Access Denied, page 6
part #3 of Turing Hopper Series
"Why would I do that?" Tim said. I suspected from his weary tone that he felt he'd answered the question more than once already. "If I'd seen anything, I'd have told them, right?"
"They might be thinking you lied at first about seeing anything, because you were scared, and now you feel you have to stick to your story," Sam said. "Or you saw the killer and think he'll come after you if you identify him. Or you want to use what you saw to your own advantage — to catch the killer yourself and get all the glory. Or maybe blackmail the killer. Shoot, I've heard of cases where people withheld evidence from the police so they could sell it to the tabloids. People lie to the cops all the time, for all kinds of reasons — you can't blame them for being suspicious. They could even be thinking you did it and aren't telling me — like maybe the dead man
spotted you, the two of you got into an altercation, and you shot him."
"Except that he doesn't have any gunshot residue," Maude said.
"The presence of gunshot residue would be pretty damning. " Sam said. "The absence is a good sign, but I'm sure they can come up with a dozen plausible scenarios to explain the absence. Ironic."
"Why?" Maude asked "Why ironic, I mean."
"Used to be I spent a lot of time telling juries that GSR on my client's hands wasn't meaningful," Sam said, shaking her head. "Now I have a client with clean hands and it's still not enough. "
"So you're saying they're probably going to keep putting pressure on Tim," Maude said.
"And on me, to tell them why he was out there." Sam added. "I can understand that. Are you telling me there's no way the murder could possibly have anything to do with why Tim was doing surveillance? I'm not even buying that, and I'm your attorney."
I saw Maude glance at my monitor. Probably asking why I hadn't volunteered an explanation. She'dprobably noticed that Yd been unusually quiet ever since Sam and Tim arrived.
Hard to explain, with Sam here, that I wasn't at all sure what to tell her. The human legal system still confuses me.
"Okay," Sam said. "I think I understand what Tim was doing, and it's pretty clear what happened."
"I blew it," Tim said. "I fell asleep, and someone got killed. "
"Maybe falling asleep saved your life." Sam said. "They found a spent cartridge by your car, right outside the passenger door. "
"I didn't hear that part," Tim said. His voice shook slightly.
"Since, unlike the police, I'm operating on the assumption that you didn't do it," Sam said. "I think the killer passed by your car. saw you asleep, and deliberately discarded the cartridge there."
"To frame me."
"Or at least muddy the waters." Sam said. "But what if you'd been awake? "
"Maybe the police would be investigating a double homicide." Maude said.
Tim didn't say anything, and he already looked as pale as I'd
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ever seen him. He began fiddling with some of the papers on the corner of Maude's desk. To distract himself I supposed, or possibly to give him a reason not to look at the others.
"Anyway," Sam said. "You were looking for this Nestor Garcia character, who you think has it in for you, and trying to find him by tracking his credit card, and that's how you stumbled over the scam."
Tim didn't answer.
"It's not just us," I said, speaking up for the first time. "The FBI is looking for him, too."
"Oh, great," Sam said, though from her frown I deduced she was being sarcastic. "So it's not just Fairfax County, the Feds could show up on my doorstep. I love a challenge. And you thought this Garcia guy might be hiding in that house because he used his credit card to order some computer equipment and have it sent there."
Maude nodded.
"But since you got this from some method that I probably don't even want hear about, I can't share this with the police, which means I can't actually tell them why Tim was lurking out in the woods by their crime scene."
"Exactly," Maude said.
"I'd feel a lot more secure if I could produce an actual client with a case that gave me even the most specious reason for sending Tim out to that house," Sam said.
"You can't just continue to assert attorney-client privilege?" Maude asked.
"That'll keep your deep, dark secrets away from the police," Sam said. "It won't keep Tim out of jail."
"Maybe you need another client," Tim said. He sat up straighter and looked a lot less stunned than he had when he'd entered.
"I bet right now Sam wishes she had one less client, not one more," Maude muttered.
"Another client?" Sam repeated.
"What about her?" Tim asked. He was holding up a piece of paper, but there were so many pieces of paper strewn about the office by this time that I couldn't immediately tell which one it was.
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"Her who?" Maude asked.
"Rose Lafferty," Tim said. "One of the other people besides Nestor Garcia who was sending packages to the Andersons' house."
"Let me see that," Sam said, snagging the paper from Tim's hand.
"I doubt if she was intentionally sending things there." Maude said.
"Well, yeah," Tim said, in a much more animated voice. "So if we were working for her and found out that someone illegally used her credit card to send something to the Andersons' house, wouldn't that be a good reason for me to stake the place out?"
"If we were working for her," Maude said. "We don't even know if she wants to hire a private investigator."
"She wouldn't have hired Tim, she would have hired me," Sam said, looking up from the paper. "And maybe I can figure out a way to talk her into hiring me if you give me a little more information. "
"What kind of information?" I asked.
"If it exists, Turing's got it," Tim said. His voice was fading again, but instead of stunned he sounded slightly sleepy. As if he'd put things into our hands and could finally relax.
