“Hi, Mrs. Thompson,” I said. “Is Betts home?”
“Oh, uh, Betts is, uh, well, I, uh…”
“For goodness’ sake, Mom, she knows I’m here,” Betts said, appearing in the doorway. “Anyway, I told you, we can trust Shelby.”
Mrs. Thompson sighed and stepped back enough to let me in. She didn’t look so hot, I noticed. Her face was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes.
“I’m telling her everything,” Betts said as she took my arm and pulled me toward the kitchen. Her voice was tired, like she’d had this argument a few times and didn’t have the energy to do it again.
“Oh, go ahead,” Mrs. Thompson said, sounding just as weary. “It won’t be long before all of Little River hears about it, anyway.”
My head was spinning by the time we plunked down at the table. Betts opened her mouth to speak a couple of times but couldn’t seem to get started. Then, before she got a single word out, she started to cry.
“My mom,” she finally sobbed, “is going to jail.”
“What?” It was probably the last thing I might have guessed she was going to say. “Betts, that’s the craziest thing I ever heard. What on earth happened?”
“They think she stole something from work.” With a little more control, Betts went on to explain that someone had apparently broken into the secure room at the software development office of NUTEC, where Mrs. Thompson was the manager.
“What was taken?” I asked.
“Some new software line for small businesses. I don’t know much about it, but Mom says they’ve been working on it for quite a while and it was expected to bring in a lot of money. Like, millions. Only now it’s been stolen.”
“But why do they think your mom had anything to do with it? That’s insane!”
“We know that, but the police sure don’t. I guess it’s because everything kind of points toward her.”
“What do you mean?”
Betts went through the whole thing from start to finish then. The theft had taken place at night on July 19. Someone had gotten into the locked room — to which Mrs. Thompson had the only key — and had taken the master disks.
The room’s second-floor window had been broken, apparently to make it look as though the thief had gotten in that way, but the glass shards were all outside on the ground, proving it had been smashed from the inside.
To make matters even worse, the disks had been taken from a safe to which only Mrs. Thompson knew the combination.
I had to admit that it looked bad, all right.
“So, what’s been going on here? You guys didn’t go on holidays at all?”
“Nah, we’ve just been sitting around the house like prisoners. Mom only went out today because she had to see her lawyer. I don’t think that went well, either, because she was pretty upset when she got home.”
“I don’t understand the point of this business of keeping out of sight.”
“Me neither. Mom just went kind of weird when this whole thing started, and she said the best thing we could do was lie low and hope the police found the real thief. We’re supposed to be on vacation right now, so she thinks that’s what everyone will assume.”
“Why didn’t you go? I mean, you might as well be away somewhere that you don’t have to think about this day and night.”
“Yeah, only the police kind of told Mom not to leave town.”
“That’s horrible.”
“I didn’t do it.”
Betts and I both swung around to see Mrs. Thompson standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Her voice had been small and timid, but she repeated the words in a louder, stronger tone.
“I didn’t do it.”
“Well, we know that, Mom.” Betts offered a smile but it came out kind of lopsided.
“Of course we do,” I chimed in.
“I don’t suppose it will matter who believes me if I’m convicted anyway.”
“You won’t be, Mom,” Betts said quickly. “You’re innocent!”
“So was David Milgaard,” she said grimly.
“Who?” Betts and I asked in unison.
“David Milgaard. He was wrongfully convicted of raping and killing a student nurse named Gail Miller back in 1969.”
“What happened to him?”
“He spent nearly twenty-three years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. His mother fought to get him a new trial, and he was eventually exonerated.”
“Ex-what-ed?” Betts asked.
“Exonerated. It means cleared.”
“Twenty-three years in prison?” I couldn’t quite believe it.
“That’s right. So, innocence doesn’t always guarantee justice. Mistakes can be made, especially in a situation like this, where the evidence seems so overwhelming.”
I realized, with a start, that she was frightened. That was something new, to see an adult scared that way.
“And now Zuloft, my own lawyer, tells me if I’m charged, and he believes I will be, we can plead this down and I’ll probably just get probation. Nice to know the person who’d be defending me doesn’t even believe in me, though of course he insists he does, and that he’s just obligated to explain my options.”
“Fire him and get someone else,” Betts said.
“I’ve already given him a hefty deposit,” she said heavily. “If I fired him now, I’d probably lose most of it.”
“Will your lawyer be looking for evidence to help clear you?” I asked.
“Supposedly, though I get the feeling that he’s more committed to his fee than he is to me.”
“You should get Shelby to investigate,” Betts said suddenly, jumping up in excitement at the idea. “She’s really good at figuring things out.”
“Betts…” I began.
“Now, Betts, I don’t…” her mom also began.
Betts cut both of us off.
“I know what you’re both going to say, but think about it. It’s perfect! You can send her in as a summer student and she can find out what really happened.”
