Several people looked sheepish.
“Rumor has it Ted got way more than he had a right to get,“ Frankie went on. “And some other people got way less as a result.“
“What other people?“ I asked.
“I think Jack was the most hurt,“ Frankie said.
“The jury selection logic was all Jack's invention,“ Luis put in. “And the cross-examination sequence – in fact, the whole courtroom module would never have gotten done if not for Jack. Everyone knew that.“
“And Ted claimed credit?“ I asked.
“Yeah,“ Frankie said. “Ted was always getting up in meetings and grandstanding about how he'd fixed this and he'd thought up that. Nobody realized anyone believed him.“
“I'm sure Rob didn't realize – ,“ I began.
“Exactly!“ Frankie said. “That was the whole problem. We know Rob thought the accounting people knew what they were doing… but they didn't. They fell for Ted's bull – uh, Ted's blarney. If you get a chance, tell Rob that he needs to keep an eye on them this year. Or better yet, decide on the bonuses himself.“
A chorus of agreement greeted this statement. I nodded, while wondering to myself how Rob managed to lead such a charmed life. I happened to know that Rob had decided on the bonus amounts himself. He'd dithered about them all through the Thanksgiving weekend, trying to decide how much to give for seniority, how much for team spirit, how much for spectacular individual contributions. Accounting may have figured out how much Mutant Wizards could afford to give out and done all the final calculations, but the percentages were Rob's doing. Not that I was going to tell the staff that. Still, was it a motive for murder?
“I'll keep it in mind,“ I said. “People are still pretty resentful eight months later, I see.“
“The closer we get to the initial public offering, the more people are going to resent it,“ put in Rhode Island Rico, the graphic artist. “Bad enough Ted got such a honking big pile of cash to wave around in January… but knowing he could get thousands – maybe millions – more than he deserves when the IPO happens… man! He didn't steal any credit from me, but it still burns me up, how much more he gets than he deserves. I can imagine how ticked off people like Jack are.“
“Yeah, working like they did, only to see a jerk like Ted reap all the benefit,“ Luis said.
I sighed. I wasn't sure I liked the way this was going. Yes, I was looking for suspects other than my brother. Not that I expected to find Ted's murderer myself – I don't share Dad's conviction that solving murders in real life is as easy as it seems in the mystery books he devours by the dozen every week. But I did want to present the chief with a couple of plausible suspects other than Rob. His growing legal team didn't anticipate any difficulty getting Rob acquitted if the DA tried to charge him with Ted's murder, but in the meantime the trail of the real killer would be growing colder and colder.
But I wanted to point the chief to a plausible alternative subject, and I had a hard time believing Jack Ransom fit the bill. And I didn't think it was just because I liked him. He was one of the few genuinely sane people around the office, which made him, in my mind, one of the least likely suspects.
Or was I too influenced by selfish motives – specifically, my investment in Mutant Wizards? Was that coloring my thinking, making me deliberately shy away from steering the police toward a key employee like Jack at this critical time in the development of the new game? At least he seemed to be key, and fairly high ranking. The only organizational chart I'd ever seen was ten months out of date, and Rob had allowed people to choose their own creative job titles, which meant I had no idea how the firm was really organized. Was a Unix Crusader – the disgruntled ex-staffer – more important than Keisha, the Cyber Goddess? Would Frankie, as Programming Warlock, report to Luis, the Senior Software Guru, or vice versa? I had no idea, apart from observing how they treated each other, of course.
When Frankie suggested something, people shrugged. When Luis suggested something, people listened. When Jack suggested something, people scrambled to do it.
But even Frankie appeared to perform a key role, if the number of people who complained when he played hooky was anything to go by. Which led me to another, more useful thought. Now was certainly a bad time to throw any obstacles in the path of the development team. Unless, of course, you wanted to cause Mutant Wizards the kind of problems that would result from a missed deadline on the new game. Was it possible that someone had killed Ted not for any of his many unpleasant characteristics but merely as a way of sabotaging Mutant Wizards? Who would have a motive to do that? Obviously not Rob or any of the other Mutant Wizards staff I knew and liked, since they all, like Rob, had a major stake in the company's success. It would have to be someone who had it in for the company – another strike against Liz's bete noire, the disgruntled ex-staffer? Assuming, of course, that Ted's death would cause obstacles. No way to know without asking.
“So how badly will Ted's death hurt our deadlines, anyway?“ I asked.
Apparently this was the topic du jour. The group erupted into a flurry of incomprehensible technical jargon, until I called time-out.
“In English, please, someone,“ I pleaded.
“Losing Ted won't hurt us all that much if the police would just bring back bis computer so we could get his damned files,“ Jack Ransom said. Having arrived, apparently, in the middle of the argument, he was leaning against the doorjamb, taking everything in. The several people who had been propped against various walls or articles of furniture leaped to attention. I wasn't sure if they wanted to look alert in his presence or just felt too embarrassed to exhibit their inferior leans in the presence of the master.
“From what we saw the last time Ted showed us what he was doing, he'd effectively finished the module he was working on,“ Jack went on.
“Finished it all wrong, though,“ Frankie put in.
“I have no doubt he ignored all the technical standards, as usual,“ Jack said, pushing away from the doorway and heading for the coffee machine. “And, as usual, someone else will have to clean up behind him. Probably you again, Luis; you've got that down to an art.“
“Yeah,“ Luis said, shaking his head. “By now, I know exactly how his mind works – or doesn't work.“
“Good thing whoever bumped him off didn't do it last week,“ Frankie said. “We'd really be hurting then. But now – gee, it sounds cold, but to be perfectly honest, we can do without Ted better than just about anyone, right now.“
With the possible exception, I thought, of Rob. Who knows? Having Rob in jail for a day or two might actually speed up the project. And having Ted permanently absent wouldn't cause a problem – did that make it more likely that the killer was someone closely involved in the project, who would know when it was safe to strike Ted down? Drat.
“Of course, that assumes we can get Ted's files sometime this century,“ Keisha said, tossing her braids in a characteristic gesture of impatience.
“And assumes that some of us actually manage to get some programming done today,“ Jack shot back. The rest of them looked a little guilty, and the impromptu meeting broke up.
“Sorry,“ I said. “I didn't mean to keep anyone from work.“
“You're not,“ he said with a shrug. “No one can concentrate; I think for a lot of these kids, it's the first time they've ever known anyone who died. Anyone close to their own age, anyway. I'm just trying to give them enough time to talk it over among themselves, but not enough to sit around getting morbid.“
“Let me know if I can do anything to help,“ I said.
“If you could get the police to hurry up and give back Ted's files, that would be a lifesaver,“ Jack said.
“The files are really that big a problem?“
“Not yet, but they will be pretty soon.“
“You don't have a backup?“
He rolled his eyes. “If Ted had backed up regularly, or better yet, stored his stuff on the server, the way he was supposed to, we wouldn't have a problem at all,“ he said. “Unfortunately, this was Ted. Hell, half the time we needed something, it wouldn't even be on his desktop machine; it'd be on his laptop, and he'd have left that home for the day. If we get the police to give us a copy of his files within a day or so, Luis can clean them up in time. If not…“
“I'll do what I can,“ I said. “Not that there's all that much I can do, but we have a whole lot of lawyer relatives who've been begging us to let them know if they can do anything. Maybe I'll call their bluff.“
“Great,“ he said. “Well, this thing isn't going to program itself.“
