.exe

by Robin Jeffrey

  “My goodness!” Minerva, grinning from ear to ear, got to her feet, shaking her head and patting Cadence on the back as she passed out of the room. “If that man was any sweeter on you, he’d get cavities.”

  Cadence laughed, sparing me a glance at last. I rose and walked over to her, taking her by the elbow. “What happened?”

  “Nothing, really. He just asked me a lot of questions about your father and Solomon, strangely enough.”

  I frowned at this apparent change in tactic and glanced down, trying to gather my thoughts. It was then that I noticed the small data key clutched in her hand. “What’s that?”

  Bouncing onto her toes, she shook the key in front of me. “Copies of a few EO files! There are some things I want to look over.”

  “How on Arrhidaeus did you get those?”

  “Like I said before,” Cadence patted the back of my head, lips split in a sticky sweet smile. “I asked nicely.”

  17

  Chapter 17

  I cajoled and begged; wheedled and demanded; bribed, promised, and tried every trick I knew to discover what Cadence had done to get those files; I might as well have been trying to move the planet off its axis.

  My dove’s furtive ways were not only in conflict with the partnership we had begun to build, but they also hurt. After all, my father was the murder victim; didn’t I deserve an equal share of information? Whatever Cadence had uncovered, I needed to know what light it shed not just on the case, but also on the man himself.

  My father and I hadn’t always shared the antagonistic relationship of my adult years. When I was a child, he had gone out of his way to spend time with me, to learn about my interests and aspirations, and to show me an open, unconditional love that had made up a great deal for growing up motherless.

  Everything changed when I turned eleven. My father became a task master, a lecturer, a figure of authority to be feared above all others. His criticisms were harsh, his dismissals of my personal interests swift and uncompromising. Anything that did not fit with his image of the perfect heir to the Hale legacy had to be severed from my soul like a diseased limb. Foisted upon my young shoulders was not just the responsibility of my inheritance, but the guilty burden of being a disappointing son.

  We were not close, and had not been for some time, but his death revealed to me sentiments not easily admitted about our relationship. Lost without his presence, the things I discovered about him and the inner life he had led, his human failings, all were making me feel closer to him, even if they simultaneously angered me. Solving his murder was a way of solving the mystery of my father as a whole. Perhaps he and I had not been so different after all.

  But to explain any of this to Cadence was impossible, and so my frustration grew. The next morning, when she sent word that she would not be joining us for breakfast due to some ‘private business,’ I was as disenchanted with her as I had ever been.

  I wolfed down breakfast without tasting it, my mind awhirl. Proving a poor companion for polite company and my close friends alike, I resolved to leave Cadence be and refused to inquire about her the rest of the morning.

  Belinda and Henry went off to play a round of lawnball, while Victoria and Desdemona indulged in some vertex shopping in the study, and the rest of the house was engaged in one type of chore or another. I wandered into the library, which is where I spent most of my time at the manor. The cavernous room, with its rows and rows of dusty shelves, was almost always quiet, a quality even a social person such as me longed for on occasion. It was also the coolest place in the house, an oasis on increasingly hot days, outfitted with a special air conditioning system to keep the story cubes from overheating as they charged on their hundreds upon hundreds of stations.

  The cold also stopped the ‘relics’, as my father had called them, from molding or turning to dust. I had never understood his devotion to the cumbersome books, dry and rough as they were. They had a certain antique beauty, but story cubes were too elegant and simple not to favor. Palm-sized three-dimensional blocks, they held holographic collections of words and pictures which were projected in front of one’s face with a reader, all navigation handled by eye and finger movements.

  Regardless, the books remained the pride of my father’s collection, filling both sides of the tall shelves which lined the edges of the reading alcove. In the far-right corner of the library, they clustered around the chairs and desks like a group of rumpled tramps on a street corner.

  I walked to the alcove, hoping to take a quick nap on one of the couches, when I heard signs of life ahead of me. Peeking around the corner of a shelf, anxious to avoid certain members of our party more than others, I at first saw no one. The table lamps glowed, and piles of books were stacked on top of the chairs and tables where I knew they didn’t belong, but I could not find their manipulator. After a moment, the muffled sounds of footsteps on carpet reached me and soon Solomon appeared from between the far two shelves, mumbling into the side of a tall stack of books he held in his arms.

  Placing the books on the floor next to the love seat, he was about to return the way he came when I knocked on the shelf and stepped out into the space. “May I join you, sir?”

  Solomon pivoted back in my direction, smiling at the sight of me. He rubbed his lower back and nodded. “Certainly!” Perusing the chaos he had created, he cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “If you can find any place to sit, that is.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help with…?” I followed his gaze, my brows drawing up to a point. “…whatever it is you might be doing?”

  Solomon cracked a tired grin, relaxing his weight back onto his heels. “Brisbois told you about your father’s missing will, yes?”

  “He thinks I did something to it to keep Dad from taking away my inheritance.”

  Solomon gave a derisive snort, rolling his eyes heavenward. “Idiot.”

