Drip Dead (16 page)

But I had won. There on the screen was a folder labeled “Veritas.”

I stood up to get a thumb drive from my desk. My right leg was asleep, the result of my cramped posture, and I nearly toppled over.

I caught myself on the back of my chair. Within seconds the tingling pain of returning circulation spread down my leg. I gritted my teeth and inched forward until I could reach the drive.

I knew better. When I ran Samurai Security I’d insisted on ergonomic chairs and regular stretch breaks for my employees and for myself. It was just good business. So was the masseuse who made office calls.

As I gingerly lowered myself into my non-ergonomic kitchen chair I longed for that masseuse. On-call massage therapists were not the sort of amenity you found in a town the size of Pine Ridge.

Especially not at—I glanced at the clock and groaned—four o’clock in the morning.

I plugged in the thumb drive and quickly copied the file folder. I verified the copy and made sure the data was good. With the drive stowed back in my desk drawer away from prying eyes, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Even if the sheriff or the prosecutor came looking for Mom’s computer, I had the data I needed. But I was too exhausted to try to decipher the files. That could wait until morning. Well,
later
in the morning.

I stood in the shower and let the water run over me for several minutes. The warm water soothed my aching muscles, and the antacids I’d popped were beginning to calm my stomach.

I dragged myself from the shower and dressed in the pajamas I’d borrowed from Sue. I still owed her for those. I’d have to remember to pay her next time I saw her.

Time for bed.

The bedroom door was ajar, and I pushed it open. The bed was made with a precision I never achieved, the comforter hanging straight and even and the pillows piled artfully across the head of the bed.

It wasn’t my bed. It was my mother’s. And I couldn’t sleep in it.

I staggered out to the couch, wrapped myself in the spare blanket that had been folded over the arm, and closed my eyes.

 

 

I tried to ignore the ringing phone, but Daisy stuck her wet nose in my face and insisted I wake up and make the annoying noise stop at once.

The phone was only inches from my head. It took a second for me to register why I had slept with the phone next to me.

I was instantly awake, my heart pounding.

I snatched up the cell phone and flipped it open. “Hello?”

“Morning, Georgie.” Paula’s voice was overly cheery, the kind of voice you use when you visit someone in the hospital. Obviously she had heard about my mother.

Relief was like a rush of ice water through my body, chasing away the adrenaline-fueled heat. I relaxed back against the couch cushions and took a deep breath.

“Hi, Paula. What’s up?” I felt a quaver in my voice, a reaction to the emotional roller-coaster ride.

“You okay, Georgie? You sound a little shaky.” Paula’s obvious concern touched me. It was good to have friends who actually cared about you.

“Late night,” I answered. And a long day ahead, but I pushed the thought from my mind. If I dwelled on it I would pull the blanket over my head and not come out for a week.

“I heard. I don’t know what the sheriff is thinking.” Her voice rose in indignation now that the subject had been broached. “Your mother wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

I agreed. Mother would never stoop to physically harming someone. Verbal torture was much more her style.

“Sorry,” Paula said. “I swore I wasn’t going to butt in. It just makes me so mad!”

“It’s okay, really. I appreciate the moral support. But that wasn’t what you called for, was it?”

“No, no, it wasn’t.” She seemed to give herself a mental shake. “I called about my wine guy. You are still interested in talking to him, aren’t you?”

I stood up and moved into the kitchen, rummaging in my desk for a pencil and paper. This might be the break I needed.

“More than ever,” I answered.

“Okay. He said I could give you his name and number and you could call him to set up a meeting. He’s a bit of a character, Georgie, but don’t let that put you off. He’s not a bad guy.”

My heart sank. If Paula, who was one of the sweetest people on the planet, thought this guy was a character, there was no telling what he might actually be like.

Still, I needed to talk to someone who knew about wine and who might know others in town who were interested in wine. I made myself a promise to withhold judgment.

Maybe he wouldn’t be so bad.

