smock the building cleaning service staff wore. A few wisps of gray hair escaped from her bandanna.
Odd that she would be here so early, I thought. Usually the cleaners didn't show up till after five. Probably someone had called for a special cleanup of some kind, I deduced, and was about to turn my attention back to my computer screen.
The cleaner stopped for a moment before pushing her cart through the opening into the rest of the office, and sighed heavily as she eased her obviously aching back. As she did, her bandanna slipped up a little, revealing an earlobe pocked with odd, assorted earrings.
The rabid fan.
“You again!“ I shouted, furious that the intruder had very nearly gotten past me in her cleaning lady disguise. I vaulted over the reception desk to catch her. She turned and tried to ram me with the cleaning cart, but I had more momentum. I batted the cart aside, shoved the bandanna-clad figure to the floor, and sat on her.
Four of the office dogs thought this was enormous fun, and danced around us barking. Jack and Frankie, who had been talking in the hallway, ran over and Waded through the dogs to help.
“Hold on to her,“ I said. “And turn her over.“
“Her again,“ Frankie said.
“This time we arrest her for trespassing, I hope,“ Jack said.
“Definitely,“ I said. “And just maybe a little more than trespassing.“
I went back to my desk, rummaged in my carryall, and pulled out the computer gaming magazine I'd found in Ted's cache. I opened it to the article he'd marked and studied the pictures briefly.
“Take a look,“ I said, holding out the magazine to Jack. “That's her in the middle picture. Read the caption.“
“What's up?“ Frankie asked.
“She's not a fan,“ Jack said, looking up from the magazine. “She's a spy.“
“Let me see that,“ Frankie said, reaching for the magazine.
“She works for The Four Gamers of the Apocalypse,“ I said.
“Those sleazy copycats,“ Frankie growled, which was mild compared to what some of the programmers said about Mutant Wizards' biggest and most hated competitor.
“Hang on to her while I call the police,“ I said.
“I'll leave quietly,“ she said.
“No, you'll stay here till the police arrive,“ I said, from the switchboard, where I was dialing. “I think they'll want to hear why the vice president of one of Mutant Wizards' major business rivals has been hanging around here in disguise for several weeks. And I bet they'll be fascinated when they hear that the first person to see through her disguise turned up dead shortly afterward.“
“I had nothing to do with that,“ she said quickly.
“Yeah, right,“ I said. I was mentally congratulating myself. I'd identified another of the code names on Ted's blackmail list. Our rabid fan turned corporate spy had to be Mata Hari.
As I expected, the police were very interested to hear about a case of trespassing on the scene of the murder. The chief, they promised, would be right over. I hung up feeling quite cheerful. Surely Mata Hari would draw some of the heat away from Rob.
“What's the problem?“ We looked up to see Liz standing a few feet away, looking anxious.
“It's that fan again,“ Frankie said.
“She was attempting to enter the building, disguised as a cleaning woman,“ I said. “Do you think we can charge her with trespassing?“
“We can't possibly charge all the persistent fans with trespassing,“ Liz said.
“I don't see why not, but never mind,“ I said. “This one's more than a fan.“
I handed Liz exhibit A in the case against Mata Hari. She studied the photo and our captive.
“I'm not a prosecutor, but I suggest we call the police and see what they can do,“ she said finally.
“I already did,“ I said.
“Wait a minute,“ the intruder protested. “You don't understand. I was just – “
“And someone be sure to jot down anything she says,“ Liz added. “Some of it may prove useful in court.“
The intruder stopped protesting.
“By the way,“ Liz said, motioning for me to follow her out into the hall. “While the chief is here, do you think you could find out if he's learned anything about our other unwanted visitor?“
“Other unwanted visitor?“ I said, drawing a blank. “Oh, you mean Eugene, the disgruntled employee.“
“Eugene Mason,“ she said, glancing over to make sure the door was closed. “Yes.“
“I meant to ask – what's he so disgruntled about, anyway?“
“It's completely ridiculous,“ Liz said. “He signed a noncom-pete agreement when he came on board. Standard practice; all the staff do. And part of the exit interview is that he's supposed to initial the agreement to confirm that he understands the terms and will abide by them. And he won't.“
“Why not?“
“He claims that the agreement is too onerous, and the copy we have on file isn't what he signed.“
“I don't get it,“ I said. “He's phoning in threats and lurking around just because we asked him to initial something he doesn't want to initial?“
“He doesn't get his final paycheck until he initials the form,“ Liz said.
“Okay, now I get it,“ I said, frowning. “Isn't that a little harsh?“
“Not really,“ she said. “He knows a great deal about the software architecture, not to mention our plans for future releases. We need to make absolutely sure he isn't going to peddle what he knows to one of our competitors – or if he does, that we've got the documentation we need to sue them. Or defend ourselves if he tries to sue us.“
“Is that likely?“ I asked.
She shrugged. “Depends,“ she said.
“Depends on what?“
“On whether he finds an attorney stupid enough to take his case,“ she said. “It'll never hold up in court – he can't even find his own copy of the noncompete agreement, which is probably why he's so off base about what it says. Of course, he claims someone stole it, for heaven's sake. At any rate, it's not very likely he'll get someone to take it on contingency, and so far he hasn't convinced anyone he's got the wherewithal to pay.“
“I almost think you enjoy these legal battles.“
“Of course not,“ she said, frowning. “I'd rather prevent them. But I do feel a certain satisfaction when I know I've done whatever needs to be done to take care of a problem. Which reminds me – according to your father, you're close to solving the murder.“
“I wish,“ I said. “Dad's an optimist. I'm a realist. I'm just trying to keep the chief from railroading Rob.“
“Wouldn't solving the case be the best way of doing that?“
“Naturally,“ I said, fighting back a yawn. “But that's easier said than done. I'm just trying to dig up enough dirt on enough people to convince the chief that Rob isn't the only one with a motive for killing Ted. As soon as I've accomplished that, I'll give up sleuthing so I can catch up on my sleep.“
She studied my face for a moment, then nodded. “Makes sense,“ she said. “I should get back to work.“
I followed her back into the reception area.
“Make sure the police know about as many of the trespassing incidents as possible,“ she said, and headed back to the library.
“Tough lady,“ Frankie said.
Why did I have a feeling he'd have said something shorter and less complimentary if I hadn't been there. Jack's face didn't give away anything; he just nodded and headed back to his desk, leaving Frankie to guard our captive.
So she was tough – did they really want one of their former coworkers to steal everything they'd been working on so hard and hand it to the competition? They were all so excited about their stock options – didn't they understand that the stock options weren't worth beans unless Mutant Wizards continued to prosper? light suddenly dawned. I'd be willing to bet that Liz was the Iron Maiden on Ted's list. And what had Ted said about the Iron Maiden? I went back to my desk and fished in my drawer for the blackmail printout.
