by Sue Grafton
“I don’t have to know. You handle that. Sometime the day before you get on your computer and make changes to your data. Nothing outrageous. You want it to look bad but you don’t want to overplay your hand. Elevate a number here and there, downgrade a few. Tamper, but not too radically. Just enough to suggest someone familiar with your work has been in there poking around.”
“Why would I alter my data when that’s what she’s accusing me of in the first place?”
Pete offered Linton a benign smile. “Morning after this event you go into work and discover your computer’s up and running. You’re confused because when you left Wednesday afternoon you remember shutting it down. It looks like someone’s gotten into your database and you’re worried. You can’t imagine what’s going on so you start checking sensitive documents.”
Linton stared at him. “And discover my data has been sabotaged.”
“That’s exactly right. Someone’s falsified your statistics, inflated the test results, and who knows what else? You go straight to your boss. You’re stunned. You’re white-faced with shock. You have no idea what’s going on, but someone’s undermined your work. You know everything was fine the day before because you started a printout of what you’d done to date. You can even show him pages you printed on both days and point to the discrepancies. Someone wants to make you look bad. If you hadn’t picked up on it, you’d have ended up submitting results that were way off. Doctored, if you’ll forgive the pun.”
“Do I mention Mary Lee?”
“You let him do that. You’ve complained about her before, haven’t you?”
“I did when she first came to work. I had to tell him I’d been involved with her in case she started bad-mouthing me.”
“Exactly. The woman’s trying to damage your reputation because you resisted her attempts to rekindle the flame. You rebuffed her and now look what she’s done.”
Linton thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. “Don’t like it. Too risky.”
“That’s my lookout.”
“What if somebody’s in the building and wants to know what you’re doing?”
“Won’t happen. Look like me and nobody wants to stop and chat about anything.”
“But why would she give you her ID?”
“She won’t know I have it.”
“You can’t pull it off. There’s no way.”
“Let’s don’t argue the point. Give it some thought. If you decide we have a deal, we’ll meet again.”
“And if I don’t call you, the deal is off?”
“That’s correct.”
Linton stood for a moment, debating with himself.
Pete said, “Don’t decide right now. Let it sit. If I can’t deliver my end, I’ll let you know.”
Linton shook his head and backed up a step before he turned away. Pete watched as he retraced his steps, hands in his coat pockets. Wind blew spray, like a fine mist, across the breakwater, wetting the concrete so that Linton left a brief set of shoe prints in his wake.
• • •
The real hurdle Pete faced was talking Willard Bryce into playing his part, which was critical to the overall success of his scheme. Pete called Willard the next morning as soon as he calculated Mary Lee had left for work. They agreed on a time and Pete swung by and picked him up at the designated corner like a couple of spies. As with Linton Reed, Willard was a man who loved to self-dramatize. Why else go to such lengths when they were the only ones who gave a shit? Small talk back and forth on their way to the beach, where they parked and sat in the car.
Willard said, “I don’t understand why we had to meet. I thought our business was done. I have your report and I’ve paid you everything I owe.”
“I’ve been thinking it might be a smart move to check Mary Lee’s work space. Maybe there’s information to be picked up in a place she thinks is safe from prying eyes.”
“Stop right now. This has gone far enough.”
“Just listen to what I have to say. She feels comfortable at work, right? She’s relaxed. She assumes you have no access to the lab, so she might leave stuff around. Might be notes back and forth between her and this Pensky fellow.”
“You said there was nothing going on.”
“I said I didn’t think there was. I said there might be other explanations. All I’m saying now is it won’t hurt to look.”
“I won’t do it. How the hell would I manage that? I can’t ask for her ID and go off for an hour. Are you insane?”
“You don’t have the stomach for it, I’ll handle it myself. Here’s how I see it. There’ll be a couple of swipe locks—one to get into the building, the other to get into the lab. All you have to do is get me her ID and her PIN. You have any idea what that is?”
“It’s 1956. She uses that for everything. The ID I can’t help you with. She takes it with her when she goes to work. How else would she get in?”
“Then get it when she’s not at work,” Pete said, patiently. Willard was a moron. Did the man have no imagination?
“I never know when she’s going in. Especially lately. It could be any hour.”
“Does she sleep at night?”
“Of course she sleeps at night. What kind of question is that?”
“Where’s her ID badge when she’s asleep?”
“On top of the chest of drawers.”
“Why don’t you take it then and leave it outside your front door. I’ll pick it up, go into the lab, have a look around, and then return it when I’m done. Won’t take an hour and I’ll put it back where I found it. All you have to do is pick it up off the welcome mat and return it to the chest of drawers. She’ll never know it was gone. I’ll contact you first chance I get and tell you what I found.”
“When would you do this? Go into the lab.”
“Haven’t decided yet. I’ll pick a date and let you know.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I don’t like it any more than you do. You have a better idea, I’d love to hear it.”
“I don’t need a better idea. I never asked for any of this in the first place.”
Pete lapsed into silence. He knew from past experience that once you persuaded somebody to cross the line the first time, it didn’t take much to talk ’em into doing it again. Willard wasn’t nearly as scrupulous as he pretended.