“His name’s William Robinson. And he hates being called Bill or Will—especially not Will. Says his name is William, or Mr. Robinson.” She stifled a giggle, but I heard it anyway. “Yeah, he’s kind of stuffy. But he’s studied a lot about wine, so maybe he can help you.”

I scribbled the number she gave me next to where I’d written William Robinson in capital letters, and thanked her for the introduction.

By the time I hung up I was wide awake, but it was too early to call a complete stranger, especially one who insisted on being called William.

I let the dogs out and made us all breakfast. Yogurt, cereal, and more fresh coffee for me, dog food for them.

I got the usual accusatory looks when they examined the contents of their bowls. “You should be grateful,” I told them. “I’m sure there are starving dogs somewhere that would be happy to have that food.”

They weren’t impressed.

No one had come pounding on my door demanding Mom’s laptop, though I expected a visit from Sheriff Mitchell or one of his deputies at any time. I flipped open the machine and brought up the Veritas folder. Now that I knew where it was hidden it took only a few keystrokes.

In the folder I found a file of correspondence and several spreadsheets. There was also a backup of an e-mail file.

I was extracting the e-mail correspondence when the phone rang again.

“I found a lawyer,” Wade said without preamble.

“On Sunday morning?” I was impressed by Wade’s efficiency and touched by his concern.

“An old college friend. He’s an associate at a big firm in Portland, but he just called me back and said one of the senior partners has agreed to advise him. I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and arranged for him to come out this afternoon and talk to your mom. I figured she would need some time with him before the arraignment.”

I felt as though a giant weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Mom had a lawyer. One less thing for me to have to worry about.

“Mind? Are you crazy? This might just make up entirely for the whole complicity thing. Thank you!”

Wade chuckled, the sound sending a flood of warmth through me. Whatever this thing was between us, it was definitely getting stronger. The man was starting to look like a keeper.

The thought scared me. My experience with romance was limited, and the results were mixed at best. And I definitely didn’t have time to think about it right now.

“I dropped the bag of clothes off with the sheriff on my way home,” Wade said. “Sandra was still with Vernon so I didn’t get to see her, but judging from Mitchell’s smirk I don’t think Vernon was getting much of anything.”

It was my turn to smile. My mother could out-stubborn anybody I knew. If she didn’t want to answer Vernon’s questions she’d refuse to talk to him, and there wouldn’t be any real way of budging her. I hoped.

“What time is your friend coming out?”

“He said he’d be here around one. He was going to call the sheriff and make sure he could meet with his client. He said he could talk to us after he sees her.

“Does that work for you?”

“I’ll make it work,” I answered. “I have a little news myself. Paula called a little bit ago. She knows a wine guy here in town, and he’s willing to talk to me. I thought maybe he might know something about Veritas. I know it sounds like a pretty long shot, but we have to start somewhere.”

“That’s great!” Wade’s enthusiasm sounded a bit forced, but I was getting used to fake-cheery from my friends. At least they were trying to be supportive.

“I have to call him, but I’ve kind of been stalling.” I had an idea. “Would you go with me?” I asked. “To talk to him? I don’t know him, and it might be easier for both of us if there was another person there. I’ll ask him if it’s okay,” I added quickly. I didn’t want to just spring Wade on the guy, but I could use the moral support.

“Sure. Just let me know when and where.”

“Thanks, Wade.” My throat constricted unexpectedly at his easy acquiescence.

I broke the connection, not trusting myself to speak.

I took several deep breaths, slowly gaining control of my galloping emotions. There was no time for anything but the job at hand.

I swallowed hard and called William Robinson.

Mr. Robinson proved to be just as rigid as I expected, but he agreed to meet me for a late breakfast, and he didn’t object when I asked if I could bring my financial advisor along. I didn’t bother to explain he was also my boyfriend, or that he was technically my mother’s financial advisor, not mine. I didn’t have enough finances to need advice beyond “You can’t afford it.” And that I could do for myself for free.

I think my offer to pay for breakfast helped.

I called Wade back and told him to meet me at Franklin’s in thirty minutes. It would give us a few minutes before Mr. Robinson arrived.