“A summer student?” I parroted. I must admit the idea was starting to sound kind of intriguing. It hadn’t taken that long to catch my interest, either.
“Even if I did that,” Mrs. Thompson said, “how would that help to catch the real thief?”
“I guess Betts is assuming it’s an inside job,” I jumped in. “That pretty much makes sense, considering how much the person had to know about the place.”
“That would mean one of my employees is responsible,” Mrs. Thompson said, shaking her head. “I just don’t believe it.”
“Then it would be good to clear them completely,” I said. The more it was discussed, the more I wanted to get into that office and start nosing around. “Besides, even if it was totally an outsider, that person might have left clues, or maybe they got information somehow from someone who works at NUTEC.”
“What kind of information?”
“Oh, like casual questions about the place’s security measures or things like that. You can ask a lot of things without arousing the least bit of suspicion, if you do it in an innocent way.”
Mrs. Thompson was nodding then, and I could tell she was beginning to really consider Betts’s suggestion. I kind of held my breath, waiting for her decision.
“Well, I don’t suppose it can hurt anything,” she said at last. “I don’t have much else to lose.”
Not exactly the greatest vote of confidence I’ve ever gotten, but I didn’t care. I was in, and I had a new mystery to look into.
Betts squealed and danced around like the whole thing was already solved and settled. She was so happy that it made me uncomfortable. After all, it wasn’t as though she actually had anything to be relieved over. I hadn’t done anything, and there was no guarantee that I’d be able to.
I almost regretted getting caught up in the whole idea. I’d just taken on more responsibility than I’d realized, and now my best friend was counting on me to make everything okay.
What if I
failed?
CHAPTER SIX
Mrs. Thompson arranged for me to start at NUTEC the very next day. She still had two more weeks off for her regular vacation time, although she didn’t even know if she’d be able to go back when that time was up. She’d talked to the owners but they hadn’t said much one way or the other.
“I got the impression they were hoping the police would have something solid by the end of my holidays,” she told me, “so that if I did it, they could let me go without looking as though they were jumping the gun.
“Since I may not be going back at all, I’d better get you in there right away, while I still have some authority.”
“You won’t tell anyone why I’m coming, though, right?” I asked.
“Oh, I trust the people I work with,” Mrs. Thompson said. It sounded as though she was trying to persuade herself as much as me. “I don’t believe for a minute that this is an inside job. But I won’t let them know what you’re doing there. As far as anyone is concerned, you’ll just be a student working through a summer employment project.”
“Most likely you’re right about the thief being someone from outside the company,” I said slowly, “but I quite honestly can’t take a single chance. You’ve just told me that the theft is going to cost your company millions of dollars. For that kind of money, the guilty person could be willing to do something desperate if he or she felt threatened.
“The thing is,” I continued, “if no one knows why I’m there, they can’t accidentally let something slip and give me away to anyone else — employee or outsider. I want to help, I really do, but I don’t want to take any risks I can avoid.”
Not long ago I’d put myself in a pretty dangerous predicament. The scare hadn’t quite worn off yet, and I was determined not to get in that kind of spot again if I could help it.
Mrs. Thompson seemed to understand. At least she promised that no one would hear about it from her.
Betts was another worry, because she’s a huge fan of gossip — the juicier the better. She did give me her word, though, and I think she realized how important secrecy was in this situation. Besides, if she told anyone about what I was doing, she’d have to explain why, and that would be embarrassing for her own mother.
“It would be helpful if you’d tell me a little bit about each person who works there,” I said then, “so I don’t have to waste time figuring out who’s who and who does what. If I know what everyone is supposed to do, it might help me pick up on it if any of them do something unusual.”
Mrs. Thompson repeated her earlier opinion that none of her staff were involved, but she told me a little bit about each employee anyway. I wrote down their names, underlined them, and scribbled bits of information as she spoke.
Darla Rhule. Project Manager and also in charge during Mrs. Thompson’s absence. Employed for the past 22 years, very good at her job. Married with three grown children. No obvious financial problems — both she and her husband have good incomes.
“When you meet Darla you’ll be struck by how organized and energetic she is. She just never seems to stop, which keeps some of the younger employees on their toes.”
James Rankin. Accounting and Bookkeeping. He and his wife are childless and both are employed so money problems are unlikely.
“You might expect someone in that field to be stern or dull.” Mrs. Thompson smiled for the first time since we’d begun talking. “James is nothing like that, though. He’s laid-back and good-natured. He does his work efficiently, though without the passion you’ll see in the staff who have more creative jobs.”
Angi Alexander. Graphic Artist. Mid-thirties, made a career change after four years as the NUTEC secretary. Went back to school to learn her new trade and was rehired on graduation, first as the assistant. Last year when the main designer left for another job, Angi took over. Talented, upbeat, and generally pleasant. Appears to live on a fairly tight budget but doesn’t complain or seem focused on money.
