Case of the Chatty Roadrunner

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “Go to hell,” Max mumbled.

  “Strike one, pal. I’ll try again. Who ordered you to steal this laptop?”

  “Bite me,” Max growled.

  “Strike two. Should there be a third strike, then you will be arrested and taken into custody. Officer Harding, would you care to enlighten our friend here as to what he’ll be charged with?”

  “Why, I’d be delighted, Detective Samuelson. Mister Rush, you will be charged with Murder in the First Degree, Conspiracy to Commit Murder, Aiding and abetting…”

  “All right!” Max shrieked. “All right! I’m not going down for this. I have nothing to hide! I was just following orders!”

  “Whose orders?” Vance wanted to know.

  “Ms. Lawson.”

  I paled and felt my face drain of color. “Oh, holy hell. Tell me her first name isn’t Abigail.”

  Max shook his head, “It isn’t. It’s Maureen. The only thing I know about her is that she’s some bigwig’s secretary. She’s the one that told me I had to retrieve a stolen company laptop and that I might have to sneak into a hotel room to do it.”

  “Sneak into a hotel room?” Vance repeated, incredulous. “That’s called Breaking and Entering, pal.”

  “You make it sound like it’s a felony,” Max sniffed. “It’s not.”

  Vance nodded, “You’re right, kid. Burglary is, however. And, since you stole this laptop from my room, congratulations. You’re going to become a convicted felon.”

  “Who does this Ms. Lawson report to?” Officer Harding asked. “Would he, or she, be the one calling the shots?”

  We all turned to Max.

  “Well?” Vance prompted.

  “Mr. Ridley,” Max sullenly answered.

  “And what does Mr. Ridley do?” Vance wanted to know.

  “I don’t know. I do know that he’s a VP, but of what, I’m not sure. There are way too many VPs to keep tabs on them all.”

  “Mr. Glenn Ridley,” Officer Harding announced, holding her phone. “Their website says that he’s the VP of Excellence.”

  “Corporations,” Vance groaned. “Only there will you find messed up titles like, ‘Vice President of Excellence’. All right, what does a VP of Excellence even do? What’s he responsible for?”

  “He’s responsible for ensuring process improvement to drive efficiencies, decrease costs, and thereby increase net revenue,” Max haughtily answered.

  “Does anyone else need help understanding what that means?” Officer Harding asked.

  I raised my hand, along with Elizabeth, Vance, and everyone else who had heard the question.

  “Okay, translate that, please,” Vance ordered.

  “Translate?” Max demanded. “That’s about as dumbed-down a definition I can come up with. Hmm, how about, he makes things work better so expenses goes down and therefore allowing the corporation to keep the profits. If you don’t understand that, Detective, then I highly suggest enrolling in night school.”

  “I thought you didn’t know him,” Vance accused.

  “I don’t,” Max confirmed. “But I do know what his job entails. Most interns do. It’s what we strive to become.”

  I raised my hand, “Can I ask him a question?”

  All eyes turned to me. Vance held out a hand, indicating I should continue.

  “How, exactly, did you break into Vance’s hotel room? It’s not like you busted a window, or anything. No, you went through the front door. That door is protected by an electronic hotel lock. That means you needed a key to get in.”

  Surprised, Vance gave me a thumbs up and turned back to Max.

  “A very valid question. How did you get into my room?”

  I do believe ol’ Max just turned a few shades whiter, if possible.

  “You’ve gone pale, amigo,” Vance dryly commented. “Spill. How’d you make it in?”

  “I, uh, used a key.”

  “What key? There was only one key issued to me when I checked in. Did you somehow get your hands on a housekeeping key?”

  Max sullenly shook his head.

  “Did you steal a manager’s key?” I asked.

  Max gave another shake of his head.

  “Answer the question, Mister Rush,” Officer Harding snapped. “How did you gain access to Detective Samuelson’s room?”

  “I used a key card,” Max quietly answered. His eyes had fallen to the floor and there they stayed.