I reluctantly closed the laptop without looking at any of the files. I didn’t want to leave the computer in the house, so I packed it into a carrying case and slung it over my shoulder.

The early summer morning was clear, the sky a pale blue with high, wispy clouds. Temptation beckoned, and I debated for about ten seconds before I opened the garage and unlocked the ’Vette.

It was way more car than I needed for the five-minute drive to Franklin’s. I didn’t care. I backed out of the garage with fifteen minutes to spare and a determination to make the most of my time.

The leather seat cradled me as I pulled onto the highway. Traffic was light. The engine growled softly, a promise of power waiting to be unleashed. The candy-apple red paint and chrome accents drew admiring looks from other drivers, the painstaking restoration a testament to the restoration team’s pride and the owner’s pocketbook.

The latter was a sham now, but when I’d cashed my first stock options it had been real; the car was tangible proof that I’d “made it.” Even when Samurai Security was stolen from me and I fled San Francisco I’d held on to the Corvette. The car had carried me and all my worldly goods back to the Great North-wet. The simple act of rolling down the windows and letting it loose on the highway for a few minutes was a reminder that I had survived. The wind in my hair was invigorating, though I probably looked like I’d used an eggbeater instead of a comb.

I didn’t care.

I turned around in a rest stop a few miles east of town and headed back. I pulled into Franklin’s lot and found a safe parking spot between Wade’s sensible hybrid sedan and a traffic divider. Driving a car with a fiberglass body meant being very careful where you parked.

I ran my fingers through my hair in an unsuccessful effort to make it behave. Wade spotted me and waved from a table in the back corner.

We were in the short lull between early-morning tourists headed up the mountain for the day and the after-church local crowd. The tables nearby were empty and I got the impression Wade had planned it that way.

I hugged Wade and sat down next to him, stowing the computer case under my chair. “Thanks for coming,” I said. I waved the waitress away with the explanation that we were waiting for one more person. “Just coffee for now.”

After she left I turned to Wade. “Tell me about this lawyer.”

“Like I told you, we were in business school together. When we graduated he decided to try law school. Spent a summer as an intern in the Public Defender’s office and discovered he liked trial work.” He toyed with his silverware, fidgeting as he had the night before. “We keep in touch.”

I reached over and put my hand over his. “Thank you, Wade. You did me a huge favor by finding this guy. By the way, I probably ought to know his name.”

“Oops! I knew I was forgetting something. It’s David Young. He did call me back, by the way. It’s all set for him to see your mother at one. He said he’d call when they’re done.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

Wade gestured toward the computer case on the floor. “How come you’re dragging a laptop around with you?”

I glanced around before I answered. “It’s my mother’s. I’m sure the sheriff would like to get his hands on it. I didn’t want to leave it at home. Just in case.” When I said it out loud, it sounded paranoid.

I laughed nervously. “I know how that sounds. But I found a folder named ‘Veritas’ on there. I think it’s backups of Gregory’s files.”

Wade looked properly impressed. “He just left files sitting around on your mom’s laptop?”

“They weren’t exactly just sitting around,” I admitted. “I had to do some poking around. A lot of poking around actually. I was up most of the night.”

“I thought you were going to get some rest when we left.”

I shook my head. “I wish. I knew there was something on the laptop and I didn’t know how long I’d be able to work on it. I figured last night might be my only chance.”

“So what did you find?”

“Nothing yet,” I admitted. “Every time I try to look at the files I get interrupted. But once I talk to William Robinson I might have a better idea what it is I’m looking for.”

“Speaking of Mr. Robinson,” Wade said, “there’s a guy up front. Looks like this might be our breakfast date.”

William Robinson nodded at the hostess and headed for our table. “Ms. Neverall?” he said when he reached the table.

“Yes, I’m Georgiana Neverall. Are you Mr. Robinson?” I managed to keep the incredulity out of my voice. On the telephone, William Robinson had been precise to the point of rigidity. He sounded like a prissy little man who’d wear his shirts buttoned to the top and his hair precisely trimmed.