The Girl Who Tweeted Wolf (7 page)

“What,” Pete laughed, “smashed through our lock with a doggy crowbar?”

They all rewarded that with a chuckle except Angelina, who turned towards the one person who still hadn’t spoken. “Who do
you
think it was, Matt?”

The final member of the party was staring hard at his sandwich from under his own fringe. He took a bite, before glancing up to acknowledge his name.

“Dunno,” he said at last, “maybe Jacq’s right about the dog. Did you guys see this tweet about cows that’s going round?”

The whole table turned towards their phones, even Angelina, but she kept one eye on Matt.

*****

Security at the Inspiration Gestation Station was a joke, Hobson thought. That’s the problem with these way-too-trendy places: too busy looking good, rather than locking out psychos. With regular receptionist Jacq off at lunch, some spotty under-eighteen was manning the desk.

Hobson strolled past him with a firm nod. The kid was far too scared to stop a determined older man in enormous coat and black suit. By the time the front door to the building shut behind him, Hobson was in the flowery lift heading up to the Social Awesome offices.

As the lift hummed, he caught the stink of lunches, and once again hungered for a sandwich. Maybe Edward Lyne would supply a snack — he was the one who requested a check in, after all.

The lift doors slid open and Hobson exited into the strip lights and sparse, empty desks of Social Awesome’s offices. One wall of the room was entirely windows, and right now, clouds spread across, throwing the whole place into shade. Only Emily was at her desk on the other side of the room, Lyne’s side-office door closed.

Well, they’d not spoken to her yet. Hobson strolled over to Emily’s corner. Her well-maintained blonde head looked up as he approached, placing a half-eaten sandwich back in her lunchbox. She kept it inside the cling film, apple pushed right up against one corner. Emily was well organised. Mind of a killer, Hobson thought, and then worried that was the kind of simplistic observation Choi would make.

“Miss Allen?” he said.

She held his eye for a moment, before looking back at her screen. “Afternoon, Mister Hobson.”

“Everything alright?”

“Fine. You?”

“Yeah,” Hobson sighed, “not bad.”

From this close up, she was obviously beautiful — a well-kept, fragile prettiness he rarely encountered in his line of work, marred by her obvious annoyance. She took another glance, checking whether he’d gone yet.

Since he refused to take the hint, she forced out some small talk: “So, how’s the investigation going?”

“It’s fine, I think. Had to eat a pretty bad fry-up but that’s just the job.”

“Sounds like hard work you do,” Emily said. He’d been making a joke, dammit. She gave him a withering look, then continued typing an email he couldn’t quite read. Probably a string of abuse.

“So,” he began, knowing this wouldn’t end well, but since he was here, he might as well do his pitiful job. “Why didn’t you go to lunch with the others?”

“What?”

“Choi and I saw the rest of ‘em in Subway,” Hobson said, air of triumph settling. “Why’re you sitting at your desk instead of going along?”

“I don’t really see how it’s your business, Mister Hobson, but if you must know, I find Matt awkward company, so I’m enjoying not having to sit near him for a while.” Emily straightened her spine into an insectoid defence position. His chances of getting a date pissed away with every word.

“Uh-huh. I thought you were good friends with thingy.” He snapped his fingers. “Jacqueline from downstairs.”

“Friends, yes, not her mum. She can look after herself.” And, after a stare from Hobson: “Fine, sometimes she can’t, but I see her plenty out of work.”

“So Matt makes you uncomfortable because, what, he fancies you?”

“Yes! He asked me out and I said no! Happy?”

Hobson was grinning so wide, it was a hard charge to deny. Sex was definitely off the cards now, but he was so pleased to have
won
the conversation, he barely cared. “And this was before William died?”

“Yes! After I went on the date with William! I mean, he was quiet about it, but it was still awkward.”

“Right.”

Hobson tapped his foot. Before he came up with anything else, though, the lift started to roar again. The rest of the gang were back, he could hear loud chatter drifting through the doors already. If he had to guess, Lettie Vole yelling at her brother.

The shrill noise echoed a moment longer, before the doors whirled open and everything burst right into the office. The buzz of four people talking among themselves mowed down the awkward silence between Hobson and Emily.

