Trust Me

file.”
    “Why, that slimy little weasel.” Desdemona’s eyes narrowed. “I liked him. He was so reliable. He was the only really dependable employee I ever had.”
    “Take it easy, Desdemona.”
    “You don’t understand. I trusted him.”
    “So much for the famous Wainwright intuition,” Stark muttered.
    “Hah. That goes to show how much you know. I never got any kind of intuitive feelings one way or the other about Vernon. I just sort of liked him. He seemed like such a nice, quiet, inoffensive man.”
    “That’s what they always say. Maybe next time you’ll be a little more cautious about trusting someone just because he shows up for work on time.”
    “Oh, please.” Desdemona crossed her arms beneath her breasts and gave him a scathing look. “This is no time for one of your pithy little lectures.”
    “Given the fact that I was Tate’s intended victim on this occasion, I think I’ve got a vested interest in hoping that you’ve learned your lesson.”
    Desdemona threw up her hands. “Don’t get any more paranoid on me than you already are. You must admit that this was an extremely unique situation.”
    Stark shrugged and said nothing. The facts spoke for themselves as far as he was concerned. He was not surprised that Desdemona refused to deal with them in a logical fashion. She was a Wainwright.
    Desdemona brightened. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
    “What?” he asked warily. He knew that look on her face. It made him uneasy.
    “It means you accomplished your mission, of course.”
    “My mission?”
    “The job you were doing for me. Heck, you took it one step farther. You not only turned up another viable suspect besides Tony, you’ve as good as proved that Vernon was the would-be thief who went after ARCANE the night of your reception.”
    Stark could not argue the point. “The questions now are, why was Tate killed and who killed him?”
    “What makes you think his murder is connected to his mercenary activities?” Desdemona asked in obvious surprise. “The police are probably right. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He walked into Right Touch the other morning and confronted a burglar. I did the exact same thing.”
    “I’m not a great believer in coincidences,” Stark said. “You had an obvious reason to go to work early. But we still don’t know why Tate was there.”
    “You don’t think he simply got the schedule mixed up?” Desdemona’s eyes widened. “Wait. My computer.”
    Stark shook his head. “Believe me, a guy like Tate would have no interest in your computer or in your business application programs. His own hardware and software were a hell of a lot more sophisticated.”
    “That’s not what I meant,” Desdemona said quickly. “I forgot to tell you that when I turned on my computer this morning I got a message informing me that a power failure had shut down some work in progress. The message asked if I wanted to recover the lost work. I did.”
    “So?”
    “So as far as I know, there was no power failure during a work session. Tony called while I was fussing with the lost files. He helped me recover them. He speculated that someone had been fiddling around with my computer and had turned it off without quitting the program properly.”
    “Possible.”
    “But what if Vernon was the one who had been using my computer, and the burglar interrupted him in the middle of whatever he was doing?” Desdemona’s eyes were alight with excitement.
    “What time was the work saved?”
    She frowned. “I don’t know. I didn’t make a note of the time.”
    Stark looked at her. “What was in the lost files?”
    Desdemona bit her lip. “Garbage. Letters and numbers randomly strung together.”
    “Did you delete the file?”
    Desdemona shook her head. “It’s still on my computer.”
    “I think,” Stark said as he got to his feet, “that I had better take a look at what you found.”
    Desdemona gestured at the screenful of anonymous messages. “What about Vernon’s insurance file?”
    “It’s going to take a lot of time to work through it. I’ll deal with it later.” Stark shut down the computer. He realized his shirt was still unbuttoned. Automatically he started to refasten it. “Let’s go back to your office. I want to see that garbage in the recovered files. I also want to check the time that it was saved.”
    Desdemona regarded him very soberly. “This is getting very messy, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, it is.” Complex