The Necromancer: Part Eight

      Could it be that the mysterious visitors really had wanted nothing more than to speak with her? But if that was that case, then why not leave a card, or at least a name? No - their actions were definitely suspicious. Perhaps they had never intended to take anything; if they had only wanted to look at whatever it was, then they had probably managed to do it. That was a disturbing thought. Was security really so lax here that anyone with enough daring could just walk in and throw departmental confidentiality to the winds?

      But all of this speculation was irrelevant, in comparison to the real issue at hand: What did Emma have - or what did anyone think she had - that was worth searching her office for?

      Emma did not like questions without clear answers, and she was still puzzling over this when Nicholas returned. She had expected him to sulk for longer, though come to think of it consistency would probably have been even more uncharacteristic of him than emotional maturity. "Don't tell me," he said, stopping in the doorway and holding up a hand. "You're busy." During the ensuing pause he appeared to take in what he was seeing, and redirected his train of thought. "Actually, before I say anything else, why are all your papers spread out everywhere? It almost looks like my desk. On a good day. After I've cleaned for a few hours."

      "I have good reason to believe that somebody was in my office, going through my files."

      "That's crazy," said Nick. "Who would want to do something so boring?"

      "Apparently someone found it less boring than you." Then, feeling that one of them at least should take the situation as seriously as it deserved, she explained her reasoning.

      He thought about this for a moment, sitting down in the chair across from her, regardless of the stack of papers on top of it. "No, seriously, Emma, what would they want? You haven't even been working here for very long. If they wanted something from your predecessor's time, they've sure waited a while to get it."

      "Yes," she conceded.

      "Well, so, it has to be something from the Lawson case."

      "Maybe."

      "It has to be," Nicholas repeated with utter confidence. "What do you have that's incriminating?"

      She by no means approved his slapdash method of jumping to conclusions, but his rather faulty logic had started her thinking. "Conrad Jones is officially no longer a suspect in this investigation," she said slowly, "as of last night. Even if he had the influence for something like this, which I don't believe that he does. And yet nobody else has been implicated at all. We have nothing incriminating - that's our problem."

      "Right," he agreed. "Strange, isn't it?"

      "If we follow your reasoning through to the end (and, by the way, I'm not saying there are no other possibilities) then it would follow that we do, in fact, have something incriminating. We just don't know it yet."

      "That's what I think, too," he said in that maddening way of his, as though he'd known it for hours beforehand.

      Emma crossed her arms and turned away from him so that her eyes rested on the framed charts of crime statistics. "Then we need to have another look at the evidence. Could there be something we missed about the coat?"

      He shook his head. "I don't think so. They went over it pretty thoroughly. And I know what the next obvious thing would be, but I really don't think we unknowingly have the murder weapon in our possession either. What about Lawson's correspondence?"

      "The letters we do have are fairly routine, as is the official paperwork." Emma, having worked in Public Relations, could say this with certainty.

      Nicholas was silent again for a long moment. "What about trying another angle here? You think they came, looked, and didn't take anything. Maybe it was because they only wanted to look, but maybe it was because they didn't find what they were looking for. What wasn't in your office when they were here?"

      Emma picked up the small briefcase she had carried with her to go see Conrad Jones in the dungeons, and set it on the desk. "All of this." Seeing Nicholas's inquiring raised eyebrow, she explained: "I brought with me Director Lawson's papers on the departmental accounts, since Jones had supposedly been embezzling. I wanted to ask him about them in more detail."

      "Interesting," said Nick. "A financially motivated murder? I'm sure you went through them all with a fine-toothed comb and the concentration of a laser beam. Any evidence of embezzling in the papers you saw?"

      "None whatsoever. Everything added up quite nicely, which is more than I can say for the accounts when I worked there."

      "Don't you think it's suspicious that it's all suddenly straightened out?"

      "Possibly," she acknowledged curtly. "But there's no hard evidence to warrant that suspicion."

