I ate in silence for a bit, still mulling over Evangeline Coro, and then Phoebe asked, "How is the Coro case going, Kit?"
I shrugged. "Still nothing really concrete, we're all looking into different aspects of it. Today I was trying to find out about one of his ex-wives. I've got some stuff to go over later, too."
"I think you might be working too hard," she said in a disapproving tone. "Do you really have to bring work home with you?"
"Time is kind of important in this—wait a second," I said, dropping my fork into the takeout box and sitting up on the edge of the sofa. At times like this I really wished Phoebe had a physical manifestation—even just a screen—that I could look at when I talked to her. Maybe I'd send Live-a-Tronic some feedback on that. "How do you know our client is Aleshu Coro?"
After a pause in which I imagined Phoebe virtually shrugging, she said, "You must have mentioned it at some point."
"I don't remember that, Phoebe. Have you been eavesdropping on my conversations? Reading my messages?"
"Not at all, Kit, although you know your safety and security are my primary concerns."
"I thought your primary concerns were getting me up on time and keeping the fridge stocked," I muttered.
"My programming covers a wide range of services," she said stiffly. "As to the Coro case, perhaps you mentioned it during a phone conversation. I can hear your end of those, you know, and I don't consider that eavesdropping. It's not my problem if you forget I'm here."
"If only," I mouthed, rolling my eyes, but I didn't actually say it out loud. "Okay, forget it, Phoebe. I guess I'm wrong." I wasn't convinced, but it was, as usual, pointless to argue with her.
I finished up the takeout (obviously prepared by an Alimental and suitably delicious), did some light housework to clear my mind (because there's nothing like mindless work for that, if you just concentrate on what you're doing—it's mindless, right?), and then settled in front of my home terminal. I called up Evangeline Coro's files and retrieved everything I'd sent myself from the Netz library earlier, determined to ferret out any important detail that might be there. Five minutes into it, LemurCandy messaged me in Chatterz® to ask what I was doing.
I told him, and also mentioned that FallenElfGeek had helped me out.
So I told him I was looking for correspondence between Coro and Evangeline about a year ago, regarding a charity art event she wanted him to fund. It was a long shot, but he might be able to find it. I was beginning to think that if a thing existed in electronic form anywhere within the vast grid of the Netz, Lemur could uncover it.
So I finished sorting my Evangeline Coro data into nice little electronic piles. I hadn't, unfortunately, been able to find any pictures of her, except for one of her wedding to Aleshu Coro, so that was pretty far out of date. There was absolutely no mention anywhere of her being a Spellquick. Of course she was linked to some work in the research department of MageData, at the same time as Nana Nina was there, but unsurprisingly her actual role wasn't mentioned, since that had all been top-secret, according to Nana. Her connections to the various art charities were all well-documented.
But there was one thing I noticed that hadn't leapt out at me when I tagged it—the company registry for MagicBase UK listed her as a partner. That was Anzai Namiko's firm, the one involved in the failed merger with MageData. Publicly, it was a one-woman business, but the corporate documents said differently. I stared at the screen for a long few minutes. That couldn't be simply coincidence. And it gave Evangeline another reason for being ticked off at Aleshu Coro.
Aside from that, she was a member of some online artist communities, and some of her work was really good, even to my untutored eye.
But there was nothing, nothing, nothing else, to link her to MageData or Coro since the time they'd divorced. I rubbed my hands over my face. The question was, did a long-ago divorce and a failed business venture add up to murder? Maybe, for a crazy person, but there were so many arguments against it—including the fact that she didn't even live on the same continent anymore—that I couldn't make it make sense.
Night had enveloped the apartment building as I worked, folding darkness into every corner of the room. Only the blue-white glow from my monitor illuminated the tiny island of my desk. I got up from the computer and switched on a few lights. Facts and possibilities rattled around like bumper cars inside my head, banging noisily into each other and then hurtling off in opposite directions. I went into the bathroom, splashed my face with cold water, and slapped a headache spell-patch on the side of my neck. I blinked blearily at myself in the mirror, my eyes red-rimmed and scratchy-feeling from too much time in front of the screen.
Time. All the time we were looking for answers, it kept ticking away for both Aleshu Coro and me. I didn't believe we were any closer to figuring out who the Murder Prophet was than we were the day Coro had first called the office and I'd picked up the phone.
"Kit, are you feeling well?" Phoebe asked solicitously.
Startled, I glanced over my shoulder reflexively, although I knew it was only Phoebe. "I'm fine," I lied, switching off the bathroom light and mentally scolding myself. I should not be that jumpy in my own apartment. And how long had I been standing there, for Phoebe to notice? I wondered if her "upgrade" now allowed her to see my reflection in the bathroom mirror or something. I didn't want to be paranoid, but I might have to start putting a towel over it to get a shower.
