The Dangerous Edge of Things - By Tina Whittle Page 0,40
a reasonably innocent explanation, another guy joined us. He had a nice smile, but his distinguishing feature was a mop of double-helix brown hair that tumbled over his forehead, very nearly obscuring his eyes. He stopped in the doorway, hands on hips.
Then he grinned. “Hey, Trey, how’s it going?”
Trey’s head snapped back. “What are you doing here?”
The guy shrugged. Unlike every other dapperly suited employee, he was tricked out in khaki pants and an orange shirt. No tie. I glanced at his shoes. Black athletic sandals.
“Looking for Landon,” he said.
“No, I mean what are you doing at Phoenix. You were fired.”
“Landon pulled the suspension.”
“You weren’t suspended. You were fired.”
“Landon reconsidered.”
Suddenly, I realized who this guy was. I snapped my fingers. “Simpson!”
The guy grinned. He had an exuberant smile, open-mouthed. “All my friends call me Steve. Right, Trey?”
Trey was having none of this. “Because of your blatant incompetence—”
“Oh please! I was getting coffee!” He flung a finger in my direction. “How was I supposed to know she would show up?”
“You disregarded our objective and jeopardized my safety.”
“Cut the crap. You’re just mad ‘’cause you got made.”
Trey stood up, dropping his shoulders and shifting his body weight. I recognized it for what it was—going into a fighting stance—and Steve actually took one step forward and all I could think was, Trey is about to mop the floor with this guy.
But then Trey closed his eyes—one second, two—and when he opened them again, that flat impassive blue was back. He exhaled, relaxed his hands, and sat back down, burying his attention once again in his paperwork.
Simpson grinned some more. “Tell Landon I was looking for him.” And then he looked at me. “Nice to meet you, Tai Randolph. Been hearing a lot about you around here.” Then he winked at me and ducked out the door.
I let out a breath. “What in the hell was that about?”
Trey didn’t look up. “I thought he was terminated. Apparently he’s not.”
“He’s the computer guy you were working with at Eric’s, right?”
“Technical specialist.”
Trey gathered his file folders into a neat stack, adjusted the edges with precise focused concentration. He had a pile of index cards that he placed right next to two mechanical pencils.
“Tell the truth,” I said. “You were going to beat him to a bloody pulp.”
A swift glance my direction, then back to his legal pad. “No, I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were.”
“No. I wasn’t.”
“But you wanted to, didn’t you?”
He stopped rifling through papers and placed both hands flat on the table, one neatly atop the other.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I did.”
***
Marisa arrived thirty seconds after nine o’clock in a suit the color of white chocolate. She took a chair at the head of the table, Yvonne at her heels. Landon hung at her side, their voices a hushed tête-à-tête. When he saw me, he cut her a sharp look. She shook her head and opened her portfolio.
“It’s been a hell of a morning,” she said, “so let’s start with the latest. Detective Ryan called. He wants to set up interviews with all of you.”
Trey stopped writing. “Is this because we were all at Beau Elan on Thursday?”
I stared at him. Somehow he’d neglected to mention this choice fact in our conversations. So much for teamwork.
“So we’re suspects now?” Landon said.
“Not suspects,” Trey corrected. “Suspicious. There’s no evidence to make us suspects at this time.”
I raised my hand. “Um, excuse me, but—”
“You’ve been a suspect since you got into town,” Landon interjected.
I shot him a look. “Don’t start with me.”
“It’s immaterial,” Marisa said, putting a halt to the squabble. “Right now, I want to make it clear that all of you must be cleared of suspicion as soon as possible.”
Trey cocked his head. “The video should be proof enough.”
Marisa’s eyes flashed his way. “What video?”
“The video from the surveillance camera at the Beau Elan entrance. It records every vehicle entering or leaving. Of course the police have the original now, but we kept back-up footage at the office.”
“And what will this footage show?”
“Our arrival at Beau Elan at approximately twelve-thirty that morning. Charley Beaumont arrived at five, left at six with Landon when the police arrived. Approximately. Simpson and I finished and left for Phoenix at six-thirty. Approximately. The video will provide specific time codes.”
“Where were you?”
“In Jake Whitaker’s office.”
“With Jake?”
“No, I was alone. Jake was elsewhere on the property.”
I wanted to follow up on that idea, but Marisa had her own agenda. “So you were in that office all afternoon?”