A Geek Girl's Guide to Murder Page 5

  Jake was leaning against the wall outside my new office door.

  I clutched the buttons on my blouse and sucked air. “What are you doing?” I speed-walked away from him, no longer wanting breakfast. I wanted to escape.

  He followed me down the hall and out the front door. “Checking up on you. How do you like your temporary office? Do you have everything you need?”

  I blinked against the sun. “It’s fine.” I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready to sit at my old desk again. The ability to deal with traumas wasn’t in my mental toolkit. Denial and I, on the other hand, were intimately familiar. “You know, your new title is head of security not head of stalking Mia. There’s a whole community out there for your creeping pleasure.” My tummy growled, and my heels snapped against the cobblestone walk.

  He exhaled loudly, as if I exhausted him. “Where are we going?”

  “I have something to do. I have no idea what you are doing.”

  I climbed into a staff golf cart parked outside the maintenance door and set Lacy’s folder on the seat beside me.

  Jake climbed inside and opened the folder.

  “Stop it.” I whipped the folder free of his fingers and slapped it against his shoulder. “That’s not yours.”

  “Does this have anything to do with the leggy blonde who slipped you something shady this morning at the coffee counter?”

  “Get out.”

  “No.”

  “You’re impossible.” I started the cart and pointed it down Freedom Drive toward Lacy’s house. “This is none of your business, and that leggy blonde has a name. Lacy Foster. Lacy is a person, not an object to be ogled. Also, the concierge desk is not called a coffee counter.”

  “I wasn’t ogling her, and you avoided the part where she passed you something suspicious. Was it cash? Drugs?”

  I jerked the wheel around a pile of road apples some horse left behind. “You think Lacy deals drugs? Wait. Was I the one selling the drugs or her?”

  “You tell me.” He stretched and bent his legs, seeking comfort uselessly in the small vehicle.

  “What are you wearing?”

  He tugged the collar of his crisp white T-shirt and stroked the khaki material over his thighs. “Clothes.”

  “Where’s your uniform? Mark wore a red blazer with a nametag.”

  “You’re obsessed with uniforms. What do you think Freud would say about that?”

  I turned my eyes to the road. “Don’t analyze me.” His words toiled in my mind. Was he suggesting I had a thing for men in uniform? Implying I wanted an authority figure in my life? Whatever. What did Freud know? He’d studied his patients. They were already cuckoo. Was Jake insinuating I belonged in psychiatric care? I leered at his smug face. “You want to know what I think? I think I don’t like you.”

  “Right.”

  My foot eased off the pedal. “I mean it. I try to like everyone, but the more time I spend with you, the more this feels right, you know?”

  The left side of his mouth curved up.

  “I’m not kidding.”

  “That’s too bad because Detective Archer thinks I should keep a close eye on you. You’re the prime suspect right now.”

  I jammed the gas and his head bobbed forward. I jammed the brakes and watched it again. “You mean your brother, Detective Archer? Funny. Let me think. Who do I know who would cast me as the number one suspect? Hmm.” I tapped my chin for dramatic effect. “Did someone who looks exactly like you come to mind for you too?”

  His smile grew. “My brother’s a good detective. You can trust him to follow the facts, not my advice.”

  I gunned the cart, and Jake braced a hand on the dash. He sounded too much like Bree. She spent so much time announcing I never listened to her that I eventually stopped listening to her intentionally.

  This wasn’t about me. This was all him. “Is that why you try so hard to figure everything out? Are you trying to impress your big brother?”

  “Younger brother.”

  I whistled. “Ouch.”

  “No. Not ouch. I’m proud of my family. We come from a long line of cops and military. We make your world safer.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You have a problem with our military?”

  “What? No. I didn’t say that. What is wrong with you? Are you deliberately trying to tick me off or does my face irritate you so much you can’t help yourself?”

  He turned away instead of answering my question.

  “Whatever.”