Willard’s face had darkened to that brooding look, triggered by his insecurities. “Actually, anything she has at work, I’d never know about.”
“Exactly. And you can’t go there yourself because if she woke up she’d know you were gone. Aside from that, you’d be too conspicuous thumping across campus on that one leg of yours.”
For some reason, Willard laughed at that and Pete knew he’d won.
• • •
Pete’s next meeting with Linton Reed took place in the parking lot at Ludlow Beach, roughly across the street from the Santa Teresa City College running track. It had taken some arguing, but the good doctor had finally agreed to the spot. Pete arrived first and got out of his Ford Fairlane, crossing a patch of grass to one of the picnic tables. Beyond the wide expanse of lawn, the beach extended for another five or six hundred yards. Beyond, the Pacific Ocean stretched for twenty-six miles until the islands peeked up at the horizon.
By way of a prop, Pete had bought himself an oversize container of coffee, still too hot to sip. He heard a car and turned as the doctor pulled in, driving a turquoise Thunderbird. For a man worried about being seen, the car couldn’t be more conspicuous. Linton locked his car and approached casually with a copy of the Santa Teresa Dispatch under his arm.
Pete waited until he sat down on the far side of the table, neither of them making eye contact. Linton made a show of opening the paper as though he’d arrived solely for this purpose.
“Let me know when you have a minute,” Pete said.
“I’m listening.”
Pete said, “Somebody’s going to think we’re sweet on each other. Why else would you come
over to my table and sit down?”
“Don’t mock me. Let’s just get on with it.”
“I take it we’re on or you wouldn’t have called again.”
“What do you think?” Linton said, snappishly.
Pete noticed that he’d neatly sidestepped consent. If Pete were caught, he could honestly say he hadn’t agreed to anything.
Pete said, “If we’re on, I want what was promised. The map for starters.”
Linton took a folded sheet of typing paper from his pocket and handed it to Pete. Pete opened it and made a quick study of the drawing Linton had done, showing the location of the building that housed the research lab in relation to the campus parking lots, some of which were designated for staff or employees only. There was apparently no restriction on vehicular ingress and egress.
Linton had marked the first point at which a card needed to be swiped. He’d also drawn the layout of the lobby with a series of directional arrows from the door to the elevators. Nice. If Pete were passing himself off as someone who knew his way around, he couldn’t be blundering down the wrong hall. The lab occupied the entire second floor. Linton had also roughed out the interior offices, marking his desk, the desk where Mary Lee Bryce worked, and a few other significant landmarks.
“Looks good,” Pete said. “You have the other business?”
Linton took out a thick envelope and placed it on the table without making visual reference to it. Then he got up and walked away.
Pete took the envelope and slid it into the inner pocket of his sport coat. He’d count the cash later to make sure it was all there before he tucked it away for safekeeping. Linton was right about the risk. Pete wasn’t nearly as sanguine as he appeared to be. The very notion of what he had to do made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He had no confidence the plan would work, but with the two grand in his pocket and two more on tap, what choice did he have?
He waited a day and then he called Willard and suggested the night of August 24 as the date he’d need the ID.
“Why then?”
“Middle of the week. Nothing else going on. Seems as good a date as any.”
“Students will be back on campus by then.”
“So what? I’m doing this at night. All you have to do is wait until she’s asleep and put the ID outside the door. Nothing to it.”
Willard seemed to concede the point, but he wasn’t happy. Pete eased the conversation along without giving him an opportunity to protest. It wouldn’t pay to argue because Pete’s position was weak and he didn’t want Willard to think about it too much.
• • •
Late afternoon on August 24, Pete did a dry run. He drove out to the university and used Linton’s hand-drawn map to get the lay of the land. He left his car some distance from the building where the lab was housed and proceeded on foot. He knew the lab was on the second floor. Even at that hour, he could see the offices and labs marked by a stripe of brightly lighted windows that extended all the way around. It seemed odd to Pete he’d be trespassing in full view of anyone who happened by that night. With his height and his odd build, he stood out like a sore thumb wherever he went, and while he’d equipped himself with the requisite white lab coat, he didn’t look like a scientist. Of course, scientists came in all shapes and sizes. Smart people could look any way they wanted and no one thought twice about it.
Satisfied with his reconnoitering, he returned to his car and threaded a course across campus, which was already chockablock with students. Most wore shorts, flip-flops, and T-shirts, bare limbs exposed, all that young flesh in evidence. UCST was known as a party school; beer and dope, kids loitering at every turn. Occasionally he’d see a student reading a book, but that was the rare exception. Pete wondered what life would have been like with so many advantages. Didn’t warrant too much thought at this point, as any options he might have had were gone by now.
• • •
He picked up a burger and fries and went back to the office. His message light was blinking, but he had no time for that. He ate at his desk with the cruise line brochure open in front of him. He’d told Ruthie he was on an all-night surveillance, so she wouldn’t be expecting him until morning. He reached the portion of the brochure that detailed a cruise on the Danube and leaned in close to read, tantalized by the descriptions of the amenities. All meals were prepared on board, it said, using the finest and freshest ingredients. Complimentary wine; bottled water replenished daily in each state room. Four countries, nine excursions. “Gentle walking options,” he read, which was good given his physical limitations. He still had a portion of the money Willard had paid him and with Linton’s four grand added to his stash, he was almost there.
