Trouble at Risk-eGames.com To print the all six chapters (but not the conclusion) of Risk-eGames.com, select PRINT from the FILE menu.  Because of space restrictions, the wrap-up containing the resolution must be printed separately. To print the wrap-up, click here. To read the story online, click here. Chapter One I saw everyone that day. That wasn't unusual at our little dot.com. Although the business plan that lured us to the company promised fifty people would be occupying our office space, one year later there were only eight of us divvying up the responsibilities to keep the venture afloat. Archibald Lee, formerly of Lee Information, Lee Publications, Lee News, Lee Partners and Lee Advisors, had come out of early retirement at forty-one to live his dot.com dream. The rest of us were living a dot.com nightmare. We were interested in guaranteeing the quality of our product. Archibald was interested in guaranteeing the quality of our image. He made sure that the decorating looked hip, cool, and very downtown - even though we were stranded in the suburbs. For the past year Risk-eGames had occupied the offices of a venture capital firm that had ventured where no man had gone before and, apparently, no man should have. The investment daring that led to the firm's demise had not been matched by decorating boldness. The previous occupants had gone for an old-school, dark, paneled look. Our founder, Archibald Lee, had tried to update the space with exercise equipment and game tables in the central space that all the individual offices overlooked through glass windows. I'd turned my desk so I wouldn't be tempted to watch the constant comings and goings of the staff. Nonetheless, I spent a lot of my day peeking at the wide variety of activities, business and recreational, that took place in the play area. Everyone passed through the play area that day -- even our educational consultant. I was surprised to see the former employee. When the educator stormed out of the office two months earlier she had vowed never to return. Seeing the pulsating veins at her temples, I had believed her. I didn't know why she returned, but I did understand why she left. Although the former teacher had been brought on-board to guarantee the high standards in the educational games the company developed, she had been unable to detect any trace of instructional content in the products. Few disagreed. I know that I hadn't learned anything from the games - except that I had made a questionable decision when I allowed Archibald Lee to lure me away from my job at a well-established New York financial institution for the dot.com life. All the employees of Risk-eGames were pretty much in the same boat. We'd been drawn to the company by the promise of hard work, big bucks, and early retirement. Our dreams vanished as the bottom fell out of the tech market and we got to know our boss a little better. Replaying my job interview, I recalled Archibald's extensive discussion of the products he was going to develop. I didn't recall his discussing selling those products. Archibald fantasized about the dot.com life, but apparently not about dot.com revenue. After a year, I wondered how long our investors would hold on. Although everyone passed through, no one used the corporate playground that Thursday. No one was in a playful mood. Our prime competitor, All About E-Games, had released a product that not only foreshadowed our release scheduled for the following week, but copied some of the features exactly - including the program's extraordinary use of memory. As Director of Research, I got to deliver the bad news. I arrived at the office first, found the stories, and forwarded them by e-mail to my colleagues. Then I worked on my curriculum vitae as I waited for the explosion. Victor Karinsky, the head of marketing, was the first into my office. He stormed through the door before 9 AM. I believed he had a printout of the story in his hand. But his arm was flailing so quickly in so many directions that I couldn't be certain. Victor was prone to angry explosions, but I'd never seen him so enraged. His frantic motions actually threatened to shake lose his heavily moussed black hair. "Isabella, what do you mean by this?" "I don't mean anything. I don't write them. I just forward them." I reserved courteous customer service for all the other employees. Victor always brought out the worst in me - and just about everyone he met more than once. His ability to make a good first impression was what saved his marketing career. "This is the third time this has happened. This," he slapped the page for emphasis, "is not a coincidence. This," he slapped the paper again just in case I missed his point, "is treachery. This," he slapped the paper one more time in case I had slept through the early part of his tirade "is treason. This," I braced myself for the sound of his fist hitting paper, "is going to end. Someone is going to pay for this." He punctuated the statement with a final jab at the paper. Then, without waiting for my reaction he turned on his heel and left. As always, I was happy to see him go. Eduard, a recent grad of a top ten business school and self-declared business development guru, was more philosophical. His main consideration was that he didn't want to be around when Anthony found out. "That poor kid is going to go nuts." Anthony was older than Eduard, but I couldn't argue with his characterization of Anthony as a kid. Anthony did not want to grow up and probably wouldn't have to. Since dropping out of Harvard he had easily found high paying positions designing online games. At Risk-eGames, the largest percentage of our first round funding went to enticing Anthony to join the company. Was he worth it? Our founder, Archibald Lee, seemed to think so. I suspected he liked Anthony's work. I knew he liked Anthony's wardrobe. Whatever Anthony wore on Tuesday, Archibald wore on Wednesday - or Thursday if the clothing was new and a shopping trip was required. I assured Eduard that Anthony wouldn't be returning from breakfast for at least an hour. Anthony ate all his meals in the coffee shop on the ground floor. Breakfast was his quiet time. He dined without his palm pilot or mobile phone and poured over the sports pages. Rumor had it that Anthony did not maintain an apartment. No one had ever seen him arrive at or depart from work. Anthony appeared to have no family, no social life, no interests - except the software. And, in season, football that he watched evenings and weekends in a bar across the highway. Anthony himself was not athletic. In fact, he raised clumsiness to an art form. He'd once been knocked to the floor simply walking past the treadmill. His only physical activity appeared to be playing table football with Archibald Lee. Even in foosball, he generally lost. Recently, I had begun to suspect that Anthony had one other interest. Her name was Kim Smith and I could understand what a young guy might see in her. Kim had long slim legs, shiny dark hair, and the smooth skin of someone with little stress and less personality. I tried not to see Kim as the stereotype of a perennial A student, but she never betrayed any persona other than the focused, hard-driving, emotionless executive. Well, almost. She did display one emotion regularly: annoyance. Everyone and everything annoyed Kim. Including Anthony. He did not have a clue that was the case. He persisted in making clumsy small talk until he annoyed her even more -- especially when he interrupted her discussions with her partner in business development, Eduard. Eduard and Kim would have been a much a more suitable match and sometimes I wondered if they had reached the same conclusion. With their dark good looks and self-absorbed drive, the two could have been fraternal twins. In three months they had melded into a cohesive team. Eduard was less than a year out of business school. Kim had worked in a New York investment bank and, based on appearances, thought she still did. Everyday in our decidedly informal environment she showed up in a trim dark suit and highly polished high heels. After a few weeks of working in shorts and t-shirts, Eduard had started mimicking her dress. It had been months since I had seen him without a heavily starched white shirt and power tie. The two were sartorial perfection as they conferred on how to react to the bad news. "Why is everyone so upset?" Catrina plopped into the chair across my desk before 10 AM. "I mean, I know it's like bad news and all, but like being all grumpy and all isn't going to help." Part of my reason for leaving the financial firm I worked for in New York was to avoid the stresses of managing a staff of twenty. It wasn't long before I missed the mentor role. I was happy when Catrina, the young designer Anthony hired, began coming to me for guidance. Catrina was young and enjoying her first job out of school. She didn't understand business. She certainly didn't understand what the news meant to the majority of Risk-egames' employees. Unlike the rest of us, Catrina wasn't working for equity. It was while I was explaining the situation that I saw Anthony return from the coffee shop and bounce across the playpen. Anthony always bounced - quite frequently off walls and pieces of furniture. Bad eyesight didn't account for his inability to navigate the world. Anthony could spot a ship before it came over the horizon, but not notice a chair three feet in front of him. Perhaps the vacant smile he wore was a true reflection of his state of mind. He wore that grin as he headed for his office. He did not wear it long. Across the hall I saw Anthony raving. Eduard and Kim were trying to calm him down. Victor rushed into my office. When he spoke, he sounded frantic. "When is Archibald coming?" Soon it turned out. Archibald Lee, Risk-eGames founder and CEO, stormed down the hallway and headed straight for Anthony's office. I knew that his first priority would be to persuade Anthony to stay. Although the temperature was forty degrees, Fahrenheit, Archibald was wearing wide white shorts that revealed white hairy legs, Hawaiian shirt in shades of shocking pink and orange, and a team cap turned backwards. I'd seen Archibald in the days when he was living his 1980's Wall Street dream. The three hundred pound mound of muscle looked better in a dark suit and power tie. And, I was certain, might again - after he woke from his dot.com dream. Things had seemed to settle down by 6 PM. Or at least that was the impression I got from Victor. He, Eduard, Kim, Archibald and Anthony had spent much of the day huddled together in various configurations and with various results. Sometimes I heard the laughter of happy camaraderie; other times I heard the roar of heated arguments. The reading on the panic meter dropped considerably after Archibald ushered a still aggravated Anthony out of the office. Relative calm had descended on the office by the time Catrina and Kim followed. "Not much more can be done here tonight that I can't do at home. Catrina is giving me a ride. I can't find my keys." Kim was almost pleasant as she made an uncustomary stop at my door to say goodnight. "I am sure tomorrow will be a better day." At 7 PM, Victor dropped by and asked me if I could check on several companies. "I've got it under control, Isabella. Tomorrow we . . . Eduard, Kim and I . . . will share our recovery plan. Quite a day, eh?" At 8 PM, I found Victor in my office when I returned from picking up a sandwich. He'd come back to remind me he didn't need the information that night. "I really think the crisis has passed. We can recover. I'm no longer worried. I'm fine." He never asked how I was. I didn't expect him to. At 9 PM, Victor came back to make sure I knew that I would be the last one in the office. He was leaving. "I'll lock you in. Make sure things are locked up when you leave." I had no plans to leave. I worked late most Thursday nights in the hopes of an early departure on Friday. After the distractions of the day, I had a lot to do. It was close to midnight when it started. I was alone. I knew from a trip to the copy room that all the offices were empty. The door to the conference room was, as usual, closed. No light shone under the door. The solitude was not at all surprising - or disturbing. Most Thursday nights I was the only one working late. Except, of course, for the omnipresent Anthony. But that Thursday the Webmaster was nowhere to be seen. After Archibald Lee walked his weeping employee out the front door hours before, I hadn't seen either of the men again. As I approached my desk, it happened. I had just grabbed a tissue to compensate for the lack of paper towels in the ladies room. As I dried my hands, I absentmindedly checked my reflection in the mirror. Suddenly, my image disappeared. When it reappeared, my face combined shock, puzzlement and a fair dose of fear. All the lights in all the offices continued to blink. Not from a mechanical glitch. Repeatedly. As if somewhere someone held a hand on the switch and flipped it up and down. That was my first impression - and my last impression before I fled. I grabbed my bag and, dodging the amusements strewn across the floor, ran past the empty offices toward the exit. The lights continued to flash. I didn't wait to figure out why. I was moving fast as I rammed into the metal firedoor that opened to the stairwell. The force slammed the heavy door into the wall. I didn't stop to check for damage. I charged up the staircase. I had to climb two flights to my parked car. Behind me, I heard what I hoped was the echo of my own footsteps. Only at the first landing did I realize that I'd been holding my breath. I reminded myself to breathe. One flight to go. I huffed and puffed as I headed up to the roof. At the top of the stairs, I charged through the exit to the rooftop parking. I heard the door bang shut behind me and prayed that I was the only person who'd come outside. I didn't dare turn to check. The inadequate lighting on the roof wasn't helped by the faint light thrown by a quarter moon. I dug out my overstuffed keyring as I ran past the few cars left in the lot. My fingers worked through the keys searching for the right one. In the dark, in a panic, they all felt the same. As I bumped into a jeep, the entire bunch slipped from my fingers. I stopped to pick them up as the car alarm alternated wailing with a plaintive call: Stop Thief. No one came to help the car - or me. I was alone. That was the good news. After a struggle with the manual lock, I climbed into the driver's seat. I stuck the key in the ignition and pumped the gas. I cursed the old vehicle until the engine turned over and the car jerked out of the space. The engine sputtered to a stop. I cursed my driving. The engine stalled. I cursed the car. I got the engine started again and this time I didn't falter. I pulled away with screeching tires. The driver's door flung wide open as I turned. I didn't hesitate. I waited for the force of the next turn to move it close. Then I pulled it shut. I wasn't about to stop - or slow down. I spun down the ramps at high speed. Turns I generally took at twenty miles per hour, I took at fifty. I could still hear the pounding of my heart over the screeching brakes. Luckily there were few cars left in the lot. I cut across the empty spaces to shave seconds off my time to the exit. I knew I faced a security gate at the bottom of the ramp. I gripped my access card in my hand. By the time the barrier came into view, I'd made a decision. If the restraining arm failed to open on the first try, I was going through. I waited to roll down the window until I was beside the ticket console. With one foot on the gas, I pushed the card into the slot. As I did, every light in the parking lot went out. I hit the gas. Chapter Two My tardiness on Friday morning had nothing to do with Thursday night's events. Since the company initiated "dress-up Friday," I initiated "arrive-late Friday." Although I had climbed into a suit every day for over ten years, I was no longer comfortable with the rituals of achieving full business attire. Even dressed and accessorized, speed was still not a viable option. High-heeled shoes, now unfamiliar to my feet, further impeded my progress. As on every Friday for the last three months, I was running late when the parking lot gate, still intact, responded to my keycard. By the time the sun came up, I had dismissed the previous night's odd events as a joke. Not a very funny joke but a joke, nonetheless. An elaborate, well-planned prank. I had decided to be a good sport about it. Okay, I had decided to pretend to be a good sport about it. I'm not a fan of practical jokes - especially when I am the victim. Given the news All About E-games released yesterday, things were going to be tense enough at the office without my taking offense at a trick that turned out to be harmless. I parked next to Kim's oversized jeep with the vanity plate BIG DEAL. The license described both her activities and her self-image. It wasn't until I found the office eerily quiet that I recalled the young woman had lost her keys and left her car in the lot overnight. I was the first to arrive. Most mornings Anthony called out an absent-minded greeting but that day the office remained silent. I figured the game developer had taken his usual morning break to visit the coffee shop where he ate all his meals. For the first time I realized Anthony must control the office thermostat. The air was chilly as I limped through toys, games and exercise equipment in the play area to my office. So far I'd walked no more than two hundred yards total and already my shoes were killing my feet. Not all my pain was physical. The events of the previous day sat on my shoulders like a five hundred pound boulder. I pondered the company's and my own future as I settled into the molded piece of plastic that Archibald Lee deemed cool enough for an office chair. Every morning I wondered if he had actually sat on the alarmingly expensive furniture before he made the purchase. He was astute enough that he didn't put one of the pieces in his office. The rest of us suffered for his image. I'd finished my coffee and muffin, run through my early morning routine, and perused the SLA directory for job-search contacts before anyone else arrived. The good news that morning was that there was no bad news. The lack of negative information did not guarantee that the day would be easy. Yesterday's disaster still loomed large. Kim was the next arrival. She stopped at my door to explain that losing her keys made her late. She had taken the bus to work. "You should have called me. I would have picked you up." Kim appeared at first puzzled and then thoughtful. "Yes, that would have made sense, wouldn't it?" She issued a terse smile, returned her facial muscles to their usual scowl, and moved on to her office. I watched Kim cross the play area with long purposeful strides. Kim liked doing business development for Risk-eGames. She just didn't like Risk-eGames - or its employees. She'd come from Wall Street. She'd fought hard to get there. Never forgetting that her grandmother scrubbed floors to put her through school, Kim worked hard to honor the woman's memory. Kim moved fast and produced results. Risk-eGames was a major disappointment for the hard-driving businesswoman. Not that Kim shared her views with me. But I knew Kim and I knew Risk-eGames. Kim wasn't about to waste her time - and it was beginning to look like we all were. I'd been at the company for over a year reassuring myself daily that we would have a product next month. We'd gotten close. At one point if you'd visited our web site you could have enjoyed watching the screen flash LOADING indefinitely. That development pretty much told the Risk-eGames story. I was wrapping a shawl around my suit jacket when Victor arrived at my office door. I started at the sight of the marketing VP leaning against my door jam. "I didn't see you come in. This morning. Or now. Sorry." Victor shrugged. Unlike me, Victor appeared to relish dress-up Friday. Aside from the bags under his eyes that said he hadn't gotten much sleep, Victor looked impeccable. Not good - but extremely well turned out. His suit was a shiny silk blend that turned from black to blue as he moved in the light. His shirt was white, high collared and so heavily starched that he inserted a finger between the collar and his neck every few minutes to prevent chaffing. His cufflinks and his wedding ring sparkled with diamonds. When, on dress-up Friday, Victor added his flamboyant collection of suits and ties to his everyday look of overly moussed hair and big jewelry, he resembled a gangster even more than he did most days. Victor had asked for research on several companies and individuals before he made eye contact. "I'm sorry if I'm being a bit . . . well if I'm not . . . I am feeling very tense after what happened yesterday." Victor's edge was growing softer - but I bet it could still cut. "I have a family. I took a huge gamble coming here. I can't afford to have something like this happen repeatedly. I mean once maybe . . . but this isn't the first time. We've been so close. That bug in the