  Jake spun back around, twisting in his seat and resting one arm across the seatback behind me. “Why were you late this morning?”

  “I was looking for Nate.”

  “Did you find him?”

  “No. I haven’t been able to reach him since you threw him and Baxter out yesterday. He wasn’t home or at The Beanery, a coffee shop down the street from our building. He hasn’t been online or answered any of my texts. I don’t know if he knows about Baxter or if he’s in danger.” My grip on the steering wheel turned white.

  “You live with him?”

  “No. He lives in an apartment upstairs from mine.”

  “Good to know.” Jake looked relieved for some convoluted reason. I refused to guess. He’d twist my words anyway.

  “That we don’t live together?”

  “No, that you were looking for him and not trying to cover something up or help him skip town.”

  “Right. Because Nate’s a suspect too. He killed his best friend and left him in my chair. Why would he do that?”

  His serious eyes twinkled in the sunlight. “That’s what I plan to find out.”

  I secured my game face. Maybe this wasn’t a game to him. Maybe he did want to solve this crime and not just irk me to death. “Get in line.”

  Chapter Four

  I pulled the cart into Lacy’s driveway and gave Jake a threatening look. “I’ll be right back. You wait here.”

  “I don’t get you.”

  I climbed out, tucked the black folder under one arm and scrunched my nose so awkwardly I had to adjust my glasses.

  “You’re like a hostile Brainy Barbie. You seem like a nice lady, but you go around threatening people’s lives, mostly mine today, and I get confused.”

  “Sorry about your luck.” I strode up to Lacy’s door and rang the bell. The golf cart was close enough to hit with a rock. I was tempted. “Women can be both cute and fierce, you know. Try joining the millennium. Take notes or something. Oh, and don’t ever call me Barbie again.”

  The door sucked open, and a woman wearing a pale blue dress and white orthopedic sneakers greeted me. “Yes?”

  “I’m here to see Mrs. Foster.”

  The woman shook her head. “Mrs. Foster isn’t having visitors.”

  I smiled. “I understand. Would you please see that she gets this for me? She’ll know who it’s from.”

  The woman eyeballed the folder. “What is this?” She put her hands behind her back.

  “Mrs. Foster asked me to do a little research for her. She wants this folder.” I pushed it forward.

  The woman shook her head. Negative.

  “It’s not a summons or anything. I swear. Look.” I pointed to the cart in the driveway. “I’m Mia Connors. I work at the clubhouse.”

  Her face cracked into a giant grin. “You’re Mia Connors? Mary’s granddaughter?”

  “That’s right.”

  Her arms sprang forward, and she pulled me into a hug. “Your grandmother saved my daughter’s wedding. Her products are magic.” She whispered the final word. “You’re an angel.”

  Behind me, someone snorted. I refused to look.

  “I’m glad you’re happy with the results. These papers are for Mrs. Foster. She asked for th
em earlier.”

  This time the woman took the folder and clutched it to her chest. “I’ll bring them to her now. She’s in the garden getting some sun.”

  “Thanks. Tell her I said I approve.” I bounced back to the cart like my personal brand of superhero. Wilbur Donahue was a nice old widower with twenty solid years left in him. Grown kids. Good health. Summer house in Nice. He and Lacy could be quite happy together.

  Jake squinted against the sun. “What was that about?”

  “She knows my grandmother.” I started the cart, enjoying the rush of delivering good news.

  “Why did she call you an angel?”

  I shrugged, reversed out of the drive and stopped abruptly. A lady wearing a mink stole and tweed dress slacks, despite the summer heat, waved me down with one arm. A set of leashes in her other hand restrained a pack of miniature dogs.

  “What the...” Jake leaned toward me as the woman and her tiny pack of canines approached on his side.

  “You.” She leaned over for a better look at me. “You’re in charge of scheduling?”

  “Well...I run the computer systems here.” I adjusted my posture to hide behind Jake’s wide shoulders.

