A Billion Little Clues

by Westlake, Samantha

  "That's nice," I commented, not wanting to be mean to this lawyer. He was Roman's personal counsel, after all. "But I think that I should probably be heading out. Have to go tell Roman about this news, you know?"

  I rose up from my seat, turning towards the door, but the lawyer was between me and my exit. "Come now, how about letting me take you out?" he asked, grinning at me. "I'll pick you up, and we can go out to any restaurant you choose. There's an amazing new sushi restaurant downtown. Very high class."

  "Thank you, but no," I told him, attempting to step to the side and get around him. But Zinn turned with me, keeping between me and the door.

  "Just one date," he wheedled. "It would let you wear that sexy dress again..."

  How could I get out of this? "Actually, um, I'm kind of seeing someone," I suddenly blurted out. "I would love to go out with you, but I'm not on the market."

  Zinn raised an eyebrow. "He doesn't have to know."

  Oh god, the man was sleazy! "No, thanks," I said, stepping forward. Screw him being in the way! I had elbows, didn't I? I pushed past the lawyer and strode out of the office, not looking back.

  Once I was outside, I took a deep breath to calm myself down. Roman's lawyer might be a bit of a sleazeball, but he had still been helpful and had given me a new lead. Carrie Matthew, head of IT. Someone with a grudge against Silvers. Was it enough of a reason to commit murder?

  I was going to find out.

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  Back in Roman's office, I sat in that uncomfortable modern chair and watched the billionaire pace back and forth, shaking his head. "You're sure about this?" he asked for what had to be the fourth time. "Carrie Matthew? My CTO? Zinn thinks that she might be responsible?"

  And again, for the fourth time, I nodded in assent. "That's what he told me," I repeated. Briefly, I thought of the man's lips pressed against my hand, and I shuddered slightly. "Not all he told me, but the rest doesn't really matter."

  Fortunately, Roman appeared lost in thought, still walking back and forth. He hadn't seen my brief look of disgust as I thought about his rather slippery lawyer. "Carrie," he said yet again. "I know that she's been in a foul mood recently, but I never thought that she'd even consider anything as dramatic as this."

  I was getting tired of watching Roman pace back and forth. If nothing else, his repetitive motions were going to wear a hole in the floor, and that rug tossed carelessly down probably cost more than my apartment. "So, do you want to go talk to Carrie?" I asked him.

  This at least made the man pause for a minute, but he didn't look as though he knew quite what his plan of action was. "Maybe?" he said, and when he turned towards me, I could see helplessness painted clearly across his face. "But Carrie's been with me forever, and she's so loyal to this company. I just don't even know what to say to her!"

  Uh oh. This didn't look good. I wasn't positive, but it appeared to me as though my fearless leader, the cool billionaire CEO who always had a plan, was starting to fray at the edges a bit. I wondered whether the call from the police, the message that Eleanor had so rudely dropped off in the middle of my last meeting with the man, hadn't gone as well as he had hoped. Maybe the police really were closing in on Roman as their prime suspect, and he was starting to realize that he could actually be potentially hauled off to jail.

  I thought about trying to cheer the man up, but how in the world could I accomplish that? Short of stripping naked in front of him and doing a little dance, shaking my tits back and forth at his face, I wasn't quite sure how to make him smile.

  Not that I would mind taking off all my clothes for him, of course. But probably not right here in the office. And maybe after a couple glasses of champagne, or white wine, or at least a soda or something. And it would be nice if it was someplace with better lighting, by which I mean less lighting, so that there were more sexy shadows. I don't want him seeing every flaw on me until at least after we've slept together, preferably not until after we've slept together a million times.

  So how else could I cheer him up? I could give him a hug, I supposed, but that kind of just led back to the whole naked thing. So instead, I tried to think of what would cheer me up if someone else did it for me.

  The first thing that sprang to mind was a raise, or a better job. Probably not of much appeal to a billionaire. So that's out.

