Squirrel & Swan Stolen Things

by M. D. Archer

  And she knew who the culprit was. She was almost sure. But she didn’t know how they’d done it, and she needed proof.

  They wouldn’t be getting away with it.

  6

  Leo appeared at the door to S & S Investigations. “I’m back.”

  “Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Paige said cheerfully. “Let’s go into the conference room and you can tell us what you found out from Cecilia.”

  First thing on Monday, as soon as they’d gotten Cecilia’s message, Paige had sent through the quote. By the end of day Tuesday, after a few terse back-and-forths between Paige and Cecilia as they negotiated the finer details of the contract, Cecilia had agreed their terms. Today, Wednesday, Cecilia had brought both her laptop and hard drive to the office so that Leo could take a look.

  “The bad news is that the documents have been permanently deleted. They can’t be recovered.”

  Sophie made a face. “What’s the good news?”

  “Oh, there isn’t any,” Leo said. “Did I make it sound like there was?”

  “Have you told Cecilia?” Paige asked.

  “She was looking over my shoulder the whole time. She knows.”

  “How did she take it?”

  “Badly. She told me to go away and then went into the second room and shut the door, but I could still hear her shouting at someone. I think it was her husband?” Leo shrugged.

  “How did they do it? Delete the documents, I mean,” Sophie asked.

  “They downloaded an app to both the laptop and the hard drive.”

  “Would they have needed IT skills or could anyone have done it?”

  “Um. I guess they could have googled how to do it and followed the instructions. Like, our parents might not be able to do it, but... they wouldn’t have to be a hacker or anything.”

  “Could it have been done remotely?” Paige said.

  “That would have been a way to do it, but in this case they were deleted from the actual devices.”

  Paige sat back. “I’m surprised. I for sure thought it was going to be a remote virus or something, like what you did with the Radsworth case.”

  In one of their most recent cases Leo had tricked the suspect into downloading a virus that gave him access to her laptop and phone.

  Leo nodded. “Me too. But, nope.”

  “So it wasn’t some Russian hacker. It was someone in her life. Someone who has been to her house.” Paige turned to Sophie. “She said she does all her work in her home office, right? We’re going to need to look at it. Figure out how someone got in.”

  “Yeah, and we need to find out the last time she worked on the book and get a window of time, so we can narrow down who could have gotten access.”

  “I wouldn’t mind having another look at both of the hard drives,” Leo said. “I tried just before, but she told me to buzz off.” Leo shrugged, seeming unfazed by Cecilia’s rudeness. Then again, he was used to working with Paige.

  “With a bit more time I can probably work out when it was deleted.”

  “That would help a lot,” Sophie said.

  “In the meantime, we need to figure out who in her life had motive.” Paige looked thoughtful. “Hey, didn’t she say something about having a barbeque at her house this weekend?”

  Sophie grimaced. She knew what Paige was about to suggest. “Do we have to?”

  Paige nodded firmly. “No room for neurotic festering about social gatherings, Sophie, we’re investigators. We have to find out who stole Cecilia’s manuscript and now that we know it wasn’t some random international person, we need to meet the people in her life. This party is perfect.”

  “But she didn’t invite us.”

  “Of course she wants us to come,” Paige scoffed, picking up her phone. She typed out a quick message and almost immediately her phone beeped with a reply. “She thinks it’s a great idea.”

  Sophie let out a little sigh. Paige was right, they couldn’t miss this opportunity.

  “Hey,” Paige said. “I have an idea. I’ll bring Tim.”

  “Great, so I can be the third wheel?”

  “You didn’t let me finish. You could bring Wade?”

  This hadn’t occurred to Sophie. She was so used to being single. “I guess.”

  “Didn’t you say he’s really easy to be around, that he’s really outgoing?”

  Sophie nodded, brightening a little. “You’re right. But having Wade there might make it harder to investigate. I’ll need to concentrate on the people and what they’re doing, and aren’t we going to be questioning people?”

  “Just tell him it’s a work thing and if he’s okay with you leaving him on his own here and there, then it’s fine. It’s a barbeque. He can eat a sausage and drink a beer and do normal barbeque things while you’re busy. And Tim will be there. He’ll be happy to have a mate.”

  “Okay.” Sophie picked up her phone. “I’ll ask him now. It’s kind of late notice, though.”

  Paige shrugged. “You won’t know until you ask.” She suddenly turned to Leo. “Do you want to come too? Maybe you could look at her computer again during the party.”

  Leo’s eyes shifted to one side. “Uh, I can’t.” He cleared his throat. “Busy. Sorry. Um... so you’re still seeing Wade, huh?” he said to Sophie. “How’s it going?”

  “Good, I guess. I mean, we’ve only been on a couple of dates.”

  “Cool.”

  Sophie eyed Leo. He was clearly deflecting, so what was he hiding, she wondered. And why was he hiding it from them? “Everything okay?” she said. “You know you can talk to us about anything, right?”

  He gulped and nodded.

  Sophie’s phone beeped. Wade had replied. “He’s in,” she said, smiling as she put down her phone.

  “We’re double-dating,” Paige said. “Fun!”

