Mrs. Thompson arranged for me to start at NUTEC the very next day. She still had two more weeks off for her regular vacation time, although she didn’t even know if she’d be able to go back when that time was up. She’d talked to the owners but they hadn’t said much one way or the other.
“I got the impression they were hoping the police would have something solid by the end of my holidays,” she told me, “so that if I did it, they could let me go without looking as though they were jumping the gun.
“Since I may not be going back at all, I’d better get you in there right away, while I still have some authority.”
“You won’t tell anyone why I’m coming, though, right?” I asked.
“Oh, I trust the people I work with,” Mrs. Thompson said. It sounded as though she was trying to persuade herself as much as me. “I don’t believe for a minute that this is an inside job. But I won’t let them know what you’re doing there. As far as anyone is concerned, you’ll just be a student working through a summer employment project.”
“Most likely you’re right about the thief being someone from outside the company,” I said slowly, “but I quite honestly can’t take a single chance. You’ve just told me that the theft is going to cost your company millions of dollars. For that kind of money, the guilty person could be willing to do something desperate if he or she felt threatened.
“The thing is,” I continued, “if no one knows why I’m there, they can’t accidentally let something slip and give me away to anyone else — employee or outsider. I want to help, I really do, but I don’t want to take any risks I can avoid.”
Not long ago I’d put myself in a pretty dangerous predicament. The scare hadn’t quite worn off yet, and I was determined not to get in that kind of spot again if I could help it.
Mrs. Thompson seemed to understand. At least she promised that no one would hear about it from her.
Betts was another worry, because she’s a huge fan of gossip — the juicier the better. She did give me her word, though, and I think she realized how important secrecy was in this situation. Besides, if she told anyone about what I was doing, she’d have to explain why, and that would be embarrassing for her own mother.
“It would be helpful if you’d tell me a little bit about each person who works there,” I said then, “so I don’t have to waste time figuring out who’s who and who does what. If I know what everyone is supposed to do, it might help me pick up on it if any of them do something unusual.”
Mrs. Thompson repeated her earlier opinion that none of her staff were involved, but she told me a little bit about each employee anyway. I wrote down their names, underlined them, and scribbled bits of information as she spoke.
Darla Rhule. Project Manager and also in charge during Mrs. Thompson’s absence. Employed for the past 22 years, very good at her job. Married with three grown children. No obvious financial problems — both she and her husband have good incomes.
“When you meet Darla you’ll be struck by how organized and energetic she is. She just never seems to stop, which keeps some of the younger employees on their toes.”
James Rankin. Accounting and Bookkeeping. He and his wife are childless and both are employed so money problems are unlikely.
“You might expect someone in that field to be stern or dull.” Mrs. Thompson smiled for the first time since we’d begun talking. “James is nothing like that, though. He’s laid-back and good-natured. He does his work efficiently, though without the passion you’ll see in the staff who have more creative jobs.”
Angi Alexander. Graphic Artist. Mid-thirties, made a career change after four years as the NUTEC secretary. Went back to school to learn her new trade and was rehired on graduation, first as the assistant. Last year when the main designer left for another job, Angi took over. Talented, upbeat, and generally pleasant. Appears to live on a fairly tight budget but doesn’t complain or seem focused on money.
“You tell Angi you’d like to see a certain design and she works it up for you, but sometimes you look at it and you just know it’s not right, even though it’s what you asked for. Some artists might not take that well, but Angi just shrugs and starts something else. She really seems to love her new job.”
Janine LeBlanc. Secretary. Chronically behind schedule, though more from mismanagement of her time than overwork.
I’d be sent in to work as Janine’s assistant for the remainder of the summer holidays, which would give me the opportunity to have regular contact with all the staff, as well as fairly free access to the common areas.
“Janine is sweet enough, but she’s a bit of a news-bag,” Mrs. Thompson sighed. “Try to ignore the steady stream of gossip and you’ll be better off. If she thinks she has an interested ear it only gets worse.”
Contrary to this advice, I made a mental note to look as interested as I could. The more I heard about what went on among the employees at NUTEC, the better my chances were of stumbling on to something important.
Debbie and Stuart Yaeger. Software Developers. Debbie is competent but with an exaggerated opinion of her own abilities while Stuart is the more talented of the two but very quiet and modest. With both of them taking home excellent wages from NUTEC, it seems unlikely that they have any money worries.
“The odd couple,” Mrs. Thompson said. “You’d never in a million years expect them to be married to each other, but they’ve been together since they were in university and they seem to get along just fine. They share the largest office, which, surprisingly enough, works out all right.”
Joey Sands. Software Developer. The youngest staff member. A computer genius but not terribly reliable. He designed the stolen program. Financially, he seems less stable than the others. He receives a good salary and generous bonuses from NUTEC but is often broke and borrows small amounts of money between paydays.
“Sometimes he misses work without calling in. He’s also a bit moody, and while he’s usually sweet and charming, he can be quite cranky. That’s probably just because of his age. No doubt he has girlfriend problems at times. I’m sure he’s harmless enough.”
Carol Coppice. Office Assistant. This is the newest staff member, a forty-something-year-old woman hired through a government make-work program for people who have been unemployed for a long time. She does simple tasks like making photocopies, shredding old documents, and running errands.
“I’m afraid she’s not very likable,” Mrs. Thompson said, “though we all make an effort to overlook some of her habits because, as you’ll easily see, she’s somewhat, uh, limited. Having an office job seems to have made her feel terribly significant and she goes about with a blustery, self-important attitude. She always has something to say, but sadly not much of it is worth hearing, which can be very annoying.
“I don’t know if this is worth mentioning or not, but we did have a computer programming student from the college in Viander doing a field placement up to a few weeks before the robbery. His name is Gary Todd, but I understand he had a job to go to in Saint John right after his placement was finished, so he wasn’t even in the area at the time the theft occurred.”
I added his name to the list, just in case.
Later on, back home and in my room, I looked over the list of employees again, trying to conjure up mental images of each one. It was silly, but I felt kind of disappointed that none of the names jumped out at me. Mrs. Thompson’s descriptions hadn’t made anyone stand out as a potential criminal.
The only one who seemed a possibility at all was Joey Sands, partly because he’d designed the program and might view it as belonging to him, and partly because he was the only one who had a noticeable shortage of funds from time to time. It wasn’t much to go on, though, and certainly not enough for me to consider him a definite suspect without some actual evidence.
After memorizing as much information from the list as my brain would absorb just then, I folded the paper and slid it into my desk drawer.
As I got ready for bed, I couldn’t help thinking of Betts and how trusting and confident she was that I’d be able to figure this whole mess out. Clicking off my light and crawling under the sheet, I wondered what I’d gotten myself into.