"Yeah, I know," Sam said. "So spill. All that information that I'm not even going to ask where you got it and whether you got it legally, 'cause I don't think I'm ready for all the gray hairs Id get if I started thinking about that. Just give me anything you know that might help me convince her that she's in some kind of situation where she needs a lawyer."
Maude stifled a yawn as she walked over to put more paper in the printer. Tim put his head down and appeared to doze off. I scrambled to put together every bit of information I had on Rose Lafferty.
It was past two before they finished devising their plan. Maude couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this tired. Tim had long since fallen asleep with his head on her credenza.
"Okay," Sam said. "I think we're ready. Tomorrow, you and I tackle Rose Lafferty. Tim should lie low and stay out of trouble."
"Any reason we can't have him pick up Claudia at the airport?"
"That's fine," Sam said. She had begun packing her already bulging briefcase with the wads of information Turing had printed out on Rose Lafferty.
Maude glanced at Tim's sleeping form.
"Should I make up the guest room, or just throw a blanket over him?" she said.
"I can drop him off on my way," Sam said. "Mind if I use your bathroom first?"
"Help yourself," Maude said. "It's late," she added, looking up at Turing's monitors. "I'll show Sam and Tim out, and then I'm going to bed."
"Goodnight," Turing said.
Maude left the computer running, as usual, but she turned out the light and pulled the study door almost closed. Might as well let Tim sleep a few more minutes.
She glanced back at the door and wondered, briefly, if Turing would feel shut out.
Well, if she did, tough. Maude needed a little time to herself.
Sam was standing by the French doors, looking out into the garden.
"Pretty," she said, nodding her head at the garden. And then she opened one of the doors and strolled out into the yard.
What now? Didn't Sam realize that two A.M. was a little late for a stroll in the damned garden?
Maude sighed and followed.
"Turing got microphones out here?" Sam asked.
"Just cameras," Maude said. "I expect if she takes up bird
watching we'll get microphones. But appreciating the plants only requires cameras."
"She can't appreciate her own plants?"
"She doesn't have a garden," Maude said.
"Why Dot?"
"I think she considers this partly her garden."
"You're good at avoiding my questions," Sam said. "And if that's what you want, go ahead. But you might want to keep in mind that I'm not the cops. I'm your damned attorney."
"I know that," Maude said.
"I know y'all have some kind of secret you want to keep a lid on. You might want to consider letting me in on it. That old attorney-client privilege thing still applies. I don't care what you're up to—if it's so horrible my conscience won't let me continue to represent you, I can find you someone almost as good as me with a whole lot less scruples. But I know you people. I can't imagine it would come to that. And maybe if I knew what the deep dark secret was I could do a hell of a lot better job helping you protect it."
"I understand," Maude said. She closed her eyes and rubbed them.
But would Turing understand? Could Maude make her understand?
"You understand but you don't agree," Sam said,
"I don't disagree," Maude said. "But right now I'm so tired I can barely think. And frankly, it's not my decision to make."
"Not your secret," Sam said, nodding.
She sounded as if she knew something. Probably a deliberate tactic Maude thought with a smile. She wondered briefly what Sam thought Turing's secret was.
"I'll talk to Turing," she said aloud. "I'll see what I can do."
"I can live with that for now," Sam said. But she didn't leave immediately, just stood there playing with a branch of one of the shrubs.
"Anything more?" Maude asked.
"What? No," Sam said. "What is this stuff, anyway?"
She indicated the bush.
"Damned if I know," Maude said. "Something Turing ordered for me."
"The smell takes me back," Sam said. "My Grandma Perry, God rest her, had a bush like that by one corner of the house."
"I'll ask Turing what it is if you want to get one for yourself," Maude said.
"Me? I live in a high-rise," Sam said. "Suits me better. Well, most of the time, anyway. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"More like later today," Maude said.
"Lord, don't remind me," Sam said. "Let's wake up Tim so I can get him home."
She let go of the bush and walked back to the house.
Tim realized by the number of stop signs Sam was hitting that she'd probably reached his neighborhood. He'd spent the trip home alternating between fitful sleep and restless worrying.
Knowing that they had come up with a plan to take care of things made him feel better. Well—Sam, Maude, and Turing had come up with a plan. If anyone could fix things, they could.
But not even the three of them could fix everything.
He had the sinking feeling that his stupid mistake was going to backfire and hurt Turing.
Not to mention the fear that maybe, if everything went wrong, the police might charge him with murder.
And worst of all, the murder. Was it his fault? Could he
have prevented it if he'd stayed awake? Had his presence triggered it?
Don't think about it, he told himself. Not yet. Not until he was alone and could fall apart without anyone seeing him.
"Wake up," Sam said, touching his shoulder. "We're here."
"Thanks," Tim said. He didn't bother to explain that he hadn't really been asleep.
He glanced around as he got out of the car. The brightly moonlit street was deserted, and none of the small houses on either side showed lights.
"You want me to wait while you go in?" Sam asked.
He shook his head.
"That's one of the small benefits of moving out to the 'burbs," he said. "Easier to find a parking space within walking distance and you're way less likely to get mugged on the walk."