      He looked rather disappointed by this answer. Emma, however, had nothing more to offer. She couldn't pretend that they had anything to go on, and she couldn't pretend to be hopeful about it either.

      "There wasn't anything questionable in the accounts?" Nicholas persisted. He never knew when to give up.

      "I did find one irregularity," she conceded, certain that he was going to seize on the irrelevant detail, but unwilling to be anything less than thorough. "There was a document I didn't recognize. It looked like an Internal Affairs investigation. However, given that something of that nature would incriminate no one but Lawson, who is now deceased, I can't see why anybody would want to steal it. No, I think whatever they were looking for is hiding somewhere in the accounts." Much as it disturbed her to admit that she could have missed something, she knew she must have.

      It seemed they were back to square one; no one possibility appeared more likely than any other. Finally Nick shrugged and gave up. "Well, I'll sleep on it. In the meantime maybe you can help me with what I came for."

      "Oh yes, that's right. You did want something. As usual."

      "Emma! Is that fair?"

      "I try to avoid making value judgments whenever possible," she said.

      Nick rolled his eyes. "I want to interview Lawson's secretary again, but I can't find her and the Central Personnel Office won't give me access to the records. Apparently they're 'restricted.'"

      "I don't work in the Central Office." Maybe she was being deliberately difficult, but she couldn't have him thinking she was always available to drop everything at his whim.

      "Wow, you're right!" he cried in mock-surprise. "I had completely forgotten. So I guess there's absolutely no way you can help me. Oh, wait - since you apparently have the High Commissioner's investigative authority, you probably can do something."

      Emma remained silent.

      "Do you want to solve this case or don't you?" he demanded.

      In fact she did, and that was what made her agree to go with him. It was as useful a thing to be doing as anything else she could think of. After a moment's consideration, she also brought the small briefcase she had taken with her to the dungeons. It wasn't that she had total faith in Nicholas's theory, but there seemed no point in taking chances. If some unknown person wanted the contents, she would be an idiot to leave them lying in her office where - as had already been demonstrated - security was woefully lacking.

      Their trip to the Central Personnel Office was both quick and successful. Emma only had to present her credentials and give proof that she signed for the High Commissioner, and they were swiftly informed that Erica Monahan - that was the her name - had been transferred following Lawson's death to the Internal Affairs department.

      "It's really too bad for Miss Monahan," Emma remarked as they made the short walk to Internal Affairs, which was housed in a gigantic twisting tower close to the heart of the Citadel. "Now that Director Lawson is gone, there is no guarantee that she'll be the next director's personal secretary. It's quite a step down for her."

      For reasons that she could not fathom, Nicholas smiled at this. "Oh, Emma," he said in an obnoxiously affectionate tone of voice.

      She maintained her silence after that, too annoyed to have any desire for conversation. In any case it had begun to rain again, a cold driving rain that came down from all directions, which made it difficult to concentrate on anything except walking as quickly as possible and trying to angle an umbrella against the rain.

      Internal Affairs was a rather dreary place, though no worse in its way than the Enforcement Department. It was equally impersonal and industrial: a little brighter and more modern, but also far quieter. Emma had spent very little time here during the course of her career. She did, however, know someone here - they had worked together as accounting clerks a decade ago - and it occurred to her that she might try asking him about the mysterious document she had found in Lawson's files. If it was indeed a standard Internal Affairs investigation, Robert should recognize it. That would clear that up. Emma greatly approved of killing two birds with one stone.

      They made their way up to the sixteenth floor, where Nicholas introduced them both, and Miss Monahan offered chairs. She was a small, rather nervous-looking Darigan Cybunny, with a very sweet and innocent expression but also - Emma noted with approval - an immaculate personal appearance and a thoroughly organized desk. "I do hope I can help you," she said, sounding quite concerned about it. "I think I already told everything I knew to the detectives yesterday, but maybe something new will come to mind."

      "Well, that's quite all right, Miss Monahan," said Nicholas, with what Emma thought was a somewhat silly smile. There was no need to treat the woman with special consideration. She was a professional. Lawson had not been an easy man to work for - his secretary could hardly be as timid as she appeared.