last release. How could that have happened? It was impossible. I don't think Anthony is that dumb. It was sabotage. It had to be." Paranoia? I'd seen symptoms of the disease in Victor before. He often hinted that I didn't give his research requests priority, that he believed that Eduard and Kim were in collusion to oust him, and that Archibald liked everyone better than him. Actually, I thought he was right on that last point. "I thought I was willing to take a chance but I didn't really believe it could fail." Victor dabbed sweat from his forehead with a monogrammed handkerchief. "I need this to work. This has to work. I can't afford too much more time without return." We hadn't forced Victor to accessorize his life with a trophy house, a trophy wife and two so-far adorable children that he was trying to mold into reflections of his own material success. My tone was not sympathetic. "We're all in the same boat, Victor." "Sure." He sounded bitter and unbelieving. Although each employee of Risk-eGames faced tragedy from boarding a sinking ship, I had the feeling Victor's boat was taking on water faster than the others'. Victor shivered. From the unusual cold in the office or from fear? I wasn't sure but to eliminate the possibilities I asked him to check the thermostat on his way back to his office. Minutes later Kim showed up at my door to express her most recent annoyance. "I can't believe Eduard isn't here yet. You would think today -- of all days -- he could drag himself out of bed and get here at a reasonable hour. We are in a state of crisis. I am ready to act." Having made the pronouncement she charged back to her office nearly knocking down Catrina in the process. "What's her problem?" Catrina remained bright-eyed and optimistic in the face of adversity - partially because of an extremely upbeat personality and partly because of ignorance. The young designer had no concept of the damage done by yesterday's events. "Catrina, everyone here is worried about their livelihood. What happened yesterday is devastating to the company. We are all concerned about the future." "There are other jobs." Catrina chirped. Not just then -- all the time. She was short and muscular with big round eyes and cheeks to match. She dressed in flowing pastel dresses - generally flowered. Her physical presence screamed naïve. I didn't argue with Catrina's view of the job market. Her claim was true for new graduates looking for entry-level positions. The other Risk-eGames employees, however, had given up a lot in the hopes of a big payoff. "Kim left a really good job at a New York firm. Victor left a product manager position at a Fortune 100 manufacturing company. Eduard turned down a lot of good offers when he got out of business school to come here." "Anthony can get a job anytime he wants." That was true -- now. But how could he explain what happened at Risk-eGames? Or more importantly what didn't happen. Anthony insisted on doing it all -- from content to design to coding. He got all the glory, but he also took all the blame. As for the rest of us, it wasn't simply a question of when we would land appropriate positions. We'd all been at the firm at least a year. We needed to be compensated for the time we'd spent at Risk-eGames. I wasn't about to tell Catrina that I was taking only a minimal payment in cash and the rest in equity. If that equity didn't prove to have value, I, like everyone else, would have lost money at the start-up. Kim was back at my door exceeding her normal daily visit average by 100%. I greeted her with a forced camaraderie. "I was just talking to Catrina about yesterday's developments. Kim, what do you make of this turn of events?" "I refuse to worry. I always know what to do and how to do it. We will survive and flourish." She shrugged. "We will overcome this problem. The market is still there." She eyed her $3,000 watch. "Where's Eduard? I expect this of Archibald. Our noble founder and CEO is probably competing in some stupid skateboarding competition. Anthony was probably here all night fiddling with his programs. He's entitled to a break. You know how he gets." To my mind, it wasn't a question of "how he gets." It was more about "how he is." Even when he was physically present, I was never quite sure where Anthony was. Anthony's family wanted him to be a doctor. Thank goodness the game developer decided against a career in medicine. Acing medical school would have been no problem. But practicing? He probably would have wondered off in the middle of surgery and forgotten where he left the patient. His father actually knew that and as a last ditch effort tried to talk him into being a pathologist. If he worked as a medical examiner his patients would already be dead. But I figured he could still lose them. I think Anthony made a good decision to follow his passion for computers. I also agreed with Kim's assessment that irresponsible behavior was expected from Anthony but not from Eduard. Kim continued to rant. "I can understand Anthony's absence. But Eduard? This isn't like Eduard. He's late. He's never late." I protested, "He's always late." Not that Eduard saw it that way. He felt he was on time at 11AM. Eduard had an active social life - at least according to Eduard. "He said he'd present his plan for counteraction first thing this AM." "First thing in the AM for Eduard is eleven. I wouldn't worry." "Not today of all days. I can't believe Eduard would be so irresponsible." Annoyance came naturally to Kim. She could inject a liter of annoyance into a sentence with only a milliliter of effort. "Eduard is not irresponsible. He cares a lot. Just the other night I went out after work and came back to pick up my car. I saw Eduard leaving the office at 2AM. That's not irresponsible." Catrina barely suppressed the rage in her voice but - and I know this is hard to understand - it was still a cheerful rage. Kim directed a hard stare at Catrina and then proceeded as if the young woman hadn't spoken. "I'm going to get Victor. Why don't we start the meeting without Eduard? If he can't bother getting here . . ." Her voice trailed off. "Isabella, why don't you sit in?" My brow grew furrowed. Kim never treated me or my function with any respect. I didn't take it personally. Kim never actually treated anyone with any respect. She flashed one of her insincere smiles. "Research will be such an important part of this effort." I knew that. I just couldn't believe Kim knew that. The woman never seemed to realize anyone's value but her own. "We're meeting in the conference room. Eduard was going to put the agenda on the board. We don't have to wait for him. Go ahead in. I'll get Victor and join you." Catrina's voice was relentlessly upbeat as she inquired. "Should I join you too?" Kim considered the young woman with a scowl on her face. As the muscles relaxed, she almost smiled. "Why not? If it's okay with your boss." "Anthony isn't here. I'm sure it will be okay." I, too, was fairly sure it would be okay with Anthony. Archibald had forced an assistant on our FunMeister, as Archibald liked to call Anthony. Anthony didn't care what Catrina did as long as she didn't interfere with his work. He'd be happy if we kept Catrina busy at a meeting all day every day. Catrina looked at me eagerly. "That was nice of her." "Yeah." I answered doubtfully. Maybe a crisis brought out the best in Kim. I watched her step into Victor's office and urge him to hurry. Then she returned to our own office to gather her papers. I picked up my notebook and with Catrina in tow headed for the conference room. "Aren't you going to wear shoes?" The young woman nodded at my feet. The high-heeled shoes were still under the desk. "Suddenly we have a dress code?" "No way. I just think it's cold to go barefoot in here today. Don't you think?" I didn't think so then but I didbut I did think when my foot hit a wet spot on the carpet in front of the conference room door. "Wow, cold." I yelped as I stepped inside our small meeting room. "What's wrong?" Catrina sounded inappropriately concerned. "Nothing . . . except . . .what the . . . all the windows are open in here." The three windows in the room were flung wide open to admit the chill air. That was when I spotted him at the head of the conference room table with his head on the shiny wood surface. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty. It's time to rise and shine." I turned my back to close each of the windows. "I guess you figured keeping these windows open would keep you awake. Good theory, it just didn't work." I glanced over my shoulder. "Come on. We're going to start the disaster-control meeting." At the door, Catrina leaned against the doorjamb. "You're being too polite." She walked over, grabbed his left shoulder and shook playfully. His left hand fell from the tabletop towards the floor. The sun reflected off the face of his Rolex. Catrina stood with a puzzled expression on her face before trying again. "He won't wake up?" My expression had not yet changed from puzzled to concerned. Catrina leaned across the man's broad back for a look at his face. For the first time since I met her, Catrina's expression lost any trace of optimism. I followed her gaze to a large bruise with a small cut on the man's right cheek. "Isabella, he isn't going to wake up. Not now. Not ever." Chapter Three Catrina and I stood at the far end of the conference room table staring at the victim. Catrina fought back tears and chewed frantically on her blue nail polish. I focused on bringing my breathing into line. It appeared that the deceased had been preparing a presentation when he died. The beginning of a detailed agenda was written on the whiteboard. Papers and transparencies were strewn in front of him. He never used presentation software but not because he couldn't. He was a whiz on all computer applications. My guess was that he still used transparencies because of their flexibility but more importantly because he liked to smell the magic markers. Poor Eduard. It appeared that he had sniffed his last magic marker. Catrina was so rattled she tried three times to punch in the three digit code to summon assistance. Finally, Kim stepped into the conference room, sized up the situation quickly and grabbed the phone from Catrina's hand. Once she reached emergency services, events moved quickly. The ambulance arrived minutes after Kim made the call. Only moments later, as all his coworkers clustered at the door to the meeting room, Eduard Silver, freshly minted MBA and Risk-eGames Vice President of Business Development, was declared dead. Over the next half-hour, uniformed police officers streamed into the office followed closely by plains clothes detectives, crime scene investigators and staff from the medical examiner's office. The employees of Risk-eGames watched the cops swarm through play area into the conference room from our offices around the perimeters of the play area. When the uniformed policemen came to collect our trash cans, they'd asked us not to leave - but also not to interfere. We were stranded in our offices. Catrina chose to be marooned with me. "Why did the paramedics call the police?" She continued to bite at her thumbnail although I saw no trace of blue gloss left on the surface. "Catrina, I think it might have something to do with the dead man in our conference room." "People die all the time." "At twenty-five years old? With big bruises on their right cheeks?" She looked at me with disbelief. "Who would want to hurt Eduard? Who . . . who . . ." She actually said more but I couldn't understand her words through her sobs. I pulled a box out of my drawer and rolled my chair around the corner of desk. I hoped the move looked like an effort to offer Catrina solace as well as tissues. What I really wanted to do was to watch the action through my office window. Actually all I could see was a bunch of suits and uniforms swarming around in the conference room. Close to an hour passed before a long, gray, wool suit emerged from the crowd. In it was a man of about forty who appeared older given the shock of white hair that topped his six-foot frame. He stopped at my office door, flashed a set of teeth as white as his hair, and asked if he could come in. I wanted to ask him where he got a tan in the middle of winter but realized he was the one who would be asking the questions. He stated with a simple one. "May I come in?" I nodded at one of the visitor's chair. The cop settled into the chair and crossed his legs ankle to knee. He appeared relaxed, confident, and friendly -- and as threatening as a blowtorch to an ice sculpture. "I hear you're the head of research. That seems like a good place to start an investigation." He laughed lightly and insincerely then introduced himself as Detective Pete. "Detective Pete? Don't police usually use their last name?" "My last name is Peet." He spelled his surname for me. "Oh. Sorry." I adjusted the letters in my head. Detective Peet verified my vital information and recorded it in a notebook. Name, address, title. I confirmed that his visit was actually a formal interrogation. The news made my heart race. Cops make me feel guilty - especially when I am innocent. "So what can you tell me about the victim, Eduard Silver." The question was not what could I tell him but what would I tell him. It seemed too early to speak ill of the dead and it was hard to talk about Eduard without speaking ill. "Eduard just got out of business school last year. Seemed like a smart kid. A little cocky." The detective snorted as if he'd heard that before. Maybe I wasn't the first person he talked to after all. "Eduard turned down a lot of offers to join Risk-eGames. I believe he is doing a good job. Was. Was doing. I'm not really the person to ask. He worked on bringing in second round investors and then focused on finding partners for product development." The cop wanted to know about our products. "I looked at your web site. It didn't tell me much." If the cop were more astute about the World Wide Web, he would have realized the website told him everything. www.risk-egames.com represented a triumph of form over substance. Risk-eGames was a company full of highly-qualified people with a website that totally lacked content. "I don't really have anything to do with our site." My tone was defensive. "I realize that." The detective's tone was soothing. "The site told me loads about the company . . . rather unintentionally I believe. Yet after looking at it, I don't feel I have a grasp of the products. I thought you could help me." I cleared my throat. "We've had some problems." I explained that although we all believed Anthony to be a great game developer, possibly a genius, we worried that he might, in fact, be a cursed genius. His ideas sounded great on paper and looked great in test. They were a little violent for some of our tastes but flashy, sophisticated and innovative. Nonetheless, a virus that Anthony could neither explain nor justify doomed the first scheduled release. The web developer had, however, made the best of cleaning up that disaster. For our next release, he had upgraded the product and made massive improvements in memory handling. We were ready to go again when yesterday's disaster had occurred. "Victor, the marketing VP, suggested sabotage. Maybe he's right." The detective answered with "Hmmmmh." We would all hear a lot of "Hmmmmhs" before the day would be over. "When you found the body, did you have any thoughts about any employee that would want to kill Eduard?" I flipped through the list of colleagues quickly considering not who might want to kill Eduard but who could have killed Eduard. Archibald? No way. Even if he weren't harmless, our CEO couldn't organize a murder. I'd watched Archibald try to organize a business. He was an idea man but I didn't think he could come up with such a sinister one. Victor? He had the temper to kill but I thought he was more likely to be killed. Victor was clearly the most annoying employee in an office full of annoying people. Or so I thought until Eduard showed up dead. I reconsidered. Victor was strong enough to leave a bruise on Eduard's face but so were any of the men. Anthony? The day computers could kill would be the day Anthony would become dangerous. I didn't feel he was capable of murder but if it turned out that he was capable, he still wouldn't be able to pull it off without leaving tons of physical evidence. Anthony was at two with the universe. Kim? The calculating executive had her entire life planned. She wasn't about to let a murder charge interfere with her goals. Kim gave the impression she wanted to kill almost everyone and everything she came into contact with -- including Eduard on occasion. She hadn't killed any of us yet. Why start now? Catrina? The idea struck me as most ludicrous. Catrina was a throwback to the age of the flower power. Naïve was too weak a word to describe her view of the world. Catrina resided in a fantasyland from which she showed no signs of moving until forced. The cop waited patiently for my answer. When I didn't produce one, Detective Peet posed another question. "When you realized Eduard was murdered, what did you think?" I stared at the detective blankly. "I don't know. I was so shocked . . . I felt numb. I still do." Detective Peet ran me through the previous day's activities. What time I got in. What time everyone else came in. What I worked on. When he asked if anything out of the ordinary had happened, I shrugged. "Not really. Unless you count the thing about the lights." When he asked for clarification, I told him about the flashing lights the night before. The cop stared at me with bright blue eyes from which he fought to drive, unsuccessfully, mounting amusement. "You forgot to mention this?" I explained that my little inconvenience hardly seemed to matter given what happened to Eduard. "Besides I convinced myself it was a practical joke." "And you didn't think it was related." I shrugged and shook my head. "Do you still think it was a prank?" The cop and I were now thinking the same thing. Someone was very interested in getting me out of the office. "So they could kill Eduard?" "Or," the detective paused for effect, "so you wouldn't find Eduard's body." "What was the time of death?" The detective explained that the initial estimate was just that - an estimate. He moved on without telling me what that estimate was. I got the message that he would be asking the questions. "When did you last see Eduard Silver?" "I never saw him after. . . I can't actually remember. It's hard to know because sometimes he goes outside and smokes. Eduard does. Did. I've been trying but I don't recall the last time I saw him. Everyone was in and out of that conference room all day. I didn't keep track. A few people stopped to say good-bye when they left." At his prompting I recalled saying goodnight to Kim, Catrina and Victor. Eduard didn't say goodnight. I thought he was gone before the others left." He noted the information - literally. He wrote the names in his notebook without comment. "Was Eduard a heavy smoker?" "He is. Was. Which is pretty dumb since he has asthma. Had." The detective seemed interested. "Severe asthma?" "I'm no doctor. I have a slight case of asthma that kicks up with my allergies. His is much more severe. Was." "Hmmmmh." Detective Peet asked me each time I had seen each employee the day before. He wanted me to recall every request for research. "So much was done on the fly. Basically, all anyone wanted all day was anything I could find on All About E-Games and their staff." "How did you do that?" I explained the online resources I'd used. "Plus we had copies of a couple of magazines around. Victor came in to get some paper copies." The detective wanted to know why he might have done that. "Depends on what source I used to search. If I didn't give them graphics they might have wanted the charts, graphs, any visual representation of the information in the article. Maybe a photo but more likely some chart. They were planning a counterattack against All About E-games. They had to know everything about them. Victor still has the journals." Detective Peet wandered off to collect the magazines from Victor. From my office I watched Victor dig the journals out of a pile on his desk. He appeared to be cooperating with the policeman eagerly. Earlier I'd watched him approach some of the uniformed policeman with a smiling face. He seemed eager to tell his story. I decided to make a point of dropping by to hear that story. I'd have to wait, however. Kim slipped into his office as soon as the detective slipped out. The two colleagues stood at the window watching the police activities with wide-eyed frowns. I studied their behavior carefully. As much as I disliked them both -- and that was very much -- I couldn't see either of them as murderers. I couldn't believe anyone in our little dot.com was capable of murder. The cop flipped the pages as he returned to the office next to mine. I'd recommended that the police use the space for interviews as they politely called their interrogations. At the time I hadn't realized how that advice would benefit me. A few minutes later the detective was