He shook his head sadly. “Bill was the very same. Everyone in the office loved him. All the customers, too. There were so many times a client would come to us with a crazy rush deadline, and Bill wouldn’t even think twice before offering to stay late and put in extra hours to make sure they got their order on time.”
“It sounds like he was a wonderful asset to Bayside Printing Company,” I added with a reassuring nod, not wanting to be completely outdone by Nan.
Mr. Weber kept his eyes glued to Nan, though, as he sighed and said, “I still can’t wrap my head around it. What did that handyman have against Bill? And to kill his wife, too? I hope they put him away for a long, long time.”
I shifted in my seat uncomfortably as Mr. Weber forced a smile back on his face and turned his computer monitor toward us.
“Anyway,” he said after clearing his throat twice. “As you can see, you’re looking at a cost of $2,500 to $6,700, depending on how many copies you’d like to print for your first run.”
Nan nodded. “What would you rec—?” Suddenly, she broke into a terrible coughing fit, unable to speak another word as she clutched at her chest dramatically.
“Excuse me,” she croaked out once the coughs had subsided. “Mr. Weber, would it be possible for me to have a cup of water?”
He popped to his feet quicker than I might have expected a man of his girth and stature to be able. “Sure, that’s no problem at all. Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as he’d rushed out of the office, Nan began rummaging through the papers on his desk and snapping bursts of pictures with her cell phone camera.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
Nan didn’t pause as she ground out her answer. “Seeing if we can find anything he’s not telling us. When he comes back with my water, excuse yourself to use the bathroom and see if you can find anything in the main office.”
Wow, my nan made an excellent private investigator. Perhaps I’d have to include her on my cases more often. Then again, this was only my second case to date and already she’d proved indispensable to both. Hey, I’d take help wherever and from whomever I could get it, just so long as nothing I did ever put my dear nan in any danger.
When heavy footsteps clopped their way back down the hall, Nan slipped her phone back into her purse just in time to greet Mr. Weber with a gracious smile. “My hero,” she cooed as he handed her the cup of water.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I said, rising to my feet. “I just need to use the bathroom real quick.”
“Turn left, then it’s the second door on the right,” Mr. Weber muttered without looking up to see me off. He’d fallen under Nan’s spell as so many did, and I couldn’t fault him for that—especially since it would make my investigation that much easier.
“Thanks,” I muttered before clicking the door shut behind me. Even though Nan was obviously an old pro, I myself was still new to this whole snooping business and didn’t really know where I should be looking. Somehow, I doubted Bayside Printing Company would just leave their financials or security tapes in plain view. Come to think of it, a place like Bayside probably didn’t even have security tapes, although if they did that would make this whole thing so much easier.
Man, I wished Octo-Cat was here with me. Where I was gangly and untalented, my cat was an expert at sticking his nose in others’ business. Heck, snooping might as well have been one of his middle names. With such a long list of them, it might actually be hidden in there without me knowing. He even put Nan to shame with his immense spying skills and the zero remorse he showed over exercising them. Maybe I could channel some of that now…
Now, if I were Octo-Cat, where would I look first?
I didn’t get a chance to find out, because a moment later I found that I wasn’t alone in the main office. The tall, slim woman who sat silently in the waiting area perked up upon noticing me.
“Can I help you?” I asked hesitantly. It seemed rude to just ignore her, even though I hadn’t a clue how I could actually help her with anything of consequence.
“Is Mr. Weber in?” she asked, tucking a fluffy red curl behind her ear and offering me a friendly smile. “I was hoping to grab my order before he closed up shop for the night.”
“Um, sure. I’ll just go tell him you’re here,” I said, turning back toward the office in defeat.
I sure hoped Nan was having better luck with Mr. Weber than I’d had out here. Or that she had captured something valuable on her camera during her sleuthing micro-burst.
Otherwise, it looked like Bayside Printing Company might be a big, fat dead end. All we’d managed to do was waste value time.
Wednesday was almost upon us, and we weren’t any closer to finding the Hayes’s real killer. Might tomorrow turn out to be our lucky day?
Oh, I sure hoped so.
Chapter Eight WEDNESDAY
The next morning I told Charles about the reconnaissance Nan and I had attempted at the Bayside Printing Company the night before.
“I knew you were up to something,” he said before widening his eyes and asking, “Did you find anything that can help?”
I caught him up on the little things we’d learned, like that Bill was well-liked at his job and slated for a promotion the following year. In the end, we really hadn’t gained anything more than that. Most of Nan’s pictures had turned out blurry, and the few we could see clearly showed nothing useful.
I tapped my pen on the desk and chewed my lower lip. “Are you sure that none of the prosecution’s witnesses would be willing to talk to us before the trial?”
“I’m sure,” Charles answered with a weary sigh. “They all said no. Well, except for one, but I haven’t been able to get a hold of her despite trying to call multiple times.” He shrugged and took a sip from his coffee cup before adding, “I’m not sure she’ll be taking the stand, anyway.”
“Oh? Who might that be?” I leaned in closer, eager to hear more. Had Charles been sitting on this lead the whole time? I wished he would have said something earlier.
He didn’t seem to think it was a big deal as he casually informed me, “Michelle Hayes, the daughter.”
My heart quickened at this revelation. Could Michelle be the missing key to unlock the perfect defense?
“Don’t get so excited,” Charles warned me. “I’m telling you, she’s all but impossible to get a hold of.”
“Just like this case is impossible to defend?” I quipped, shooting him a wry grin. Suddenly, a dark thought occurred to me. “You don’t think she’s not returning your calls because she did it, do you?”
“Absolutely no way. She loved her parents. They were paying beaucoup bucks to put her through private college, and she still came home almost every weekend to visit even though her school is a good three-hour drive from here.”
“I thought you couldn’t get a hold of her?” I asked suspiciously. He seemed awfully quick to jump to Michelle’s defense. Was it possible he wasn’t sharing everything he knew with me? And, if so, why?
Charles seemed unperturbed by my question, and he held his coffee firmly between both hands as he said, “That was in the statement she gave the police.”
“What’s her number?” I asked, crossing the office to grab his landline. This week, Derek had graciously agreed to switch workspaces with me so that Charles and I could have unfettered access to each other while I assisted on Brock’s case. It definitely made things easier.
Until Charles yanked the phone right out of my hand.
“It’s way too early in the morning to be calling a nineteen-year-old student. You think she’s going to want to talk to us if we wake her from a dead sleep?”