Coffee & Crime (22 page)

Zelda's always hungry and she gladly followed Eric out to the kitchen. Together they rooted through the fridge and cabinets for a nosh, while Eric continued his explanation. "You can do all kinds of things with nanny cams."

"Like what?" Zelda asked.

The kitchen yielded no snacks so Eric pulled sodas out of the fridge for each of us. "If you're smart, you set them up on timers or motion detectors
—
otherwise you'd have hours of recordings of nothing. But the motion detector setting is the default approach
—
that way, the cam doesn't record unless there's someone moving around in the room. And usually there’s a manual over-ride if you want to film something deliberately."

We plunked down at the banquette and sipped our sodas. "That still doesn't explain why there was only one video," Zelda said.

Eric hunched a shoulder. "He probably put the older files on another computer or an online server." Zelda's undivided attention seemed to animate Eric. "There are hundreds of sites where you can store your files online. Really, it's more secure to store it in

the cloud anyway. Harder for people to hack because their servers have a lot more security than an individual’s personal computer."

"Then this is the last video taken by the nanny cam?" I asked hoping that Zelda and I weren't on a random video out there in the cloud.

Eric shrugged. "Not necessarily. He might've kept that one on his phone for a reason. Or never got around to archiving it. Or he could've had it set up so the video went directly to this phone." He smiled at Zelda again. "We need to find the online account that has the other files. And let's hope they're stored online because if it's on his personal computer our chances are pretty much zero."

I slouched in my seat and rested my head on my arms. "Maybe the other video files are on the flash-drive."

"It's possible
—
but online storage makes the most sense." He twisted his lips. "Still haven't cracked the flash-drive yet."

"It wasn't the same password as the phone, huh?"

Eric reared back. "You never use the same password."

"Oh," I said and decided not to tell him that I used the same password for everything. I raised my head. "Wouldn't it be funny if all his passwords were on the flash-drive?"

Eric gaped at me. "That'd be insane. Like giving somebody the keys to his kingdom."

I smirked. "If they could crack the password on the flash-drive, right?" Zelda scowled and kicked me under the table. I held up my hands. "Sorry, I'm just saying..."

Eric looked at Zelda and said, "Technically, the files are encrypted and need a key to decrypt. A little more complicated than a password."

Eric and Zelda fell into an enchanted conversation about hacking, file encryption, and password cracking. I put my head down on my arms again and closed my eyes. I must've dozed off because when I opened my eyes a half-eaten, large pepperoni pizza sat on the table. I put a slice on a paper plate and picked at the cheese and pepperoni.

While Eric and Zelda chattered on about all things digital, the Peggy video ran in a continuous loop in my head. Then it hit me. "Shit!"

Eric and Zelda stopped talking and turned raised eyebrows to me.

"It was the brownies. That's what was in the box."

Realization came into Zelda's face. "You mean
the
brownies?"

I nodded. "We have to talk to Peggy and get back into that office."

When I called the law firm, a recorded message informed me that the office was closed. A phone number was provided in the event of a legal emergency, but otherwise, contacting another legal professional was the recommended action. I ended the call. "The office is closed until further notice."

Zelda cranked her hand. "Then call her cell."

I rolled my eyes. "Peggy and I aren't personal friends
—
I don't have her cell number."

Zelda scanned the room. "Where's your bag? I bet you've got her card in that thing. God knows you've got everything else in there."

I shook my head. "Nope."

Eric cleared his throat and waved. "Ah hello, hacker here."

In under an hour, the best computer whiz in Los Angeles handed us Peggy's address and phone number. Gleefully ignoring Joe's list, we hopped in the jeep and drove through the pounding rain to Burbank.

Peggy's apartment was in one of those huge complexes that offers everything from saunas to state-of-the-art-gyms and charges top dollar for a 400-square-foot studio. I wondered how many charming little bungalows had been sacrificed to make way for the big grey stucco box that spanned a city block.

Zelda parked the jeep close to the entrance but we were drenched by the time we got to the door. Rather than buzzing Peggy's apartment, we buzzed the manager's unit. Since these places always have vacancies we were certain to get buzzed through. Without an inquiry, the door buzzed and we went through it shaking the rain out of our hair.

A middle-aged woman in sweats stepped out of the apartment next to the mailboxes and waved at us. "You looking for a rental?"

I shook my head. "Nope, we're here to see our friend upstairs." And we scooted into the elevator before the woman had a chance to question us further.

We rode the elevator up to the third floor and after a couple of wrong turns in the maze of hallways, found Peggy's apartment. I rang the bell.

Peggy came to the door but didn't open it. "Who's there?"

"It's Scotti and Zelda, Peggy."

Long pause. "What do you want?"

"It's about George." I cocked an ear but heard nothing.

Zelda whispered, "What's she waiting for?"

I shrugged.

Peggy opened the door but kept the security chain engaged. She looked harried and tired
—
and not happy to see us. "What about George?"

I couldn't get over the change in her demeanor. "You do remember me, don't you?"

She glared at me. "Yes, I remember you. What do you want?"

I didn't know what had happened to Peggy but it must've been bad for her to act that way. I lowered my voice. "It's kind of sensitive and you probably don't want to discuss it out here, in the hall." She just stared at me. "May we come in? Just for a few minutes?"

Just when I thought she'd slam the door in my face, she sighed, disengaged the security chain, and opened the door. "Five minutes."

Like Peggy, the apartment was a wreck, and I narrowly missed tripping over a banker box stuffed with office supplies. Peggy hovered near the cheerful yellow sofa with her arms crossed over her chest and a surly pout on her face.