back at my door. "What was the deceased's full name?" "Eduard H. Silver." "Do you know what the 'H' was?" He was surprised when I explained it stood for Harry. "That's odd. Eduard seemed like such a formal name; Harry is casual in my mind." When I told the cop Harry was Eduard's mother's maiden name, he perked up. "Really. Hhmmmmh." I was beginning to feel like the cop's partner when he reminded me not to leave the office. "I thought we might all hang out today to see if we can get this wrapped up." His blue eyes sparkled as he stepped towards my office door. "Will the forensics be ready by the end of the day?" The detective chuckled. "Never heard of good old-fashioned police work? We've been catching killers in this town for two hundred years without forensics." Yeah, but the right killer? I took solace in the knowledge that I couldn't be a suspect. I'd seen the bruise on Eduard's cheek. No way I could have done that. I told the detective so. "Oh I know who hit Eduard." I stared at the detective with amazement. "You know who killed Eduard." "Hardly. I know who hit him. It took more than a punch to kill Eduard Silver." Chapter 4 I guess I should have told the police that I could overhear everything that went on in the office next to me. When I recommended they interview employees in the unused space, I didn't realize the acoustics made the wall disappear. If the cops had asked, I would have admitted it. They didn't ask - so what I did was close my office door and sit quietly perusing the SLA web site for new employment opportunities. I didn't want any noise in my office to tip them off. I liked being in the know. The police interviewed Kim first. I'm not sure if they wanted to. The young woman presented herself in one of the twenty suits she owned - all small, all expensive, all black and accessorized with a wide range of beige tone blouses. Along with her expensive jewelry, her haughty manner completed the image of a successful executive. "Let's get this over with so I can get back to work." It was obvious any mourning period for Eduard would be short. Actually, I had the feeling it was pretty much over by the time the investigation began. I didn't get much new information from eavesdropping on Kim's interrogation. She punctuated most sentences with a yawn as she reviewed the story of her lost keys and her ride home with Catrina. She described her working relationship with Eduard which was, as she told it, the extent of their friendship. "You never saw him socially?" Detective Peet asked the question. Kim paused before answering. "Accidentally once." She mentioned a restaurant at the opposite end of the metropolitan area - an odd area for either of the image-conscious executives to visit. "He was dining with a friend from business school. I didn't catch the name or if I did, I didn't retain it." The detective pressed to see if she and Eduard had planned to meet. "No way. He actually seemed a little disturbed to see me which annoyed me since I always figured we were friends at work. Ah well, you never know." Kim yawned emphatically and explained where the detective could find her. Her tone indicated-clearly-that he would not be welcome. "I'll be there after I take a run - if that's okay with you?" It wasn't okay with the cop. Kim told the policeman that he could not make her stay but then rethought her attitude. "I'll just hang around here. We have a lot to do today." I heard the door slam - I assumed at Kim's hand. I kept browsing the SLA job listings as the detective brought the employees in one by one. I tried to take meaning from the order but there did not appear to be any. Catrina was next. The detective asked her the same questions he had asked me and then Kim. I realized what he really wanted from Catrina was verification that she driven Kim home. No problem. Kim and Catrina told the same story. Then the detective pressed Catrina about the nature of her relationship with Eduard. I was surprised when Catrina's reserve broke. "Okay. I had a little crush on him. No one understood him like I did. He seemed cold and calculating . . ." Yes, I thought as she paused, because he was cold and calculating. When the detective asked Catrina about the nature of their relationship, my heart sank. "He never asked me out or anything but I knew we had a special relationship. I never told him I loved him . . . maybe now . . . I should have . . . I know." There was a period of silence punctuated by sniffles. "When we found him, he looked so cute. He had that little red dot on his nose." The detective was flummoxed by the red dot comment. I knew exactly what Catrina meant. Eduard had a habit of sniffing magic markers. While most of us enjoyed watching the otherwise fastidious Eduard operate with a small red dot on his nose, apparently Catrina had found the habit endearing. "Were you romantically involved?" I leaned forward to hear the answer and noticed Archibald rollerblading towards my office. I jumped up, ran to the door and missed Catrina's answer. I stopped the CEO outside my door. He assumed, mistakenly, that I was glad to see him. "Got here as soon as I could." Apparently the founder of our high tech company had not heard of the internal combustion engine. Or dress-up Friday. That day he wore a bright red sweat suit of nineteen seventies vintage - cut off at the knees for an ineffective imitation of the hip-hop look that Anthony had sported the day before. "Where is everyone?" All that was required to answer that question was a quick swivel of the head to survey the offices surrounding the central play area. "In their offices, I think. The police are interviewing everyone. Detective Peet is setting up headquarters in the empty office next to mine." I indicated his location with a nod of the head. "Detective Pete? Is that like Cowboy Bob?" He chuckled. "Where's Anthony?" Archibald zeroed in on his favorite employee -- the one he felt could not be replaced. When I told him that the web developer wasn't back yet he asked for Victor. "He left me a dozen messages overnight. I had to turn the ringer off." "You could have talked to him." I stared at the man with a blank expression. He reciprocated for a full minute before rolling off in search of Victor but Victor wasn't available. He was on his way to see Detective Peet. I wanted to get back to my post to eavesdrop but I was distracted by Anthony's arrival. "Good morning, everyone. Beautiful morning, isn't it?" Anthony waved a long, lanky arm at the entire office. "Anthony, my boy." Archibald glided to his side. "I was worried about you. How are you doing?" Neither of the men seemed to notice that they were dressed like twins. Anthony responded to Archibald's inquiry with two thumbs up and a happy smile. "Just finebut why did I have to get by two cops to come in here?" "Well son, I have some bad news." Archibald wrapped an arm around Anthony's shoulder and explained that Eduard was dead. "Really." Anthony pondered the information. "So what's the bad news?" Did anyone really appreciate the fact that someone had died here? An unlikable someone but someone. I was the only one fighting back tears - well not right then but there had been a moment. I may not have liked Eduard, and let's face it who could, but he had a mother and a father and a sister who loved him. Okay a mother and a father. Catrina had told me that Eduard and his sister were not speaking because he had cajoled their grandmother into leaving everything to him. Nonetheless, the lack of respect for his passing was beginning to irritate me. It annoyed Detective Peet as well. After he'd finished interrogating Victor I heard him mumble in a stage whisper, "I hope he did it." But little in Victor's interview indicated that he had. At least the part of the interview that I heard. All I caught was Victor's rant that he and all the other Risk-eGames employees were the real victims. By time he'd repeated his claim four times, Detective Peet seemed eager to get him out of the room. Anthony's interview included little that marked him as a suspect. At least if his alibi for the entire night checked out. Anthony had boasted that he'd met a girl -- which was miraculous considering the bright red shorts and shirt he was wearing for the second day in a row. Anthony explained that Archibald gave him football tickets. At the game, Archibald had introduced him to a young woman that he'd left only a hour before. Anthony had gotten lucky in more ways than one. Most nights he would have been alone at Risk-eGames without an alibi. Rumor had it that Anthony did not even bother to maintain a residence. Only extreme, if freaky, good luck had taken him out of the office the previous night. "Was your encounter with that woman the only reason you were late this morning?" "Yep. I got a voice mail from Kim from home about the meeting but I had already left a message here that I would be late. I didn't bother calling her back at home. She said she was going to bed. Everyone knew where I would be. You know the killer could have gotten me too if I were here. Luckily I wasn't." I don't know if Anthony realized just how lucky he was. His mood was certainly joyful. He couldn't hide his exuberance. He made no effort to hide it. He was willing to share everything about his evening in more detail than I wanted to know. I suspected that Detective Peet felt the same. He wanted to hear about Anthony's experience at Risk-eGames."They were lucky to get me. I am very good at what I do. I have over twenty years experience designing games." The cop interrupted. "How old are you?" "Twenty seven." Anthony replied without irony. "I see." The cop couldn't have sounded less convinced. By the time he tripped over a chair on his way out of the office, Anthony had convinced me of his innocence. Detective Peet saved Archibald for last. The two had stood silently as Eduard's body was rolled by. Neither seemed more concerned than when the lunch cart passed - and they seemed less interested. I could understand such a reaction in a cop. I found the indifference a bit frightening coming from Archibald. Archibald was accommodating - almost jolly during his interrogation. I'd had to feign filing near the common wall to hear Anthony's testimony. He'd spoken in low almost muffled tones. That type of action was in no way necessary when Archibald was speaking. His loud voice could be heard easily through the connecting wall as he rambled - about everyone but himself. He gave his assessment of the financial needs of each employee. I was interested to hear that he viewed me as "solid and stable." According to him that made me the odd person out at Risk-eGames. Without the cop's asking, he claimed that Victor spent every cent he got. True. Kim splurged only on items that used to make an impression. Otherwise she still had the first penny she ever made. True. And Anthony still had every penny he ever made. Right again. Archibald had gone on to relate the story that other employees suspected that Anthony didn't even have an apartment. Detective Peet wanted to hear about Archibald but our CEO didn't catch on - or pretended not to. The cop eventually wheedled a timeline of the days previous activities out of Archibald. The time he arrived at the office. The meetings he attended. The time he left the office with Anthony. The time he left Anthony at the football game. "Why did you leave?" "With everything going on? I didn't want Anthony getting upset over that little mix-up yesterday. The boy loves football. Lucky for us the Thursday night game was in town. I called in a favor, got tickets and fixed the boy up with a friend." The fix-up was what interested the cop. Archibald swore he didn't know the woman would be there. "I saw her and the idea clicked in my mind. I gave Anthony a couple hundred bucks and told him to take her out on the town." Archibald sounded amazed. "I think she really liked him." Under the cop's guidance Archibald described the rest of his evening. "I went back to work." I could feel the cop's excitement through the wall. The charge faded as Archibald indicated he was working in his home office - with his wife and four children in the next room. "And they can verify the time you got home?" Archibald hedged. "My wife will. Kids were asleep." He paused. "I actually took a little ride on the way home. I like to park down by the river sometimes. Good place to think. Watch the water and think, you know. As you know, I had a lot of thinking to do yesterday." "Were you alone?" Archibald answered -- sort of. "The cops patrol that area you know. They should have seen me. Big truck. Cute license plates. They say riske -- with an e. Like the company." I didn't hear the cop's response. I heard Archibald's skates as they hit the hardwood of the play area. I got nervous when Detective Peet dropped by my office. He claimed he was there to play a word game. Who was I to argue with a homicide cop? I played. "I want you to tell me what you think of each employee in one word. Archibald." "Careless. " "You sure? The word egomaniacal doesn't come to mind?" "To describe the founder of Lee Information, Lee Publications, Lee News, Lee Partners and Lee Advisors? I think egomaniacal is a bit weak. Originally, Archibald called this company Lee-eGames. He only relented because he couldn't find a receptionist who could pronounce the company name." "Receptionist? Why haven't I met the receptionist?" "You won't. When the products fell behind schedule we had to let her go." "Any other disgruntled former employees?" "Who said she was disgruntled? Archibald gave her a nice little parting gift. She only worked three months and made six months salary plus she was eligible for unemployment insurance. She felt getting hired and fired here in such a short time was one of the best things that ever happened to her." "How about this teacher I've heard about?" "Our former educational consultant is doing fine. Left in a fury but landed on her feet. She was even in here yesterday." I answered his questions before he asked them. "No, I don't know why she was here. I didn't speak to her." The cop returned to his list of names. Kim. Arrogant. Victor. Arrogant. The cop eyed me with a raised brow. "Archibald likes arrogance. He confuses it with confidence. He confuses confidence with competence." I paused. "Though Kim is nice to the grandmother who scrubbed floors to put her through school." I scrambled for something nice to say about Victor. "I bet his family likes him." Detective Peet ignored my kind comments and continued. Catrina. Naïve. Anthony. The last request threw me. How could I describe Anthony in a single work? How could I explain Anthony at all? As he left the detective warned me that he was off to play the same game with all the other employees. When he returned, however, I couldn't get him to tell me what words had described me. My tone was tentative as I inquired. "Are you planning on keeping us here until you solve this case?" The cop smiled in a friendly way - but I didn't get the impression he was my friend. "It's Friday. I'd like to wrap this up. I have plans for the weekend." The detective settled into my visitor's chair. "But even if you solve it, the forensics . . ." The detective cut my thought short with a sharp glance. "Forensics only work if you have the right person. I could have all the DNA in the world and if I don't have probable cause to match it to a suspect . . ." He didn't finish his sentence but I knew he meant he wouldn't have anything. "So do you have a suspect?" I used the singular. Bad enough to think one of my colleagues was a killer. I didn't want to consider the possibility that I worked with a gang of homicidal maniacs. The cop had a wry expression on his face. "I may not know who killed him but I do have a fair idea about why he was murdered." Chapter 5 I couldn't resist the urge to peek in the conference room where Eduard Silver had died. The hoard of police had cleared out. They left behind yellow crime tape and gray residue from fingerprinting kits -- and little else. Only Detective Peet remained at the scene of the crime. When I found him in the meeting room, he was writing on the board. "Archibald will kill you for that." The cop looked startled. I looked embarrassed. "Oops. Bad choice of words. But you're using the wrong kind of marker. That type is for paper. Archibald goes nuts when people make that mistake. Those markers stain the whiteboard. That one shouldn't even be in this room." The cop shrugged. I rambled on. "See the color is a little different from the one that Eduard used." "Hmmmmh." Detective Peet made his favorite comment. He turned to me with one of his almost sincere smiles. "This window faces east, right?" He nodded at the three windows lining the far wall. "Absolutely. I am hardly ever around here at sunrise but on the few occasions I have been, that whole side of the building reflects the sun like a mirror. It's blinding." "Windows like that don't usually open." The cop didn't necessarily expect a reply but I had one. "This building is an odd combo of new and old. It was renovated about three years ago." I had nothing else to add so I left Detective Peet to his investigating. As I turned to enter my office I realized the cop had followed me back to my office. He settled into a visitor's chair and stared at me. Unable to abide the silence, I got to the point. "So you hinted earlier that you know why Eduard was killed?" "Yes . . . probably . . . possibly. That's why I'm here. I thought I could run a few things by you. The late Eduard Silver went to business school in Philadelphia didn't he?" I nodded. I knew that Eduard went to the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania. "And this company All About E-Games that is giving your company trouble is based in Philadelphia." "Along with two million other people." "Yes, but that got me to thinking about who the owners were. Eduard's death could be unrelated to what happened with All About E-Games yesterday but . . . let's be real. I looked at the All About E-Games web site and none of their officers went to Wharton. Since you're head of research, I was wondering if you could . . ." Fifteen minutes later we'd found the news item the cop had been seeking. Ten minutes after that we had a photo of one of All About E-Games key investors - that one that interested Detective Peet. "See, I told you. Good old-fashioned police work." "Just knowing that Eduard was in class with this guy isn't enough." "No it isn't. I still have more good old-fashioned police work to do. Would you print that page?" The cop trimmed the paper and then began to show the photo around. He called the employees into my office, one by one. Kim arrived with a huff but she arrived. She was obedient to a fault - but rude. "What?" She snapped. "I was wondering if you've ever seen this man before." Kim ripped the page out of the policeman's hand. "I don't think so." She spoke almost before she'd had time to look. "Who is he?" "You don't know?" Kim noted the policeman's disappointment. "Did he kill Eduard?" The policeman shrugged. I studied Kim. Her desperation to please authority was once again evident. She scrunched up her face and studied the photo as if she were being graded on her efforts. "Maybe I saw him." I watched the detective affect nonchalance as he studied Kim's face intently. "This might have been the guy . . . I can't tell . . . it mightI think this was the guy I saw him with at dinner." She looked to the detective for affirmation. Whatever she saw made her go on. "I'd have to see another picture but it might have been." Victor responded eagerly to the call. He charged across the play area immediately. He studied the picture that the cop presented without comment. He took short deep breaths and bit his lip. "Is this the person who killed Eduard?" The detective assured him we simply wanted to identify the man. Victor considered the photo for another minute then shook his head. "No. I don't know him." He handed the page back to the cop without making eye contact. Archibald was next. At Detective Peet's request he skated into my office. "Sure. I know him." Archibald recognized the man in the photo at a glance. He identified him as a major investor in All About E-games. "The business isn't that big. We all know each other." In response to Detective Peet's question he speculated that Eduard probably knew him. "That's not at all unusual. The guy isn't active in the business. He was a first round investor. Public company. You oughtta look at the documents. That's all?" It wasn't. While the detective had the CEO's attention, he had a line of questioning to follow. "You were the one who made sure that Anthony was out of the office all night." "Me. No way dude. I simply gave the guy some football tickets. He had a bad day. I wanted to make him feel better." "Yes, but at the football game you introduced him to a young lady." "A friend of my son. Actually, his babysitter. How could I know . . . I mean why would I think that would mean that Anthony would be out all night? No offense to Anthony, but he's not much of a ladies man. It never occurred to me." Archibald's brutal honesty was brutal to Anthony. "But you left them alone." "With