  “Whose key card?” Vance demanded.

  “My own.”

  I blinked with confusion. His own? How was that possible?

  “You created your own card key, didn’t you?” Officer Gutierrez guessed. When we were all staring at Elizabeth, she continued. “I knew a guy from the academy that had a device that could read the data on those magnetic strips found on cards and encode them onto new cards. I’m guessing you had access to a machine like that, didn’t you?”

  I looked over at Officer Harding and pointed down at Max’s wallet, which was still sitting on the table.

  “Yes, Mr. Anderson? Do you have a question?”

  “Could you pull his employer badge back out? Would you tell me if it has a magnetic strip on the back of it?”

  A quick check of Semzar’s badge confirmed that it did have the strip. That meant that the pharmaceutical company had one of those devices Elizabeth had referenced, and were using it to create their employee badges. The question was, who was in control of that machine?

  “What do you need to be able to run one of those card-making devices?” Officer Harding asked his junior officer.

  Elizabeth shrugged, “Just a computer, actually.”

  I held my hand up again.

  “It’s not just the card key,” I began, “but the code itself. That machine obviously can make replica cards. However, it needs the source code, doesn’t it? How did the operator of that machine get the source code to Vance’s door lock when the only card key coded to his room never left his possession?”

  I have to stop here for a second and gloat. You see, it’s not often that I not only ask the million dollar question, but actually think of it, too. In this case, I had every single person standing around Max staring suspiciously at the intern, wondering the same thing I had just thought of: how was access attained?

  “A damn good question, Zack. All right, Max. Spill. How were you able to replicate my card key when Zack was right in that it never left my wallet?”

  Was it me, or was Max sweating so much that you would have thought he was sitting under a row of heat lamps?

  “Someone hacked into the hotel’s computer,” Vance guessed. “That’s got to be the answer. I’m right, aren’t I, Max?”

  The intern refused to lift his eyes off the ground.

  “What about the operator of this card machine?” I asked. “I can’t imagine the user operating the computer running that gadget would willingly create a false card for someone else.”

  “Who’d have the responsibility of running something like that?” Vance asked. When no one answered, he turned to address the people that were standing nearby, listening. “Anyone? I’m looking for suggestions, people.”

  Elizabeth raised her hand again.

  “You’re right. It’s about permissions. A machine that can recreate any card with a magnetic strip could be very dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands. Therefore, I would think that only the head of that department would have access to it.”

  “So, that gives us two suspects,” Vance said. He jotted some notes down in his notebook. “I think we need to bring in this Glenn Ridley character and also whoever is heading up their IT department. However, this is your jurisdiction, not mine.”

  Harding was shaking his head, “No, you’re absolutely right. We have nothing to pin him to your VIC’s murder, but we can certainly bring him in to ask about this break-in.”

  “We also need to bring in the computer guy,” I decided. “Chances are, if he isn’t the one who hacked the hotel’s computer, then he knows who did.”r />
  “Or else gave the order to do it,” Vance added. “And yes, you’re right, Zack. We need to bring him in, too. We just need to find out who it is.”

  “That’d be one Arthur Mazlo,” I announced, a few moments later.

  “And how the hell would you know that?” Vance demanded. “Is there something you’re not telling me, buddy?”

  I held up my phone, “Nope. Semzar’s corporate website has an ‘About Us’ page. He’s listed in there. See? VP of Information Technology. They don’t have a photo for him, so we don’t know what he looks like. Anyway, he’d be the one to ask.”

  Vance looked over at the two Phoenix cops who had been tasked with assisting us and pointed at Max.

  “Would you care to do the honors?”

  Brad Harding’s face turned grim and he nodded, “Absolutely. Maximillian Rush, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to…”

  The dogs and I stepped outside as Max was led away, his head hanging low with shame. As I waited for Vance, who was busy chatting with a few Phoenix police bigwigs, I sent off a message to Jillian, who would undoubtedly be waiting for some word on what was going on.

