The Time Travelling Taxman Series Box Set

by Rachel Ford

  “So,” she was continuing, “that leaves us with absolutely nothing to go on.”

  “Shit,” Josh said. “Then what are we going to do? It’s not safe for you two to even leave your room at this point. We’ve got to figure this out.”

  Nance’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute.”

  “What?”

  “There is one thing I can check.”

  “What’s that?”

  “In the audit database, you can flag files.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you can put a flag on them – so if someone opens that file, you get an immediate alert.”

  Alfred was frowning. “How does that help us?”

  “Because if someone flagged the audit file, that will tell us who our mole is. You said the first visitor you got mentioned that I was working overnight.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How’d the killer know? He had to have some kind of alert to tell him I’d pulled up the file.”

  Josh nodded eagerly, and the taxman said, “Oh. Good thinking.”

  Nancy brought up the access history again, and worked her way through a few screens. Then, she punched in the file name, and ran her query. “Son of a bitch.”

  “What?”

  “There was a flag put on the file by Randall Walker,” she read, “shortly after the data was pulled.”

  “Randall Walker,” Alfred repeated. “He’s the network engineer, right?”

  She nodded.

  “You think he’s our guy?”

  “I think it’s highly likely,” she said. “But he’s not the killer.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He’s in the office. Look.” She turned the laptop so Alfred could see her screen. The messenger app was loaded, and sure enough, there was Randall Walker’s name, in “Ready” status. “The killer’s here – he’s got to be, since he got us about fifteen minutes ago in that other timeline.”

  “So Walker’s our mole in the IRS,” Josh said. “But he’s got an accomplice here.”

  Nancy nodded. “It’s got to be.” Now she turned to Alfred. “Babe, when that first future-you visited, did he say anything about what I found? Anything at all?”

  The taxman shook his head. “Not that I remember. Just…we’d fought-”

  “We fought?” She was surprised by the revelation.

  He colored. “A little, I guess.”

  “About what?”

  Josh, meanwhile, cleared his throat pointedly. Alfred was rarely so glad to hear from the marine as he was at that moment, because Nancy flushed, and said, “Sorry. What else did he say about the case?”

  “Not much. You found something. You weren’t sure about it, so you called me to verify. And then…well, then the assassin showed up.”

  “Dammit. That’s not much to go on.”

  “No.”

  “And I don’t remember anything standing out as out of the ordinary when I signed off on it for Dixon.” She sighed. “Well, we’re just going to have to see if whatever it was I saw jumps out at me a second time.”

  “Wait, what? You’re not opening that file again, are you?”

  Nancy shrugged. “What else are we going to do? We can’t take it to Caspersen. What are we going to say, ‘Walker’s got a flag on this file, we think he’s trying to kill us’? She’ll think we’re nuts. And I’m sure he’s got a good reason cooked up in case he gets questioned.”

  “You can’t open the file, though, Nance,” Alfred objected. “That’s what got you killed in the first alternate timeline.”

  “The timeline’s changed, though, babe. Whoever our killer is is already after us now, in this timeline.”

  “She’s right,” Josh put in. “It’s not like you can get deader than dead.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Nancy was frowning at her laptop. She’d been frowning at her laptop for the last hour and a half, pausing only long enough to grab a refill of coffee and use the bathroom once.

  “No luck yet?” Alfred asked. He’d been asking the same question every five or ten minutes.

  The answer had always been the same, too. “Nope.”

  He frowned now. In his mind, he returned to the first visit he’d gotten. He tried to remember everything that was said, tried to recall every specific word his future self had uttered. But that had been a week and a half ago, now, and he’d been in a state of partial shock at the time. He could remember the general gist of what had passed, but nothing more.

  Then, all at once, he blinked. “There was one other thing.”

  “What?”

  “I – future me, I mean – mentioned a date.”

  “What date?”

  “September-something.”

  “Something?” Josh repeated, aggravation seeping into his tone.

  “Maybe the twelfth? Or tenth?” Alfred shook his head. “I don’t remember. It might have been something else too.”

  Josh’s frown deepened. “Great.”

  Nancy, though, was nodding eagerly. “That’s good, Alfred. That’s very good. That at least narrows our search to one month.”

  She adjusted the filter on the file, and the feed shrunk to a fraction of its original size. “Alright. This should be more manageable.”

  It was an optimistic prediction. The minutes rolled by, and no epiphanies came to Nancy. The taxman, watching over her shoulder, was no more enlightened than she.

  Nine o’ clock rolled around, and she turned baleful eyes to him. “We’re missing the autograph drawing.”

  “At least we’re not getting knifed in the elevator,” he reminded her. His intention had been to focus on the bright side, to see the silver lining in their cloud, but she seemed otherwise inclined.

  “Thanks, Alfred,” she said, frowning at him.

  The minutes continued to crawl by. As ten rolled around, Josh said, “I’m starving. You guys hungry?”

  “Starving,” Nancy agreed. “We didn’t get breakfast yet.”

  “Me too,” Alfred added.

  Josh glanced at her screen, and the same, seemingly endless rows of text she’d been staring at for hours now. “Any progress?”

  “Not a damned thing.”