  How about a pastry? Even on my blackest days, a good cupcake could tear me out of my funk, if only temporarily. But I didn't actually know what type of pastry Roman liked, and it was probably something obscenely fancy with caviar baked into the crust and coated in edible gold leaf.

  The only other idea that I could think of was if I could somehow clear the man's name for him. And that was the least inspiring of my ideas, mainly because it involved way more work for me, and a lot lower chance of me getting to eat a cupcake or two of my own. But unfortunately, it seemed like the only option.

  "Okay, how about this?" I asked, standing up. Roman's eyes had dropped down again, but he looked back up at me. "I'll go over and talk to Carrie for you, to see what she has to say for her side of the story. Maybe she'll have a lead - an assistant or something that got over-zealous?" It sounded weak, but it was better than nothing, right?

  The man just shrugged. "Sure," he agreed, but his voice was listless, lacking that spark of energy that had been so present before. And when I stood up to leave, he returned to his pacing back and forth.

  Outside of the CEO's office, I nearly rolled my eyes. He was giving up so easily! I saw detectives on television solve murder cases all the time, usually in just an hour, even with commercials. They might have labs and guns and special badges and interrogation rooms, but I had determination! It couldn't be that hard.

  #

  Carrie Matthew, as head of the IT sector, had her office down in the basement. This was apparently for some complicated reason involving servers and wiring, but I still thought it was a little unfair. It was so dark down here! And everything felt slightly clammy and damp, like there had been a fog in here in the morning!

  I made my way out from the elevator into the rooms in the basement. No fancy receptionist here to direct me. I could, however, hear the humming of energy, of lots of terribly complicated machines doing all sorts of things with electricity, coming out of the walls around me and from further down the hall. With no other sort of sign, I decided to head towards the source of this electronic buzzing.

  Four rooms later, I was hopelessly lost. I hadn't seen a single other person, and I didn't even think that I could find my way back to the elevator. How was anyone supposed to get anything from Carrie if they couldn't even find her office! Maybe she should get a raise in her budget after all, if only to pay for a receptionist, or some good clean track lighting!

  I came around yet another corner unmarked by any sort of signage and found myself standing in a large room that appeared to be built entirely out of white tile. The walls, ceiling, and even the floor were all pristine white Big black boxes stood like towers stretching up to the ceiling, humming intently. Big columns of wires descended down from holes in the ceiling into each box.

  I didn't know what these boxes were, but they looked very expensive. Servers, probably. Everyone was always complaining about how much servers cost us. "Hello?" I called out hesitantly into the room, hoping that someone would hear me over the buzzing.

  "Hey! Who's there! You aren't supposed to be in here!"

  Well, that was another human voice, at least! Whoever it was, he didn't sound happy to see me, but he probably just thought that I was sneaking up on him to steal his lunch or something. "Hello!" I called out again. "I'm Melinda Gaines, from Mr. Wayland! I'm looking for-"

  "I don't care who you are, but you can't be in here!" the voice shouted back, very rudely cutting me off. It sounded as though the source of the voice was closer, and now that I paused, I could hear approaching footsteps. Whoever it was, he was getting closer.

  "I'm just looking for the-" I tried again, but once again, I
was cut off before I could finish the sentence.

  "No, you're leaving!" the man shouted, just as he finally came around the corner. His head was the first to pop up from behind one of these big black boxes, and I couldn't help but think for a moment that a very large groundhog had managed to find its way into our building.

  It's a mean thing to think, I know! But between his short and bushy black hairs sticking out from his face everywhere, his ruddy complexion, his very prominent buckteeth, and some unfortunately puffy cheeks, the man looked exactly like a rather frustrated and angry gopher. He also had a squat body, somehow enclosed inside of a puffy black jumpsuit, which didn't help his appearance at all. He was waving some sort of electronic device at me in one hand. The device was beeping and flashing an agitated red light, doing its own part to contribute to the ruckus.

