“Clancy’s broker computer was just that, complicated client stuff, connected to corporate offices.” Roark continued clicking his keyboard. “Betcha dat ’puter got audited regular so there was nothin’ personal on it. I figured cops had his home devices. Didn’t think he had another.”
“If all the council members used the one at city hall, then they probably each had their own passwords to sign in for their private files. He might have kept personal stuff there.” Reuben sat back and let his hacker software program run on the thumb drive.
“But Clancy waskilledin that office. The cops still should have taken everything away.” Jax returned to his appointed task of sorting through documents on the pool table relating to his father and Pendleton.
“The cops didn’t know Clancy waskilled.” Unlike literal-minded Jax, Evie easily jumped to conclusions based on nothing. “They wouldn’t take a computer all the council used because Clancy put a gun to his head. One assumes they’d need a warrant.”
Jax grimaced in agreement. “Same with Pendleton. They wouldn’t automatically take a computer for a suicide, especially one needed by his office. They probably waited for the coroner’s report. The killer has a method to his madness.”
“You into that city hall computer yet? Is it wiped?” Reuben watched his hacker program scroll passwords at the thumb drive. “Whoever trashed the office tonight might have brought this drive with them to clean out Clancy’s files and dropped it when he got frightened.”
“You think Clancy’s haint scared him off?” Roark laughed.
Evie threw a pillow at the tattooed lout. “Don’t dismiss what you don’t understand.”
The Cajun pointed at his monitor. “There’s da city hall computer innards. Clancy’s partition is wiped. Dude knew what he was doin’.”
Reuben gave a soft crow of triumph and hit the keyboard. “But the ghost must have made him drop the thumb drive he transferred it to. Looka here.”
“If that drive belonged to the person trashing the office, we need to get it back to the police, pronto. They can test it for fingerprints. Do we have enough cloud space to upload the contents?” Jax left his work to peer over Reuben’s shoulder.
“Oh yeah, there isn’t much here. If this is all Clancy kept on that computer, it’s nothing incriminating, just receipts and some ancient Word docs. Think crooks give receipts for payoffs?”
“Expense report receipts?” Jax studied the small screen Reuben was working with. “Lunch tabs. Credit card receipts give a timeline. But we’d need to know what crime he may have committed to see if he had an alibi. Or know the thief’s name and crime. They’re meaningless as is.”
“He also knocked off that pin,” Evie reminded them. “He could be indicating the thief wore one.”
“That could be any of a few million people,” Jax scoffed. His phone pinged and he abandoned the receipt list to check his messages. “Oswin tracked the California F100 plate that you photographed. Belongs to a Donna Ortiz. He also says there is no Officer Reilly in the San Bernardino Sheriff’s department. That call to Evie was a fake.”
Someone from California was trying to find them. Evie shuddered.Donna Ortiz?
Roark opened a window to type in Donna’s name. Evie huddled under the covers and sipped her tea. She needed to get over herself and be a proper psychic detective if she meant to demand respect.
What she wanted to do was go to bed and pull the covers over her head.
Jax continued reading Conan’s message. “Donna Ortiz is the receptionist in Pendleton’s office, so it would make sense that her truck was parked nearby. Conan says he’s intercepted messages between Donna—and get this—Marge. Her last name is Thompson.”
R&R looked at Jax questioningly. Evie nodded understanding. “Marge—the spa lady in the desert. She wore a purple hat with the Swenson logo. The receptionist had an eagle pin like the one the ghost flung. We’re on to something.”
“Get me into the town’s voting machines, Jax,” Reuben said ominously, using Kleenex to remove the thumb drive and drop it into a plastic baggie.
All eyes swung to the muscled nerd sitting cross-legged on the cheap carpet.
“What?” Jax finally demanded when Reuben said no more. “What did you find?”
At the desk computer, Roark called up the file Reuben had just uploaded and whistled. “Connections, we got connections. Anyone want to set up a storyboard?”
Evie wished she had another pillow to fling at him. “Just tell us, will you?”
“Afterthought bought their voting machines from DVM back before your favorite mayor got elected. One of these Word docs is a contract, signed by Clancy, who was on the council at the time. Salesman’s name isTheodore Swenson.” Roark was so excited that he forgot his accent.
Reuben handed the baggie to Evie. “This needs to go back where it was. If Clancy and Swenson are into voter fraud, that’s federal.”
“No evidence of fraud,” Jax responded automatically, typing into his phone.
“I’ll have Helena drop the thumb drive in a plant.” Evie gingerly accepted the bag. “The cops will think the thief hid it.”
“Or an idiot did. If there are fingerprints, they’re likely to be someone who had a key, like your friend Helena. And that person isn’t necessarily the killer.” Jax finished his typing.