  Sighing, he shook his head, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Well, your father was revising his will the night he died. He mentioned to me that he’d be working on it in here, you see,” he threw his hand towards the books all around him, grimacing, “and I thought that maybe he had misplaced it, or that it slipped behind some of these blasted things.”

  Scratching his neck, Solomon stared at the stacks without seeing them. “I can’t shake this feeling that there was something important about this new will. And if I don’t find it, your father will probably haunt me ‘til I die. He could be a right bastard like that sometimes.”

  I leaned against the shelf, grinning. “Yes, he really could be.”

  Solomon turned to the bookcase behind him. I took a step further into the alcove, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Sir, can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course,” he waved me towards one of the less cluttered sofas, starting towards it himself. “And it’s Solomon; you’re my boss now, remember?”

  “That’s sort of what I wanted to ask you about.” I sat down on the plush footrest across from the couch, threading my fingers together as he cleared off a pile of books to make room for himself. “Was it true that my father was going to fire you?”

  Eyes widening, Solomon lowered himself into his seat, careful not to disturb the adjacent stack of books. “How did you–? Oh, well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now. No, he wasn’t going to fire me. But I was going to leave just the same. Your father was a brilliant businessman, but he was no scientist. The projects I was pushing were too radical for him: too much uncertainty, not enough profit. I wanted to go somewhere where I could pursue my research, that’s all, nothing personal.” Taking a deep breath, Solomon cocked his head to one side, voice quieting. “Now that I think about it, I was probably the closest thing he had to a friend.”

  “Well, he did know how to alienate people.”

  “I don’t think he ever intended to alienate you.” Solomon held up his hands, chuckling and sitting back as I stared at him aghast. “I know that he did! I would never be so foolish as to call Felix Hale a
good father, but…” He pursed his lips, running a hand back through his dark hair. “But you were his son. And he did care, you know.”

  Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I sat up and cleared my throat, turning away. “Thank you.” Standing, I ran my hands over my legs, mumbling. “I suppose I’ll let you get back to it. If you find anything–”

  “You’ll be the first to know.”

  I strode out of the library and into the sunlit hallway, a lightness in my chest that had not been there before. Crossing the entryway, I glanced up at Cadence’s door, still shut. Stopping just past the foot of the stairs, I stared, tapping my foot. I took a step forward and froze. I took a step back, watching the door as if it were a dangerous predator.

  After a full minute of this, I jogged up the stairs with new resolve. Cadence may have been the one running this little detective agency, but I was the co-founder, in a manner of speaking, and she couldn’t keep me in the dark; I wouldn’t allow it.

  Pushing the door to my rooms open without any warning, I marched through the bedroom and into the small work cloister at the far end. Cadence sat at my console, a long, official-looking document in the middle of the screen. Jumping at my sudden appearance, she jerked her fingers in front of the screen, shrinking the document and bringing up a host of others.

  “Ala, Chance! Couldn’t you have knocked?”

  “I did, you must not have heard me,” I said, finding it necessary to pause as I took in the sight of her. Rummaging through my dresser had provided her with one of my faded yellow polo shirts and a pair of jeans, baggy on her, which now sat cinched around her hips.

  I cleared my throat, determined to keep my focus, and lowered my brow, frowning as I spread my hands in front of myself. “Now, Cadence, I don’t want any more of this sneaking around behind my back, alright? I’ve had enough. If we’re really partners in this, you have got to start treating me like it and trust me.”

  Pivoting to face me, she curled her arm around the back of the wooden chair, resting her chin on top of it. She made my blood rush to all the right places and I hated her for it.

  I pointed to the screen behind her. “First things first: tell me how you got those files from Brisbois. I promise, I won’t scold or lecture; depending on what you did I may or may not be physically ill, but–”

  “I stole them.”

  There would come a time in our relationship where nothing Cadence said would surprise me anymore, but as it was, my jaw dropped and I jerked back. “You stole confidential EO files?”

  Rolling her head onto its side, she massaged the back of her neck, sighing. “While Brisbois was questioning me, I asked him for a glass of water; he went down to the kitchen to get it, and when he was gone, I got onto his system and downloaded the files to a data key I had in my pocket.”

  “That…” I moved my gaze from her to the screen and back again, “…is incredibly illegal.”

  Cadence shrugged and swung back to the screen. “I needed them.”

  That seemed to be enough of an explanation for her. I was hard-pressed to be too disapproving; after all, she’d done it to help me. Stepping behind her, I leaned against the back of the chair, rubbing my eyes. “What sort of files are they?”

  “A few things I thought might be pertinent to the case. What have you been up to all morning?”

  Relating the facts I had gleaned from Solomon, I laid out his purpose in the library as well as his side of the story about his rumored departure from Halcyon Enterprises. She absorbed it all quietly, interjecting a few questions here and there, but not sharing any revelations the information produced, if any. I realized that I had yet to tell her about the previous evening’s conversation with Minerva and gave her the full details of that exchange as well.

  Cadence craned her head back to look up into my eyes, her frown seeming to take on a comical tilt from that angle. “Minerva says your mother became ill soon after this financial trouble occurred?” I nodded. Cadence’s scowl deepened, brows rising and falling in a troubled ripple. “That is disturbing.”