  He nodded. “Alright. I’m going to go downstairs and get some food.”

  “Wait,” the taxman protested. “What about the assassin?”

  “You keep the door locked. Don’t open it to anyone, don’t leave for any reason.” He shrugged. “You’ll be fine.”

  Alfred wasn’t thrilled by the prospect, but the growling of his stomach did urge cooperation. That, and he didn’t want to deal with the marine when he was hangry. “Fine.”

  “Thanks Josh,” Nancy said.

  “Course. And don’t forget, Alfred, make sure you bolt this thing after me.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Of course. Believe me, I don’t want to end up getting skewered.”

  The marine shook his head, but made no comment as he headed for the door. He glanced out the peephole, then opened the door and surveyed up and down the hall. Then, he stepped out.

  Alfred closed it after him, and heard Josh’s voice on the other side. “Lock it.” He rolled his eyes, but complied. Then he went back to sit by Nancy.

  “Babe,” she said in a few minutes, “can you get me another coffee?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks.”

  He brewed her a fresh cup, and she accepted it with a, “Thanks, Alfred.” She sat back, now, and sipped her coffee. “I don’t know what the hell I saw the first time,” she sighed. “But, whatever it was, I am not seeing it this time.”

  “You’ll get it, babe,” he said. “You always do.” Cautiously, he slipped an arm around her shoulder. She had every reason to still be mad at him, he knew, and he didn’t want to risk her further ire. But he felt strongly that he needed to hold her, too, and that consideration won out in the end. She didn’t pull away or try to shake him off, so he hugged her.

  She leaned into his arm, and sighed aga
in. “And if I don’t? We can’t stay holed up in a hotel room forever.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “You’re the smartest person I know, Nance. You solved it once. You’ll solve it again.”

  She wrapped an arm around him in turn, holding the coffee mug in the other hand, and leaned her head against him. For a moment, they sat like that, unmoving and quiet. Then, he spoke. “Nance?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you right away. I shouldn’t have lied. Can you forgive me?”

  She squeezed him to her. “I shouldn’t,” she said. “I should stay good and pissed after that.” She lifted her head, so that her eyes were fixed on his. “But, the thing is, I think I already did.”

  “Did?”

  “Forgive you.”

  “Oh.” He leaned in to kiss her, ignoring the awkward way their two separate chairs inserted themselves between the pair.

  They both started as a knock sounded at the door. “Sugar cookies.” His heart rate had spiked at the suddenness of the noise, but now he laughed. “That must be Josh. That was quick.”

  She kissed him and smiled. “Go on then.”

  He did, smiling to himself as he went. It was cheesy, but he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He could breathe again. It didn’t even matter that there was a killer on the loose, waiting to knife him. Nance was on the case; she’d figure it out. And, in the meantime, she’d forgiven him. Life was good.

  He unlocked the door, and opened it. “That was…” He trailed off. It wasn’t Josh waiting, but a dark-haired young man in the livery of housekeeping staff. “Uh…can I help you?”

  The young man smiled, his square jaw flexing with the motion. “Towels,” he said. By way of demonstration, he raised his arm, calling Alfred’s attention to the stack of towels he held. “Someone called for towels.”

  “Oh.” The taxman frowned. “Not me.” He turned, calling, “Nance, did you ask for towels?”

  But, all at once, he felt the door shove against him. He turned back, but in place of the mild-mannered housekeeper stood a man with murder in his eyes; and in place of the towels was a switchblade.

  Alfred yelped, throwing himself against the door. The assassin threw his own weight against it. He was, the taxman realized with dismay, quite a bit larger than himself. Despite Alfred’s best efforts, the door started a backward arc.

  He could hear Nancy screaming behind him, and the sound of her chair scraping on the floor. She was, he knew, coming to aid him. Fear flooded his mind, and he pushed with renewed energy. A blade flashed close to him, slashing wildly. Still, he kept pushing. To back off meant to expose Nancy to that knife. And no fear for his own safety would allow that.

  Another sound reached his ears. It was Josh’s voice, and in a most uncharacteristic turn of events, he was profoundly grateful to hear it. The assassin heard it too, because he cursed. All at once, the door slammed shut. The sound of hurried footfalls raced down the hall.

  The killer, he realized, had fled.

  He turned the lock with trembling hands. Nancy, meanwhile, threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Alfred. Are you alright?”

  He was replying in the affirmative when the door handle turned. They both froze, until Josh’s voice reached them. “Nance? Favero?”

  This time, Alfred glanced through the peephole before releasing the lock. Then, once convinced it was safe to do so, he opened the door.

  Stevenson burst in, brushing past him to survey Nancy. “You’re okay?”

  “Yes.”

  Then, he turned his attention to the taxman. “What the hell just happened?”

  “Uh…I think that was the killer.”

  “Dammit! I told you not to open that door.” Josh dropped the bag of food he was carrying, and took off down the hall in the direction the assassin had fled.

  Alfred shut and locked the door after him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Josh Stevenson returned shortly after he’d left, and the taxman could practically see the smoke streaming out of his ears. “What in the ever-loving hell did you open that door for, Favero?” he demanded. “Didn’t I tell you not to open it to anyone?”

