“Let me see if
I put her on hold and fished out a doggie treat. Slowly, because several other lines interrupted me by ringing while I was doing it. I could see Spike perk up when the treat box rattled. Then I reached down with the treat and scraped it against the wire of the crate.
As I suspected, this set him off. I balanced the receiver on my bandage, punched the phone button, and let him bark for thirty seconds or so before lifting the receiver back to my ear again.
“Okay?“ I said.
“Hello?“ came a voice. Not, alas, Mrs. Waterston's voice. I glanced at the switchboard – damn, I'd punched the wrong line.
“I was trying to reach the accounting department of Mutant Wizards,“ the voice continued. “Do I have the wrong number?“
“I'm so sorry,“ I began.
“What was that?“ the voice asked. “That barking.“
“That? Oh, that was the Vets from Hell development team,“ I improvised. “What a bunch of cutups – but you know what those game developers are like. Let me connect you with Accounting.“
Then, of course, I had to apologize to Mrs. Waterston for keeping her on hold, and repeat the trick on Spike.
“He sounds healthy,“ Mrs. Waterston said when I finally let Spike have the treat and put the phone back to my ear.
“If you're really worried, I could send him back,“ I offered. “Dad's up here doing some consulting on the new game; he'll be going back Friday at the latest – I could send Spike back with him.“
“No, no,“ she said. “I think we need to follow the allergist's instructions to the letter, or it won't be a valid experiment.“
“And how are your allergies?“ I asked. The allergies were the reason she'd saddled Michael and me – well, for the moment, just me – with taking care of Spike for the summer. Spike had been accused of causing, or at least exacerbating, her allergies, and the allergist wanted to supplement the skin tests with a trial separation from her beloved fur ball, to see if her symptoms improved.
“A little better, I think,“ she said. “Of course we'll have to see once the ragweed starts.“
I sighed. I had a sinking feeling the verdict on Spike as an allergen would be guilty, and Michael and I would be stuck with him permanently.
“Give him a big kiss for me,“ she said. “And please keep an eye on him; I'm not sure what I'd do if anything happened to him!“
With that, she hung up.
Big kiss, my eye. Spike had finished his treat and was gazing up with an air of wide-eyed innocence that might have fooled someone who didn't already have scars from his teeth on several of her extremities. No way I was going to let her saddle us with Spike permanently. If she decided she was allergic, I was going to have to find another home for him.
Of course, the only person I thought might possibly be gullible enough was Rob. And I doubted if Mrs. Waterston would even consider allowing Spike to relocate to any institution run by the Virginia Department of Corrections. So if I wanted to pawn the little monster off on Rob… yet another reason to concentrate on finding out who really killed Ted.
But first I had to figure out a way of getting away from the damned switchboard. I needed a patsy, someone gullible enough to take over the switchboard while I strolled around sleuthing.
Was there anyone here that gullible?
Dad strolled in.
“How's it going?“ Dad asked.
“Great!“ I said. “At least, now that you're here. I need your help!“
“You've got it!“ he replied. “What can I do?“
“Mind the switchboard for a little while.“
His face fell. I could see he was trying to think of an excuse.
“I don't want to ask just anyone,“ I said, dropping my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “We need to have someone here who'll notice if a suspicious call comes through.“
“What kind of suspicious call?“
“Precisely!“ I exclaimed. “If I could define suspicious, anyone could do it.“
Showing him how to operate the switchboard took a little longer. Strange that most of the vapid young women the temp agency sent over managed to grasp the rudiments of operating the switchboard far faster than a man who had graduated from medical school near the top of his class. But eventually I decided he was ready to solo, and hurried off. I had a feeling his enthusiasm for serving as a human wiretap would fade rather quickly, and I wanted to get as much done as possible in the time I had.
Given all the interruptions we'd already had this week, I didn't want to bother anyone who seemed to be doing actual work. So I headed for the lunchroom. Sure enough, I found half a dozen of the staff hanging out there. Better still, they were already talking about Ted. I fixed myself a cup of coffee and joined the edges of the group.
Unfortunately, my arrival silenced them.
“Don't let me interrupt you,“ I said. “Go back to whatever you were saying.“
They all looked uncomfortable.
“Unless, of course, you were saying uncomplimentary things about me, in which case, you'd better change the subject.“
“Actually, we were saying uncomplimentary things about Ted,“ Frankie volunteered over the nervous laughter. “Kind of a rotten thing to do, I guess.“
“Getting murdered didn't make him a saint overnight,“ I said.
“Tell that to the
“Yeah, listen to this,“ Frankie said, snagging the paper from Luis:
“He was a gifted programmer,“ said Mutant Wizards spokeswoman Elizabeth Mitchell. “He has made a significant contribution to our upcoming release, Lawyers from Hell II, and I think I speak for the entire staff in saying that his loss will have a profound effect upon all of us.“
“Like maybe we can get some work done without having to dodge water balloons,“ Keisha grumbled.
“And maybe we'll actually get credit for our own work for a change,“ Frankie said. He propped himself against the wall, his height allowing him to achieve a Jack-style lean that was reasonably authentic – until he surrendered to the temptation to tuck one foot behind him like an advanced yoga pose.
“Are those the main things everyone had against him – the practical jokes and hogging credit for other people's work?“ I asked, a little disappointed. It sounded like the Ted I knew, but neither sounded much like a motive for anyone to murder him.
“If it was just hogging the credit, yeah, that was irritating, but we just blew it off,“ Frankie said. “I mean, we figured everyone knew who really did the work, and if Ted wanted to pretend he was some kind of supergenius, let him. He wasn't fooling anyone. At least that's what we thought.“
“Until year-end bonuses came out,“ Keisha put in.
Much head-shaking.
“The amounts everyone got were supposed to be confidential, see,“ Frankie explained. “But in a place like this – word gets around.“
“Yes, I imagine it does,“ I said. “Especially if whoever's supposed to keep the bonus amounts confidential is foolish enough to put them in an unencrypted file on the network.“