"Okay," Sam said. "See you tomorrow."
Tim nodded and started down the front walk.
"And get some sleep, sugar," Sam called. "You look done in."
He looked back and waved as she drove off.
Of course, as soon as she was out of sight, he began getting that prickly feeling on the back of his neck, as if someone were watching.
He turned around to look. Nothing.
But the feeling didn't go away.
Pay attention to your feelings, he thought. Nikki was always saying that. Usually to talk him into doing something she wanted him to do instead of whatever he ought to do.
Right now, his feelings kept saying he was mugger bait. His head, on the other hand, pointed out that he was too tired to think straight or react normally, and maybe jumping at every shadow was normal when you'd just had a close brush with murder. The sooner he got inside and hit the sack, the better.
A pity his landlord wasn't home, Tim thought, as he turned onto the path that led along the side of the house to the backyard. Even one light, one sign that another human being in the neighborhood was awake, would be nice. Of course, one reason Tim had gotten such a good deal on the basement apartment was that his landlord traveled half of the time, and liked having a registered PI keeping an eye on the place when he was gone.
Tim already had his key out as he stumbled down the half-dozen steps to his entrance. He'd forgotten to leave on his outside light, dammit. Out in the yard, the moonlight was bright enough to read by, but his entrance was in shadow, and he fumbled in the darkness before unlocking the door.
Just as he stepped inside, he heard something in the yard.
One of the slate stones on the path to his door was loose and rocked back and forth when stepped on. Tim knew to avoid it. But he recognized the noise of the slate, rocking back and forth, slapping the hard clay beneath, as someone stepped on it.
His first impulse was to jump inside and slam the door.
I'm a PI, he told himself. I've had self-defense courses. I can take care of myself.
He raced up the steps as quietly as he could, but he tripped and lost valuable seconds and, worse, made a noise that probably alerted whoever was out there.
Nothing in the backyard. He rounded the corner to the narrow side yard, where he could see the path to the street.
Nothing.
Except for two bushes at the front edge of the yard. The full moon revealed that all the trees and shrubs were motionless except for those two bushes, which still swayed slightly as if someone had just brushed past them into the street.
As he hesitated, undecided whether to give chase or return to the relative safety of his apartment, he heard a car
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door close, followed almost immediately by an engine starting.
He ran across the yard. Stupid, he told himself. He couldn't chase a car on foot, and by the time he reached the street, the car was out of sight.
He returned to his apartment and locked the door carefully behind him. Though once he got inside, he realized that he'd left the door open while chasing the prowler. He couldn't relax until he'd searched the whole apartment and tested all the window locks.
No thugs hiding in the closet. Or behind the shower curtain. Nothing disturbed, as far as he could see.
But he was wide awake now, though still exhausted, and he could tell that sleep wasn't going to come easy. Just lying down quietly wasn't working.
He thought of calling Nikki, but dismissed the idea immediately. For one thing, she probably wouldn't like being awakened, even if this was a major crisis in his life. A guy didn't get questioned in a homicide case—and maybe almost killed—every day.
But he didn't think Nikki would be all that sympathetic, and he wasn't sure he wanted to talk to her about it until he felt a lot less shaken.
And yet he wanted to talk to someone. Had to, in fact. But who can you talk to at two-thirty in the morning?
He turned on the light and walked over to his computer. Which was already on. Odd; given how unreliable the power was in his neighborhood, Tim usually turned it off when he left. He had a moment of paranoia—maybe the intruder had been leaving rather than trying to break in. Then he shrugged. It wasn't as if he kept anything valuable in the machine.
He made sure the modem cord was plugged in, because the wireless modem didn't always work in his neighbor-
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hood. And when he heard the screeching noises that meant the connection was going through, he felt a sudden sense of relief, even though he hadn't yet logged in, and wasn't yet talking to Turing.
Tim can't sleep- I can understand- I'd
be anxious and wide awake, too, if I were human.
I've been wondering, not for the first time, if I should resolve to meddle less in human affairs. I only do it when necessary to protect myself or my friends, human or AlP. But it never goes as smoothly as I think it will. Sometimes my meddling makes things worse.
And tonight I cannot stop thinking about how very vulnerable we all are.
If Nestor Garcia wants to come after us, he knows exactly where we are. Exactly where Maude and Tim work and where they live. Even where I live. He can choose how he wants to attack us, and take all the time he wants to perfect his attack.
When it comes, we won't even be sure he's behind it. Or even that it's an attack.
Part of me wants this latest series of events to be an attack. I've been expecting Garcia to strike for months now — it would make me feel less foolish if something actually did happen.
And the next nanosecond I realize that no, I don't want it to be an attack. Because I still don't completely know what's going on. How can I defend against an attack I don't even understand?
If it's an attack, it's certainly more subtle than I expected. The main damage it does may be to my privacy. My ability to operate effectively behind the scenes. I should have thought through more carefully what I could do with information about Garcia if 1 found it. Instead, I raced ahead and sent Tim to track him down, bringing a police investigation down on myself. On all the AIPs.