fifty thousand other people. I was tired. I had a lot to worry about. The last thing I wanted to do last night was go to a football game. As you may have noticed my entire business is in jeopardy. As I explained, I left early." "Yes. Yes, you did." The cop's agreement sounded more like an accusation -- one that Archibald ignored. He stepped out of my office and skated across the shiny surface of the play area. I called Anthony who told me he was deeply involved in a programming problem. "Anthony, I know you're busy but this is kind of important." "Anthony, if you get murdered, I'll take a break to find your murderer." "Anthony, I have a candy bar in my drawer." "No, it doesn't." "It better not have nuts." Anthony flung himself into the office and the chair in one motion. I flipped him the candy and he ripped the package open as he rested two feet on top of my desk knocking over a pile of magazines. I didn't object. Verbally. "Okay, bub, where's the photo?" Anthony waved his arm impatiently. "I got big stuff going on." Detective Peet appeared neither annoyed nor impressed by Anthony's behavior. I knew from his earlier comment that the cop was fighting his natural reaction. The cop simply handed Anthony the page. Anthony studied the picture. "This the guy who killed Eduard?" The detective didn't respond even when Anthony flipped the paper back at him. "Never saw him. Gotta go." And he did - tripping over a chair in the process. "What's this?" He was staring at the carpet. Anthony sees stars invisible to the naked eye. That day he saw a pin. He leaned down and pulled it from the rug. "You lost the needle from your sewing kit." He tone was pejorative. "Someone could get hurt on this. Someone already was." He looked at the smeared red on the tip. Anthony tried to pass me the needle but the cop intercepted it. He stared at it thoughtfully before wandering off to the conference room. "You know this case is shaping up nicely." The policeman settled back into my chair. "What about me?" The detective and I turned to see Catrina standing in the doorway. "You've had everyone in and out of this office but me. I figured it was my turn." "The detective just wanted to know if anyone recognized this man." I passed the paper to Catrina. I didn't catch her reaction but I caught the cop's reaction to her reaction. I followed the cop's gaze to Catrina's face. "Did he kill Eduard?" Her voice quavered. "Catrina, do you know him?" The cop's tone was soft and encouraging. Catrina shook her head. "No." Her answer was almost a protest. "I never saw him. I just . . . I mean how could someone kill Eduard." She began to sob and ran from the office towards the ladies room. Peet nodded that I should follow. Apparently I had been deputized. Consoling weeping people is not one of my strong points but Catrina's sobs were so violent that I couldn't help but wrap an arm around her. I mumbled something comforting. "I know this is a shock." I didn't add that because of the thin walls in my office I knew about her crush. "It is for all of us." There were no paper towels so I pulled toilet paper off the roll to wipe her tears. "You know if you care about Eduard all you can do for him now is help catch his killer." She shook her head. "I can't help it." She met my eyes in the mirror. "I can't. I need to be alone." She grabbed more tissue and rushed towards her office. I found Detective Peet at my desk when I returned. He was on the phone. Apparently on hold. "Catrina had red ink on her hands." I explained that I had seen her touch the whiteboard in the conference room after we discovered Eduard's body. She'd touched the words he'd written on the board almost reverentially. "Convenient, don't you think? Letting you see that?" His eyes sparkled. Then the person at the other end picked up. Listening to his side of the conversation provided no insight. He wasn't doing much of the talking. I settled into the visitor's chair. When the detective hung up he folded his hands in front of him and leaned forward. "If I told you that Eduard was sabotaging Risk-eGames, who would be a suspect in his murder?" "Are you absolutely sure that his death is related to yesterday's . . ."I searched for a word and finally decided on "events." "You're sure that no one outside the office wanted to kill Eduard Silver?" "For all I know hundreds of people outside the office wanted to kill him. But they didn't have the same opportunity. There is no sign of forced entry anywhere in this building or in this office. So, who would be your prime suspect?" "Who wouldn't be a suspect? We all would be viable suspects. Including me." I waited for the cop to laugh. He didn't. I continued. "We all gave up a lot to work here. I don't know all the individual deals but I know that we are all working for equity. If someone sabotaged the firm, they would have stolen from us. All of us." I thought for a moment. "With the possible exception of Catrina. She has no real financial investment in the firm. For her this is just a job. For the rest of us it was kind of a dream." At last the cop smiled - at my feet. "You always dreamed of a job where you didn't have to wear shoes?" "Among other things." When the detective left and I returned to my desk, I realized all eyes were on me. Except Anthony's. Apparently Anthony didn't care why I was in conference with the cops. The others studied me as I feigned ignorance of their stares. Some of the looks were accusatory; some were fearful. Eventually interest in me faded. I was hoping that the police would let us leave soon. Evening was approaching and I wanted to go home. The Risk-eGames office has a long hallway that leads from the entrance to the play area. On that hallway are the rest rooms and the utility closet as well as a small kitchen. The eight offices --seven occupied -- are arranged around the play area. Well, from that day forward, six occupied offices. At the opposite end of the play area is the small conference room where Eduard Silver's body was found. I headed away from the conference room down the hall towards the ladies room. Just outside the utility closet, my stocking covered foot hit something damp. I patted the area with my foot and found a small wet spot on the area rug. Had I managed to find every spill in the office? What was leaking around here? At that point, I noticed that the door to the utility closet wasn't locked tight. Looking for a leaky item I pushed the door in. Nothing looked out of place - but I didn't generally check the utility closet. There was the usual array of buckets, mops, broom and cleaning materials. None of them appeared to be the source of the problem. I reached over my shoulder and turned on the overhead fluorescent lighting. The bulb shed no additional light on the situation. I backed towards the door for a better view. I was close to the exit when I felt a foot in the center of my back. The force threw me forward into a metal shelf. I fell onto one knee. Plastic bottles fell on my head. The full ones hurt. Behind me I heard a slam. I stared at the metal door with amazement. I tried to pull it open, but it secured from the outside. Someone had just locked me in the utility closet. Why? I was going to get out. All I had to do was knock. Soon someone would pass on the way to the ladies room and hear me and I would get out. Locking me inside was a futile effort. I knocked and I called. No one heard me but I wasn't worried. Not that it was pleasant in the closet. The air stank. Cleaning fluids. Not that I knew from personal experience. My first disposable dollars went to a cleaning service. I knocked on the door in vain. My eyes were burning. I sat on the floor and slumped against the cold door. The metal was cold to the touch but I didn't mind. I was tired. Only my coughing was keeping me awake. I pushed an oversized bucket on wheels away to clear the air. I rolled into a prone position, closed my eyes and yawned. The day had been exhausting. I felt like I could sleep on the cement floor. I didn't have to. "I was just walking by and I heard coughing." Kim was playing the heroine. She had me propped up against the ping-pong table. She had gathered the other employees to congratulate her on her valor. "The door was locked from the outside. So I sent Catrina for the key." I was coughing but not that badly. I was fine. I'd simply gotten sleepy when locked in the closet. I had a mild reaction to all the fumes in the closet. I was suffering a lot more from being propped up on a ping-pong table than I was from my stay on the closet floor. Detective Peet watched from the door of my office as all the employees fluttered around me - except Anthony who remained glued to his pc in his office. The cop had heard my story and checked out the closet. We'd all watched him curiously as, taking a different route each time, he paced the length of the office in bare feet. He'd laid some crime scene tape in certain spots and called to his office for backup. Then he returned to his position leaning against the door jam to observe. He'd doffed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Despite his stillness, he gave the appearance of working hard. "Why would anyone lock me in the closet?" I didn't get the point. "It must have something to do with Eduard's death," Catrina said breathlessly. "Why?" Kim asked with annoyance. "What else?" Victor snapped. "Now let's not jump to conclusions." Archibald tried to play the leader. "Okay, I've had it. Let's get this over with. My son has a soccer game tomorrow and I don't want to miss it. I want everyone here in five minutes." Detective Peet did not sound happy. "And I mean everyone." Chapter 6 Okay, there was no evidence indicating the purpose of the meeting was to unmask the killer. Evidence didn't matter to me. I drew my own conclusions. The cop had asked everyone to attend. I was lost in an English drawing room fantasy. You know the one. Where the professorial detective reviews the facts and then announces that the resolution is absolutely obvious. I didn't think cops still operated this way in the twenty-first century but I didn't want to question Detective Peet's judgment. I understand that the setting wasn't quite right. We had the heavy paneling but the games and exercise equipment did not complete the image. Since most of our research collection was virtual, we didn't have rows of gorgeous leather-bound books in the background. The carpets scattered around were not lush Orientals but loud area rugs boasting the company web address. The people drifting in weren't British aristocrats dressed in silk dressing gowns but dot.com employees ready for dress-up Friday. And then there was the matter of the detective. Detective Peet was not at all professorial. He didn't carry a pipe. He'd taken off his suit jacket. He'd rolled up the sleeves of the pale blue shirt that matched his eyes. The cop seemed somewhat bored and very annoyed by the entire process as if whoever killed Eduard did so to purposefully inconvenience him. I didn't recall any of the stereotypical English detectives acting irritated in the drawing room. Nonetheless, I felt excited. I'd always dreamed of being part of such a gathering. "I have a few questions I'd like to ask the group." Detective Peet flipped back the cover of his notebook. "How often is the office cleaned?" Archibald answered. "We wanted to save a little cash. We cut back to once a week. They'll be here tonight. They come every Friday night. Is that okay? We can stop them if you want." "Mr. Karinsky." He turned to Victor. "Did you check your voice mail first thing this morning?" Victor nodded. How many messages did you receive? "Just one. From Anthony saying that he thought he'd be late this morning. He left it last night." Anthony blushed and looked very pleased with himself. The cop turned to Anthony. "What made you think at 10:41 last night that you would be late this morning?" Anthony's expression remained smug. "I think I understand women." All the other employees stared at him with wonderment. He wasn't lying; he was just so wrong. "Do you have any idea why the phone number you gave me for your girlfriend connected me to Dial-a-Prayer?" Anthony blushed but spoke steadily. "I must have given you a wrong number." "Ms. Smith," he looked at Kim. "I noticed a gym bag in your office. Where do you work out?" "I don't have time to belong to a gym," Kim replied. "I have a very demanding job. Sometimes I run after work." The detective nodded to indicate he knew all the answers before he asked the questions. "I'd like to review the events of the last thirty hours. Some unusual things have happened aside from the business event that I believe started this chain of events. Each of you had a motive to kill your colleague, Eduard Pretty good motives actually. It seems he wasn't a very nice guy. If I'd known him, I might have wanted to kill him myself." Catrina spoke with a childlike innocence. "Do you really think one of us did it?" The detective pinned her with a rueful smile. "I know that forensics will prove that one of you did it but I think we might be able to wrap this up before the data is analyzed." I was right. This was the twenty-first century equivalent of a drawing room gathering to unmask a killer. Detective Peet cleared his throat to punctuate his transition form commentator to interrogator. "Now to review the unusual happenings of the past day. Let me start with you, Mr. Lee." "Me? Nothing unusual happened to me." Archibald sounded jovial. "Not to you, sir. But you did make some unusual things happen." "How so?" The CEO sounded surprised. Apparently even he realized that he rarely made anything happen. xxxxx Anthony spoke up. "Isn't anyone here willing to believe that she actually liked me? She likes me, I'm telling you, she does." He looked from colleague to colleague nodding. "Catrina. You were the last one to see Eduard before his altercation with Victor. You made a point of saying good-night to him. How did he seem?" Catrina shrugged. "I don't know. He looked great." Her smile said death had not ended the infatuation. "Nervous?" Catrina nodded. "Definitely stressed. But he was stressed a lot." "Catrina, why were your hands wet when we were introduced today?" The young woman appeared flustered. "Because we were out of paper towels." "But the trash cans weren't full of towels." Catrina grew defensive and agitated. "That's not my job." The cop smiled. "I didn't mean to imply it was." "Isabella how many wet spots did you step on today?" I provided the answer with a quizzical expression. "Two. One in front of the conference room door and one near the utility closet." "Kim, when did you pick up your message from Anthony?" The woman replied with a huff. "I told you. I picked it up this morning. Late morning. I felt bad because I'd been complaining that he wasn't here. I didn't notice my light was on." "Hmmmmh." I was happy the cop hadn't said "hmmmmh" in response to my answer. I was convinced; Hmmmmmh wasn't good. "Kim, how did you know where the key to the utility closet was kept?" "We all knew." Kim's answer was short. Catrina spoke up. "It's in the receptionist's desk . . . if we had a receptionist . . . I mean it would be the receptionist's desk . . . it's there anyway . . . in the top drawer of that desk." Again, he added "Hmmmh." "Do you go in the closet often?" He looked around the room. We all shook our heads. "Never. Rarely." We all mumbled. "So only the cleaning people will know if anything is missing." Again we all mumbled. "Yes." "I guess." "Sure." The cop stood on the treadmill, I assumed to raise himself to a position of authority, and said he had a few things he wanted to share. "Eduard Silver betrayed all of you. I suspect that his perfidy started even before he joined Risk-eGames. I believe further investigation will show that he came out of school with a plan and a partnership. He and a friend would take positions at competing start-ups. They would make sure one flourished and one failed. And, they would invest accordingly. It may not surprise you that one Marita Fields Harry is one of the largest investors in All About E-Games. She is also the maternal grandmother of Eduard Silver." I marveled at how readily available that information had been. Yet we hadn't thought to look for it. Why would we? I surveyed the expressions on the faces of my coworkers. Not one of them appeared surprised. Were they extremely good at maintaining a poker face? Had they known all along? I assumed Detective Peet would tell us. "I believe at least three of you, possibly all of you were aware of his relationship to All About E-Games. I should say, became aware. Yesterday." He turned to Catrina. "Who did you tell about the man in the picture?" The cop referred to the photo he'd shown around that afternoon -- the photo of a key investor in All About E-Games. "I . . . I . . . How . . ." Catrina sputtered to no conclusion. "Some of you know that Catrina had, or hoped to have, a special relationship with Eduard. Eduard confided in several of you that Catrina had run into him time and time again. It was only natural that when you saw the picture of Douglas Ferrier, a key player at All About E-Games, that you would go to her to see if she recognized him." Catrina hung her head. "I couldn't help it if we went to a lot of the same places and ran into each other a lot." Kim interrupted with an acerbic observation. "Catrina, no one bumps into someone fifteen times in a three week period -- even if they live in the same house." "I did. I swear it was an accident. Every time." The cop's tone was soft. "Catrina, the point is that you saw Eduard with Douglas Ferrier, didn't you?" Catrina nodded. "And you told your colleagues, didn't you?" She nodded. "It's my fault he's dead, isn't it?" "Catrina don't blame yourself for anything." His tone was reassuring until he added a single word. "Yet." "But I am not strong enough to hit Eduard." Catrina pleaded. "I could argue that anyone is strong enough to hit someone with a weapon. But . . The detective paused for effect before he added, "The blow didn't kill Eduard." The detective had told me that the blow to Eduard's face had not been enough to kill the executive. Apparently some of the others were learning this for the first time. "If the blow didn't kill him, then he died of natural causes, right?" Victor turned his eyes from Kim to Archibald to me to Anthony before meeting the detective's. "Hardly." The cop answered his question. "Although I think I understand why you would have a special interest in that scenario." The cop studied Victor's face as the color drained from it. "Eduard was young, healthy and fit. There is more to his death. And that is what I've been trying to figure out. The key lies in the open windows." We had speculated that Eduard had opened the windows to keep himself awake while working late. According to the cop, that was the conclusion the killer hoped we would reach. But the cop informed us, he felt the windows had been opened not to let fresh air in but to let poisoned air out. "That is why I've instructed the medical examiner to look for poison -- specifically poison gas." We'd known that there were no more paper towels in the ladies room but we hadn't really considered that information a clue. But the cop did. He speculated that the paper towels had been stuffed around the windows and doors of the conference room to hold the gas in. But the question remained: where did the gas come from? Poison gas was a relatively sophisticated murder weapon. The detective was flummoxed as to whom among his suspects had the knowledge to cook up a brew of poison. I'm sure as he spoke we all considered the possibilities. I felt relieved. No one could accuse me. I was hopeless at science. I took five years of Latin to get out of chemistry. But there were likely candidates among us. Archibald had trained as an engineer. I just couldn't recall whether he'd been a chemical or electrical engineer. Right now the distinction was major. I'd known that Anthony had started college in pre-med. But I didn't know that Victor had also started down the path to medical school. He admitted to the group that he didn't get too far. "I had to change majors. Turned out I hate the sight of blood. I passed out the first time they showed us a film of surgery." He shrugged weakly. No one else confessed to a scientific background. I tried to study the expressions on the faces my colleagues. In my estimation they all looked guilty. Maybe, like me, guilt or innocence had nothing to do with it. Maybe we all appeared guilty in the presence of a homicide detective. I peeked at the cop and saw a wry grin cross his face. "But these wet spots . . . " He studied the faces for the reaction he wanted and apparently found one. "You know I must congratulate whoever committed this murder. It was extremely clever." At that moment I knew. Or suspected what the cop suspected. There was no conclusive forensic evidence. The cop had to rely on a confession. And he knew how to get one in this crowd. In our little dot.com of big egos, he was going to flatter a confession out of the perpetrator. Sorry, but because of space restrictions the wrap-up must be printed separately.