  ANYA LECONTE FOLDED her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes. “I told you two weeks ago.”

  Roman sighed. “You didn’t, but whatever. What time and where?”

  “You always think I’m lying to you,” she said, suddenly angry. “I’m so over it.” She shook her head and flounced from the room.

  “Are you, though?” he replied, even though she couldn’t hear. “Are you lying to me, Anya?”

  He stayed where he was for a moment, staring in the direction she’d gone, then turned and went back to the kitchen. He topped up his coffee a little, just another half cup at home before he went into the station, then poured the rest into a thermos.

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and went into voice mail to reply to the strange message he’d received from Paige a few days ago. He’d already listened to it once, to make sure it wasn’t anything urgent, or—if he was honest with himself—something to do with Sophie, and when it wasn’t, he hadn’t really paid attention. Now he listened with more focus, smiling to himself at the indignation in her voice. He exited out of voicemail to open a browser on his phone. He went to the news website and looked for national stories from a week ago.

  Paige was right, there it was. A story, quoting Roman himself, that said an organization called SOS Agency had been the ones to help with the investigation. DS Leconte, according to the reporter, had been impressed by the two men’s work. Roman shook his head. It seemed impossible that the reporter he’d spoken to had got it so wrong by accident. Roman had clearly said S & S Investigations, he’d given him their address, and he’d even mentioned both Sophie and Paige by name, as well as that they both had doctorates from the University of Auckland.

  He should call Paige back and explain. Or maybe this was a good enough reason to go by their office? But Sophie said they should stay away from each other. What of that? He should respect her wishes, he knew. But his whole heart and soul ached for her. And when it was increasingly obvious that Anya had little interest in him and their marriage, this ache was becoming difficult to ignore.

  WHEN PAIGE, SOPHIE, Tim and Wade arrived at Cecilia’s house on Saturday evening for the barbeque, the door was op
en. They stepped straight inside. The exterior was a nondescript concrete block, but the inside seemed to demand to be noticed, with mustard-coloured walls and strange, evocative art.

  They hovered uncertainly near the door, all trying to avoid looking directly at the very large and clearly erotic painting on the left, until Cecilia appeared holding a glass of champagne. “Oh, you made it, great,” she said to Paige and Sophie. Her eyes flicked to Tim and Wade. “You brought dates?” she added, sounding less thrilled.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll only charge you for time spent investigating,” Paige said. She held up her phone on which a timer app was open.

  “Good.”

  “We’re going to need to see your home office and talk to you about when the theft might have happened. How about now?” Paige asked.

  Cecilia glanced toward the living room, as if she could somehow assess the state of the party from there, then turned back and nodded. “Fine, yes. Better now than later. Let’s go up.” She started to move away. Paige clicked start on the timer.

  Sophie turned to Wade. “Sorry to leave you straight away like this.”

  “No worries at all,” he said easily. “It’ll give Tim and me a chance to talk. And if there’s beer and food, I’m happy.” He leaned down and kissed Sophie on the cheek. She couldn’t help but smile.

  Paige was already halfway down the hall following Cecilia. “Later,” she called over her shoulder in Tim’s general direction.

  Cecilia’s home office was upstairs and at the back of the house. She paused outside the door, leaned down to unlock it using a key on a chain around her neck and opened the door. Paige turned to Sophie and pointed dramatically at her neck. “The key is around her neck,” she mouthed excitedly, as if Sophie hadn’t just seen it for herself.

  The office was a basic square room with only one large window that looked out to the neighbour’s backyard.

  “It’s set up just like your office next to ours,” Paige announced.

  Cecilia had a desk and a comfortable-looking leather chair on the right-hand side, an armchair on the opposite wall, to the right of the window, a couple of plants in two of the corners, and a couple of paintings on the wall.

  “Yes. I have a routine and I like to keep to it.”

  “What does furniture placement have to do with your routine?” Paige asked.

  Cecilia looked annoyed. “I like to write at my desk and edit in that armchair,” she said, as if this was an explanation.

  Paige turned a little to roll her eyes at Sophie.

  “As you saw, I keep the room locked when I’m not in here, and the key lives on this chain around my neck.” She strode over to the desk and pointed at a laptop. “This is where my laptop lives when I’m not using it.” She opened the top drawer. “And here is my external hard drive.”

  Paige went over to the desk and crouched to inspect the drawer. “It doesn’t lock?”

  “No. It doesn’t need to. The room is always locked when I’m not in it.”

  “Right.” Paige straightened, then walked over to the window. “Whose house is that?”

  “Gillian Wilson’s.”

  “She has a window at the same height as this.”

  “Yes, it’s her bedroom. We had to have a rather awkward conversation a few years back about how I could see in.” Cecilia laughed. “It ended up in one of my books, actually. Someone seeing something they shouldn’t.”

  Paige pulled out her little back notebook and noted this down.

  “Are you friends with her?” Sophie asked.

  “We’re friendly, yes. She’s here tonight. Actually,” Cecilia smiled, “we used to work together. Years ago. It was a bit of a coincidence she ended up my neighbour.”

  “Where did you both work?”