  I moved my hands to her shoulders, where I began folding and unfolding the cuffs on her sleeves. “Is it?”

  She lowered her head between her shoulders, dragging her tapping fingers down her cheeks. “Well, more suggestive than disturbing. Like this,” she swiped a long document up onto the screen, “Desdemona’s arrest file.”

  “My, my.” I took control of the screen with a flick, scrolling through pages of charges which stretched back to Desdemona’s adolescent years. “She’s quite the juvenile delinquent, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, but that’s not the interesting part. The interesting part is that she never committed a crime alone. There’s always this other party mentioned,” Cadence highlighted a line under a charge for vandalism: “‘Accomplice captured: see record D6C5M5’. I can’t get to the file, obviously, but from what I can piece together, it’s a man – a lover of some sort. They were both remanded to a rehabilitation clinic in Cayeux. But there’s only one record for a completed program.”

  “So, she got clean, and he didn’t?” I straightened, pulling at my bottom lip as I processed this new information. “I wonder if they’ve kept in touch.”

  “Speaking of clinics,” pushing away from the desk, Cadence smoothed out her clothes and stood, “I’ve had an idea. I think we should go through Dr. Merton’s medical bag.”

  “And what has led to this sudden urge?”

  “It’s the one place the EO has never searched properly. Think about it,” she ticked the instances off on her fingers. “The morning the necklace went missing, the doctor went upstairs to get his bag so he could tend to your father. And when the EO searched the house after your father’s death, Merton had his bag with him in the sitting room the whole time.”

  “Because he was looking after Desdemona, I remember.”

  “Well, I was thinking that maybe there’s a reason he keeps the bag so close to him; maybe he’s hiding something.”

  I smiled, blinking at her. “He’s a doctor, love; they generally have to be ready in case of an emergency.”

  Cadence froze, mouth open. She stared at me for several seconds before continuing with a scowl. “Alright, I’ll grant you that. But still, don’t you think it’d be worth a look? Just in case? Just because no one else has?”

  “Hey, you’re the expert detective, not me. I’d never dream of squelching your investigative fervor.”

  She grinned a thank you, but stopped me as I started for the door, grabbing my arm. “So, you’ll help me? It’s not going to be easy to get the bag by itself. I’ll need a distraction to make sure I don’t get caught going through it.”

  I smirked, patting the back of her hand. “You make it sound so difficult. I can guarantee you an uninterrupted half hour to go through the man’s bag this very afternoon.” Bringing her hand to my lips, I winked. “I am that good.”

  18

  Chapter 18

  For once in my life, I was to make good on my promises. Just after lunch, a small group of us retired out onto the veranda, basking in the sunshine. At a cough from me, Cadence excused herself inside, after which I asked Dr. Merton his thoughts on the current IPC medical school standards.

  Henry balled his hands into fists, his glare digging into my forehead. We all knew how absorbed Merton could get on this single topic, having suffered through his lectures many times before. Once again, his reserve fell to the wayside as he ranted against the lax standards of the day and how absurdly easy it now was to obtain a degree in medicine as opposed to the enormous challenges he had surmounted as a student. It was some time before I could steal away to meet Cadence in the study. As the sun started to sink behind the horizon, I worried that she might have given up on me. But there was a light visible beneath the closed door and, casting around a wary eye, I eased open the door and slid inside.

  Reclining on the large couch, Cadence had her feet propped up on top of the armrest, her head flat against the cushion at the oppos
ite end. Her hands, curled into fists, lay resting on her chest. I leaned back onto the door until it clicked shut. Cadence didn’t look up, closing her fists tighter.

  “Well? Did you find anything?”

  She opened her mouth, thought, and snapped it shut again, flicking her tongue over her lips. At last Cadence nodded. “I know who the murderer is…and I can’t tell you.”

  I strode towards her, bracing myself against the back of the sofa as I leaned over her, face flush, my jaw clenched so tight it throbbed. “Cadence Turing, if you don’t tell me, I’ll–I’ll…I’ll go get the biggest magnet I can find and wipe you clean.”

  Rubbing her fists over her mouth, she wriggled across the couch until her head hit the arm rest. “It doesn’t make any sense!” Cadence sat up, forcing me back, her lips firming into a line. “I have to know why. I can’t tell you who until I’ve figured out why.”

  Straightening and screwing my eyes shut, I shoved her legs off the couch, dropping down into the seat beside her. Her feet landed on the floor with a thud, but the rest of Cadence stayed where it was, body twisted into an L-shape.

  “I assume you found something in Merty’s bag; can I at least know about that?”

  Opening her hands, she revealed a glass vial in each. Without even a glance in my direction she tossed one into the air and landed it in my outstretched hand. The vial, small enough to fit in my palm, was filled, up to its hermetically sealed top, with a familiar red liquid.

  “What the hell?” I rolled the tube across my hand, but inside the blood remained still. Squinting at the hand-written label, I forced the squiggles into focus until I could make out my father’s initials and a string of numbers. “Why is this dated the night of the party?”

  “The night your father was ill with a sudden bout of flu.”