A Geek Girl's Guide to Murder Read online

  Chapter Two

  An hour later, a dozen people swarmed my office. Jake mingled with the uniforms, whispering things in confidence. I chewed my shredded fingernails and wondered how he liked ten people rummaging around my office when he was so rude to the two I’d invited, one of which was suddenly, inexplicably dead.

  I collapsed in the corner farthest from Baxter and the bustle of the investigation surrounding him. Nate still wasn’t answering calls, texts or emails. A tear slid over my cheek, and I swiped it away. I could have a proper breakdown at home. This wasn’t the time.

  My scrambled brain raced with questions. What if Nate was dead too? Maybe that was the reason he wasn’t answering his phone. If he wasn’t dead, I needed to find him and tell him about Baxter. He shouldn’t hear of his best friend’s death on the news.

  I caught another hot tear on the pad of my thumb and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. We were supposed to have pizza tonight and laugh about Jake’s overzealous interpretation of his head-of-security duties. Baxter was going to share his secret intrigue and I was going to buy a round of our favorite drinks while we talked about it. Images of the three of us making silly toasts around a pub table dissolved into tears. Gone. Like Baxter.

  I reopened my lids with resolve. I’d do something to honor Baxter. He shouldn’t be gone. I’d sit down with Nate and we’d come up with a way.

  Jake wound through knots and clusters of people, grimacing as usual, wholly focused on me. “You want to tell me what happened here?”

  I scoffed. As if I knew anything. As if he hadn’t already spoken to every man in the room. “Why don’t you ask an officer? They wrote my story down. I’ve told it ten times tonight.”

  Jake squatted beside me. “Make it eleven.”

  I narrowed my eyes and kneaded my hands, suddenly desperate to be anywhere else. “No.”

  “No?”

  “Yeah. No. I’m not here to entertain you. One of my friends died tonight and another’s missing, so find someone else to play cop with.”

  Jake pulled his chin back. “I’m not playing cop.”

  “Pft.”

  He stood and assumed the cranky pose. Arms crossed, eyes blazing. “You threatened the guy a few hours ago. What exactly did you mean by ‘step back or else’?”

  I stared.

  “You sure you don’t want to tell that story one more time?”

  I shot to my feet and nearly fell over. My legs wobbled like soggy noodles. I pressed one hand to the wall for casual support. “Hey!” I lifted a finger between us. “You’re the one who insisted Nate and Baxter leave. You stood around like a caveman, grunting and glaring. You’re the one who had a problem with him, not me. Maybe you should answer a few questions. Where were you at nine-thirty tonight?”

  He hacked a throaty noise into the air. “Last I heard, looks don’t kill, and I don’t recall threatening the man. That was you.”

  I growled and stamped one rubbery foot, hoping to wake it. “I didn’t hurt him, and you know it.” My voice edged higher.

  The murmur of voices and flash of crime-scene cameras drew me back to Earth. I counted silently to ten.

  “Do I?”

  I crossed my arms like him. If this was some sort of contest, I could be just as difficult as he could.

  “Mia.”

  My teeth chattered.

  Jake dropped his arms to his sides. “Was anything taken?”

  “No.”

  “Did you check?”

  “Of course I checked. The actual police officers covered all this before you got here. They asked me to look for anything missing, damaged or otherwise tampered with. Everything is perfect. Nothing was touched. They dusted my keyboard for prints and found nothing. Only mine. Happy?”

  “Not particularly.”

  A pair of uniformed officers watched us from across the room.

  I turned my back on them. Being the center of attention was for the birds and my sister. I preferred a deserted island to a fishbowl any day. “I haven’t figured out who triggered the silent alarm, but I shut it off when I got here.”

  Jake raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think Baxter triggered the alarm?”

  “Well, he didn’t kill himself. Someone smashed his nose with a tablet and then cracked him over the head with something heavy. Maybe the killer was already here when Baxter came.”