      "Can I offer either you a cup of coffee, Detective Chase - Miss Ward?" she urged, fiddling almost nervously with the silver necklace she wore around her neck.

      "No, thank you," said Emma.

      "Well, then - what can I tell you?" At least she was eager to please. It made a nice change from Emma's earlier interview with Conrad Jones.

      "Run me through this again," Nicholas began. "Now, before you went to dinner, Lawson had those three appointments. Did anything memorable happen during any of the meetings?"

      "Not that I know of, but of course, when he's - when he was - in a meeting he would close the door, and I had no idea what was going on inside. But I didn't see or hear anything out of the ordinary, if that's what you mean."

      "Hmm," said Nicholas, exchanging a glance with Emma. "And did you leave the office at all during that time?"

      "I did leave the office a little after 6:30, because Mr. Williamson down the hall wanted some help finding a file. I was only gone for ten or fifteen minutes. The meeting was still going on when I returned."

      "This is going to sound like a strange question, but bear with me, Miss Monahan. Are you quite, quite sure... that Director Lawson was still alive when you came back?"

      "Oh, absolutely," she said, sounding rather shocked by the suggestion. "Goodness, yes. He spoke to me."

      Well, that shot down that theory, Emma thought. Nick was clearly disappointed. "What did he say?" he persisted hopefully.

      "Nothing much, I mean, nothing memorable. He wanted a cup of coffee."

      "Did you notice anything strange about Lawson at that point? Did he seem like he might have just had an argument with someone?"

      "Oh, no, not like that, although... Come to think of it," she said slowly, "he was a little... off. I think he might not have been feeling very well. Yes, that's what I thought at the time - it's all coming back now."

      Emma could see Nick's triumphant expression and she knew exactly what he would say to her if they were alone: this was something new. Largely irrelevant, in her opinion, but she was a great believer in getting all of the facts straight, so she listened attentively and made notes on her small notepad.

      "What made you think that, exactly?"

      "Well, he - I guess he sounded strange. Not like himself. I mean, he sounded like himself, but not like his usual self. His voice was very... flat?" Nick gave her an encouraging nod, and she continued. "I suppose the other reason I thought he must not be feeling well was that he sort of had a hand held to his stomach. Kind of pressing on it, you know, like you do when you have a stomachache. And he turned away from me when I opened the door, like he didn't want to talk to me. So, that's why I had it in my head that he was sick."

      Emma could not see how this was remotely related to the murder, but Nicholas, naturally, refused to let the subject drop. "Was that normal for Lawson? I mean, was he prone to... stomach ailments?"

      Miss Monahan looked rather dismayed by the question. "I hardly know, really. Not that I'm aware of, but then, I think in older men that kind of thing is fairly common, especially Skeiths..."

      "Did you get a good look at Lawson when you saw him then?"

      "It was pretty dark, I think, but - yes, I could see his face, if that's what you mean. At least the side of it. Like I said, he was turned away from me. Why was it so dark?" she mused, more to herself than to Nick and Emma. "Oh, yes, I know. The fire had gone out in the fireplace. The only light came from his desk lamp."

      "Did you notice anything strange about the way he looked?" Nick said patiently. It was an extraordinary thing the way he could ask the same questions over and over again during an interview with no sign of boredom, while he had not the slightest shred of patience in everyday life.

      "No, not really. Just what I said - the way he was pressing his hand against his stomach. Or was it his side?"

      Emma's pen paused on the notepad, waiting for a direct answer, and Nicholas pursued it. "Where, exactly?"

      "I don't know, I guess it was right around - here?" She put a hand to her stomach, slightly to one side, just under the ribcage (at least that was how Emma recorded what she saw).

      "Hmm," said Nick. "You've been very helpful, Miss Monahan. One last question. Do you really have no idea who the 7:00 appointment could have been?"

      "I'm sorry. I really don't."

To be continued...