

  Argh. I speed-walked toward the elevator.

  “Mia of Camelot.” Nate’s neighbor, Carl, whistled like a catcaller on holiday. His snotty high-pitched voice stood my arm hairs at attention.

  “Carl.” I punched the elevator button and tapped my foot.

  “Looking for your pal?”

  “Have you seen him?”

  “Nope. Didn’t see his car outside either.”

  The blessed elevator doors slid open. “Let him know I’m looking for him if you do.”

  He puffed his chest and struck a pose in the doorway of his apartment. “Anything for you, my queen.”

  I jumped onboard and pressed the down button until the doors closed. All the apartments in our building were one or two bedrooms, yet somehow at least six hipsters lived in the apartment beside Nate’s. Carl was the boldest and most ironic, which was a compliment to any decent hipster. The others mostly snarked and slunk around being under-enthused about everything they came into contact with. Carl’s attitude toward me improved after he attended last year’s Renaissance Faire “ironically” and ran into me working Grandma’s Queen Guinevere booth, intentionally.

  I tried Baxter’s number while waiting to hear from Nate.

  Nothing.

  Nate wasn’t home. He wasn’t online. He wasn’t taking calls.

  By nine I was punchy. Baxter hadn’t responded either. I’d relived their visit to my office a thousand times. Nate said they had news. Baxter tried to get me alone. Maybe that hadn’t been a line. Maybe he needed to tell me something in private. What kind of secret could those two have for me?

  I grabbed my keys and took a ride. Ten minutes later I pulled up at Nate’s favorite coffee shop. No Nate. I twirled the key ring around my finger, forcing a bad feeling from my gut. Nate was a big boy. A big Irish boy with happy eyes and a righteous left hook. Maybe he was at the pub? I’d drive past Baxter’s building and look for their cars. The pub wasn’t far from his place. They might’ve stopped for a few drinks and lost track of time. That scenario wasn’t like them, but neither was standing me up.

  My tummy growled. When I found them, they owed me an ex
planation with my pizza.

  I grabbed my vibrating phone from my pocket as I headed for my car. “Nate?”

  The vibration continued until I realized it wasn’t an incoming call. I’d programmed my cell to alert me and the local police if the clubhouse alarm went off. I angled behind the wheel of my MINI and sailed down Perry Drive to Horseshoe Falls. The alarm never went off. What kind of day was this?

  The phone rang for real as I slid my badge through the guard gate reader.

  “Hello?”

  “Mia Connors? This is local police dispatch. We have notice of a silent alarm at 10012 Horseshoe Falls Drive.”

  I jammed my ID into my pocket and sped the short distance to the clubhouse, thankful the town was dark and quiet. “Yes. I’m here now. I’m parking. I’ll go inside and shut it off in the next three minutes.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Give us a call if you need us.”

  I disconnected and jogged across sprinkler-wet grass, tugging open doors until I reached the alarm panel. I entered the security code and waited for the blinking red light to settle into a steady green. Area Secured.

  Moonlight streamed through wide glass walls. A sinking feeling settled over me. What if the area wasn’t secured? I took a lap through the building. All the doors were locked. No signs of an intruder. Probably a flock of birds or a deer hit the window.

  One more stop and I’d hit the pub in search of the guys.

  I pressed the levered handle on my office door, and it creaked open without effort. “Warren?” I poked my head inside. Another thought occurred. “Jake?”

  Security lighting cast an eerie glow over the room already filled with blinking lights and endless monitors set to blue home screens. The silhouette of a man seated in my chair stopped my breath and sent my frantic heart into overdrive.

  I slapped my palm against the light switch. Overhead lights snapped on, illuminating the intruder at my desk.

  The scream that followed was mine.

  My hands wiggled helplessly in the air, wanting to help, knowing he was dead. I dashed to his side and pressed two trembling fingers against his neck, praying for a pulse. His skin was cold and pale. His face was streaked with blood and speckled in glass. No pulse. I whimpered. Fumbling for my cell phone, I nicked the wheels of my desk chair with one foot, and Baxter face-planted onto my keyboard.