He tried his usual go-to contact on computer issues, but the lucky jerk was in Cabo. Then he remembered the source Ellie had mentioned during their dinner at Half King. He found the man’s business card in his wallet. Hopefully, Jason Upton had some time to give him an Internet 101 primer. It would be ironic if Ellie wound up helping him report this story after all, despite their agreement not to talk about it since Friday night.
He hadn’t heard from Ellie since her meeting this morning with the brass, and calling her to say he was going to contact her source would be an excuse to touch base. He tried her cell, but the call went directly in to voice mail.
Hey, it’s me. Sorry. Is that too familiar? It is I, Peter Morse of the Daily Post. I just got back from the assistant chief’s press conference. I half expected to see you there, so I hope everything went okay this morning at the precinct. Oh, and thanks for pointing me to Jason Upton. I’m hoping he can walk me through the computer locating stuff. Anyway, I’m going to be workin’ hard, as the president would say, trying to get this story done for deadline, but I’d love to see you later on. Give me a call, okay? ’Bye.
ELLIE ENTERED THE lobby of the FirstDate offices, holding the door for two women leaving with boxes in hand. One of them looked like she’d been crying. The other seemed ready to punch whatever cheerful person might cross her path.
Christine Conboy sat behind the receptionist desk, also appearing glum. She mumbled a “hey” when she spotted Ellie.
“What’s going on around here?” Ellie asked.
“Layoffs. Our server’s been crashing all day from the crush of people logging on to cancel their memberships.” She lowered her voice. “I don’t feel bad for Stern. It’s karma paying him back for the way he stonewalled you guys. I was really sad to hear about your partner.”
Ellie nodded, acknowledging her sympathies. Christine looked toward Stern’s office. “It’s not right. Instead of taking the losses himself, he’s passing them down to the people with no safety net. People here work paycheck to paycheck. They won’t get by without work.”
“It seems a little extreme to fire people,” Ellie said. “I’m sure it’s just a temporary panic.”
“Well, as was explained to us by the boss at an emergency meeting a couple of hours ago, the company is not able to absorb the losses. Men outnumber women on dating sites by more than two to one. Apparently a quarter of our female members pulled their profiles down since the news came out about the letter left in the library. Stern was hoping the damage would blow over when the police announced the case was closed, but instead it’s only gotten worse. Seems women figure that if one nut job could do it, someone else might do the same. Once the men realize there aren’t any women, they’ll quit too. Stern says we don’t have enough in reserves to make payroll, so out walk my former colleagues with nothing but a promise to keep them in mind if the situation turns around. No notice, no severance pay. And they won’t qualify for those valuable stock options we’ve been waiting for because they’re leaving before the public offering.”
“What about you?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t get the axe in the first round, but let’s just say I know enough to get my résumé in shape.”
“I need to see Stern. Is that going to be a problem?”
“Is he going to enjoy talking to you?” Christine asked with a smile.
“Oh, I seriously doubt that.”
Christine extended her arm toward Stern’s office. “Then make yourself at home.”
MARK STERN was in the middle of a hands-free telephone call when Ellie walked into his office without knocking. He looked behind her for the imaginary person who might protect him from unwanted interruption.
“Jan, I’m sorry. I need to call you back… Yeah, I know it’s urgent. I’ll call you right back.” He pulled off his headset and tossed it on his desk. “Well, come on in, Detective Hatcher. What can I do for you?”
“What? No ‘Sorry about your partner’? No ‘I guess he was right. I should have helped the two of you earlier’?”
“Sorry. Obviously I’m very sorry about what happened to Detective McIlroy, but I told that to the other detectives who informed me of his death, and I’ve been cooperating as much as I can with the police department since then. But you’ve got your case all wrapped up, and I’m in the middle of a serious shit storm here.”
“Mass membership cancellations probably screw up a company’s plans to go public, huh?”
“That, Detective, is the understatement of the fucking century. That was my lawyer,” he said, pointing to the headset. “He says the deal can’t happen. To avoid fraud, I’d have to disclose the membership cancellations, and that’s going to destroy the stock price. Fuck.” He sent a stack of documents flying from his desk.
“The company can’t just ride this out?”
Stern took a deep breath and collapsed into his chair, trying to regain his composure. “No. I definitely do not see a good riding-it-out scenario in front of me. My next phone call is to my wife to talk to her about taking another mortgage out on our apartment. That should go well.”
“I have to ask you a question, Mr. Stern, and I want you to control your temper when I do. I’m willing to keep an open mind about whatever you tell me, but after what has happened the last few days, I just don’t have the energy to get into a fight with you.”
“I don’t have a lot of fight left in me either. Go ahead and ask your questions, Detective Hatcher.”
“Do you know that your customers’ credit card numbers are being stolen off your server?”
Stern’s obvious surprise confirmed Ellie’s suspicions.
“That’s what I thought. I’ll be honest. I walked into the building just now assuming you were involved. But seeing you try to save your company in the middle of all this chaos reminded me that every person I’ve spoken to who’s had any encounter with you has mentioned your ferocious dedication to FirstDate. You frustrated the hell out of me, in fact, with your single-mindedness.”
Stern nodded gently. “I tell people that this company is my baby. I created it.”
“Exactly. Your baby. And stealing credit card numbers from your customers could jeopardize that baby, and you wouldn’t do something like that unless the payoffs were substantial.”
“I wouldn’t do it at all, Detective.”
“I’m not judging you. I’m pointing out that you don’t appear to be enjoying those kinds of financial windfalls. And if you were reaping side profits from fraud, you never would have called attention to it by taking your company public. That would only open you up to the scrutiny of shareholders and financial analysts.”
Charlie Dixon had assumed that Stern was sitting on a pile of untraceable money, but the truth was, the man was broke. He was living above his means, and now the public offering that was going to save him was nothing but a fantasy.
“So you’re telling me that on top of all my other problems, I’ve got a hole in my server that someone’s hacking into? What does this have to do with Ed Becker?”
“I don’t think he killed those women. I think he had something to do with two of them – it’s a long story. My point is that I think someone else murdered Amy Davis and Megan Quinn, and they did it to ruin you. When Caroline Hunter was killed, all the news coverage mentioned her research into online dating. Someone with a grudge against you saw the opportunity to destroy your baby – and you along with it. And whoever it was also had a grudge against Amy Davis. They sent her that bogus solicitation for a free membership, then used Richard Hamline’s credit card to pay for it. They killed Amy exactly one year after Hunter was killed, placing a FirstDate e-mail in her coat pocket to make sure the police connected the two cases. Then, when the media still didn’t name your company or you, he added another victim – Megan Quinn.”