  “I’ve scheduled hair appointments for my babies twice this week only to show up and learn the appointments weren’t real. That’s not acceptable. I pay obscene dues to the homeowners’ association so my fur babies are assured royal treatment.”

  Jake choked.

  The woman turned cold eyes on him.

  I worried for his safety. “Mrs. Freemont, right?”

  Her focus drifted back to me. “That’s right.”

  “My grandmother is a member of your book club. Her name is Mary Connors. My sister and I occasionally came to your house when we were younger.”

  Mrs. Freemont worked her jaw. Jet black hair fell against her cheeks and forehead, emphasizing an uncanny pallor. Sharp brown eyes scrutinized mine. “I remember you. You’re the one who argued about the stories with my group.”

  My cheeks burned. “I was an opinionated kid.”

  Jake puffed air.

  I tried to give his side a quick warning pinch but failed. His skin fit snugly over a frame of unyielding concrete. I’d think about that later.

  “Mrs. Freemont, I’m on my way back to the clubhouse now. We’re aware of the scheduling issues. I promise I’m looking into it, and I’ll see what I can do to get your appointment reset as soon as possible.”

  She straightened with a snap. “See that you do.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” A shiver rocked my body. She always reminded me more of an avenging specter than a retired judge. Bree and I called her Vampira and told scary stories about how the eyes of her paintings followed us through her home. The only fun thing about book club with Grandma was provoking Mrs. Freemont in hopes she’d show her true form, float around breaking things and prove our theory. Never happened, though, and I’d made her pretty mad.

  Jake straightened on the seat as we motored back down Freedom Drive. “I guess not everyone thinks you’re an angel.”

  “I’m not an angel. I’m like everyone else. I use my manners, avoid confrontation and mind my own business. I screw things up, too. I’ve literally lost my best friend, and I have no idea who sent those bogus emails or why. Worse: the residents liked the scheduling option. Some random nut knew my residents better than I do. I’m looking into making online scheduling available as soon as possible. Warren and I can make that happen pretty easily, I think.”

  Jake watched me without speaking.

  “I’m also bunnytrailing. I do that.” A lot.

  I concentrated on my driving before I said something he’d deem incriminating or I’d deem humiliating.

  Fresh-cut grass peppered the air. Maintenance crews were out in full force, mowing, pruning and mulching everything in sight. Emerald-green grass glistened between flower beds bursting with the colors of summer. Kites cluttered the sky near Horseshoe Lake, and puffy white clouds sailed across the sky behind them.

  Jake’s rough voice yanked me back to our cart of hostility. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “You didn’t ask anything.”

  “What’s your story? If you aren’t up to something sketchy, how do you explain the three-hundred-dollar shoes and the four-hundred-dollar bag you stuff your two-thousand-dollar laptop into? You don’t make enough at the clubhouse for those things.”

  The cart zipped into its designated space outside Maintenance and rocked to a sudden stop.

  I pried frustrated fingers off the steering wheel. “I don’t have to answer those questions.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they’re rude. You never ask a woman about her shoes. Compliment them, maybe, but you don’t point out what they cost.” I swiveled away, landing my adorable shoes on the sleek concrete slab. “Where are you from anyway, Mars?”

  He jumped out and rounded the back bumper, meeting me in two more long strides. “I’m from Ohio, just like you. Are you sure you aren’t doing anything illegal? What was in the folder you gave Lacy Foster?”

  “I can’t tell you, so stop asking, and no, I don’t do anything illegal.” The wind picked up, and I pressed both palms against my skirt, which wasn’t short. “How do you know what I make working at the clubhouse? IT jobs pay well.”

  He smirked. “Not well enough to keep you in Jimmy Choos.”

  A smile tugged my lips. “You drive a dirty farm truck and wear work boots. What do you know about Jimmy Choos?”

  “Enough. So, do you have a sugar daddy living in Horseshoe Falls?”