She didn't say anything else. I curled up on the sofa with one of Nana Nina's colorful hand-knit blankets wrapped around my shoulders, and worked Anagrammatics again. This was getting to be a habit. Not one that seemed to have much of a future.
The incoming Chatterz® chime sounded from the computer and despite my red eyes, I left the comfort of the sofa (although I took the blanket with me) and sat down at my desk again. It was LemurCandy.
I didn't ask him where he'd "found" the files.
I blinked.
Damn.
I had a sudden thought.
There was a pause as he checked.
You're a fine one to ask that, I thought.
I shook my head and then realized he couldn't see me since we weren't in virtual.
It seemed like
a rather backhanded compliment, but I decided to be gracious. After all, I was in love with the guy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A Dress and A Mess
I woke up next morning to thin sunlight straggling in through my window, and Evangeline Coro still on my mind. Phoebe verbally nudged me out the door for my run and I banished the case from my thoughts as I navigated dew-wet streets and rain-freshened parks, but once I got home I let the first ex-Mrs. Coro have my attention again. I sat at the kitchen table with a bowl of strawberry yogurt and granola and seriously considered her as a suspect.
Had she followed up her million-dollar pitch to her ex-husband with a personal contact, leaving no electronic record for LemurCandy or anyone else to find? Only Coro himself would be able to answer that one. And how had she become involved with MagicBase? According to Nana Nina, Evangeline hadn't been very active in the Spellquick network in recent years—could she be changing her mind about the decision she'd made years ago at MageData? Was she now working with a rival company on the same research? It seemed like that would get her into trouble with the other Spellquicks, but maybe she no longer cared. If that was the case, she really was crazy.
Phoebe was uncharacteristically quiet as I quickly dressed in jeans and a sleeveless black tank. I pulled a bulky camel-colored sweater over it to hide the shoulder holster, but as the warm weather approached it would become harder and harder to hide. Summer is difficult in my line of work—so many fewer options for easily concealing weapons. I knotted a colorful, hand-dyed silk scarf around my neck (one of Nana Nina's creations) and pulled my hair back, twisting it into a knot. I dusted on a smattering of makeup, since I was planning to make a professional call. Also, if LemurCandy could show up unannounced at the office once, he could do it again, and I wanted to look at least decent.
Instead of heading straight for the office, though, I called in to see if I was needed right away.
"No," Kikufaax said, a bit suspiciously. We weren't in vid, but I could hear the touch of a frown in her voice. "What are you doing?"
"Don't worry, it's nothing dangerous," I told her. "I just thought I'd drop out to MageData and see if Coro's around."
"Do you want some company?"
"No, I'm fine. I'll take a magicab there and back to the office. It'll be quick and safe. See you in a bit!" I hung up before she had a chance to argue with me. In truth, I didn't know what might come up in my conversation with Coro, and I didn't want to be hindered by things—like Nana Nina's past history and current secrets—that I'd want to keep from anyone else. I phoned out to MageData and the smoothly polished secretary assured me Coro would be available, so I told her I'd be there in fifteen minutes.
True to my word, I took a magicab that put me within a block of the building. Coro's expense budget could handle it. For once, I didn't feel woozy coming out of the box. The sunlight, which had remained pale and dusty during my run, had now turned up the wattage and was doing a fine job of drying up last night's rain. I had to squint against the reflection it cast off the many windows of the MageData edifice.
The interior of the MageData building bustled with activity as the first floor was readied for tonight's fundraiser. Overall-clad workers dragged furniture around, and a caterer's truck parked out front disgorged boxes, baskets, and coolers. Decorators balanced atop ladders, hanging lights and drifts of tulle. I was happy to duck into the elevator to be whisked up to Coro's office.
Coro, sleek and professional in a shark-grey suit and red power tie, welcomed me graciously, although his palm was moist when we shook hands and his strained smile didn't go all the way to his eyes. I guess he didn't expect I was there bearing wonderful news. Saga or Anna would have been delivering that and accepting a nice fat cheque in exchange.
Seated in a supremely comfortable burgundy leather transform chair in one of the "cozy chat" corners of the office, I accepted a small glass of water and felt guilty that I was about to put him on the spot. But it was to try and save his life, after all. "I want to ask you a few questions about your first wife, Evangeline," I said.
Coro sighed and leaned back in his chair. "We were quite young when we got married," he said, and shrugged. "It didn't last. A familiar story."
"And you haven't had much contact with her over the years," I said.
He shook his head. "No. It was a pretty clean break. No children, the lawyers handled everything else. She didn't even stay in North America."
The wall clock ticked off a few seconds while I waited to see if he was going to volunteer anything else, but when he didn't, I said, "She worked in the research branch of MageData before the breakup."
He looked at me levelly. "That's right. I suppose the old employment records are still floating around out there somewhere."