Well, most of them talking. Choi was over by reception chatting to the redhead siblings, Matt scuttled away from the group, heading back over towards that same corner to take his seat near Emily.

Well, Hobson thought, since he was here: “Hi Matt.”

Matt mumbled something that might’ve been a hello and kept going, always looking at the floor.

“Right. Good lunch? Everything alright?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Matt said, at least looking up. “Your assistant made us take some guesses at who killed William.”

“Really?” He stared daggers at Choi with his mind, though not his eyes. “And who was it?”

“Um, we’re not sure.” He looked down at his computer. “Maybe you should talk to your friend.”

Hobson glanced down at Emily, but even she seemed bewildered. So much so, she gazed at him with wide-eyed empathy, even though a minute earlier she was willing him to fuck off.

“Right. Thanks.”

He nodded at the two of them, before going back over to Choi. He affected a stern, intimidating walk, loud enough to get Lettie and Pete looking over their shoulders. They scattered as he came nearer, knocking chairs aside as they went.

Once he arrived, he swept past Lettie’s desk and took Choi aside. “So,” he said, not bothering with pleasantries. “Matt said to talk to you.”

“Oh, um, he passed me a note as we left Subway. He’d scribbled it on his sandwich wrapper.”

“Saying what?
I killed William, I’m so sorr
y?”

“No.”

“Damn.”

“He, um, wants me, um, well, us I guess, to meet him here after work at seven this evening, he says he has some information.”

“Can’t he just text you the sodding information?”

“I think he’s scared of something.”

Hobson growled. “I’m pretty sure he’s scared of everything.”

“So are we going to do it?”

“Yeah.”

*****

“Okay,” Hobson nodded at the side-room. “Well, we’re here, I’d better have this check-up with the boss.”

Angelina gazed at it, hoping she was imagining the strange lights and weird sounds within. “Will you be okay in there?”

“Choi, he’s got the muscle definition of a dead kitten, I’ll be fine.”

The rest of Social Awesome were working. Even Lettie and Pete left each other alone for the moment, staring at their monitors and sometimes muttering. Angelina didn’t yet have the intuition to know if something was wrong or they were just socially awkward. Emily didn’t seem too geeky, for example. Now her head was starting to ache again, until Hobson slapped her on the shoulder.

“Okay Choi, I’m going in. Talk to them if you must, but try not to ruin everything.”

With those words, he stamped over to Edward Lyne’s office door, loud enough to get everyone looking over from their individual seats.

As he knocked and entered, they turned their attention to poor, tiny Angelina Choi standing at the entrance, alone in a huge empty space. She would’ve considered jumping down the lift shaft if the door had been open.

Instead, she waved childishly at the nearest desk — she could charm them like this a second time, couldn’t she? Even when the recipient was as grumpy as Lettie Vole?

*****

“Mister Hobson. How are you? Take a seat.”

“Thanks, Mister Lyne. So, what did you want to talk about?”

“I just wondered how the investigation was going. Have you got everything under control?”

“No major progress since you asked me the same questions yesterday. My assistant and I are talking to some people.”

“I thought she was your intern?”

“Depends.”

“And these people, do they include my employees?”

“Yes. I’m afraid the victim was a nerd and didn’t seem to have a life outside work.”

“I’d rather Social Awesome wasn’t involved.”

“Mister Lyne, sorry if this wasn’t clear, but when you took me on to look into this case, I didn’t promise to leave your company out of it.”

“I see.”

“Would you
like
me to do that?”

“No, of course not.”

“Good. So, while we’re here, one question, if you don’t mind.”

“Which is?”

“Why
did
everyone hate William Lane?”

*****

“Man, Angie,” Lettie sighed, “your job sounds so much more fun than mine.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied, bristling only a little at being called
Angie
. “I mean, I do get to investigate a murder, but this morning I got squashed against the wall of a pub by a fat guy, and I’ve been yelled at, sent for sandwiches, seen blood dribbling from a corpse.”

She smiled and kicked back in the spare chair near Lettie’s desk.

