Донна Эндрюс - Delete all suspects

Then Maude looked down at her desk and realized that all her urgent work was done. If she were still planning her dinner with Dan, she'd be free to leave for her errands to the grocery store, the wine store, the florist . . .

"Maude," Turing said, through the computer's tiny twin speakers. "Are you busy?"

"Alas, no," she said. She punched a button that would send her memo to Turing's virtual in-box. "I've chastised our black sheep again. I've decided next*tin\e they ask us for a proposal, we're doubling our rates."

"Won't that drive them away?" Turing asked, sounding startled.

"I hope so," Maude said. "If it doesn't, at least they'll pay us enough to put up with their nonsense. What's up:'"

"Tim has a new case," Turing said. "With a computer angle. I suppose you could call it computer forensics."

"Hell need help, then," Maude said.

"He asked if he could borrow Casey," Turing said. "I told him that I had no problem with it, but that I wasn't sure Casey was in today. I haven't seen him. Is he sick?"

"Having his wisdom teeth out, poor lamb," Maude said, looking at her watch. "He had to be there at nine, so he's probably home recovering by now."

A slight pause followed, and she suspected that Turing had done a quick search through a variety of databases for information about human wisdom teeth.

"So he'll be out for a while," Turing said, making it half a question.

"Certainly for the rest of the day," Maude said. "He'll probably be back on Monday, though."

"I'll tell Tim," Turing said. "I suppose that will be soon enough. Unless . . ."

The pause that followed was, Maude deduced, more for effect than anything else. Turing and KingFischer could play an entire chess game in that many seconds.

"Unless what?" she asked.

"You could go," Turing said.

"I'm flattered," Maude said, with a laugh. "But I'm a long way from Casey's league when it comes to anything cybernetic."

"But you know a lot more than Tim, and you learn new computer information much faster than he does, and I could help you," Turing said. "Together, we could do a lot more than Casey."

Maude sat back in her chair and smiled.

"Why do I suspect that you're not very busy, either?" she said.

"Of course I'm busy," Turing said. "I'm always busy. But

none of what I'm doing needs my full attention. Perhaps Tim's case will be different."

"In other words, you're bored, and you want to go play detective," Maude said.

"If you don't want to go . . ." Turing began.

"Of course I want to go," Maude said, reaching for the desk drawer in which she kept her purse. "I'm bored, and I'd love to go play detective."

"Just what does Eddie's business do?" Tim echoed Maude's question. "I'm glad you asked that."

He wedged the cell phone between chin and shoulder. With both hands free, he rummaged through the top layer of papers until he snagged what he needed to answer Maude's Question.

"According to his marketing brochure, he provides web hosting and programming services for small businesses," Tim said, "using stat-of-the-art hardware and software capabilities."

"Shouldn't that be state-of-the-art?"

"Probably," Tim said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Mrs. Stallman wasn't within earshot. "Eddie's no—I was about to say he's no rocket scientist, except he probably could be if he wanted to; but I bet he had a hard time passing his English classes. He's got a few typos in this. He probably wrote and designed it on his own computer. It also says that all his systems are completely redundant. I gather in the world of computers that's a good thing for

some reason

"It means he's got a backup if anything breaks down," Maude said. "That's good, though if I were writing his brochure, I could find a more graceful way xo word it."

"You could probably find a more graceful way to word most of this," Tim said, as he scanned the brochure. "For that matter, even I can write better than Eddie. At least I

Delete All Suspects ES

know enough to use spell check—isn't redundant normally spelled with a final a-n-tT

"Hmph," Maude said. Tim found himself chuckling silently. Maude was a bit of a stickler when it came to spelling and grammar.

"I'll hide the brochure before you get here," he said aloud. "You probably shouldn't read it. He mixes up its and irt, too."

"Barbarian," Maude said. "But not grounds for homicide."

"Only attempted homicide so far," Tim said. "If that."

"You think she's wrong about it being a deliberate attack?"

"Too soon to tell," Tim said, leaning back as far as he dared in Eddie's desk chair, which was literally held together with duct tape. "It sounds shaky to me. If someone's really after him, the automobile's not exactly the world's most efficient murder weapon."

"Oh, really? When was the last time you drove on the Beltway?"

"Efficient at randomly killing people, yes," Tim said, rolling his eyes. "But not so efficient if you want to kill a specific person and then get away with it with your own skin intact. Eddie's still alive, at least for now, and any minute the police could arrest a suspect and make our efforts redundant."

"Just because it's a stupid weapon doesn't mean someone wouldn't try it," Maude said. "Weren't you the one who said most criminals are stupid?"

"Touche," Tim said. "So it's not impossible that this was attempted murder. Besides, officially, we're only supposed to be investigating his business. I wonder if that's not what she's really looking for, anyway."

"You think she cares more about the business than her grandson?"

"No," Tim said. "Not that she cares more. But—"

Just then Mrs. Stallman reappeared, leaning over the stair rail and waving at him. Tim waved back and tried to

Eb Donna Andrews

look preoccupied with the brochure. He suspected that Mrs. Stallman was about to ask him if he wanted another cup of tea and then fix it, regardless of what he answered.

Sure enough, Mrs. Stallman put her thumb and fingers together and lifted an invisible cup of tea to her lips. Tim smiled, shook his head, and patted his stomach. Mrs. Stall-man looked crushed and went upstairs again.

"Tim?" Maude said.

"Sorry," he said. "Mrs. Stallman stuck her head in. Offering me another cup of tea."

"I didn't know you drank tea," Maude said, with a chuckle.

"I don't," Tim said. "But try convincing Mrs. Stallman. I've had four cups of the stuff already."

"She and I should get along just fine."

"Yeah," Tim said, scowling at the half-full cup still resting near his elbow. "Good thing it was a hit-and-run, not strychnine in the tea, or she'd look good for it."

"You don't like her."

"I like her okay, or will when I'm beyond range of her teakettle," Tim said. "I think she's mothering me because she can't do anything for Eddie. He's in a coma, and I get the feeling—"

He stopped and thought. Exactly what feeling did he get from Mrs. Stallman?

"I suspect it's not looking good for Eddie," he said softly. "I think she knows that but doesn't want to admit it. So maybe finding the culprit is her main interest, but maybe she's scared for her future and only expects us to figure out what's fishy with his business. Because I get the idea that without the business, and whatever money Eddie has, she can't stay in this house, where she's probably lived for thirty or forty years. You should see the way she walks around touching things as if. . . I don't know* As vif she hadn't really seen them for years and suddenly realizes she might be losing them. That this might be the last time she can touch them. She's scared."

Delete All Suspects S7

Maude was silent for so long he wondered if she'd lost the signal.

"You there?" he said.

"Just passing Fort Myer," Maude said. "We'll be there in about ten minutes."