She had to call Pam. What was she going to do? Her job…Oh, God, her job. They didn’t want her. They’d left her a voice mail. Didn’t have the decency to tell her in person.
That put things in perspective on the work front, that was for sure.
On the home front, well, it couldn’t be much more of a disaster. Her stomach lurched thinking about the house, the smell of smoke and water, the whole depressing mess. Which reminded her to call Barbara.
“Hi, Barbara, it’s Torie Hagen.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you called. Listen, I discovered a rider on your policy for jewelry and electronics. Did you remember purchasing that?”
Did she? No, but what did that prove?
“Yes, I think so. Does it cover my new laptop I’m going to have to buy?”
“Oh, yes, and several other things, like printers and the other things, the hickeedoos that hook everything up, the wireless parts.”
Hickeedoos. That would be the technical term. Torie was glad to find at least one thing she could smile about in the whole mess of her life.
“And the jewelry? I do remember that.” It covered her grandmother’s earrings and necklace, several antique pieces. Oh, Lord, she hadn’t thought about that. “Oh.” She couldn’t help the gasp that slipped out.
“Ms. Hagen? Torie?”
“Yes, I’m still here. It’s just that, well, there’s been so much, I hadn’t considered the jewelry. My grandmother’s diamonds. They were…”
“Special. I know,” Barbara said, her sympathy evident. “This is the worst sort of thing. Having to catalog these things, give us lists, keep receipts. All that.”
“Oh, the catalog,” Torie brightened. “I have that. On disc in my safety deposit box.”
“You have an inventory?”
“I do. I made it after an attempted robbery a few years ago,” Torie said, then realized she hadn’t put that incident on the list she gave Paul. “I put it in the safety deposit box. The key,” she began. Well, hell. The key was at her office, locked in her desk. “I’ll get the key from my office and get the disc. Should I bring you a copy of the disc or a paper copy?” She would go to the office at the end of the day. She’d call Steve, her boss, and tell him what she needed. He’d understand that much, she hoped.
“Are there pictures?” Barbara said eagerly.
“Yes, and comparable prices for some of the pieces. I’m an engineer, Barbara. We dot the Is and cross the Ts.”
“Well, you’ll be glad of that in this case, especially with the jewelry. It means a quicker payout for you, too, on getting new furniture and so forth, if you can prove what you had.”
“Well, there’s one thing that’s going right. I have to say, it’s about the only thing.”
“I know, dear,” the other woman commiserated. “I’ve seen the news. It must be hideous for you.” For a moment, Torie wondered if the woman was fishing for gossip, but in the next sentence, she disproved the worry. “All the more reason for us to find you a rental house, get you on the road to recovering from this.”
“Thank you. What do I need to do?”
“Contact a real estate agent, someone reputable, and have them set you up with something.” She named a price range that insurance would pay, and then said, “And if I could offer one word of advice?”
“Yes?”
“Buy some new clothes, get what you need there. Start car shopping as well so you’ll have reliable transportation, but don’t overwhelm yourself. Wait to buy furniture. Wait to try and replace the jewelry and dishes and personal items. From everything I’ve seen over the years, if you just give it a little time, it’s a lot better.”
Torie sighed. It was good advice. “Thanks, Barbara. I think I needed to hear that.”
She’d no sooner disconnected the call than her phone rang again. It was Pam, calling from home. Pam had said she had a client presentation today. Her design business was so popular, so sought after, the days were often so full for Pam that she barely ate lunch, much less had time to talk on the phone.
“Hey, girl,” she tried to sound cheerful. “What’s up.”
Pam’s answer was a sob.
“It’s Dev.”
“What happened?” Paul was in full battle mode by the time he reached his office. “And when?”
“Yesterday sometime, in the evening they think,” Martha said as she rose. “Detective Tibbet is here with the cybercrimes officer, a Detective Johnson. They’re in the computer center.”
“Jameson,” Tibbet greeted him as he walked into the center. The other detective was seated at one of the programmer’s stations, her hands flying over the keyboard. “Where’s Ms. Hagen?”
“Trying to piece her life back together,” he said bluntly. “She’s being watched over, and the press are off on another trail, so I think she’s okay for the moment.”
“Yeah.” Tibbet grimaced. “The courthouse shootings. Miracle nobody died. I guess that’s more interesting than a car blowing up and some guys getting hurt.”
“Lot of crazy people in the world,” Paul noted, thinking that whoever was after Torie ranked right up there on the crazy scale.
“God’s truth,” was Tibbet’s pithy rejoinder. “Back to this deal, though,” he continued. “Looks like this is going deeper and deeper. You got any more ideas you’re willing to share about who might be behind it? Got some skills with a computer, seems like.”
“Damn straight,” Detective Johnson commented. She glanced up long enough to say, “I’m Johnson, pleased to meet you, and all that.” She then went back to hammering at the keyboard.
“I’ve told you everything I can think of, Detective,” Paul said, watching the code fill the oversize screen the programmers used. It was like watching someone knit, each row following closely along to the next.
“No new ideas? No one you know who has outstanding computer skills?”
“I know a lot of people with computer skills. I have good skills, my assistant should have been a hacker, and I have two friends who run software companies. But neither Martha nor my geek pals want to hurt Torie.”
“You sure about that?” Tibbet lowered his voice. “Your secretary doesn’t like Ms. Hagen. Not one bit.”
“Assistant. She’s my executive assistant,” Paul corrected, thinking furiously. He shook his head. “It doesn’t play, Detective. You’re right, she doesn’t like Torie, but she adored Todd. She really, really thought the world of him.”
“Not a far stretch to hate, though.”
Paul couldn’t fathom how someone lived each day, worked each day, seeing the worst of society. “I still don’t think so.”
“Where were you last night?” Tibbet opened his little book. “Just to clear that up, ’cause I’m gonna get asked.”
“I was with Torie, helping her get some clothes. We met her friend Pam and her cousin for a—” he stopped, shifting mental gears. “Drink. We stayed at another of their friend’s house for a while. Someone she and Pam know. I didn’t know him.”
Tibbet was looking at him, and had obviously noted the hesitation. Damn.
“Uh huh. So, what time was this, uh, drink, you all had?”
“Around eight-thirty or nine. We’d been out shopping.” He rolled his eyes for form. “Then met Pam, Dev, and Carlos. When we finally left there, Torie and I were starving. We picked up burgers and fries from Ted’s Burgers over off Maple, on the way to my house. I think I have the receipt somewhere. We were nearly too tired to eat, but we managed it, then went to bed.”
“Together?”
Paul’s temper flared immediately, but he strapped it down. Tibbet was trying to get a reaction. Paul wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
“No, Detective. She’s my client and she slept in my guest room. She didn’t want to endanger her friend Pam, but since it appears that hotel rooms aren’t safe or secure, I put her in my guest room.” He finished by putting his hands on the table between them and leaning in. “Satisfied?”