Trouble at Risk-eGames.com To print the all six chapters (but not the conclusion) of Risk-eGames.com, select PRINT from the FILE menu.  Because of space restrictions, the wrap-up containing the resolution must be printed separately. To print the wrap-up, click here. To read the story online, click here. Chapter One I saw everyone that day. That wasn't unusual at our little dot.com. Although the business plan that lured us to the company promised fifty people would be occupying our office space, one year later there were only eight of us divvying up the responsibilities to keep the venture afloat. Archibald Lee, formerly of Lee Information, Lee Publications, Lee News, Lee Partners and Lee Advisors, had come out of early retirement at forty-one to live his dot.com dream. The rest of us were living a dot.com nightmare. We were interested in guaranteeing the quality of our product. Archibald was interested in guaranteeing the quality of our image. He made sure that the decorating looked hip, cool, and very downtown - even though we were stranded in the suburbs. For the past year Risk-eGames had occupied the offices of a venture capital firm that had ventured where no man had gone before and, apparently, no man should have. The investment daring that led to the firm's demise had not been matched by decorating boldness. The previous occupants had gone for an old-school, dark, paneled look. Our founder, Archibald Lee, had tried to update the space with exercise equipment and game tables in the central space that all the individual offices overlooked through glass windows. I'd turned my desk so I wouldn't be tempted to watch the constant comings and goings of the staff. Nonetheless, I spent a lot of my day peeking at the wide variety of activities, business and recreational, that took place in the play area. Everyone passed through the play area that day -- even our educational consultant. I was surprised to see the former employee. When the educator stormed out of the office two months earlier she had vowed never to return. Seeing the pulsating veins at her temples, I had believed her. I didn't know why she returned, but I did understand why she left. Although the former teacher had been brought on-board to guarantee the high standards in the educational games the company developed, she had been unable to detect any trace of instructional content in the products. Few disagreed. I know that I hadn't learned anything from the games - except that I had made a questionable decision when I allowed Archibald Lee to lure me away from my job at a well-established New York financial institution for the dot.com life. All the employees of Risk-eGames were pretty much in the same boat. We'd been drawn to the company by the promise of hard work, big bucks, and early retirement. Our dreams vanished as the bottom fell out of the tech market and we got to know our boss a little better. Replaying my job interview, I recalled Archibald's extensive discussion of the products he was going to develop. I didn't recall his discussing selling those products. Archibald fantasized about the dot.com life, but apparently not about dot.com revenue. After a year, I wondered how long our investors would hold on. Although everyone passed through, no one used the corporate playground that Thursday. No one was in a playful mood. Our prime competitor, All About E-Games, had released a product that not only foreshadowed our release scheduled for the following week, but copied some of the features exactly - including the program's extraordinary use of memory. As Director of Research, I got to deliver the bad news. I arrived at the office first, found the stories, and forwarded them by e-mail to my colleagues. Then I worked on my curriculum vitae as I waited for the explosion. Victor Karinsky, the head of marketing, was the first into my office. He stormed through the door before 9 AM. I believed he had a printout of the story in his hand. But his arm was flailing so quickly in so many directions that I couldn't be certain. Victor was prone to angry explosions, but I'd never seen him so enraged. His frantic motions actually threatened to shake lose his heavily moussed black hair. "Isabella, what do you mean by this?" "I don't mean anything. I don't write them. I just forward them." I reserved courteous customer service for all the other employees. Victor always brought out the worst in me - and just about everyone he met more than once. His ability to make a good first impression was what saved his marketing career. "This is the third time this has happened. This," he slapped the page for emphasis, "is not a coincidence. This," he slapped the paper again just in case I missed his point, "is treachery. This," he slapped the paper one more time in case I had slept through the early part of his tirade "is treason. This," I braced myself for the sound of his fist hitting paper, "is going to end. Someone is going to pay for this." He punctuated the statement with a final jab at the paper. Then, without waiting for my reaction he turned on his heel and left. As always, I was happy to see him go. Eduard, a recent grad of a top ten business school and self-declared business development guru, was more philosophical. His main consideration was that he didn't want to be around when Anthony found out. "That poor kid is going to go nuts." Anthony was older than Eduard, but I couldn't argue with his characterization of Anthony as a kid. Anthony did not want to grow up and probably wouldn't have to. Since dropping out of Harvard he had easily found high paying positions designing online games. At Risk-eGames, the largest percentage of our first round funding went to enticing Anthony to join the company. Was he worth it? Our founder, Archibald Lee, seemed to think so. I suspected he liked Anthony's work. I knew he liked Anthony's wardrobe. Whatever Anthony wore on Tuesday, Archibald wore on Wednesday - or Thursday if the clothing was new and a shopping trip was required. I assured Eduard that Anthony wouldn't be returning from breakfast for at least an hour. Anthony ate all his meals in the coffee shop on the ground floor. Breakfast was his quiet time. He dined without his palm pilot or mobile phone and poured over the sports pages. Rumor had it that Anthony did not maintain an apartment. No one had ever seen him arrive at or depart from work. Anthony appeared to have no family, no social life, no interests - except the software. And, in season, football that he watched evenings and weekends in a bar across the highway. Anthony himself was not athletic. In fact, he raised clumsiness to an art form. He'd once been knocked to the floor simply walking past the treadmill. His only physical activity appeared to be playing table football with Archibald Lee. Even in foosball, he generally lost. Recently, I had begun to suspect that Anthony had one other interest. Her name was Kim Smith and I could understand what a young guy might see in her. Kim had long slim legs, shiny dark hair, and the smooth skin of someone with little stress and less personality. I tried not to see Kim as the stereotype of a perennial A student, but she never betrayed any persona other than the focused, hard-driving, emotionless executive. Well, almost. She did display one emotion regularly: annoyance. Everyone and everything annoyed Kim. Including Anthony. He did not have a clue that was the case. He persisted in making clumsy small talk until he annoyed her even more -- especially when he interrupted her discussions with her partner in business development, Eduard. Eduard and Kim would have been a much a more suitable match and sometimes I wondered if they had reached the same conclusion. With their dark good looks and self-absorbed drive, the two could have been fraternal twins. In three months they had melded into a cohesive team. Eduard was less than a year out of business school. Kim had worked in a New York investment bank and, based on appearances, thought she still did. Everyday in our decidedly informal environment she showed up in a trim dark suit and highly polished high heels. After a few weeks of working in shorts and t-shirts, Eduard had started mimicking her dress. It had been months since I had seen him without a heavily starched white shirt and power tie. The two were sartorial perfection as they conferred on how to react to the bad news. "Why is everyone so upset?" Catrina plopped into the chair across my desk before 10 AM. "I mean, I know it's like bad news and all, but like being all grumpy and all isn't going to help." Part of my reason for leaving the financial firm I worked for in New York was to avoid the stresses of managing a staff of twenty. It wasn't long before I missed the mentor role. I was happy when Catrina, the young designer Anthony hired, began coming to me for guidance. Catrina was young and enjoying her first job out of school. She didn't understand business. She certainly didn't understand what the news meant to the majority of Risk-egames' employees. Unlike the rest of us, Catrina wasn't working for equity. It was while I was explaining the situation that I saw Anthony return from the coffee shop and bounce across the playpen. Anthony always bounced - quite frequently off walls and pieces of furniture. Bad eyesight didn't account for his inability to navigate the world. Anthony could spot a ship before it came over the horizon, but not notice a chair three feet in front of him. Perhaps the vacant smile he wore was a true reflection of his state of mind. He wore that grin as he headed for his office. He did not wear it long. Across the hall I saw Anthony raving. Eduard and Kim were trying to calm him down. Victor rushed into my office. When he spoke, he sounded frantic. "When is Archibald coming?" Soon it turned out. Archibald Lee, Risk-eGames founder and CEO, stormed down the hallway and headed straight for Anthony's office. I knew that his first priority would be to persuade Anthony to stay. Although the temperature was forty degrees, Fahrenheit, Archibald was wearing wide white shorts that revealed white hairy legs, Hawaiian shirt in shades of shocking pink and orange, and a team cap turned backwards. I'd seen Archibald in the days when he was living his 1980's Wall Street dream. The three hundred pound mound of muscle looked better in a dark suit and power tie. And, I was certain, might again - after he woke from his dot.com dream. Things had seemed to settle down by 6 PM. Or at least that was the impression I got from Victor. He, Eduard, Kim, Archibald and Anthony had spent much of the day huddled together in various configurations and with various results. Sometimes I heard the laughter of happy camaraderie; other times I heard the roar of heated arguments. The reading on the panic meter dropped considerably after Archibald ushered a still aggravated Anthony out of the office. Relative calm had descended on the office by the time Catrina and Kim followed. "Not much more can be done here tonight that I can't do at home. Catrina is giving me a ride. I can't find my keys." Kim was almost pleasant as she made an uncustomary stop at my door to say goodnight. "I am sure tomorrow will be a better day." At 7 PM, Victor dropped by and asked me if I could check on several companies. "I've got it under control, Isabella. Tomorrow we . . . Eduard, Kim and I . . . will share our recovery plan. Quite a day, eh?" At 8 PM, I found Victor in my office when I returned from picking up a sandwich. He'd come back to remind me he didn't need the information that night. "I really think the crisis has passed. We can recover. I'm no longer worried. I'm fine." He never asked how I was. I didn't expect him to. At 9 PM, Victor came back to make sure I knew that I would be the last one in the office. He was leaving. "I'll lock you in. Make sure things are locked up when you leave." I had no plans to leave. I worked late most Thursday nights in the hopes of an early departure on Friday. After the distractions of the day, I had a lot to do. It was close to midnight when it started. I was alone. I knew from a trip to the copy room that all the offices were empty. The door to the conference room was, as usual, closed. No light shone under the door. The solitude was not at all surprising - or disturbing. Most Thursday nights I was the only one working late. Except, of course, for the omnipresent Anthony. But that Thursday the Webmaster was nowhere to be seen. After Archibald Lee walked his weeping employee out the front door hours before, I hadn't seen either of the men again. As I approached my desk, it happened. I had just grabbed a tissue to compensate for the lack of paper towels in the ladies room. As I dried my hands, I absentmindedly checked my reflection in the mirror. Suddenly, my image disappeared. When it reappeared, my face combined shock, puzzlement and a fair dose of fear. All the lights in all the offices continued to blink. Not from a mechanical glitch. Repeatedly. As if somewhere someone held a hand on the switch and flipped it up and down. That was my first impression - and my last impression before I fled. I grabbed my bag and, dodging the amusements strewn across the floor, ran past the empty offices toward the exit. The lights continued to flash. I didn't wait to figure out why. I was moving fast as I rammed into the metal firedoor that opened to the stairwell. The force slammed the heavy door into the wall. I didn't stop to check for damage. I charged up the staircase. I had to climb two flights to my parked car. Behind me, I heard what I hoped was the echo of my own footsteps. Only at the first landing did I realize that I'd been holding my breath. I reminded myself to breathe. One flight to go. I huffed and puffed as I headed up to the roof. At the top of the stairs, I charged through the exit to the rooftop parking. I heard the door bang shut behind me and prayed that I was the only person who'd come outside. I didn't dare turn to check. The inadequate lighting on the roof wasn't helped by the faint light thrown by a quarter moon. I dug out my overstuffed keyring as I ran past the few cars left in the lot. My fingers worked through the keys searching for the right one. In the dark, in a panic, they all felt the same. As I bumped into a jeep, the entire bunch slipped from my fingers. I stopped to pick them up as the car alarm alternated wailing with a plaintive call: Stop Thief. No one came to help the car - or me. I was alone. That was the good news. After a struggle with the manual lock, I climbed into the driver's seat. I stuck the key in the ignition and pumped the gas. I cursed the old vehicle until the engine turned over and the car jerked out of the space. The engine sputtered to a stop. I cursed my driving. The engine stalled. I cursed the car. I got the engine started again and this time I didn't falter. I pulled away with screeching tires. The driver's door flung wide open as I turned. I didn't hesitate. I waited for the force of the next turn to move it close. Then I pulled it shut. I wasn't about to stop - or slow down. I spun down the ramps at high speed. Turns I generally took at twenty miles per hour, I took at fifty. I could still hear the pounding of my heart over the screeching brakes. Luckily there were few cars left in the lot. I cut across the empty spaces to shave seconds off my time to the exit. I knew I faced a security gate at the bottom of the ramp. I gripped my access card in my hand. By the time the barrier came into view, I'd made a decision. If the restraining arm failed to open on the first try, I was going through. I waited to roll down the window until I was beside the ticket console. With one foot on the gas, I pushed the card into the slot. As I did, every light in the parking lot went out. I hit the gas. Chapter Two My tardiness on Friday morning had nothing to do with Thursday night's events. Since the company initiated "dress-up Friday," I initiated "arrive-late Friday." Although I had climbed into a suit every day for over ten years, I was no longer comfortable with the rituals of achieving full business attire. Even dressed and accessorized, speed was still not a viable option. High-heeled shoes, now unfamiliar to my feet, further impeded my progress. As on every Friday for the last three months, I was running late when the parking lot gate, still intact, responded to my keycard. By the time the sun came up, I had dismissed the previous night's odd events as a joke. Not a very funny joke but a joke, nonetheless. An elaborate, well-planned prank. I had decided to be a good sport about it. Okay, I had decided to pretend to be a good sport about it. I'm not a fan of practical jokes - especially when I am the victim. Given the news All About E-games released yesterday, things were going to be tense enough at the office without my taking offense at a trick that turned out to be harmless. I parked next to Kim's oversized jeep with the vanity plate BIG DEAL. The license described both her activities and her self-image. It wasn't until I found the office eerily quiet that I recalled the young woman had lost her keys and left her car in the lot overnight. I was the first to arrive. Most mornings Anthony called out an absent-minded greeting but that day the office remained silent. I figured the game developer had taken his usual morning break to visit the coffee shop where he ate all his meals. For the first time I realized Anthony must control the office thermostat. The air was chilly as I limped through toys, games and exercise equipment in the play area to my office. So far I'd walked no more than two hundred yards total and already my shoes were killing my feet. Not all my pain was physical. The events of the previous day sat on my shoulders like a five hundred pound boulder. I pondered the company's and my own future as I settled into the molded piece of plastic that Archibald Lee deemed cool enough for an office chair. Every morning I wondered if he had actually sat on the alarmingly expensive furniture before he made the purchase. He was astute enough that he didn't put one of the pieces in his office. The rest of us suffered for his image. I'd finished my coffee and muffin, run through my early morning routine, and perused the SLA directory for job-search contacts before anyone else arrived. The good news that morning was that there was no bad news. The lack of negative information did not guarantee that the day would be easy. Yesterday's disaster still loomed large. Kim was the next arrival. She stopped at my door to explain that losing her keys made her late. She had taken the bus to work. "You should have called me. I would have picked you up." Kim appeared at first puzzled and then thoughtful. "Yes, that would have made sense, wouldn't it?" She issued a terse smile, returned her facial muscles to their usual scowl, and moved on to her office. I watched Kim cross the play area with long purposeful strides. Kim liked doing business development for Risk-eGames. She just didn't like Risk-eGames - or its employees. She'd come from Wall Street. She'd fought hard to get there. Never forgetting that her grandmother scrubbed floors to put her through school, Kim worked hard to honor the woman's memory. Kim moved fast and produced results. Risk-eGames was a major disappointment for the hard-driving businesswoman. Not that Kim shared her views with me. But I knew Kim and I knew Risk-eGames. Kim wasn't about to waste her time - and it was beginning to look like we all were. I'd been at the company for over a year reassuring myself daily that we would have a product next month. We'd gotten close. At one point if you'd visited our web site you could have enjoyed watching the screen flash LOADING indefinitely. That development pretty much told the Risk-eGames story. I was wrapping a shawl around my suit jacket when Victor arrived at my office door. I started at the sight of the marketing VP leaning against my door jam. "I didn't see you come in. This morning. Or now. Sorry." Victor shrugged. Unlike me, Victor appeared to relish dress-up Friday. Aside from the bags under his eyes that said he hadn't gotten much sleep, Victor looked impeccable. Not good - but extremely well turned out. His suit was a shiny silk blend that turned from black to blue as he moved in the light. His shirt was white, high collared and so heavily starched that he inserted a finger between the collar and his neck every few minutes to prevent chaffing. His cufflinks and his wedding ring sparkled with diamonds. When, on dress-up Friday, Victor added his flamboyant collection of suits and ties to his everyday look of overly moussed hair and big jewelry, he resembled a gangster even more than he did most days. Victor had asked for research on several companies and individuals before he made eye contact. "I'm sorry if I'm being a bit . . . well if I'm not . . . I am feeling very tense after what happened yesterday." Victor's edge was growing softer - but I bet it could still cut. "I have a family. I took a huge gamble coming here. I can't afford to have something like this happen repeatedly. I mean once maybe . . . but this isn't the first time. We've been so close. That bug in