Cat's Claw (A Pecan Springs Mystery)

going to make.”
    Sheila folded her arms and propped one hip against a desk. The lights at the front of the shop dimly lit the area behind the counter. “Who worked on that computer here in the shop?”
    “That’s the interesting thing. Nobody worked on it—at least, that’s what they all claimed. Palmer checked it in just before five on Thursday and left it for the next available tech. The guys who work here sometimes come in after the shop is closed to catch up on a job. But none of them—that would be Henry, Dennis, Richie, and Kirk himself—would admit to coming in on Thursday night, or taking it out of the file cabinet on Friday.”
    “What about Jason?” Sheila asked.
    “Jason?” Bartlett asked, frowning. He reached into his pocket and took out his notebook. “I only know about three guys. Richie Potts, Dennis Martin, Henry Palmer. Four, counting Kirk. I spoke to all of them. None of them owned up to having a look at Timms’ computer.”
    “Dana Kirk mentioned a contract employee named Jason. She didn’t know his last name. Maybe he’s not working here any longer. But we might want to check him out, see if he’s still got a key.”
    “Yeah.” Bartlett took out a pen, clicked it, and made a note. “Anyway, Timms brought his computer in late Thursday afternoon. The break-in happened on Friday night. He was identified on Saturday. The surrender deal was made on Sunday, for today.”
    “So if there was a blackmail threat, presumably Timms received it sometime on Friday. Which is why he came back for his computer on Friday night.”
    Bartlett shrugged. “Possible. Or it’s possible that he’s blowing smoke with the blackmail allegation, which we haven’t nailed down yet. Maybe he simply thought of something naughty that he left on the machine and wanted to get it back before anybody saw it.”
    “If that’s the case, why didn’t he just walk into the shop and ask for it?” Sheila asked. “I’ll have a talk with Charlie Lipman,” she added. “Maybe he knows more than he’s telling us right now.” She pushed out her lips. “Prints on Timms’ machine?”
    Bartlett frowned. “Not sure it was printed when we took it in. And I don’t think Mattie printed the guys who work here, either.” He shook his head ruefully. “I’ll get Butch to dust and print the computer. Didn’t seem important at the time. But now—” He pocketed his notebook.
    “Yeah. Now is a different story,” Sheila said, straightening. “Kirk’s dead and Timms has disappeared.”
    Bartlett cocked his head. “Got a theory or three?”
    Sheila smiled. It was a question Orlando had taught her to ask. How many theories can you spin, kid? The trick was to sketch all the possible explanations that might fit the facts, one, two, three, however many she could think of, no matter how far-out they seemed. Then leave everyone of them on the table until more pieces of evidence became available, eliminating some, making others seem more plausible.
    “A few,” Sheila replied. “The most obvious one is suicide—why, we don’t know. Money, maybe, or the divorce, or his wife sleeping around. There’s the suicide note. But we’d have to understand why he’d write back-to-back emails, one all business and future-oriented, the other announcing that he was ending it. And one way or another, the suicide email rules out accident.” She paused. “A second theory. A robbery gone bad. But there was money in the wallet on the table—
and
the suicide email, both of which cancel that one out.”
    Bartlett nodded. “Agree. Okay, here’s a third. Kirk himself finds something juicy on Timms’ computer and demands money to keep his mouth shut. Timms kills Kirk to keep him quiet and then gets the hell out of Dodge. Seems the likeliest, to me—at least so far. It explains Timms’ absence.”
    “Or one of Kirk’s employees was blackmailing Timms,” Sheila said thoughtfully. “And maybe putting the bite on other customers as well. It might’ve been some kind of long-term racket, small scale, so people paid up and kept their mouths shut. Maybe Kirk found out what was going on and confronted the employee.”
    “Makes sense.” Bartlett pointed a finger and pulled an imaginary trigger. “
Bang
. Employee shoots the boss and attempts to make it look like a suicide. The employee is likely to know the wife’s name, and where to find her in Kirk’s email address book, which would account for the fake suicide note. And in this