It turned out, all she had to do was show interest in Lettie’s job, and the bored woman was anyone’s. Still, hard work pretending to care. Lettie answered phones, filled in expense forms, ordered stationery, argued with her brother all day — all so dull.

“Oh, and the other thing,” Lettie lurched down her endless list of grievances, “bloody Pete hitting on every woman who walks through the door.” She kept her voice low, as
bloody Pete
was only a few desks away. “I mean, maybe it’s because he’s my brother — I mean,
yick
— but it’s not just that he hits on them, it’s that he does it
so badly
. Don’t touch him, Angie, no matter how much he begs.”

Angelina felt herself turning a little pink. “He did call me
sweetheart
earlier, which I didn’t like, but I just ignored him.”

“Good. Keep doing that.” Lettie said, shaking her head. “Punch him if you have to.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Determined to get the conversation away from sex, she flailed for a new question: “Um, what about William the dead guy? Did you like him?”

Lettie laughed. “You mean in a sex way?”

*****

“I don’t know what you mean, Mister Hobson. William was a good employee, always punctual, friendly. Maybe not outgoing and gregarious, but that’s what we have Emily and Pete for. He sat back here with Matt, he only talked to clients by email.”

“So he was popular? No housemate tensions with Pete? No awkwardness with Emily after their date? Everything was tickety-amazing?”

“Maybe not perfect, you know, we’re all passionate people working in a creative field, there were disagreements, I’m not sure William always fitted in perfectly with how we wanted to do things.”

“Uh-huh. Two things: you work in social media, it’s about as creative as shitting up a bathroom wall. Secondly, I’ve spoken to your people, and they hate him. Why?”

“We’ve always done things a certain
way
, Mister Hobson. William didn’t always like it.”

“Why didn’t you fire him, then?”

“I thought he might have something to contribute.”

“Right.”

“For whatever it’s worth, Mister Hobson, I didn’t kill him, and I’d appreciate it if you found whoever did.”

“Even if it’s one of your staff?”

“I suppose so.”

“Do I have to come in for another check-in tomorrow?”

“Not unless you have something to report.”

“Fantastic.”

*****

Once Angelina established, no, she definitely wasn’t asking about William
in a sex way
, Lettie fell quiet. In fact, she insisted on going alone to get a cup of tea, although she offered to bring one back for Angelina. Did their budding friendship still stand a chance?

A desperate need for approval might not be a great attribute for undercover work, Angelina thought, as she checked her phone. A few people on Twitter were asking how the case was going — she’d check with Hobson first before replying.

She glimpsed Matt looking over at her, but he turned back to his monitor as soon as she met his eyes. That face couldn’t look any more miserable.

“Here you go.” A mug of tea clattered in front of her, and Angelina smiled. She wasn’t a huge fan of hot caffeinated beverages, to tell the truth, but seemed rude to say no.

“Thanks.”

Lettie sighed back down into her chair, and there was a silence.

“Okay, look,” Lettie said, eyes wide and starting to go as red as her hair. “William was just earnest, in a quiet way. He was young, straight out of school, and he wanted to…
do
a bit more than other people.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, y’know, look at us,” she said, almost in a whisper. “We’re hardly a machine. We do the bare minimum, we collect, we drink. It’s fine. I mean, I’m not a high-ranking part of the company, but Will was so moany about everything we weren’t doing, it even got on
my
nerves.”

“So you think someone killed him for being annoying at the office?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Seems a stupid reason to kill someone to me. But someone who had a lot to lose if the company folded?”

“Why would it fold?”

“Because someone might call all our clients and tell them how little we actually do?”

Angelina looked over at Edward Lyne’s office, her own eyes growing as saucer-like as Lettie’s. “Shit.”

For a moment, she wondered if Hobson was in real danger. Should she charge Lyne’s door? Would her weedy frame even survive a full-on ramming impact? If Hobson couldn’t overpower him, what good would
she
do?

Before she dislocated her shoulder finding out, the target door flew open and Hobson stormed out yet again. Angelina, well trained in this exit move by now, nodded to Lettie. “Um, see you later?”

To her pleasure, she got a “Sure thing, Angie” back, just in time to peel away when Hobson came past. A few moments later, they were back in the lift.