the last release. How could that have happened? It was impossible. I don't think Anthony is that dumb. It was sabotage. It had to be." Paranoia? I'd seen symptoms of the disease in Victor before. He often hinted that I didn't give his research requests priority, that he believed that Eduard and Kim were in collusion to oust him, and that Archibald liked everyone better than him. Actually, I thought he was right on that last point. "I thought I was willing to take a chance but I didn't really believe it could fail." Victor dabbed sweat from his forehead with a monogrammed handkerchief. "I need this to work. This has to work. I can't afford too much more time without return." We hadn't forced Victor to accessorize his life with a trophy house, a trophy wife and two so-far adorable children that he was trying to mold into reflections of his own material success. My tone was not sympathetic. "We're all in the same boat, Victor." "Sure." He sounded bitter and unbelieving. Although each employee of Risk-eGames faced tragedy from boarding a sinking ship, I had the feeling Victor's boat was taking on water faster than the others'. Victor shivered. From the unusual cold in the office or from fear? I wasn't sure but to eliminate the possibilities I asked him to check the thermostat on his way back to his office. Minutes later Kim showed up at my door to express her most recent annoyance. "I can't believe Eduard isn't here yet. You would think today -- of all days -- he could drag himself out of bed and get here at a reasonable hour. We are in a state of crisis. I am ready to act." Having made the pronouncement she charged back to her office nearly knocking down Catrina in the process. "What's her problem?" Catrina remained bright-eyed and optimistic in the face of adversity - partially because of an extremely upbeat personality and partly because of ignorance. The young designer had no concept of the damage done by yesterday's events. "Catrina, everyone here is worried about their livelihood. What happened yesterday is devastating to the company. We are all concerned about the future." "There are other jobs." Catrina chirped. Not just then -- all the time. She was short and muscular with big round eyes and cheeks to match. She dressed in flowing pastel dresses - generally flowered. Her physical presence screamed naïve. I didn't argue with Catrina's view of the job market. Her claim was true for new graduates looking for entry-level positions. The other Risk-eGames employees, however, had given up a lot in the hopes of a big payoff. "Kim left a really good job at a New York firm. Victor left a product manager position at a Fortune 100 manufacturing company. Eduard turned down a lot of good offers when he got out of business school to come here." "Anthony can get a job anytime he wants." That was true -- now. But how could he explain what happened at Risk-eGames? Or more importantly what didn't happen. Anthony insisted on doing it all -- from content to design to coding. He got all the glory, but he also took all the blame. As for the rest of us, it wasn't simply a question of when we would land appropriate positions. We'd all been at the firm at least a year. We needed to be compensated for the time we'd spent at Risk-eGames. I wasn't about to tell Catrina that I was taking only a minimal payment in cash and the rest in equity. If that equity didn't prove to have value, I, like everyone else, would have lost money at the start-up. Kim was back at my door exceeding her normal daily visit average by 100%. I greeted her with a forced camaraderie. "I was just talking to Catrina about yesterday's developments. Kim, what do you make of this turn of events?" "I refuse to worry. I always know what to do and how to do it. We will survive and flourish." She shrugged. "We will overcome this problem. The market is still there." She eyed her $3,000 watch. "Where's Eduard? I expect this of Archibald. Our noble founder and CEO is probably competing in some stupid skateboarding competition. Anthony was probably here all night fiddling with his programs. He's entitled to a break. You know how he gets." To my mind, it wasn't a question of "how he gets." It was more about "how he is." Even when he was physically present, I was never quite sure where Anthony was. Anthony's family wanted him to be a doctor. Thank goodness the game developer decided against a career in medicine. Acing medical school would have been no problem. But practicing? He probably would have wondered off in the middle of surgery and forgotten where he left the patient. His father actually knew that and as a last ditch effort tried to talk him into being a pathologist. If he worked as a medical examiner his patients would already be dead. But I figured he could still lose them. I think Anthony made a good decision to follow his passion for computers. I also agreed with Kim's assessment that irresponsible behavior was expected from Anthony but not from Eduard. Kim continued to rant. "I can understand Anthony's absence. But Eduard? This isn't like Eduard. He's late. He's never late." I protested, "He's always late." Not that Eduard saw it that way. He felt he was on time at 11AM. Eduard had an active social life - at least according to Eduard. "He said he'd present his plan for counteraction first thing this AM." "First thing in the AM for Eduard is eleven. I wouldn't worry." "Not today of all days. I can't believe Eduard would be so irresponsible." Annoyance came naturally to Kim. She could inject a liter of annoyance into a sentence with only a milliliter of effort. "Eduard is not irresponsible. He cares a lot. Just the other night I went out after work and came back to pick up my car. I saw Eduard leaving the office at 2AM. That's not irresponsible." Catrina barely suppressed the rage in her voice but - and I know this is hard to understand - it was still a cheerful rage. Kim directed a hard stare at Catrina and then proceeded as if the young woman hadn't spoken. "I'm going to get Victor. Why don't we start the meeting without Eduard? If he can't bother getting here . . ." Her voice trailed off. "Isabella, why don't you sit in?" My brow grew furrowed. Kim never treated me or my function with any respect. I didn't take it personally. Kim never actually treated anyone with any respect. She flashed one of her insincere smiles. "Research will be such an important part of this effort." I knew that. I just couldn't believe Kim knew that. The woman never seemed to realize anyone's value but her own. "We're meeting in the conference room. Eduard was going to put the agenda on the board. We don't have to wait for him. Go ahead in. I'll get Victor and join you." Catrina's voice was relentlessly upbeat as she inquired. "Should I join you too?" Kim considered the young woman with a scowl on her face. As the muscles relaxed, she almost smiled. "Why not? If it's okay with your boss." "Anthony isn't here. I'm sure it will be okay." I, too, was fairly sure it would be okay with Anthony. Archibald had forced an assistant on our FunMeister, as Archibald liked to call Anthony. Anthony didn't care what Catrina did as long as she didn't interfere with his work. He'd be happy if we kept Catrina busy at a meeting all day every day. Catrina looked at me eagerly. "That was nice of her." "Yeah." I answered doubtfully. Maybe a crisis brought out the best in Kim. I watched her step into Victor's office and urge him to hurry. Then she returned to our own office to gather her papers. I picked up my notebook and with Catrina in tow headed for the conference room. "Aren't you going to wear shoes?" The young woman nodded at my feet. The high-heeled shoes were still under the desk. "Suddenly we have a dress code?" "No way. I just think it's cold to go barefoot in here today. Don't you think?" I didn't think so then but I didbut I did think when my foot hit a wet spot on the carpet in front of the conference room door. "Wow, cold." I yelped as I stepped inside our small meeting room. "What's wrong?" Catrina sounded inappropriately concerned. "Nothing . . . except . . .what the . . . all the windows are open in here." The three windows in the room were flung wide open to admit the chill air. That was when I spotted him at the head of the conference room table with his head on the shiny wood surface. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty. It's time to rise and shine." I turned my back to close each of the windows. "I guess you figured keeping these windows open would keep you awake. Good theory, it just didn't work." I glanced over my shoulder. "Come on. We're going to start the disaster-control meeting." At the door, Catrina leaned against the doorjamb. "You're being too polite." She walked over, grabbed his left shoulder and shook playfully. His left hand fell from the tabletop towards the floor. The sun reflected off the face of his Rolex. Catrina stood with a puzzled expression on her face before trying again. "He won't wake up?" My expression had not yet changed from puzzled to concerned. Catrina leaned across the man's broad back for a look at his face. For the first time since I met her, Catrina's expression lost any trace of optimism. I followed her gaze to a large bruise with a small cut on the man's right cheek. "Isabella, he isn't going to wake up. Not now. Not ever." Chapter Three Catrina and I stood at the far end of the conference room table staring at the victim. Catrina fought back tears and chewed frantically on her blue nail polish. I focused on bringing my breathing into line. It appeared that the deceased had been preparing a presentation when he died. The beginning of a detailed agenda was written on the whiteboard. Papers and transparencies were strewn in front of him. He never used presentation software but not because he couldn't. He was a whiz on all computer applications. My guess was that he still used transparencies because of their flexibility but more importantly because he liked to smell the magic markers. Poor Eduard. It appeared that he had sniffed his last magic marker. Catrina was so rattled she tried three times to punch in the three digit code to summon assistance. Finally, Kim stepped into the conference room, sized up the situation quickly and grabbed the phone from Catrina's hand. Once she reached emergency services, events moved quickly. The ambulance arrived minutes after Kim made the call. Only moments later, as all his coworkers clustered at the door to the meeting room, Eduard Silver, freshly minted MBA and Risk-eGames Vice President of Business Development, was declared dead. Over the next half-hour, uniformed police officers streamed into the office followed closely by plains clothes detectives, crime scene investigators and staff from the medical examiner's office. The employees of Risk-eGames watched the cops swarm through play area into the conference room from our offices around the perimeters of the play area. When the uniformed policemen came to collect our trash cans, they'd asked us not to leave - but also not to interfere. We were stranded in our offices. Catrina chose to be marooned with me. "Why did the paramedics call the police?" She continued to bite at her thumbnail although I saw no trace of blue gloss left on the surface. "Catrina, I think it might have something to do with the dead man in our conference room." "People die all the time." "At twenty-five years old? With big bruises on their right cheeks?" She looked at me with disbelief. "Who would want to hurt Eduard? Who . . . who . . ." She actually said more but I couldn't understand her words through her sobs. I pulled a box out of my drawer and rolled my chair around the corner of desk. I hoped the move looked like an effort to offer Catrina solace as well as tissues. What I really wanted to do was to watch the action through my office window. Actually all I could see was a bunch of suits and uniforms swarming around in the conference room. Close to an hour passed before a long, gray, wool suit emerged from the crowd. In it was a man of about forty who appeared older given the shock of white hair that topped his six-foot frame. He stopped at my office door, flashed a set of teeth as white as his hair, and asked if he could come in. I wanted to ask him where he got a tan in the middle of winter but realized he was the one who would be asking the questions. He stated with a simple one. "May I come in?" I nodded at one of the visitor's chair. The cop settled into the chair and crossed his legs ankle to knee. He appeared relaxed, confident, and friendly -- and as threatening as a blowtorch to an ice sculpture. "I hear you're the head of research. That seems like a good place to start an investigation." He laughed lightly and insincerely then introduced himself as Detective Pete. "Detective Pete? Don't police usually use their last name?" "My last name is Peet." He spelled his surname for me. "Oh. Sorry." I adjusted the letters in my head. Detective Peet verified my vital information and recorded it in a notebook. Name, address, title. I confirmed that his visit was actually a formal interrogation. The news made my heart race. Cops make me feel guilty - especially when I am innocent. "So what can you tell me about the victim, Eduard Silver." The question was not what could I tell him but what would I tell him. It seemed too early to speak ill of the dead and it was hard to talk about Eduard without speaking ill. "Eduard just got out of business school last year. Seemed like a smart kid. A little cocky." The detective snorted as if he'd heard that before. Maybe I wasn't the first person he talked to after all. "Eduard turned down a lot of offers to join Risk-eGames. I believe he is doing a good job. Was. Was doing. I'm not really the person to ask. He worked on bringing in second round investors and then focused on finding partners for product development." The cop wanted to know about our products. "I looked at your web site. It didn't tell me much." If the cop were more astute about the World Wide Web, he would have realized the website told him everything. www.risk-egames.com represented a triumph of form over substance. Risk-eGames was a company full of highly-qualified people with a website that totally lacked content. "I don't really have anything to do with our site." My tone was defensive. "I realize that." The detective's tone was soothing. "The site told me loads about the company . . . rather unintentionally I believe. Yet after looking at it, I don't feel I have a grasp of the products. I thought you could help me." I cleared my throat. "We've had some problems." I explained that although we all believed Anthony to be a great game developer, possibly a genius, we worried that he might, in fact, be a cursed genius. His ideas sounded great on paper and looked great in test. They were a little violent for some of our tastes but flashy, sophisticated and innovative. Nonetheless, a virus that Anthony could neither explain nor justify doomed the first scheduled release. The web developer had, however, made the best of cleaning up that disaster. For our next release, he had upgraded the product and made massive improvements in memory handling. We were ready to go again when yesterday's disaster had occurred. "Victor, the marketing VP, suggested sabotage. Maybe he's right." The detective answered with "Hmmmmh." We would all hear a lot of "Hmmmmhs" before the day would be over. "When you found the body, did you have any thoughts about any employee that would want to kill Eduard?" I flipped through the list of colleagues quickly considering not who might want to kill Eduard but who could have killed Eduard. Archibald? No way. Even if he weren't harmless, our CEO couldn't organize a murder. I'd watched Archibald try to organize a business. He was an idea man but I didn't think he could come up with such a sinister one. Victor? He had the temper to kill but I thought he was more likely to be killed. Victor was clearly the most annoying employee in an office full of annoying people. Or so I thought until Eduard showed up dead. I reconsidered. Victor was strong enough to leave a bruise on Eduard's face but so were any of the men. Anthony? The day computers could kill would be the day Anthony would become dangerous. I didn't feel he was capable of murder but if it turned out that he was capable, he still wouldn't be able to pull it off without leaving tons of physical evidence. Anthony was at two with the universe. Kim? The calculating executive had her entire life planned. She wasn't about to let a murder charge interfere with her goals. Kim gave the impression she wanted to kill almost everyone and everything she came into contact with -- including Eduard on occasion. She hadn't killed any of us yet. Why start now? Catrina? The idea struck me as most ludicrous. Catrina was a throwback to the age of the flower power. Naïve was too weak a word to describe her view of the world. Catrina resided in a fantasyland from which she showed no signs of moving until forced. The cop waited patiently for my answer. When I didn't produce one, Detective Peet posed another question. "When you realized Eduard was murdered, what did you think?" I stared at the detective blankly. "I don't know. I was so shocked . . . I felt numb. I still do." Detective Peet ran me through the previous day's activities. What time I got in. What time everyone else came in. What I worked on. When he asked if anything out of the ordinary had happened, I shrugged. "Not really. Unless you count the thing about the lights." When he asked for clarification, I told him about the flashing lights the night before. The cop stared at me with bright blue eyes from which he fought to drive, unsuccessfully, mounting amusement. "You forgot to mention this?" I explained that my little inconvenience hardly seemed to matter given what happened to Eduard. "Besides I convinced myself it was a practical joke." "And you didn't think it was related." I shrugged and shook my head. "Do you still think it was a prank?" The cop and I were now thinking the same thing. Someone was very interested in getting me out of the office. "So they could kill Eduard?" "Or," the detective paused for effect, "so you wouldn't find Eduard's body." "What was the time of death?" The detective explained that the initial estimate was just that - an estimate. He moved on without telling me what that estimate was. I got the message that he would be asking the questions. "When did you last see Eduard Silver?" "I never saw him after. . . I can't actually remember. It's hard to know because sometimes he goes outside and smokes. Eduard does. Did. I've been trying but I don't recall the last time I saw him. Everyone was in and out of that conference room all day. I didn't keep track. A few people stopped to say good-bye when they left." At his prompting I recalled saying goodnight to Kim, Catrina and Victor. Eduard didn't say goodnight. I thought he was gone before the others left." He noted the information - literally. He wrote the names in his notebook without comment. "Was Eduard a heavy smoker?" "He is. Was. Which is pretty dumb since he has asthma. Had." The detective seemed interested. "Severe asthma?" "I'm no doctor. I have a slight case of asthma that kicks up with my allergies. His is much more severe. Was." "Hmmmmh." Detective Peet asked me each time I had seen each employee the day before. He wanted me to recall every request for research. "So much was done on the fly. Basically, all anyone wanted all day was anything I could find on All About E-Games and their staff." "How did you do that?" I explained the online resources I'd used. "Plus we had copies of a couple of magazines around. Victor came in to get some paper copies." The detective wanted to know why he might have done that. "Depends on what source I used to search. If I didn't give them graphics they might have wanted the charts, graphs, any visual representation of the information in the article. Maybe a photo but more likely some chart. They were planning a counterattack against All About E-games. They had to know everything about them. Victor still has the journals." Detective Peet wandered off to collect the magazines from Victor. From my office I watched Victor dig the journals out of a pile on his desk. He appeared to be cooperating with the policeman eagerly. Earlier I'd watched him approach some of the uniformed policeman with a smiling face. He seemed eager to tell his story. I decided to make a point of dropping by to hear that story. I'd have to wait, however. Kim slipped into his office as soon as the detective slipped out. The two colleagues stood at the window watching the police activities with wide-eyed frowns. I studied their behavior carefully. As much as I disliked them both -- and that was very much -- I couldn't see either of them as murderers. I couldn't believe anyone in our little dot.com was capable of murder. The cop flipped the pages as he returned to the office next to mine. I'd recommended that the police use the space for interviews as they politely called their interrogations. At the time I hadn't realized how that advice would benefit me. A few minutes later the detective was