I took a step closer. "Peggy, what's wrong?"

Her expression hardened. "You said you wanted to talk, so talk."

I held up my hands. "Okay, but I have to show you something. A video." I cued the video on George's phone and held it out to her.

She sighed, took the phone, and played the video. Her green eyes flared with anger.

"What is this?"

"That's what we want to know," Zelda said. "What's in the box?"

Peggy glared. "No, I mean what's going on here? They were spying on me too?" She dropped the phone on the sofa like it was poison. "And they sent you here to make me admit something?"

Zelda and I exchanged a 'what the hell?' look. "Nobody sent us here. Who would send us here?"

Peggy smirked. "Maggie Manston? Or was it Jake?"

I held out my arms. "I swear to you, nobody sent us. Peggy what happened?"

She scrutinized me. "You honestly don't know?"

I shook my head. "Don't know what?"

She sneered. "That I was fired?"

My mouth dropped open. "Fired? Why? Who fired you?" Out of instinct, I stepped closer to comfort her but she backed away like I was contagious. "What happened?"

"Maggie Manston. After which she changed the locks and instructed security not to let me in." Her anger dissolved into tears. "They won't even let me in to get my things. I have to wait for them to send them to me. Like that's ever going to happen."

"Maggie changed the locks?" The keys I had to George's office were now useless.

Zelda was a little slow in catching up. "Maggie fired you?"

Peggy sunk into the sofa and hugged a big blue pillow to her chest. "I worked for George for ten years
—
I've never worked for anyone else." Her voice cracked. "What am I supposed to do now? Who's going to hire me? George is dead and neither Jake nor Maggie is going to give me a letter of recommendation. I didn't do anything
—
but I'm screwed."

I perched on the arm of the sofa. "I don't understand
—
why were you fired?"

Peggy wiped her face with her sleeve and took a deep breath. "All of them
—
Maggie, George's family and Jake too, think the brownies killed George." She pointed to herself. "I'm the one who buys them for him. Bought them for him. Every Wednesday, I went to your diner to buy a dozen of the special brownies that you made for George."

I nodded. "Yeah, I know. But I don't remember seeing you that day."

"That's what's so ironic. On that Wednesday I didn't buy them. But try telling them that."

"Why didn't you buy them that day? And if you didn't buy them, who did?" Zelda asked.

Peggy shrugged. "I don't know. That day was crazy
—
we were all scrambling to prepare for the Trumball case and I got behind. Usually, I picked up the brownies during my lunch break but there was too much to do so I bought a sandwich from the sandwich guy and kept working. At the end of the day, I realized I'd forgotten the brownies and knew George would flip if he didn't have them. So I went to my desk to grab my purse and there they were
—
sitting on my desk."

"No note? Nobody said anything?" Zelda asked.

"I asked around the office but nobody knew. I assumed George had gotten them himself. Like I said it was a crazy day and everybody was prepping for trial. I spent most the day in the copy room, copying exhibits, so I don't know what anyone else was doing. We were all so focused on our own tasks that none of us was paying attention to anyone else."

"Then all you did was put the brownies in the fridge?"

"Right, that's where we kept them
—
the mini-fridge in his office. And then I went home." Tears welled in Peggy's eyes. "The next day George was dead." She raked a hand through her hair. "A couple of days later, Maggie stormed into the office, accused me of killing George, and fired me." She leveled a gaze at me and Zelda. "A few hours after you two left the office."

Peggy's change of attitude made sense. "No wonder you thought..." I shook my head. "No, that was a coincidence."

Peggy's guard went up. "Where did you get that video, then?"

Zelda picked up the phone from the sofa and pointed to it. "It was on this phone that George gave to Scotti."

Peggy narrowed her eyes. "That wasn't George's phone. Why are you really here?" She jumped to her feet and pointed to the door. "No, don't tell me. Leave. I want you to leave."

I slid off the arm of the sofa and nodded. "Okay, we'll go but please let me explain a couple of things first."

Against her better judgment Peggy said, "Make it quick."

"It started when George gave me his briefcase..."

Peggy spent several minutes digesting everything I'd told her then said, "But why aren't the police investigating?"

"They've decided it was an accident." I excluded that the cops had warned us off the case and had threatened us to stay away. "At first, we thought it was an accident too. Then we opened the briefcase George gave me." I also didn't mention breaking into George's office or bringing in a private detective. "Maybe George was being paranoid and it really was an accident but I don't think so."

She frowned at us. "I saw Maggie's television interview. Quite a reward. But I didn't think anyone would take it seriously. Do you really think you can find proof that George was murdered?"

I shrugged and figured the less I said the better.

Peggy granted me a weak smile. "You've got balls. I'll say that for you."

Peggy's five-minute limit had long passed but she didn’t throw us out
—
she put on a pot of coffee and offered us cookies. "I can't get over that video. George's clock is a security camera?"

I snagged a cookie from the platter. "We were hoping you'd verify that for us." I shrugged. "So much for that idea."

Zelda jumped in. "But we can verify whether they had partner insurance." She looked at Peggy. "Did they?"

Peggy nodded. "It's standard stuff
—
most partnerships have it to protect their firms if anything happens."

"And now that George is dead, the insurance money goes to the firm?"

Peggy stirred sugar into her coffee. "Not exactly. Partner insurance is to protect your interest in the business should your partner die or become incapacitated. It usually

includes some kind of buy/sell agreement."