  The man was intimidating, but I'll be damned if my mission was going to be derailed by a gopher! "I am not leaving!" I insisted. "And if you'd stop shouting for a minute-"

  "Who are you, anyway?" the man cut in, once again totally interrupting me. I found myself gritting my teeth, trying to hold back from reaching out and slapping him right across his puffy cheeks. "Are you a spy? You're here to steal our company's secure data, aren't you? I knew it! I knew that someone was sneaking in!"

  "I'm Melinda Gaines, from Mr. Wayland's office," I tried again, but I might as well have been shouting back at a statue.

  "I'll show them! And they claimed that I belonged down here, not up in the main areas, because no one could be getting in to steal from us, but now that I've caught you-"

  The slap surprised me almost as much as it did him. Slowly, I lowered my hand, trying to hide how much it stang. The man's cheek was sharp with the bristles of his five-o'clock shadow, and for how jowly he looked, it was surprisingly tough. But at least it had stopped his babbling.

  "Shut up," I enunciated forcefully before he could start up again. He stared back at me with hurt in his eyes, but he didn't say anything, for which I was grateful. "My name is Melinda Gaines. I'm down here from Roman Wayland. As in the CEO. As in the head of this entire crappy company. And I'm here to find Carrie Matthew's office. Nothing more. Nod if you understand this."

  The man opened his mouth, but I lifted my reddening hand again, and he quickly snapped his teeth together again. After a moment, he nodded, and I lowered my arm again.

  "Good," I went on. "Now, you're going to take me to Carrie, or her office, or wherever I can find her. Is this clear?"

  The man nodded again, clearly not trusting his own ability to speak. I gave him a little gesture, and followed after him as he scurried away through the rows of boxes.

  I felt proud of how I had taken control of that situation. But now, twenty minutes later as I sat in Carrie Matthew's office and listened to her rant, I was starting to feel like I'd have to do it again.

  Maybe it was everyone in IT, I mused. Perhaps they all tended to just get lost in their own little rants, yelling and shouting about all of their problems to anyone who would listen. Maybe they all needed a good slap to knock them out of their groove, to disrupt their attention for just long enough to listen to anyone else.

  Across a very messy and disorganized desk from me, Carrie was now off on her own rant. I'd stopped listening several minutes ago, but she still hadn't picked up on my lack of attention. She was even still incorporating angry hand gestures into her rant, I noticed as I watched her. I felt detached, almost like I was observing a test subject.

  I wondered how Roman would deal with this. Had Roman ever had to slap one of his subordinates? Somehow, I just couldn't see it. The man somehow was able to always command the attention of everyone in the room, through a magical and mystical force he exuded from somewhere. How in the world did he do it?

  Wherever it came from, it didn't seem that I possessed such a skill. I would instead have to rely on breaking into Carrie's rant when she next paused for breath.

  Or, failing that, I could always go for the slap again.

  Carrie stopped for a moment to suck in air, and I seized my chance. "So if I'm understanding you correctly, this all boils down to a budget dispute?" I cut in, trying to compress my words together as much as possible to get them all out before she started up again.

  Across the desk from me, the woman nodded vehemently, her hair falling in messy tangles around her face. "Exactly!" she snapped. "And even though Silvers denied that this was because of his doing, he must have been doctoring his books! I have proof, proof that my budget has been reduced! And it has to be because of him!"

  The woman suddenly twisted around in her seat, diving into the pile of papers behind her. "Here, I'll show you!" her voice drifted back to me, sounding slightly muffled.

  I sighed to myself as I watched this woman. Carrie Matthew might be a great head of the IT department, I reflected, but she definitely could use some lessons for her personal life. Her hair was a matted rat's nest of tangles, and it didn't look as though it had even seen a brush in weeks. She was dressed in some sort of ratty cardigan pulled over a peasant dress, and the ensemble did not go well together. Add to this a pair of librarian's glasses that she had to keep on pushing up her nose with a thumb, and she was the picture of a disorganized schoolteacher.

  Maybe that was why she had to yell so much, I suddenly thought to myself. No one ever took her seriously until she opened her mouth. But as I had learned as soon as I sat down inside her office, she had a voice - and a personality - like a stuttering chainsaw. Scary and a bit dangerous, even to herself.

