“They have the source code!“ Frankie exclaimed, throwing his hands up like a magician displaying the finale of a particularly showy trick. He then disappeared, with a thud, behind the partition – from which I suspected he had been perched on one knee and had managed to knock himself off balance.
The chief waited a few seconds and then looked at me for a translation.
“Imagine that Lawyers from Hell is a food,“ I suggested. “Some special dessert. And no one can make it but us. Unless, of course, they know all the ingredients, including the top secret sauce, and every detail of the recipe, in which case, not only can they make it just as well as we can, but even we can't tell the difference.“
“Yeah, that sort of explains it,“ Frankie said, appearing over the partition top again.
Sort of explains it? I thought it was a pretty damned brilliant analogy, myself.
“So this naked lawyer thing is an inside job,“ the chief said. “You think it might have something to do with Corrigan's death?“
Frank, Jack, and I looked at each other. Frankie shrugged. Jack shook his head.
“Good question,“ I said. Obviously the chief thought it might, or he wouldn't be wasting time on it.
“There's a rumor going around that when they figure out who did the naked version, they're going to can him,“ Frankie said.
“Well, that's interesting,“ the chief said.
“If they figure it out,“ I said.
“It'll come out, sooner or later,“ Jack said, shaking his head.
“Maybe,“ I said. “But I don't think whoever did it is going to step forward with a rumor like that going around.“
“So you think maybe the nude programmer killed to keep Ted from revealing his secret?“ Frankie exclaimed. “Whoa!“
“Keep it to yourself, will you?“ the chief said. “Was there something you wanted?“
“It's really hot outside, and we were just wondering if you knew how much longer we all have to stay down there in – “
“No,“ the chief said. “When I know, I'll tell you. Now scoot.“
Frankie nodded and left. Jack took this as a signal to make his own exit.
“He won't, you know,“ I said. “Keep it to himself, I mean.“
“No, I don't expect he will,“ the chief agreed. “What do you think?“
“I think he's already blabbing down in the parking lot.“
“I meant what do you think about this nude program having something to do with the murder?“
“Since we don't know who programmed Nude Lawyers from Hell or what, if any, connection there is between it and Ted – who knows?“
“Someone thinks he's going to get fired – that could be a reason to kill in this job market.“
“Yeah, except that anyone who really knows Rob knows better,“ I said.
“Knows better how?“
“I doubt if Rob wants to fire whoever programmed the nude version,“ I said. “He thinks it's a hoot. He could sit there for hours watching it and giggling.“
“Might change his mind if it starts hurting his company,“ the chief said.
“Maybe,“ I said. “Then again, Rob's not too practical.“
“So let 'em all blab about the naked cartoon characters having something to do with the murder,“ the chief said. “If it's true, maybe our killer will get scared and do something stupid. If it's not true, maybe he'll think he's gotten away with it and get careless.“
He stared at the screen on which the Lawyers from Hell demo was still running. After about a minute, he shook his head and roused himself.
“How the hell do you stop this fool thing, anyway?“
I reached over and pressed the escape key to exit the demo.
“Thanks,“ he said. “Why don't you come down with me to the parking lot?“
I suspected that meant he was through picking my brains for now and wanted to deposit me safely with all the other suspects, witnesses, and seemingly innocent bystanders.
Down in the parking lot, chaos reigned.
August isn't a month when you want to spend much time outdoors in Virginia. The temperature and humidity were both hovering in the high nineties, and would probably stay that way until the daily thunderstorm hit in the late afternoon. Walking out the door was like entering a steam bath when you already had a high fever. I could feel my feet sinking slightly into the liquefying asphalt, not to mention the first breath of almost liquid air starting to leach away my wits and my temper.
An ambulance was parked in the handicapped space right beside the building entrance, but nobody seemed to be paying any attention to it. I could see a dozen programmers or therapists talking on their cell phones, most with their heads cocked toward their phones, backs to the crowd and their free hands over their unoccupied ears. Several others were playing Frisbee with the eight or nine dogs who'd come to work today. Or trying to play. The dogs were mostly lying in the shade, panting, and watching the crazy humans leaping, about on the hot asphalt.
The rest of the staff was attacking the pizza and beer.
I noted, with a sigh, that a vegetable rebellion was brewing among some of the younger programmers clustered at one side of the parking lot.
They were all standing about, eating slices of pizza, but they didn't look happy. Some were chewing, stoically, as if half expecting to be poisoned at any moment. Others were prodding their slices with cautious fingers, perhaps hoping to find that the broccoli and green peppers on top were actually a strange new species of sausage. Others had picked up the green pepper strips between thumb and forefinger and were holding mem up at eye level, inspecting them with the same expression of outrage and disgust that I'd be wearing if I'd found an earthworm perched on my sausage and mushroom with extra cheese.
“You'd think they'd never seen vegetables before,“ I muttered. And for that matter, I suspected some of them hadn't since whenever they'd last lived at home with their mothers cooking for them. That was the reason I always added broccoli and green peppers to the toppings of any pizza I ordered for the office. I suspected the broccoli and green peppers Rob ate on pizza might be the only green vegetables he saw from one week to the next since he'd moved to Caerphilly.
If he ate them at all; I saw several guys picking off anything green and feeding it to Katy the wolfhound, who didn't seem to share their disgust for the vegetable kingdom. No wonder she was such a healthy, growing girl. And since the Mutant Wizards staff always seemed to imitate whatever Rob did, I expected both their melodramatic disgust at the vegetables and their method of disposing of them were modeled on Rob's antics.
Elsewhere in the parking lot, other staff members were eating their vegetables obediently enough, no doubt because they had concentrated their rebellious energies on reenacting
I spotted Spike's crate under a tree just outside the door and bent down to check on him. The ungrateful little monster lifted his lip in a snarl before curling up with his back to me.
“Fine, be that way,“ I said. “I guess you don't need a walk, then.“
“He's had a walk.“
I looked up to see Jack hovering over me.
“You actually took Spike for a walk and escaped unscathed?“ I said. “I'm impressed.“
“Not exactly unscathed,“ he said. “But I'm not bleeding any-“
“Sorry,“ I said, wincing. “He's had his shots, in case you were worried.“
A sudden hush fell over the parking lot, and I stood up to see what was happening. Dad was standing outside the building entrance, holding one of the doors open for the two men wheeling out the gurney.
I scanned the crowd, trying to observe people's reactions. Not that I expected the killer to jump up and confess or anything; I just found it interesting to see how differently people reacted. Some people stood, heads slightly bowed, as if watching a formal funeral procession. Some stood, frankly staring. Quite a few pretended to be absorbed in conversations or reading papers, but you could tell they were watching4>y the angle of their