At 11:30, he left the office and drove to Willard’s apartment complex. He parked on the side street, walked to the gated entrance, and stepped into the courtyard. He paused, making sure there was no one about. Assured that he was alone, he continued at a casual pace to Willard’s front door, where he anticipated finding Mary Lee’s ID. There was no sign of it. He lifted the welcome mat, thinking Willard had tucked it out of sight. He took out his penlight and flashed the narrow beam around the foundation plantings. Nothing.
He walked around the side of the building and checked the Bryces’ bedroom windows. Dark. No sound. No flickering to suggest the television set was on. Surely, Willard hadn’t gotten his dates mixed up. Pete was at a loss. He couldn’t call at this hour. Mary Lee might pick up instead of Willard and then what? Another possibility was that hubby might be waiting to make sure she was soundly sleeping before he took the badge from its usual place. If that were the case, a ringing phone would spoil everything.
He went back to the center of the courtyard and settled in a lawn chair, arms crossed, hands tucked away for warmth. The temperature had sunk into the low fifties and the air felt damp. All he could do was wait, so he waited. From time to time, he got up and returned to Willard’s door, which remained a blank. What was wrong with him? Pete couldn’t spend all night in the cold. At 1:30, he returned to his car, where he huddled for another hour before he fell asleep.
He woke at 6:30, stiff and desperate for a pee. The sun hadn’t quite shifted into view, so he got out of the car and relieved himself behind a nearby tree. In the car again, he waited until he saw Mary Lee leave the apartment, coffee container in hand, her purse under her arm. She got in the car, fiddled with her seat belt, checked her makeup, and adjusted her travel mug in the cup holder. Pete thought he’d go insane if she didn’t get out of there. She finally drove off, presumably on her way to work.
Pete was frosted. Willard, for whatever reason, had failed to deliver, and where did that put Pete? The night had come and gone and who knew when another opportunity would present itself? Linton Reed wasn’t going to be happy when he heard the plan had gone awry. He left his car unlocked while he crossed the grass and entered the center courtyard. He knocked on the Bryces’ door and waited.
When the door finally opened, Willard said, “What do you want?”
“What do you think? You want to tell me why you reneged on our agreement?”
“We don’t have an agreement. I left a message on your office phone. Mary Lee’s decided to quit. She’s giving her two weeks’ notice today. She’s fed up. She says life’s too short.”
Pete was taken aback. “I’m sorry to hear that. I guess it’s a done deal, then.”
“You better believe it is and if you ever breathe one word of this business to anyone, you’ll be sorry,” Willard said, his voice ominously low, and then he shut the door in Pete’s face.
Pete stood for a moment, trying to process the implications. Obviously, if Mary Lee quit, then Linton had no need of him. After today, all bets would be off since essentially there was no way to blame her for the data tampering. He’d been paid to go into the lab, launching a scheme that was suddenly completely irrelevant. Nothing to be done about it now. More problematic was the certainty the good doctor would insist Pete give his money back, w
hich Pete had no intention of doing. That money was for him and Ruthie, with every nickel going toward their trip abroad. Linton had plenty more where that came from. Pete Wolinsky did not. For the moment, Pete was safe. For all Linton Reed knew, he’d done what they agreed.
Pete returned to the office and sat down at his desk. This time he pressed the play button on his answering machine. He listened to the message from Willard about Mary Lee quitting her job. There were two additional messages from Linton Reed, who neglected to identify himself, but he said roughly the same thing both times: the deal was off. In neither instance did the good doctor specify the reason for the cancellation. Pete’s only option was to play dumb. He put in a call to the doctor, whose answering machine picked up. Pete left his number without mentioning his name, asking if the doctor would call at his earliest convenience. Linton must have been sitting right there, letting calls go through to his voice message, because within minutes he called back. “You owe me two grand,” he said.
“And why would that be?”
“Something’s happened.”
“I gathered as much. You want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Not on the phone.”
“How about let’s meet, then.”
“When?”
“Ten o’clock tonight?”
“Where?”
“Bird refuge,” Pete said. He depressed the plunger, cutting the connection before the doctor could argue the point.
• • •
Traffic was light when Pete arrived at the bird refuge shortly before ten. The Caliente Café was crowded, its parking lot jammed. Arriving patrons had snapped up additional slots in the strip lot across the way. Pete slowed the Fairlane to allow a pedestrian to cross in front of him. Belatedly, he registered the big panhandler’s red baseball cap and red flannel shirt; fellow heading home for the night after a hard day’s work. The panhandler turned and gave Pete a lingering look, which Pete ignored.
Pete hoped there’d be one last parking place, but he spotted the turquoise Thunderbird and realized Linton had beat him to the punch. Pete was forced to park on the street, which mattered not except for the psychological one-upsmanship. In a momentary nod to caution, he went around to the trunk of his car and swapped out the S&W Escort for his Glock.