  WE CAUGHT THE GUY. HE CONFESSED THAT HE WAS THE ONE WHO STOLE THE LAPTOP FROM VANCE’S HOTEL ROOM IN THE FIRST PLACE.

  THAT’S WONDERFUL NEWS! ABOUT THAT LAPTOP…

  WHAT ABOUT IT?

  I’VE BEEN GOING THROUGH SAMANTHA’S FILES.

  AND?

  I BELIEVE I HAVE FOUND OUT WHAT SEMZAR HAS BEEN TRYING TO HIDE. IT’S WORSE THAN WE THOUGHT.

  YOU’RE SURE?

  I’VE PLACED A FEW CALLS WHILE I’VE BEEN WAITING TO HEAR FROM YOU. YOU AND VANCE ARE GOING TO WANT TO HEAR THIS.

  I’LL GIVE HIM A HEADS UP.

  HOW SOON BEFORE YOU COME BACK HERE?

  SOON, IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT.

  THANK YOU, ZACHARY. YOU ARE THE SWEETEST!

  AND DON’T YOU FORGET IT. 

  I had just taken a few steps toward our car when both dogs perked up again. Sherlock started woofing and tugged on his leash, but in a different direction. Curious as to what they were looking at, I gave the dogs some slack and watched as they both headed for the small shopping center across the street. From what I could see, there was a little mom and pop type shop, a smoke shop, a café called ‘Zone’, and a small bakery. Looks like they sold a mean donut, ‘cause there were tons of people waiting in line in that store.

  I reined in the dogs when we hit the sidewalk running parallel to the street. So, what was over there that had attracted their attention? Someone in one of the stores? Perhaps the bakery? What else could the dogs be trying to tell me? I mean, we caught the guy who stole the laptop, didn’t we? Hell, we even recovered the blasted thing.

  My eyes were drawn to the café. I looked at the word ‘Zone’. I seemed to recall seeing the same logo around town, making it a franchise, obviously. Curiosity had me pulling out my cell so I could research the company.

  There, on my screen, was the answer. It was one of those Internet cafés, the kind where you could rent a computer for as long as you like. Finding an option on their website for ‘Locations’, I pulled up a map and told it to search for stores in my area. What I saw had me gasping with surprise.

  There were stores on 44th Street, several on Camelback Road, two on Indian School Road, one on E. 2nd Street, and several located in Paradise Valley, just to name a few. Does any of those locations sound familiar? Well, they should. Those were the places I’ve personally visited since I’ve been back in town. In fact, the dogs have been barking at what I thought were random sites throughout the city. What do you want to bet they were barking at other Zone locations?

  The question was, why? Why would they bark at an Internet café? The answer came to me after, for some reason, I spun back around and looked at the museum. Computers. Hacking into hotels. Hacking into cars, for that matter. Those feats required a computer, and over there was a café full of them. Was there something in there that the dogs wanted us to see?

  It was time to find out.

  TEN

  “What are we looking for?” Vance asked, as soon as we opened the door to the café and strolled inside. Officers Harding and Gutierrez had accompanied us across the street. In fact, I had entrusted Elizabeth to watch over the dogs as Vance, myself, and Officer Harding entered the store.

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I’m hoping we’ll know once we see it.”

  What I saw was several long tables full of computers spaced three or four feet apart. Each station had its own drink holder, swivel arm lamp, and trash receptacle. Of the eighteen possible stations, six were occupied, which I thought strange since it was just after 6am on a weekday. This place was apparently the place to go if you needed to get online at all hours. I personally didn’t know places like this existed. Sure, I knew about Internet cafés, but I didn’t realize they were open 24/7. What if someone tried to steal something? Then again, there were video cameras everywhere, with signs posted next to the cameras, stating they were monitored 24/7.