back at my door. "What was the deceased's full name?" "Eduard H. Silver." "Do you know what the 'H' was?" He was surprised when I explained it stood for Harry. "That's odd. Eduard seemed like such a formal name; Harry is casual in my mind." When I told the cop Harry was Eduard's mother's maiden name, he perked up. "Really. Hhmmmmh." I was beginning to feel like the cop's partner when he reminded me not to leave the office. "I thought we might all hang out today to see if we can get this wrapped up." His blue eyes sparkled as he stepped towards my office door. "Will the forensics be ready by the end of the day?" The detective chuckled. "Never heard of good old-fashioned police work? We've been catching killers in this town for two hundred years without forensics." Yeah, but the right killer? I took solace in the knowledge that I couldn't be a suspect. I'd seen the bruise on Eduard's cheek. No way I could have done that. I told the detective so. "Oh I know who hit Eduard." I stared at the detective with amazement. "You know who killed Eduard." "Hardly. I know who hit him. It took more than a punch to kill Eduard Silver." Chapter 4 I guess I should have told the police that I could overhear everything that went on in the office next to me. When I recommended they interview employees in the unused space, I didn't realize the acoustics made the wall disappear. If the cops had asked, I would have admitted it. They didn't ask - so what I did was close my office door and sit quietly perusing the SLA web site for new employment opportunities. I didn't want any noise in my office to tip them off. I liked being in the know. The police interviewed Kim first. I'm not sure if they wanted to. The young woman presented herself in one of the twenty suits she owned - all small, all expensive, all black and accessorized with a wide range of beige tone blouses. Along with her expensive jewelry, her haughty manner completed the image of a successful executive. "Let's get this over with so I can get back to work." It was obvious any mourning period for Eduard would be short. Actually, I had the feeling it was pretty much over by the time the investigation began. I didn't get much new information from eavesdropping on Kim's interrogation. She punctuated most sentences with a yawn as she reviewed the story of her lost keys and her ride home with Catrina. She described her working relationship with Eduard which was, as she told it, the extent of their friendship. "You never saw him socially?" Detective Peet asked the question. Kim paused before answering. "Accidentally once." She mentioned a restaurant at the opposite end of the metropolitan area - an odd area for either of the image-conscious executives to visit. "He was dining with a friend from business school. I didn't catch the name or if I did, I didn't retain it." The detective pressed to see if she and Eduard had planned to meet. "No way. He actually seemed a little disturbed to see me which annoyed me since I always figured we were friends at work. Ah well, you never know." Kim yawned emphatically and explained where the detective could find her. Her tone indicated-clearly-that he would not be welcome. "I'll be there after I take a run - if that's okay with you?" It wasn't okay with the cop. Kim told the policeman that he could not make her stay but then rethought her attitude. "I'll just hang around here. We have a lot to do today." I heard the door slam - I assumed at Kim's hand. I kept browsing the SLA job listings as the detective brought the employees in one by one. I tried to take meaning from the order but there did not appear to be any. Catrina was next. The detective asked her the same questions he had asked me and then Kim. I realized what he really wanted from Catrina was verification that she driven Kim home. No problem. Kim and Catrina told the same story. Then the detective pressed Catrina about the nature of her relationship with Eduard. I was surprised when Catrina's reserve broke. "Okay. I had a little crush on him. No one understood him like I did. He seemed cold and calculating . . ." Yes, I thought as she paused, because he was cold and calculating. When the detective asked Catrina about the nature of their relationship, my heart sank. "He never asked me out or anything but I knew we had a special relationship. I never told him I loved him . . . maybe now . . . I should have . . . I know." There was a period of silence punctuated by sniffles. "When we found him, he looked so cute. He had that little red dot on his nose." The detective was flummoxed by the red dot comment. I knew exactly what Catrina meant. Eduard had a habit of sniffing magic markers. While most of us enjoyed watching the otherwise fastidious Eduard operate with a small red dot on his nose, apparently Catrina had found the habit endearing. "Were you romantically involved?" I leaned forward to hear the answer and noticed Archibald rollerblading towards my office. I jumped up, ran to the door and missed Catrina's answer. I stopped the CEO outside my door. He assumed, mistakenly, that I was glad to see him. "Got here as soon as I could." Apparently the founder of our high tech company had not heard of the internal combustion engine. Or dress-up Friday. That day he wore a bright red sweat suit of nineteen seventies vintage - cut off at the knees for an ineffective imitation of the hip-hop look that Anthony had sported the day before. "Where is everyone?" All that was required to answer that question was a quick swivel of the head to survey the offices surrounding the central play area. "In their offices, I think. The police are interviewing everyone. Detective Peet is setting up headquarters in the empty office next to mine." I indicated his location with a nod of the head. "Detective Pete? Is that like Cowboy Bob?" He chuckled. "Where's Anthony?" Archibald zeroed in on his favorite employee -- the one he felt could not be replaced. When I told him that the web developer wasn't back yet he asked for Victor. "He left me a dozen messages overnight. I had to turn the ringer off." "You could have talked to him." I stared at the man with a blank expression. He reciprocated for a full minute before rolling off in search of Victor but Victor wasn't available. He was on his way to see Detective Peet. I wanted to get back to my post to eavesdrop but I was distracted by Anthony's arrival. "Good morning, everyone. Beautiful morning, isn't it?" Anthony waved a long, lanky arm at the entire office. "Anthony, my boy." Archibald glided to his side. "I was worried about you. How are you doing?" Neither of the men seemed to notice that they were dressed like twins. Anthony responded to Archibald's inquiry with two thumbs up and a happy smile. "Just finebut why did I have to get by two cops to come in here?" "Well son, I have some bad news." Archibald wrapped an arm around Anthony's shoulder and explained that Eduard was dead. "Really." Anthony pondered the information. "So what's the bad news?" Did anyone really appreciate the fact that someone had died here? An unlikable someone but someone. I was the only one fighting back tears - well not right then but there had been a moment. I may not have liked Eduard, and let's face it who could, but he had a mother and a father and a sister who loved him. Okay a mother and a father. Catrina had told me that Eduard and his sister were not speaking because he had cajoled their grandmother into leaving everything to him. Nonetheless, the lack of respect for his passing was beginning to irritate me. It annoyed Detective Peet as well. After he'd finished interrogating Victor I heard him mumble in a stage whisper, "I hope he did it." But little in Victor's interview indicated that he had. At least the part of the interview that I heard. All I caught was Victor's rant that he and all the other Risk-eGames employees were the real victims. By time he'd repeated his claim four times, Detective Peet seemed eager to get him out of the room. Anthony's interview included little that marked him as a suspect. At least if his alibi for the entire night checked out. Anthony had boasted that he'd met a girl -- which was miraculous considering the bright red shorts and shirt he was wearing for the second day in a row. Anthony explained that Archibald gave him football tickets. At the game, Archibald had introduced him to a young woman that he'd left only a hour before. Anthony had gotten lucky in more ways than one. Most nights he would have been alone at Risk-eGames without an alibi. Rumor had it that Anthony did not even bother to maintain a residence. Only extreme, if freaky, good luck had taken him out of the office the previous night. "Was your encounter with that woman the only reason you were late this morning?" "Yep. I got a voice mail from Kim from home about the meeting but I had already left a message here that I would be late. I didn't bother calling her back at home. She said she was going to bed. Everyone knew where I would be. You know the killer could have gotten me too if I were here. Luckily I wasn't." I don't know if Anthony realized just how lucky he was. His mood was certainly joyful. He couldn't hide his exuberance. He made no effort to hide it. He was willing to share everything about his evening in more detail than I wanted to know. I suspected that Detective Peet felt the same. He wanted to hear about Anthony's experience at Risk-eGames."They were lucky to get me. I am very good at what I do. I have over twenty years experience designing games." The cop interrupted. "How old are you?" "Twenty seven." Anthony replied without irony. "I see." The cop couldn't have sounded less convinced. By the time he tripped over a chair on his way out of the office, Anthony had convinced me of his innocence. Detective Peet saved Archibald for last. The two had stood silently as Eduard's body was rolled by. Neither seemed more concerned than when the lunch cart passed - and they seemed less interested. I could understand such a reaction in a cop. I found the indifference a bit frightening coming from Archibald. Archibald was accommodating - almost jolly during his interrogation. I'd had to feign filing near the common wall to hear Anthony's testimony. He'd spoken in low almost muffled tones. That type of action was in no way necessary when Archibald was speaking. His loud voice could be heard easily through the connecting wall as he rambled - about everyone but himself. He gave his assessment of the financial needs of each employee. I was interested to hear that he viewed me as "solid and stable." According to him that made me the odd person out at Risk-eGames. Without the cop's asking, he claimed that Victor spent every cent he got. True. Kim splurged only on items that used to make an impression. Otherwise she still had the first penny she ever made. True. And Anthony still had every penny he ever made. Right again. Archibald had gone on to relate the story that other employees suspected that Anthony didn't even have an apartment. Detective Peet wanted to hear about Archibald but our CEO didn't catch on - or pretended not to. The cop eventually wheedled a timeline of the days previous activities out of Archibald. The time he arrived at the office. The meetings he attended. The time he left the office with Anthony. The time he left Anthony at the football game. "Why did you leave?" "With everything going on? I didn't want Anthony getting upset over that little mix-up yesterday. The boy loves football. Lucky for us the Thursday night game was in town. I called in a favor, got tickets and fixed the boy up with a friend." The fix-up was what interested the cop. Archibald swore he didn't know the woman would be there. "I saw her and the idea clicked in my mind. I gave Anthony a couple hundred bucks and told him to take her out on the town." Archibald sounded amazed. "I think she really liked him." Under the cop's guidance Archibald described the rest of his evening. "I went back to work." I could feel the cop's excitement through the wall. The charge faded as Archibald indicated he was working in his home office - with his wife and four children in the next room. "And they can verify the time you got home?" Archibald hedged. "My wife will. Kids were asleep." He paused. "I actually took a little ride on the way home. I like to park down by the river sometimes. Good place to think. Watch the water and think, you know. As you know, I had a lot of thinking to do yesterday." "Were you alone?" Archibald answered -- sort of. "The cops patrol that area you know. They should have seen me. Big truck. Cute license plates. They say riske -- with an e. Like the company." I didn't hear the cop's response. I heard Archibald's skates as they hit the hardwood of the play area. I got nervous when Detective Peet dropped by my office. He claimed he was there to play a word game. Who was I to argue with a homicide cop? I played. "I want you to tell me what you think of each employee in one word. Archibald." "Careless. " "You sure? The word egomaniacal doesn't come to mind?" "To describe the founder of Lee Information, Lee Publications, Lee News, Lee Partners and Lee Advisors? I think egomaniacal is a bit weak. Originally, Archibald called this company Lee-eGames. He only relented because he couldn't find a receptionist who could pronounce the company name." "Receptionist? Why haven't I met the receptionist?" "You won't. When the products fell behind schedule we had to let her go." "Any other disgruntled former employees?" "Who said she was disgruntled? Archibald gave her a nice little parting gift. She only worked three months and made six months salary plus she was eligible for unemployment insurance. She felt getting hired and fired here in such a short time was one of the best things that ever happened to her." "How about this teacher I've heard about?" "Our former educational consultant is doing fine. Left in a fury but landed on her feet. She was even in here yesterday." I answered his questions before he asked them. "No, I don't know why she was here. I didn't speak to her." The cop returned to his list of names. Kim. Arrogant. Victor. Arrogant. The cop eyed me with a raised brow. "Archibald likes arrogance. He confuses it with confidence. He confuses confidence with competence." I paused. "Though Kim is nice to the grandmother who scrubbed floors to put her through school." I scrambled for something nice to say about Victor. "I bet his family likes him." Detective Peet ignored my kind comments and continued. Catrina. Naïve. Anthony. The last request threw me. How could I describe Anthony in a single work? How could I explain Anthony at all? As he left the detective warned me that he was off to play the same game with all the other employees. When he returned, however, I couldn't get him to tell me what words had described me. My tone was tentative as I inquired. "Are you planning on keeping us here until you solve this case?" The cop smiled in a friendly way - but I didn't get the impression he was my friend. "It's Friday. I'd like to wrap this up. I have plans for the weekend." The detective settled into my visitor's chair. "But even if you solve it, the forensics . . ." The detective cut my thought short with a sharp glance. "Forensics only work if you have the right person. I could have all the DNA in the world and if I don't have probable cause to match it to a suspect . . ." He didn't finish his sentence but I knew he meant he wouldn't have anything. "So do you have a suspect?" I used the singular. Bad enough to think one of my colleagues was a killer. I didn't want to consider the possibility that I worked with a gang of homicidal maniacs. The cop had a wry expression on his face. "I may not know who killed him but I do have a fair idea about why he was murdered." Chapter 5 I couldn't resist the urge to peek in the conference room where Eduard Silver had died. The hoard of police had cleared out. They left behind yellow crime tape and gray residue from fingerprinting kits -- and little else. Only Detective Peet remained at the scene of the crime. When I found him in the meeting room, he was writing on the board. "Archibald will kill you for that." The cop looked startled. I looked embarrassed. "Oops. Bad choice of words. But you're using the wrong kind of marker. That type is for paper. Archibald goes nuts when people make that mistake. Those markers stain the whiteboard. That one shouldn't even be in this room." The cop shrugged. I rambled on. "See the color is a little different from the one that Eduard used." "Hmmmmh." Detective Peet made his favorite comment. He turned to me with one of his almost sincere smiles. "This window faces east, right?" He nodded at the three windows lining the far wall. "Absolutely. I am hardly ever around here at sunrise but on the few occasions I have been, that whole side of the building reflects the sun like a mirror. It's blinding." "Windows like that don't usually open." The cop didn't necessarily expect a reply but I had one. "This building is an odd combo of new and old. It was renovated about three years ago." I had nothing else to add so I left Detective Peet to his investigating. As I turned to enter my office I realized the cop had followed me back to my office. He settled into a visitor's chair and stared at me. Unable to abide the silence, I got to the point. "So you hinted earlier that you know why Eduard was killed?" "Yes . . . probably . . . possibly. That's why I'm here. I thought I could run a few things by you. The late Eduard Silver went to business school in Philadelphia didn't he?" I nodded. I knew that Eduard went to the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania. "And this company All About E-Games that is giving your company trouble is based in Philadelphia." "Along with two million other people." "Yes, but that got me to thinking about who the owners were. Eduard's death could be unrelated to what happened with All About E-Games yesterday but . . . let's be real. I looked at the All About E-Games web site and none of their officers went to Wharton. Since you're head of research, I was wondering if you could . . ." Fifteen minutes later we'd found the news item the cop had been seeking. Ten minutes after that we had a photo of one of All About E-Games key investors - that one that interested Detective Peet. "See, I told you. Good old-fashioned police work." "Just knowing that Eduard was in class with this guy isn't enough." "No it isn't. I still have more good old-fashioned police work to do. Would you print that page?" The cop trimmed the paper and then began to show the photo around. He called the employees into my office, one by one. Kim arrived with a huff but she arrived. She was obedient to a fault - but rude. "What?" She snapped. "I was wondering if you've ever seen this man before." Kim ripped the page out of the policeman's hand. "I don't think so." She spoke almost before she'd had time to look. "Who is he?" "You don't know?" Kim noted the policeman's disappointment. "Did he kill Eduard?" The policeman shrugged. I studied Kim. Her desperation to please authority was once again evident. She scrunched up her face and studied the photo as if she were being graded on her efforts. "Maybe I saw him." I watched the detective affect nonchalance as he studied Kim's face intently. "This might have been the guy . . . I can't tell . . . it mightI think this was the guy I saw him with at dinner." She looked to the detective for affirmation. Whatever she saw made her go on. "I'd have to see another picture but it might have been." Victor responded eagerly to the call. He charged across the play area immediately. He studied the picture that the cop presented without comment. He took short deep breaths and bit his lip. "Is this the person who killed Eduard?" The detective assured him we simply wanted to identify the man. Victor considered the photo for another minute then shook his head. "No. I don't know him." He handed the page back to the cop without making eye contact. Archibald was next. At Detective Peet's request he skated into my office. "Sure. I know him." Archibald recognized the man in the photo at a glance. He identified him as a major investor in All About E-games. "The business isn't that big. We all know each other." In response to Detective Peet's question he speculated that Eduard probably knew him. "That's not at all unusual. The guy isn't active in the business. He was a first round investor. Public company. You oughtta look at the documents. That's all?" It wasn't. While the detective had the CEO's attention, he had a line of questioning to follow. "You were the one who made sure that Anthony was out of the office all night." "Me. No way dude. I simply gave the guy some football tickets. He had a bad day. I wanted to make him feel better." "Yes, but at the football game you introduced him to a young lady." "A friend of my son. Actually, his babysitter. How could I know . . . I mean why would I think that would mean that Anthony would be out all night? No offense to Anthony, but he's not much of a ladies man. It never occurred to me." Archibald's brutal honesty was brutal to Anthony. "But you left them alone." "With