“You tell Angi you’d like to see a certain design and she works it up for you, but sometimes you look at it and you just know it’s not right, even though it’s what you asked for. Some artists might not take that well, but Angi just shrugs and starts something else. She really seems to love her new job.”
Janine LeBlanc. Secretary. Chronically behind schedule, though more from mismanagement of her time than overwork.
I’d be sent in to work as Janine’s assistant for the remainder of the summer holidays, which would give me the opportunity to have regular contact with all the staff, as well as fairly free access to the common areas.
“Janine is sweet enough, but she’s a bit of a news-bag,” Mrs. Thompson sighed. “Try to ignore the steady stream of gossip and you’ll be better off. If she thinks she has an interested ear it only gets worse.”
Contrary to this advice, I made a mental note to look as interested as I could. The more I heard about what went on among the employees at NUTEC, the better my chances were of stumbling on to something important.
Debbie and Stuart Yaeger. Software Developers. Debbie is competent but with an exaggerated opinion of her own abilities while Stuart is the more talented of the two but very quiet and modest. With both of them taking home excellent wages from NUTEC, it seems unlikely that they have any money worries.
“The odd couple,” Mrs. Thompson said. “You’d never in a million years expect them to be married to each other, but they’ve been together since they were in university and they seem to get along just fine. They share the largest office, which, surprisingly enough, works out all right.”
Joey Sands. Software Developer. The youngest staff member. A computer genius but not terribly reliable. He designed the stolen program. Financially, he seems less stable than the others. He receives a good salary and generous bonuses from NUTEC but is often broke and borrows small amounts of money between paydays.
“Sometimes he misses work without calling in. He’s also a bit moody, and while he’s usually sweet and charming, he can be quite cranky. That’s probably just because of his age. No doubt he has girlfriend problems at times. I’m sure he’s harmless enough.”
Carol Coppice. Office Assistant. This is the newest staff member, a forty-something-year-old woman hired through a government make-work program for people who have been unemployed for a long time. She does simple tasks like making photocopies, shredding old documents, and running errands.
“I’m afraid she’s not very likable,” Mrs. Thompson said, “though we all make an effort to overlook some of her habits because, as you’ll easily see, she’s somewhat, uh, limited. Having an office job seems to have made her feel terribly significant and she goes about with a blustery, self-important attitude. She always has something to say, but sadly not much of it is worth hearing, which can be very annoying.
“I don’t know if this is worth mentioning or not, but we did have a computer programming student from the college in Viander doing a field placement up to a few weeks before the robbery. His name is Gary Todd, but I understand he had a job to go to in Saint John right after his placement was finished, so he wasn’t even in the area at the time the theft occurred.”
I added his name to the list, just in case.
Later on, back home and in my room, I looked over the list of employees again, trying to conjure up mental images of each one. It was silly, but I felt kind of disappointed that none of the names jumped out at me. Mrs. Thompson’s descriptions hadn’t made anyone stand out as a potential criminal.
The only one who seemed a possibility at all was Joey Sands, partly because he’d designed the program and might view it as belonging to him, and partly because he was the only one who had a noticeable shortage of funds from time to time. It wasn’t much to go on, though, and certainly not enough for me to consider him a definite suspect without some actual evidence.
After memorizing as much information from the list as my brain would absorb just then, I folded the paper and slid it into my desk drawer.
As
I got ready for bed, I couldn’t help thinking of Betts and how trusting and confident she was that I’d be able to figure this whole mess out. Clicking off my light and crawling under the sheet, I wondered what I’d gotten myself into.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I might as well admit that I was nervous when I walked into the NUTEC offices the next morning. My main goal at that moment was to look calm and nonchalant, but if you’ve ever tried that you know it’s not as easy as it sounds. I’m pretty sure the effort made the expression on my face appear mildly insane rather than casual.
“You must be Shelby,” the receptionist said as I approached her desk, trying to walk in a carefree manner and nearly tripping over my own feet in the process.
“Yes.” I searched my brain for something smooth and breezy to add, but came up blank.
“So, you’re gonna help out around here for the rest of the summer, huh?”
“Yes,” I said with a smile, knowing it was coming out lopsided, “I am.”
“Cool. I can sure use some help. There’s no way one person can handle the phones, do the filing, and type letters, but they expect me to. I think they’re so used to computers that they think humans can work at the same speed.” She arched an eyebrow as if to ask what I thought of that but went on before I had time to formulate a comment.
“I hope you know shorthand, though I don’t suppose you do. What are you, sixteen, seventeen? You don’t take that kinda stuff in high school, do you? I know I didn’t. Anyway, no biggie, I can take dictation and give you other things to do. It’s not like there isn’t enough work to go around.” She leaned back in her chair and ran ring-laden fingers through her long blonde-streaked pale brown hair.
“We’d better get you a chair,” she yawned, holding her hands out and looking them over critically, like you do when you’ve just polished your nails. “You can’t stand around all day. By the way, I’m Janine.”
Hiding in Plain Sight Page 3