  “How do you know it was a tablet?” He rocked back on his heels, looking pleased.

  “What?”

  “You said someone hit Baxter with a tablet. That’s very specific. Also, how do you know the tablet wasn’t used for the injury on the back of his head? How do you know the broken nose came first?”

  “I recognize the splinters of glass all over his shirt and the floor. I’ve replaced enough tablet screens to know the glass when I see it. Ever drop a smartphone, Mr. Security? Touchscreens shatter into a million tiny fragments, some so small you’ll find them in the carpet with your bare feet, months later, regardless of how hard you looked or how many times you swept. Also, it doesn’t make sense to hit him in the face after knocking him dead, so they must have hit his face first, but hitting his face busted the screen, so it wouldn’t have made much of a weapon after that. Heck, a tablet couldn’t kill anyone, even if it wasn’t broken. Have you seen a tablet lately? They’re like this thick and this big.” I mimed the estimated sizes with my fingertips and palms. “Is there a reason you challenged my assessment? Something more you want to say?”

  Jake didn’t look impressed. “Any idea why your friend was here after hours?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  He squared his shoulders. “I heard you make plans to hook up later.”

  I glared. “Are you accusing me of something?”

  Two EMTs loaded Baxter into a black coroner bag and onto a gurney. The eerie echo of lacing zipper teeth went on forever, curling ice into the pit of my stomach. My breath hitched as they rolled him through the doorway and out of my life. The officers followed, along with the medical examiner. Oxygen filled the room in their absence. A lone man dusting for prints kept up the investigation.

  I rubbed cold palms over chilled arms and turned in a circle, desperate to leave, unable to move. “It’s freezing in here.”

  Jake touched his hand to the small of my back before dropping it and stepping away. “You’re probably suffering from a bit of shock. It’s nice outside. The fresh air will help. Let me walk you to your car.”

  I tried to nod, but my stiff neck jerked back and forth like a human bobblehead doll. I let Jake guide me away from the terrible scene.

  The night was clear but dark. Silent police cruisers flanked the ambulance and other official vehicles, none of which used their emergency lights. Only the ghosts of headlights and taillights guided the strangers as they made their way out of the lot.

  I moved in a daze to my MINI and unlocked the door.

  Jake snorted.

  Adrenaline surged in my veins for no good reason. “Something wrong?”

  He shook his head, a look of disbelief on his face. “Are you positive you didn’t invite Baxter here? Maybe he got a little too hands-on, if you know what I mean? Perhaps you acted in self-defense?”

  Exhaustion tugged my mind and limbs. “Beating someone over the head isn’t self-defense. Besides, if I want someone to leave me alone, they do.” Having a cop for a father and six years of college dating experience assured that much. I’d completed dozens of campus self-defense workshops by graduation. If I wanted a man to back off, I could make him.

  Jake Archer included.

  I gave him a long appraising look. He was lean, almost to the point of lanky. Big feet, long appendages. He was probably slower than he thought and, with his high center of gravity, I was pretty certain I could put him on his
back before he knew what happened.

  “Yeah, I bet.” His cheeky grin contradicted the words.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m defenseless because I wear heels and work in IT?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s your short skirts, bite-sized pink car and glasses.”

  My head whipped back. “Excuse me? My skirts are not short, and I like pink. Stella’s easy to maneuver, cost-effective and easy on the environment. The glasses are a medical necessity, thanks to bad genes and probably too much time at a computer screen. Anyway, which is it? Either you think I’m capable of murdering a man twice my size or you think I’m a dainty princess. If you want to solve this crime, you’ll need to narrow your theories a bit.”

  That earned me a chuckle. He opened my car door for me. “Not if I believe both.”

  I slid onto the cool leather seat and slammed the door before powering down my window like a boss. We weren’t done arguing, after all. Who knew what ridiculous thing he’d say next? I kept my chin high, but the stupid seat belt took three tries to latch. So much for a dramatic exit.