fifty thousand other people. I was tired. I had a lot to worry about. The last thing I wanted to do last night was go to a football game. As you may have noticed my entire business is in jeopardy. As I explained, I left early." "Yes. Yes, you did." The cop's agreement sounded more like an accusation -- one that Archibald ignored. He stepped out of my office and skated across the shiny surface of the play area. I called Anthony who told me he was deeply involved in a programming problem. "Anthony, I know you're busy but this is kind of important." "Anthony, if you get murdered, I'll take a break to find your murderer." "Anthony, I have a candy bar in my drawer." "No, it doesn't." "It better not have nuts." Anthony flung himself into the office and the chair in one motion. I flipped him the candy and he ripped the package open as he rested two feet on top of my desk knocking over a pile of magazines. I didn't object. Verbally. "Okay, bub, where's the photo?" Anthony waved his arm impatiently. "I got big stuff going on." Detective Peet appeared neither annoyed nor impressed by Anthony's behavior. I knew from his earlier comment that the cop was fighting his natural reaction. The cop simply handed Anthony the page. Anthony studied the picture. "This the guy who killed Eduard?" The detective didn't respond even when Anthony flipped the paper back at him. "Never saw him. Gotta go." And he did - tripping over a chair in the process. "What's this?" He was staring at the carpet. Anthony sees stars invisible to the naked eye. That day he saw a pin. He leaned down and pulled it from the rug. "You lost the needle from your sewing kit." He tone was pejorative. "Someone could get hurt on this. Someone already was." He looked at the smeared red on the tip. Anthony tried to pass me the needle but the cop intercepted it. He stared at it thoughtfully before wandering off to the conference room. "You know this case is shaping up nicely." The policeman settled back into my chair. "What about me?" The detective and I turned to see Catrina standing in the doorway. "You've had everyone in and out of this office but me. I figured it was my turn." "The detective just wanted to know if anyone recognized this man." I passed the paper to Catrina. I didn't catch her reaction but I caught the cop's reaction to her reaction. I followed the cop's gaze to Catrina's face. "Did he kill Eduard?" Her voice quavered. "Catrina, do you know him?" The cop's tone was soft and encouraging. Catrina shook her head. "No." Her answer was almost a protest. "I never saw him. I just . . . I mean how could someone kill Eduard." She began to sob and ran from the office towards the ladies room. Peet nodded that I should follow. Apparently I had been deputized. Consoling weeping people is not one of my strong points but Catrina's sobs were so violent that I couldn't help but wrap an arm around her. I mumbled something comforting. "I know this is a shock." I didn't add that because of the thin walls in my office I knew about her crush. "It is for all of us." There were no paper towels so I pulled toilet paper off the roll to wipe her tears. "You know if you care about Eduard all you can do for him now is help catch his killer." She shook her head. "I can't help it." She met my eyes in the mirror. "I can't. I need to be alone." She grabbed more tissue and rushed towards her office. I found Detective Peet at my desk when I returned. He was on the phone. Apparently on hold. "Catrina had red ink on her hands." I explained that I had seen her touch the whiteboard in the conference room after we discovered Eduard's body. She'd touched the words he'd written on the board almost reverentially. "Convenient, don't you think? Letting you see that?" His eyes sparkled. Then the person at the other end picked up. Listening to his side of the conversation provided no insight. He wasn't doing much of the talking. I settled into the visitor's chair. When the detective hung up he folded his hands in front of him and leaned forward. "If I told you that Eduard was sabotaging Risk-eGames, who would be a suspect in his murder?" "Are you absolutely sure that his death is related to yesterday's . . ."I searched for a word and finally decided on "events." "You're sure that no one outside the office wanted to kill Eduard Silver?" "For all I know hundreds of people outside the office wanted to kill him. But they didn't have the same opportunity. There is no sign of forced entry anywhere in this building or in this office. So, who would be your prime suspect?" "Who wouldn't be a suspect? We all would be viable suspects. Including me." I waited for the cop to laugh. He didn't. I continued. "We all gave up a lot to work here. I don't know all the individual deals but I know that we are all working for equity. If someone sabotaged the firm, they would have stolen from us. All of us." I thought for a moment. "With the possible exception of Catrina. She has no real financial investment in the firm. For her this is just a job. For the rest of us it was kind of a dream." At last the cop smiled - at my feet. "You always dreamed of a job where you didn't have to wear shoes?" "Among other things." When the detective left and I returned to my desk, I realized all eyes were on me. Except Anthony's. Apparently Anthony didn't care why I was in conference with the cops. The others studied me as I feigned ignorance of their stares. Some of the looks were accusatory; some were fearful. Eventually interest in me faded. I was hoping that the police would let us leave soon. Evening was approaching and I wanted to go home. The Risk-eGames office has a long hallway that leads from the entrance to the play area. On that hallway are the rest rooms and the utility closet as well as a small kitchen. The eight offices --seven occupied -- are arranged around the play area. Well, from that day forward, six occupied offices. At the opposite end of the play area is the small conference room where Eduard Silver's body was found. I headed away from the conference room down the hall towards the ladies room. Just outside the utility closet, my stocking covered foot hit something damp. I patted the area with my foot and found a small wet spot on the area rug. Had I managed to find every spill in the office? What was leaking around here? At that point, I noticed that the door to the utility closet wasn't locked tight. Looking for a leaky item I pushed the door in. Nothing looked out of place - but I didn't generally check the utility closet. There was the usual array of buckets, mops, broom and cleaning materials. None of them appeared to be the source of the problem. I reached over my shoulder and turned on the overhead fluorescent lighting. The bulb shed no additional light on the situation. I backed towards the door for a better view. I was close to the exit when I felt a foot in the center of my back. The force threw me forward into a metal shelf. I fell onto one knee. Plastic bottles fell on my head. The full ones hurt. Behind me I heard a slam. I stared at the metal door with amazement. I tried to pull it open, but it secured from the outside. Someone had just locked me in the utility closet. Why? I was going to get out. All I had to do was knock. Soon someone would pass on the way to the ladies room and hear me and I would get out. Locking me inside was a futile effort. I knocked and I called. No one heard me but I wasn't worried. Not that it was pleasant in the closet. The air stank. Cleaning fluids. Not that I knew from personal experience. My first disposable dollars went to a cleaning service. I knocked on the door in vain. My eyes were burning. I sat on the floor and slumped against the cold door. The metal was cold to the touch but I didn't mind. I was tired. Only my coughing was keeping me awake. I pushed an oversized bucket on wheels away to clear the air. I rolled into a prone position, closed my eyes and yawned. The day had been exhausting. I felt like I could sleep on the cement floor. I didn't have to. "I was just walking by and I heard coughing." Kim was playing the heroine. She had me propped up against the ping-pong table. She had gathered the other employees to congratulate her on her valor. "The door was locked from the outside. So I sent Catrina for the key." I was coughing but not that badly. I was fine. I'd simply gotten sleepy when locked in the closet. I had a mild reaction to all the fumes in the closet. I was suffering a lot more from being propped up on a ping-pong table than I was from my stay on the closet floor. Detective Peet watched from the door of my office as all the employees fluttered around me - except Anthony who remained glued to his pc in his office. The cop had heard my story and checked out the closet. We'd all watched him curiously as, taking a different route each time, he paced the length of the office in bare feet. He'd laid some crime scene tape in certain spots and called to his office for backup. Then he returned to his position leaning against the door jam to observe. He'd doffed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Despite his stillness, he gave the appearance of working hard. "Why would anyone lock me in the closet?" I didn't get the point. "It must have something to do with Eduard's death," Catrina said breathlessly. "Why?" Kim asked with annoyance. "What else?" Victor snapped. "Now let's not jump to conclusions." Archibald tried to play the leader. "Okay, I've had it. Let's get this over with. My son has a soccer game tomorrow and I don't want to miss it. I want everyone here in five minutes." Detective Peet did not sound happy. "And I mean everyone." Chapter 6 Okay, there was no evidence indicating the purpose of the meeting was to unmask the killer. Evidence didn't matter to me. I drew my own conclusions. The cop had asked everyone to attend. I was lost in an English drawing room fantasy. You know the one. Where the professorial detective reviews the facts and then announces that the resolution is absolutely obvious. I didn't think cops still operated this way in the twenty-first century but I didn't want to question Detective Peet's judgment. I understand that the setting wasn't quite right. We had the heavy paneling but the games and exercise equipment did not complete the image. Since most of our research collection was virtual, we didn't have rows of gorgeous leather-bound books in the background. The carpets scattered around were not lush Orientals but loud area rugs boasting the company web address. The people drifting in weren't British aristocrats dressed in silk dressing gowns but dot.com employees ready for dress-up Friday. And then there was the matter of the detective. Detective Peet was not at all professorial. He didn't carry a pipe. He'd taken off his suit jacket. He'd rolled up the sleeves of the pale blue shirt that matched his eyes. The cop seemed somewhat bored and very annoyed by the entire process as if whoever killed Eduard did so to purposefully inconvenience him. I didn't recall any of the stereotypical English detectives acting irritated in the drawing room. Nonetheless, I felt excited. I'd always dreamed of being part of such a gathering. "I have a few questions I'd like to ask the group." Detective Peet flipped back the cover of his notebook. "How often is the office cleaned?" Archibald answered. "We wanted to save a little cash. We cut back to once a week. They'll be here tonight. They come every Friday night. Is that okay? We can stop them if you want." "Mr. Karinsky." He turned to Victor. "Did you check your voice mail first thing this morning?" Victor nodded. How many messages did you receive? "Just one. From Anthony saying that he thought he'd be late this morning. He left it last night." Anthony blushed and looked very pleased with himself. The cop turned to Anthony. "What made you think at 10:41 last night that you would be late this morning?" Anthony's expression remained smug. "I think I understand women." All the other employees stared at him with wonderment. He wasn't lying; he was just so wrong. "Do you have any idea why the phone number you gave me for your girlfriend connected me to Dial-a-Prayer?" Anthony blushed but spoke steadily. "I must have given you a wrong number." "Ms. Smith," he looked at Kim. "I noticed a gym bag in your office. Where do you work out?" "I don't have time to belong to a gym," Kim replied. "I have a very demanding job. Sometimes I run after work." The detective nodded to indicate he knew all the answers before he asked the questions. "I'd like to review the events of the last thirty hours. Some unusual things have happened aside from the business event that I believe started this chain of events. Each of you had a motive to kill your colleague, Eduard Pretty good motives actually. It seems he wasn't a very nice guy. If I'd known him, I might have wanted to kill him myself." Catrina spoke with a childlike innocence. "Do you really think one of us did it?" The detective pinned her with a rueful smile. "I know that forensics will prove that one of you did it but I think we might be able to wrap this up before the data is analyzed." I was right. This was the twenty-first century equivalent of a drawing room gathering to unmask a killer. Detective Peet cleared his throat to punctuate his transition form commentator to interrogator. "Now to review the unusual happenings of the past day. Let me start with you, Mr. Lee." "Me? Nothing unusual happened to me." Archibald sounded jovial. "Not to you, sir. But you did make some unusual things happen." "How so?" The CEO sounded surprised. Apparently even he realized that he rarely made anything happen. xxxxx Anthony spoke up. "Isn't anyone here willing to believe that she actually liked me? She likes me, I'm telling you, she does." He looked from colleague to colleague nodding. "Catrina. You were the last one to see Eduard before his altercation with Victor. You made a point of saying good-night to him. How did he seem?" Catrina shrugged. "I don't know. He looked great." Her smile said death had not ended the infatuation. "Nervous?" Catrina nodded. "Definitely stressed. But he was stressed a lot." "Catrina, why were your hands wet when we were introduced today?" The young woman appeared flustered. "Because we were out of paper towels." "But the trash cans weren't full of towels." Catrina grew defensive and agitated. "That's not my job." The cop smiled. "I didn't mean to imply it was." "Isabella how many wet spots did you step on today?" I provided the answer with a quizzical expression. "Two. One in front of the conference room door and one near the utility closet." "Kim, when did you pick up your message from Anthony?" The woman replied with a huff. "I told you. I picked it up this morning. Late morning. I felt bad because I'd been complaining that he wasn't here. I didn't notice my light was on." "Hmmmmh." I was happy the cop hadn't said "hmmmmh" in response to my answer. I was convinced; Hmmmmmh wasn't good. "Kim, how did you know where the key to the utility closet was kept?" "We all knew." Kim's answer was short. Catrina spoke up. "It's in the receptionist's desk . . . if we had a receptionist . . . I mean it would be the receptionist's desk . . . it's there anyway . . . in the top drawer of that desk." Again, he added "Hmmmh." "Do you go in the closet often?" He looked around the room. We all shook our heads. "Never. Rarely." We all mumbled. "So only the cleaning people will know if anything is missing." Again we all mumbled. "Yes." "I guess." "Sure." The cop stood on the treadmill, I assumed to raise himself to a position of authority, and said he had a few things he wanted to share. "Eduard Silver betrayed all of you. I suspect that his perfidy started even before he joined Risk-eGames. I believe further investigation will show that he came out of school with a plan and a partnership. He and a friend would take positions at competing start-ups. They would make sure one flourished and one failed. And, they would invest accordingly. It may not surprise you that one Marita Fields Harry is one of the largest investors in All About E-Games. She is also the maternal grandmother of Eduard Silver." I marveled at how readily available that information had been. Yet we hadn't thought to look for it. Why would we? I surveyed the expressions on the faces of my coworkers. Not one of them appeared surprised. Were they extremely good at maintaining a poker face? Had they known all along? I assumed Detective Peet would tell us. "I believe at least three of you, possibly all of you were aware of his relationship to All About E-Games. I should say, became aware. Yesterday." He turned to Catrina. "Who did you tell about the man in the picture?" The cop referred to the photo he'd shown around that afternoon -- the photo of a key investor in All About E-Games. "I . . . I . . . How . . ." Catrina sputtered to no conclusion. "Some of you know that Catrina had, or hoped to have, a special relationship with Eduard. Eduard confided in several of you that Catrina had run into him time and time again. It was only natural that when you saw the picture of Douglas Ferrier, a key player at All About E-Games, that you would go to her to see if she recognized him." Catrina hung her head. "I couldn't help it if we went to a lot of the same places and ran into each other a lot." Kim interrupted with an acerbic observation. "Catrina, no one bumps into someone fifteen times in a three week period -- even if they live in the same house." "I did. I swear it was an accident. Every time." The cop's tone was soft. "Catrina, the point is that you saw Eduard with Douglas Ferrier, didn't you?" Catrina nodded. "And you told your colleagues, didn't you?" She nodded. "It's my fault he's dead, isn't it?" "Catrina don't blame yourself for anything." His tone was reassuring until he added a single word. "Yet." "But I am not strong enough to hit Eduard." Catrina pleaded. "I could argue that anyone is strong enough to hit someone with a weapon. But . . The detective paused for effect before he added, "The blow didn't kill Eduard." The detective had told me that the blow to Eduard's face had not been enough to kill the executive. Apparently some of the others were learning this for the first time. "If the blow didn't kill him, then he died of natural causes, right?" Victor turned his eyes from Kim to Archibald to me to Anthony before meeting the detective's. "Hardly." The cop answered his question. "Although I think I understand why you would have a special interest in that scenario." The cop studied Victor's face as the color drained from it. "Eduard was young, healthy and fit. There is more to his death. And that is what I've been trying to figure out. The key lies in the open windows." We had speculated that Eduard had opened the windows to keep himself awake while working late. According to the cop, that was the conclusion the killer hoped we would reach. But the cop informed us, he felt the windows had been opened not to let fresh air in but to let poisoned air out. "That is why I've instructed the medical examiner to look for poison -- specifically poison gas." We'd known that there were no more paper towels in the ladies room but we hadn't really considered that information a clue. But the cop did. He speculated that the paper towels had been stuffed around the windows and doors of the conference room to hold the gas in. But the question remained: where did the gas come from? Poison gas was a relatively sophisticated murder weapon. The detective was flummoxed as to whom among his suspects had the knowledge to cook up a brew of poison. I'm sure as he spoke we all considered the possibilities. I felt relieved. No one could accuse me. I was hopeless at science. I took five years of Latin to get out of chemistry. But there were likely candidates among us. Archibald had trained as an engineer. I just couldn't recall whether he'd been a chemical or electrical engineer. Right now the distinction was major. I'd known that Anthony had started college in pre-med. But I didn't know that Victor had also started down the path to medical school. He admitted to the group that he didn't get too far. "I had to change majors. Turned out I hate the sight of blood. I passed out the first time they showed us a film of surgery." He shrugged weakly. No one else confessed to a scientific background. I tried to study the expressions on the faces my colleagues. In my estimation they all looked guilty. Maybe, like me, guilt or innocence had nothing to do with it. Maybe we all appeared guilty in the presence of a homicide detective. I peeked at the cop and saw a wry grin cross his face. "But these wet spots . . . " He studied the faces for the reaction he wanted and apparently found one. "You know I must congratulate whoever committed this murder. It was extremely clever." At that moment I knew. Or suspected what the cop suspected. There was no conclusive forensic evidence. The cop had to rely on a confession. And he knew how to get one in this crowd. In our little dot.com of big egos, he was going to flatter a confession out of the perpetrator. Sorry, but because of space restrictions the wrap-up must be printed separately.