  "Carrie, when did you last see Mr. Silvers?" I cut in as she spun back around, a pile of papers clutched triumphantly in one claw-like hand.

  The question made the woman pause for a fraction of a second. "Um, probably the afternoon before Roman's party," she answered. "That was when I went up and confronted him - again - about my budget discrepancies. He's supposed to be on these things right away, but I've been pointing it out to him for a week now!"

  Carrie was once again slipping back into rant mode. I had to keep her off balance, answering my questions. "And what did he say?" I asked.

  She shrugged. Somehow, the woman even made this gesture look angry and frustrated. "That he'd look into it. That it was being addressed. Same thing he's said every time. I know that it's just corporate suit speak to get rid of me, that he's not going to do anything."

  Well, that wasn't super helpful. "That's all he said?"

  "Well, he said a couple other things," Carrie offered reluctantly, rolling her eyes up as she thought back. "I guess he said something about going to make an announcement about it something. I just thought that he'd eventually show that he had cut our budget after all, that I'd just figured out his corporate scheme to screw us for the shareholders before he was ready to take it public."

  "You don't sound like a big fan of Mr. Silvers," I commented.

  Carrie shook her head so violently, she almost lost her glasses. "He was a blowhard!" she snapped at me. "God, I'm glad he's dead. Maybe we'll actually get another finance guy that somehow still has a soul."

  This didn't sound good for Carrie - but on the other hand, I was starting to feel hope beginning to stir for Roman. It sounded as though Carrie had a real reason to want Silvers dead, and she didn't seem broken up in the slightest about his passing! I was really doing it! This was detective work!

  Across from me, oblivious to these thoughts, Carrie was still looking through the handful of papers she had grabbed from the mess behind her. "Here, see? Look!" she cried out triumphantly, thrusting them out towards me. "See? My budgets are going down!"

  I was caught a little off-guard by this - and now by the sudden realization that I might actually be in an office in the basement of our building with a murderer. Murderess? In any case, it didn't feel safe in the slightest any more. Carrie didn't seem physically imposing, but her jerky movements felt impossible to predict. Trying to keep her appeased, I reached out and accepted the papers from her shaky hand.

  I
am not at all suited to reading financial documents. Numbers make me fall asleep, except maybe if they're on price tags. But there was at least a graph on this paper, and sure enough, it did show a red line going down. And next to the graph were a bunch of numbers, with a header reading "IT quarterly budget." And the numbers seemed to be going down as well.

  "Now, you go compare that to whatever Silvers had in his crooked books!" Carrie told me. "You'll see that I'm right!"

  I probably should have asked more questions, tried to get her to actually admit to me that she was responsible for killing Silvers. But at that moment, my concern for my personal safety was winning out over my desire to solve this murder, and I wanted to get out of there before she threw a computer at my head and killed me. "Great, great," I stammered hastily as I stood up. "I'll, uh, just go and do that, shall I?"

  It looked like Carrie wanted to add something more, but I was up and out of her office by then, dashing back towards where I remembered the elevators to be. Please don't let me get stuck down here, I silently prayed. Please don't let me get lost and end up being murdered by an insane IT woman and having my body be lost down here until the little groundhog man finds me and accuses my corpse of being a spy here to rob our servers.

  For once, my prayers were answered. I heard the soft ding of the elevators up ahead, and put on an extra burst of speed. Still holding the papers that Carrie had thrust into my hands, I slid into the elevator, my finger stabbing at the "close doors" button. And mercifully, I felt the sensation of lift as the elevator carried me up to safety.

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  As the elevator carried me back up to the top of the building, to the waiting billionaire, I felt my fears of being murdered in the basement fall away, left below me. I had done it! I knew who the killer was, and I was going to prove my sexy new boss's innocence! And then with that done, there'd be no threat of jail, and he could totally be with me, and sweep me away on a glamorous vacation to some island that he owned where there was a strict no-clothes policy...