  He patted the car roof. “Be here bright and early so I don’t have to come looking for you. Murderers sometimes try to make a hasty getaway. I watch television.” He tapped his temple to mock me.

  I reversed out of the space. Pretending he didn’t mind my you-aren’t-a-real-cop digs didn’t work on me. It shone in his eyes. He was on a mission, just like me. I wanted to find my best friend, but what was Jake up to? Maybe he was the one who sabotaged my computer system, sending those bogus emails to residents. His sudden appearance was beyond strange. Until he appeared, I had no idea Mark, the previous security head, had any intention of leaving. According to Bernie’s blog, no one did. Corporate espionage situations saturated the news. Maybe Jake worked for a rival upscale community feeling the pressure to steal our older, wealthier residents by making our setup seem unprofessional.

  The MINI bounced over a row of speed bumps, and I caught sight of Jake walking across the empty parking lot. He shot me a weird salute before climbing into the giant blue truck I hated.

  Why hadn’t I seen that coming?

  * * *

  My neighborhood was silent as I drifted to the curb outside the renovated bank building where I lived. Nate’s car wasn’t on the street.

  My decision to move downtown was a choice my family hated. They’d belonged to middle class America for far too long. I preferred hundred-year-old city buildings to the squat ranch homes of suburbia. My building had character and charm. Living downtown was being part of history. Living in the suburbs was being in a time warp. I wasn’t ready for a time warp.

  I dropped my keys into the blown glass dish inside my door and locked up behind me. I poured cold coffee into a mug and shoved it into the microwave. I hadn’t predicted much correctly today, but I had no doubt it would be a long night. I redressed in sweat pants, a T-shirt and slippers before the microwave dinged.

  I curled up on the couch with hot coffee and balanced my laptop on my thighs. Unopened email made me nuts. I scanned the content of an email from Grandma’s company, knowing it was perfect. I’d spent an entire weekend choosing each word for the newsletter. This automated mailing had a special bonus. One free invitation to the Renaissance Faire as Grandma’s guest.

  My attention, meanwhile, bounced erratically. It was well after midnight, but I needed to talk. Bree had a baby, so it was anyone’s guess whether or not they were asleep or awake at any point in the day. I sent a quick text about the Faire to see if she responded.

  My phone rang three minutes later. Mom’s face appeared on the screen.

  “Hello?”

  “This is Bree. We’re at Mom and Dad’s playing canasta. You want to come over?”

  “No.” I double-checked the clock. “Don’t you have to work in the morning?”

  She laughed. “I’m working from home tomorrow.” The words were drawn out. “Tom’s asleep on the couch.”

  I stretched my legs and wiggled my fuzzy slippers. “Are you drinking?”

  “Yep.” She let the p pop into the receiver.

  I set my glasses on the coffee table and rubbed my aching eyes. I’d tell her about Baxter tomorrow, when she was sober. “The Renaissance Faire starts tomorrow night. Are you going?”

  “We’re all going. Everyone’s going.” She paused. “Why? Aren’t you?”

  “I’m going. I just...” saw a friend dead and needed to talk. “I hoped you’d all be there. I miss seeing everyone.” A lump formed in my throat. I’d almost forgotten I promised myself an ugly crying jag.

  Bree sighed. “You see us constantly. What’s wrong?” Her lazy slur vanished.

  Oh no. Big-sister mode had been initiated, and I’d already decided not to talk about Baxter tonight. This meant only one thing. A fight.

  “You know I can hear when something’s wrong with you. I can feel it.” She exaggerated the word feel into multiple syllables. “Don’t say you don’t want to talk about it. If you didn’t want to talk, you wouldn’t have texted.”

  “Jeez, you’re annoying. Nothing’s wrong.” I picked at swollen cuticles I’d chewed raw at the clubhouse. Where the hell was Nate? Why was Baxter dead? Why was he in my office after hours? What did they want to tell me?