  “We thought it was you,” Nancy put in. “With breakfast.”

  “All he had to do was look, Nance,” Josh returned. Exasperation was heavy in his tone, but Alfred was keenly aware that he was still the target. “He could have gotten you killed.”

  “It was an accident,” she said with some finality.

  Josh clenched his jaw, but let it drop with a last, “Goddammit.” Then, after a moment of mutual silence, he spoke again, and his tone was strained but quieter. “Alright, I barely caught a glimpse of the guy. He was about six-two, probably about two hundred ten pounds, dark hair, Caucasian. But I have no idea what he looked like.”

  Alfred blinked. That was a far more detailed description than he could have given.

  “You,” the marine was saying, “got a much better view, Favero. What’d he look like?”

  “Uh. Well, uh, like you say, uh. Tall. White. Male.”

  Josh frowned at him. “I know that. I said that already. What about his face, his features?”

  “Uh…kind of square. Dark hair.”

  “For God’s sake. What color eyes did he have? Did he have any distinguishing characteristics? Did you recognize him?”

  Alfred felt his cheeks flush. “His eyes were green, I think. Or maybe blue.”

  “Maybe?”

  “I…didn’t really pay attention until he was trying to kill me. And then,” he said, his tone growing more aggravated by the moment, “I was kind of focusing on other things. Like staying alive.”

  “Which,” Josh reminded him icily, “wouldn’t have been necessary, if you had listened to me in the first place.”

  Nancy cleared her throat. “I didn’t get a good view of him,” she said. “By time I realized something was wrong, the door was mostly closed. But he did have a very square face.”

  “Square?”

  “Yeah. Square chin, very athletic look to him.”

  The marine nodded. “That’s good.” He turned a sour look at Alfred. “That’s something, at least.”

  “There was something familiar about him,” Nancy was continuing.

  “There was?”

  “What?” Alfred wondered.

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not much help. But I think I’ve seen him before.”

  Josh considered this, then nodded. “That means he’s probably been scoping you two out as he plans his hit. You’ve probably seen him around the convention somewhere.”

  “I wish I could figure out where, though.” She was frowning.

  Alfred tried to recall the face, but it was mostly a blur now. It was entirely possible that he’d seen it before. The more he thought on it, the more it seemed likely. But, then, when he considered the opposite possibility, he conceded that it was equally possible that he’d never seen the killer before in his life. “I don’t know,” he said aloud, after a few moments of these fruitless ponderings. “I don’t know if I’ve seen him. I might have. But I might not have.”

  Josh rolled his eyes but said nothing.

  “Well,” Nancy said, “we’ve got to figure out if we are going to the police.”

  “We can’t tell them about the device,” Alfred reasoned.

  “No. But we could tell them someone in a housekeeper’s uniform showed up and tried to kill us.”

  “I don’t know what good it will do,” Josh said. “I mean, they could pull any security footage, but he’s long gone by now. Especially at an event like this. He could have switched costumes fifteen times already. And they’re not going to be looking for anything related to the case, or ECF. They’re going to think this is a random attack, with a random guy trying to kill you two.”

  “And giving statements is going to take a long time,” she agreed. “Which will be a long time we’re not on the a
ctual case.”

  It was decided, then, that they’d hold off on reporting the incident, and focus on finding the killer.

  “What I don’t understand, though,” Alfred mused, “was why this is the first time he’s tried to get us in our room. I mean, he attacked you in your house the first time, Nance. But after that, he’s waited until something drew us into public.”

  “Maybe he’s tired of waiting. Maybe he decided to just get it done.”

  “Well, if Walker got an alert that I opened the file,” Nance put in, “he might not dare wait for us to come out on our own.”

  “That’s true,” Josh agreed. “That might have made them more desperate.”

  “If only I could figure out what the hell it actually is,” she sighed. “Dammit, I feel like such an imbecile. What would I have seen before that I’m missing now?”

  “Don’t talk like that, babe,” Alfred said. “You’ll get it. Let’s eat breakfast, and then take another look at it.”

  They’d collected the bag of food and the towels their killer had dropped. It was cold now, but a cold breakfast sandwich and hash browns were better than nothing. The taxman wolfed his down, and so did his companions.

  Then, they returned to the file. “You said the twelfth,” Nancy mused. “Let’s go back there.”

  “I’m not sure it was the twelfth,” he reminded her.

  “No, but we might as well start there.”

  They did, and poured through pages of transactions. None of them stood out as suspect.

  “My eyes are going to bleed,” the taxman protested.

  “I know,” she sighed. Then she asked, “What was the other date you said?”

  He considered. “I don’t know…the tenth maybe?” He saw Josh roll his eyes behind them, and flushed. “But, babe, I really don’t know. It could have been anything.”

  “Well, it can’t be any more of a waste of time than everything else I’ve tried this morning,” she returned. “So let’s give it a shot.”

  They navigated back to two days prior, and started afresh. Alfred’s eyes stung as he continued to stare at the screen. He was just about to suggest that they throw in the towel, and just go to the police with what they did have, when he heard the sharp intake of her breath. “Nance?”