  We passed the café part of the shop and noticed it was dark, using one of those separator things to cordon it off from the rest of the shop, much like how a pharmacy would appear in a grocery store if it was closed and the store was not. What was noteworthy was that of the six people present in the café, five took no notice of us. The sixth, however, looked up at us as we entered the shop, emitted a cry of alarm, and hastily grabbed his personal laptop. The young kid slammed it closed, shoved it into a bag, and flung the strap over his shoulder. A split second later, he bolted for the front door.

  “Take it easy, kid,” Vance called, as he hurried after him. “We just want to talk! This isn’t gonna end well for you if you try to run away!”

  Apparently, the kid had other plans. He risked a glance behind him, saw that he was being pursued, and doubled his efforts. Thinking he could undoubtedly shake his pursuers in a large, vast building, the kid unwisely bolted across the street and ducked into the art museum, all without bothering to look around. Now, I should mention that the Phoenix police had not yet finished their investigation with the museum. There were cops and museum officials everywhere. Needless to say, it wasn’t the kid’s brightest move.

  By the time we made it across the street, the perp was already in handcuffs. He was led outside and placed in the back of a nearby squad car. Elizabeth handed me back the dogs’ leashes and, along with Vance and Officer Harding, approached the car. Since the car’s door was still open, the kid watched us walk up to him.

  Curious as to why this particular kid fled from us, I watched him closely. As the police started asking questions, I watched the worry on the kid’s face morph into sheer terror. What did this kid have to be afraid of? Why did he flee from us? Was he involved with Sam’s murder?

  It wasn’t until one of the cops pulled the kid to his feet, patted him down, and then pulled out the kid’s wallet that things got interesting. I watched Vance take possession of the wallet, check the kid’s ID, and then, surprised, looked straight at me. I was then motioned over. Gripping the leashes tightly, the three of us joined Vance by the side of the patrol car. Sherlock and Watson, I might add, had become agitated the moment they caught sight of the kid. Within moments, Sherlock was growling.

  “You’re not gonna believe this, buddy,” Vance began. He handed me the kid’s ID. It read ‘Charles Etherington’. “Chuck here happens to work for a big name pharmaceuticals company.”

  I stared at the kid with surprise written all over my face. Sherlock barked twice, as if to say, well, duh!

  “Semzar? What are the odds of that? Okay, you might’ve known it, pal, but the rest of us don’t have your sixth sense.”

  “Why are you talking to that dog as though he can understand you?” the kid wanted to know.

  “Because he can,” I answered. “What do you think the odds were that we’d stroll in to check that café?”

  Chuck scowled and then fe
ll silent.

  “Well, Semzar Pharmaceuticals is a big company,” Elizabeth informed us. “So, it’s wouldn’t be difficult to figure it out. If we take the total number of…”

  The Phoenix police officer trailed off as she noticed her partner’s disapproving frown.

  “Please continue, Detective Samuelson,” Officer Harding urged.

  Vance nodded and pulled out a familiar looking card from the kid’s wallet.

  “You have no right to go through my wallet,” the kid fumed.

  “Relax, Chuck,” Vance soothed. “We just need to ascertain your involvement in this whole mess and why you decided to run. Make yourself comfortable. You’re not going anywhere.”

  “I had nothing to do with it!” Chuck protested. “You can’t hold me here!”

  “We can, we are, and we will,” Officer Harding contradicted.

  “One Semzar employee badge,” Vance reported, as he rifled through the kid’s wallet. He started dropping cards on the trunk of the car. “One Zone monthly access pass. Interesting. One VIP pass to Chuck E. Cheese. Seriously? What, are you twelve?”

  “We need to find out what he does at Semzar,” I told Vance. “It might be important.”

  Elizabeth took Chuck’s employee badge and pulled out her phone, “I’m on it.”

  Chuck, for his part, had started squirming in his seat.

  “Gotta go to the bathroom?” Vance casually asked.

  Chuck was silent.

  “Look, kid. The sooner you come clean, the better it’ll be for you.”

  “I have nothing to say,” Chuck stated, as if reading from a prepared statement.