Lawrence Sanders - The seventh commandment

The summons didn't come until late in the afternoon, and when she walked into Trevalyan's cluttered office, she knew the shit was going to hit the fan; he had two cigars going at once.

"You're approving the claim?" he shouted at her. "You're actually approving it?"

"Of course," she said calmly. "None of the beneficiaries had a thing to do with the murder of Lewis Starrett. You want to fight it? You want a lawsuit? Be my guest."

"And look at this!" he howled, waving a fistful of her expense account vouchers. "What the hell were you doing-buying food and booze for every cop in New York?"

"If you read my report," Dora said, "you know what I was doing: helping to break up a fraud for laundering drug money and helping to solve four homicides. Aren't you happy to see a little justice done?"

"Screw justice!" Mike said wrathfully. "All I know is that this is going to cost the Company three million smackers. And what do you think the Accounting Department is going to say when I submit those humongous bills from your so-called computer expert, that Gregor Pinchik. They'll have my balls for hiring that guy."

"Oh Mike, don't be so cheap. Gregor provided the key to the whole case. Look, you want to come out of this smelling like a rose?"

He looked at her suspiciously. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Pinchik didn't bill for his long-distance calls or modem time because he used our telephone access codes. They were on an electronic bulletin board he subscribes to. But he admitted he's been into our computers and rummaged around. If he can do it, then any smart hacker can do it. Persuade the Company to hire Pinchik as a consultant, to upgrade our computer security with state-of-the-art safeguards. If we don't do it, it's just a matter of time before we start paying out claims to some larcenous hacker who's invaded our records."

Trevalyan thought about that a moment. "Yeah," he said finally, "you got a point there, kiddo. Listen, how about us going out for some food and talking about what I should put in my memo to the brass."

"No, thanks," she said. "I want to get home to Mario."

"You just want one of his gourmet dinners," Mike said grumpily.

Dora smiled serenely. "There's a lot to be said for home cooking."