Trust Me

came on the line. He sounded preoccupied. “Stark here.”
    “It’s me, Desdemona. I need some advice.”
    “Advice? What’s wrong? What’s that noise in the background?”
    “Don’t ask unless you suddenly develop an overpowering urge to scrub a toilet.” Desdemona waited until the television audience quieted briefly. “Listen, I’m out in the University District, at the house where Vernon lived. Stark, he was a computer buff. A hacker, maybe.”
    “Desdemona – “
    “This is for real. His landlady says he spent all his money on computer equipment. She says he was always fussing with the stuff.”
    “Are you sure?”
    Desdemona knew she had his full attention now. She could always tell when she had his attention. The focused energy coming through the phone line was enough to heat the plastic grip of the receiver. “Yes. When she heard about his death she worried that she wouldn’t get her back month’s rent, so she went up to his room and took his computer. She plans to sell it.”
    “Hmm.”
    “What do you think?”
    “I think it raises some interesting questions.”
    “Well?” Desdemona asked tensely. “Should we buy it?”
    “We?”
    Desdemona was exasperated. “You’re supposed to be my hotshot computer security consultant, remember? I’m asking for a professional opinion. Do you think Vernon’s computer might contain some useful information?”
    “I don’t now.”
    “Should we buy it and see?”
    “All right. Buy it.”
    Desdemona turned toward the wall and lowered her voice. “The landlady wants a hundred and fifty.”
    “What kind of computer is it?”
    “I have no idea. That’s a little beside the point, isn’t it?”
    “No. It could be worth anywhere between fifty or five hundred, depending on the brand, year, and what’s inside.”
    “Stark, this is no time to be overly literal. We’re not buying Vernon’s computer as an investment. We’re looking for clues.”
    “We are?”
    She ignored that. “I’ve only got fifty dollars in my purse, and Ms. Hocks won’t take a check. I’m afraid to leave here without the computer. She might find another buyer while I’m gone.”
    “Give me the address. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
    “Hurry. I have a hunch I’m going to have to watch some very strange television while I’m waiting.”

    Stark knocked on Nadeen’s door thirty-five minutes later. Desdemona leaped out of her chair, galvanized by relief. “That’ll be my friend, Nadeen.”
    “He’d better have the money with him.” Nadeen padded across the tattered carpet and opened the door.
    Stark loomed on the front step. “I’m Stark.”
    “We’ve been waitin’ for you.” Nadeen ushered him into the room. “Got the cash?”
    “Yes. But I’ll have to see the computer, first.”
    Nadeen appeared alarmed. “She said you’d buy it, no questions asked.”
    “I never buy anything unseen,” Stark said.
    Desdemona pointed to Vernon’s computer, which sat in a box near the kitchen. “That’s it over there.”
    Stark glanced at the television set as he walked across the room. He frowned briefly as the talk show host asked a man why he liked to videotape his wife in bed with another man. Then he looked down at the computer.
    “Well?” Nadeen demanded. “What do you think?”
    Stark studied the computer intently for a moment, and then he reached into his pocket for his wallet. “I’ll take it.”
    Desdemona breathed a sigh of relief.
    She waited until she had followed Stark outside and watched him stow Vernon’s computer in the trunk of his car.
    “What do you think?” she asked as he closed the lid of the trunk.
    “I don’t know what to think yet.” Stark took her arm and walked her down the sidewalk to where her car was parked.
    “I almost forgot,” Desdemona said. “I learned something else about Vernon today. He wasn’t a real ice sculptor. He lied about that on his resume. He bought the carvings from a man named Larry Easenly.”
    “How did you discover that?”
    “Easenly called today. He wants to be paid for the last swan. He said Vernon struck a deal with him for the ice work in order to get the job at Right Touch.”
    Stark paused in the middle of the sidewalk. He stared into the distance. “That would mean that Tate knew you needed an ice carver before he even walked through your door to ask for a job.”
    “Yes.”
    “How could he have known?”
    Desdemona thought about it. “Well, it was no secret. Rafael had just