  “Fine. Don’t tell me. I already know anyway. For once I wanted to hear your problems from you instead of from someone else, but I shouldn’t expect miracles. Tell me one thing, Mia. Why don’t you ever tell me things? What’s the point in having a twin if we live two separate lives?”

  Our well-worn twin argument thickened the air and my tongue. The words piled behind clenched teeth, begging me to answer her tired question for the ten thousandth time. Because we are two separate people.

  If I took that path, I’d incite her ire, per my usual, and face an inevitable makeup the next time I saw her, which was tomorrow, and Bree was a hugger. I nearly bit my tongue in half stanching the words. I counted to ten and settled for “You’re a crabby drunk.”

  The phone clattered. Mom’s voice rang through the line. “Honey, are you okay? I hoped you’d call sooner. I was giving you space until breakfast, then I was storming the castle to comfort you.”

  I sniffled and laughed at Mom’s Princess Bride reference. She made them often, but rarely correctly. “What do you know?”

  “I heard about Baxter from Bunny Majors. She called when she saw the ambulance and police cars at Horseshoe Falls. She and Charles were scouting for owls. They thought Mark might’ve had a heart attack. He’s not in the greatest shape, you know, but, then again, the clubhouse isn’t usually open at night. When the police spotted Bunny and Charles watching, they questioned them. Randall was there. He’d told her what had happened. The officers asked if she knew Baxter, which she did, of course, through you.” Mom pulled in a new breath and finished with a bang. “She told them how the two of you argued so often and what good friends you were.”

  My head fell into my waiting palm. “That’s an oxymoron. We were good friends but why would she say we fought all the time? No wonder Jake thinks I killed Baxter.”

  “Who’s Jake?”

  Apparently Bunny didn’t know everything. “The new head of security.”

  “What about Mark?”

  “He’s gone. No one knows why he left. I’ll ask around.” The stress of the day crushed my chest. My head pounded. My limbs were too heavy. I didn’t need coffee, I needed rest. “Mom, I’ve got to go. Make up with Bree for me, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “All right, sweetie. If you need anything, just call. Your father and I are always here for you.”

  I disconnected and tipped over on my couch. Images of Baxter’s face cluttered my mind. The way he laughed when I teased him about his eternally sunny disposition, or how he pursed his lips when we argued, as
if he wanted to say something mean but never would. I’d never had many friends, but I’d had him and he was true.

  I wrapped my arms around my middle and squeezed. “Where are you, Nate? Baxter is gone and I can’t lose you, too.” A shuddered breath rocked through me. “Please be okay.”

  Chapter Three

  My phone buzzed to life, literally. “Flight of the Bumblebee” was Bree’s assigned ringtone. Bree was the bee. Big sisters were like that as far as I could tell, especially ones who reminded you for nearly thirty years they were two-and-a-half minutes older, wiser and more mature. I slapped the screen blindly until her voice burst through the speaker.

  “Mia?”

  I moaned, too tired to form words.

  “I’m sorry about last night. It wasn’t nice of me to set you up and then get mad when you did exactly what I expected. How are you feeling today? Gwen’s at daycare and Tom’s at the university. I can come over and bring you coffee or meet you for lunch.”

  I swung suddenly anxious legs over the couch’s edge. Coffee. “I need to go. I want to find Nate, and he always goes to The Beanery on his way to work.” I sloughed off the blankets and dashed into my room. I yanked open my closet door. “Maybe on the lunch offer. I’ll call you later.”

  Bree sighed. “No, you won’t, but thanks for saying so. Hey. Don’t forget you’re coming over this week for dinner. We’re celebrating the new grant Tom and I secured.”

  I flipped through the closet, in search of my longest skirt. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  * * *

  Nate wasn’t at The Beanery, and Jake’s monstrous truck of stupidity was parked in my space again. There were plenty of open parking spaces today, which could only mean one thing. He wanted to tick me off.

  Done. Success. He could mark it off on his list of victories because it wouldn’t happen again.