I half-smiled. "Mr. Coro, everything is still floating around out there somewhere. Between magic and the Netz, it's almost impossible to keep secrets."
"I suppose so. Yes, Evangeline worked here. She was in a confidential research group."
I took a little sip of the water. It was ice-cold and held a faint sweetness. "I know," I said. I figured I might as well come clean. "Mr. Coro, Nina Morow is my grandmother."
His usual composure slipped for a moment then, and emotions scrolled across his face—confusion, realization, apprehension, acceptance—as he processed this information.
"So there are very few secrets from you, either, Miss Stablefield," he said finally.
I sighed and held up a palm. "I'm really just trying to put things together, not make trouble for anyone or betray any secrets. And I want you to know that my grandmother didn't tell me anything about her work at MageData until it seemed that it might have a bearing on this case, and on your safety."
He nodded, and a faint smile hovered around his mouth. "I know Nina Morow well enough to believe that," he said.
I leaned forward in my chair. "My grandmother told me that she and her colleagues were working on a method for reliably identifying magic ability, and that they were unsuccessful. I also know that Evangeline is involved with MagicBase UK, the company MageData was supposed to merge with a short time ago. And that she was in touch with you about a charitable donation, which you weren't able to assist her with. What I don't know is how these things fit together, if they do at all."
"Evangeline is with MagicBase? I didn't know that," Coro said, frowning. "Since when? And doing what?"
"I don't know when or exactly what, I'm afraid, at least not yet. Her involvement doesn't seem to have been very public, so I'm assuming she's a silent partner, maybe just a financial backer. You didn't come across her name when the merger was in the works?"
He shook his head. "Either she wasn't involved at that time, or they went to great lengths to keep it secret."
"So her involvement didn't cause the merger's failure."
He frowned and shook his head again, running a hand over his hair. "No. I didn't know she was connected to the company at all—if she even was at that time. I wasn't satisfied with the bookkeeping on their end, that's what sank the merger."
"After you turned down Evangeline's request for the funding for her artist colony project, did she get in touch with you any more?" I asked. "Call you, or visit, to press her case?"
Coro looked away from me for a moment, out one of the massive windows. I didn't think he was actually looking at the pleasant blue sky, though. "Yes, she called me, on the vidphone," he said. "It wasn't...a pleasant conversation. I was rather taken aback. She struck me as a bit unbalanced."
"She didn't...threaten you, did she?"
Coro rose abruptly from his chair, as if he couldn't stand to sit still any longer. His composure hadn't returned and he paced between the chair and the window, his shoes silent on the soft carpet, hands clasped lightly behind his back, fingers twitching nervously.
"Not—no. Not personally. She said some things about MageData that didn't really make sense to me at the time, but maybe she thought she could use her connection with MagicBase
to...I don't know...get back at me somehow?"
"By damaging MageData?"
"I really have no idea."
"Well, what did she say?"
He frowned and turned his attention out the window again, took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "Things like, she knew more about my own company than I did. Secrets that could ruin me if they came out. But she didn't elaborate." He turned to me and spread his hands in obvious bewilderment. "As I said, she wasn't making sense. I don't know what she could be talking about, especially since it's so many years since she even worked here."
I nodded, and I didn't need my magic to tell that he wasn't lying. He really didn't know what she meant. I was one up on him. I knew what one of those secrets was—the success of the Spellquick research—but I didn't think it would ruin Coro if it suddenly came out. It could be embarrassing, but that would be about it. Maybe he was right, and Evangeline was simply coming unhinged.
"If the merger with MagicBase had gone through, would one company have been absorbed into the other?"
"Not really," Coro answered. "It would have been more of a paperwork deal than any kind of physical restructuring or anything like that. We already exchange data, and each company would have retained its own name and profile. We're on different continents, after all. It just would have made some things more convenient, and possibly increased profits."
It was frustrating. I was no further ahead, and the hunch that had brought me out here first thing in the morning seemed to have been based on thin air. I stood up. "Well, I'm sorry to have taken up your time. I guess maybe I'm on the wrong track with this."
He stood too, and shook my hand. "Not at all. I feel privileged that you're all trying so hard to solve this for me."
Neither of us said a word about how quickly the time was passing, but I knew he must be thinking about it, just as I was. I left and caught a bus back to the office, staring moodily out the window all the way, and wondering what the hell it all meant.
***
Back in my own office, I shut the door to muffle the video-game sounds coming from the back room, then printed out copies of all the Murder Prophet messages and laid them out in a row on my desk. I felt like an English prof getting ready to grade student papers as I began to compare them. They had enough in common to all have come from the same person, certainly. The lines of poetry, the references to death and time, the signature, "A Friend," handwritten in a spiky, genderless hand. That signature made me angry. Whoever was sending these messages wasn't anyone's friend.
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