  I started walking. “Nope. Never poop where you eat.”

  He kept pace. “Rich boyfriend? Run an escort service?”

  I guffawed. “I won’t dignify that with an answer. Do you have any idea how sexist and...rude...every one of those assumptions are? I think you just set modern societal progression back a hundred years.”

  I yanked open the glass door and jumped inside. Shockingly, he didn’t follow.

  Warren startled when I opened our temporary office door. He’d moved our desks side by side and separated them the way we had them in our old office. A wad of orange and blue cables poked free from his grip. “The cords are a mess, but I got the desks moved.”

  The wave of frustration Jake had delivered fell away. “Thanks. This is great.” I went straight for my desk and collapsed onto the uncomfortable chair. “I got another complaint while I was out. People responded really well to the bogus emails. We need to get that feature going for real. And soon.”

  He gave up on the cables and slicked long black bangs across his forehead. “I bookmarked some sites and compiled some figures. We can probably build what we need in house.”

  “Thanks for looking into that.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose beneath my glasses. As important as work was to me, I’d rather uncover the truth about what happened to Baxter and why Nate vanished than deal with a bizarre email scheme. Restless energy set me on my feet with nowhere to go.

  Warren lowered his voice. “How are you doing?”

  Terrible. “Staying busy.” I looked at the closed door. “Did you hear anything about why Mark left?”

  Warren shook his head.

  I cracked open the door and peered into the empty hallway. “Me either. I’m going to go ask Randall about Mark.”

  I got in line at the Welcome Desk and checked my text messages. Bree sent three. Ren Faire tonight. Don’t forget. Don’t be late.

  Be there at five. Tell me you got this message.

  Ren Faire tonight!

  Mom left a voice mail, “How are you, sweetheart? I know you’re hurting. We love you. Let’s talk.”

  Randall rapped his knuckles on the desk. “You’re up, Mia. Tell me you fixed the system.”

&
nbsp; The line in front of me had vanished. “Sorry.” I crossed six feet of empty space to Randall. “The system is fine. Something else is going on. Don’t worry. I have a plan to find out.”

  He dropped his forehead onto the cool granite desktop. “I have no idea what that means. I hope it means there won’t be any more emails promising things they shouldn’t. You’re killing me.”

  “That’s what it means.”

  He lifted his face. “You don’t know how much I hope you’re right. Anything else?”

  “I came to see what you know about Mark. Is he okay? Why’d he leave? Will he be back?”

  “Ah. The second most popular question of the day.” Randall tugged heavy caterpillar eyebrow hair between his thumb and first finger. “It’s murky. Mark took some family leave time. He has twelve weeks off. He didn’t say why. What’s wrong? You don’t like the new guy?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Huh.” He scanned the area. “He seems pretty good. Very thorough.”

  “Tell me about it. He’s been following me, trying to catch me doing something illegal.”

  Randall’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Like what?”

  “Anything.” My phone rang, and I answered without looking at caller ID. “Hello?”

  Bree huffed into the receiver. “Finally. Where are you? You didn’t return any of my messages.”

  “I just got them. I don’t know why you get so worked up. I’ve never missed the Ren Faire, and I’m usually not very late.”

  “Good. Are you home? I’ll come pick you up on my way. Is four okay?”

  I checked my watch and cringed. “I’m at Horseshoe Falls.”

  “Oh. Okay, that’s good. You’re riding with Grandma?”

  I slunk away from the Welcome Desk with an apologetic wave to Randall. Guilt slowed my pace, but I powered on. Randall was counting on me to fix the email problem. My family was counting on me to be at the Faire tonight.

  Nate wasn’t on REIGN, but he might be at the Faire. We could talk there, away from prying eyes. I hustled down the hall to my office.

  “Bree? I’m working, but I’ll be there at five. See you tonight.” I hung up, hoping my enthusiastic tone bought some time before she called back. Just in case, I told my phone to send her calls to voice mail.