  “A publishing house. She worked in the design team—book jackets and the like—and I was a sort of Girl Friday. Learning the publishing ropes.”

  “But you weren’t friends?”

  “No. I barely remember her, to be honest. She had to remind me.”

  Sophie nodded slowly.

  “So, she’s been in your house, then,” Paige said. “Has she been up here?”

  “Yes, to being in my house, no to being in here.” Cecilia shook her head firmly. “No one comes in here except me. My writing space is sacred. Not even Martin is allowed.”

  “You’re the only one with a key.”

  “Obviously.”

  As Paige noted this down, Sophie wondered how easy it might be to get another key made without Cecilia’s knowledge.

  “Have you thought any more about the last time you worked on the book?” Sophie said.

  They’d asked her this when they’d first discussed the case, and she’d promised to give it some thought.

  Cecilia nodded. “I can do better than that. I know what day it was stolen.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, because Peyton was in my house and he’s the one who stole it.”

  Paige and Sophie exchanged a look.

  It was caught by Cecilia.

  “What?” she said indignantly. “It was Sunday the 10th of December. He was here and I didn’t keep track of him all the time. He was in my house,” she repeated.

  “Who is Peyton?” Sophie said.

  “Peyton Brosnan. He’s a writer. We have the same editor. We’ve known each other for nearly ten years and he’s always been jealous of me.”

  “Why was he at your house?” Paige had her pen poised above her notebook. “Take us through what happened that Sunday.”

  “Sally, my editor, came over for a Christmas drink and he tagged along.” Cecilia rolled her eyes.

  “What time was that?”

  Cecilia thought for a moment. “Around five? It was just as my writing group was finishing up and that started at three.”

  “Writing group?” Paige said.

  “Oh, honestly, why do you need to know about them, I told you who stole it.”

  “Please, Cecilia?” Sophie said. “We need all the information.”

  “I host a writing group every month. We sit in the living room and have a glass of wine, nibbles, you know. We talk about our current projects and share ideas.” She waved her hand as if this was all completely irrelevant.

  “Who are the others? Are they also well-known writers?” Sophie asked.

  Cecilia scoffed. “No. It’s an amateur group. To them I’m just Cecilia. I like to keep connected. Grounded, you know? It’s important for people like me, with my international standing, to keep humble. Don’t want to get too big for my boots.”

  “You—” Paige started but Sophie quickly elbowed her in the ribs. “Ow,” she said, frowning.

  “Can we have the names of the people in the group?” Sophie said.

  “Annie, Juniper, Tammy, and Geoff.”

  “Surnames too please,” Paige said as she wrote the names in her notebook.

  “Here.” Cecilia whisked it away from Paige and scribbled them down. Paige took back her notebook with an indignant look.

  “You had your writing group at three, then Peyton and Sally came by at around five o’clock?” Sophie summarised while Paige checked her precious notebook was intact.

  “Yes. Martin and Gillian joined us for a glass of champagne, and at about six o’clock everyone left. Everyone except Martin, of course. We had dinner on the deck.”

  “And when was the last time you worked on your manuscript? Was it earlier in the day, or after dinner?” Sophie asked.

  “I remember that clearly,” Cecilia said triumphantly. “It was earlier in the day. I stopped working on it at lunchtime and didn’t open it again. So there you go.”

  “Are you a hundred per cent sure that was the last day you worked on it?” Paige asked, narrowing her eyes.

  Suddenly Cecilia looked uncertain. “Well not absolutely sure, no, but I’d definitely put it aside around then because the short story collection was sent for final proofs on 17th December and I had been working exclusively on that
for the five days before, totally focused on getting it finished. And,” Cecilia waggled her finger near Paige’s nose, “that Sunday, the 10th, when I saved it at lunchtime, I remember thinking I was ready to put it aside for a while and I remember thinking the timing worked out perfectly because the short story deadline was fast approaching, which is what I worked on that evening, after everyone had gone home.” She sighed. “Listen, I have guests, are we done here?”

  “We need to take a proper look around,” Paige said. “We need to inspect this room. The scene of the crime.”

  “It’ll have to be another day. We’ve got people you need to talk to downstairs.” With that, Cecilia threw open the door.

  There stood Martin.

  “Were you listening?” Cecilia demanded.

  “No,” Martin said, looking very much as if he had been.

  Cecilia rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Martin, it’s so creepy when you do that. We’ve talked about this.” She locked the door and carried on past him to the stairs. “Come on, I’ll introduce you,” she called back to Paige and Sophie. “Ah, here’s Sally Cookson, my editor and agent. And friend.”

  Sally, standing at the foot of the stairs, was short, had platinum-blonde hair, and appeared to be eating a rather substantial chunk of cheese at the same time as talking on her phone.

  “Hello, there,” she said, momentarily lifting the phone away from her ear.

  Cecilia’s eyes landed on the cheese. “You have left some for the others, haven’t you, Sally? We don’t want a repeat of my birthday party, do we?”

  Sally paused mid-chew, her cheeks colouring.

  “Oh, it’s fine,” Cecilia added with a chuckle. “Better you than me. I don’t know how you stand the constipation. Anyway... this is Paige and Sophie.”