In Blair Geister’s home office, the three partners prepared a murder board on the underside of the drafting table. While Virginia stretched out on the sofa, laptop parked on its namesake, Jeff took a piece of paper from the printer and Emory made sure the door was locked.
Jeff taped the paper onto the right side of the board, and stared for a second at the faculty picture of Eden with her name underneath. “The way I see it, Blair Geister had three separate lives, giving us three primary pools of suspects: Business, Foundation and Personal.”
Emory joined him at the board. “Sounds good to me.”
Virginia agreed. “Me too. I have another picture printing now.”
With a red sharpie, Jeff wrote the three categories onto separate Post-It notes, sticking each at the top of a column on the murder board. He posted Eden’s photo in the Personal column and wrote the motive on the paper under the photo. “Eden could’ve sought revenge for turning down her grant, but her primary motive would’ve been greed, since she assumed she would receive a much greater inheritance than she actually did.”
Emory said, “Okay, as far as means, Virginia pointed out that anyone could’ve bought the materials needed to reroute the lightning rod grounding wire and learned how to do it on YouTube, meaning everyone could’ve had the means to commit the murder.”
“And the opportunity,” noted Virginia. “Juniper said the house was basically open 24/7 for two weeks, while the bedroom was being renovated.”
Emory tapped Eden’s photo. “Getting back to Eden, she wouldn’t have slept in that bed if she had known it was rigged to kill.”
Jeff shook his head. “I don’t agree. Remember, we’ve had someone put herself in danger before just to throw off suspicion.”
“True, but you didn’t see the lightning dancing all around that bed. There’s no way Eden could’ve been sure she’d survive.”
Virginia glanced up from her laptop. “I’m with Emory. I don’t think she could’ve faked that just for our benefit.”
Jeff continued playing devil’s advocate. “But she did survive, and you said it yourself. The lightning was all around the bed. Did she stay in the center of the mattress?”
Virginia answered, “For the most part, until the sparks died down. Then she jumped into Emory’s arms.”
“Then she’s still a suspect. Who’s next?”
Emory retrieved the next picture from the printer. “Myles Godfrey.” He taped it into the Business column.
Jeff readied his marker. “Motive?”
Virginia offered one. “Business rivals.”
Emory asked, “But is that enough to commit murder?”
“If you believe the rumors, it was enough for him to sabotage The Monolith,” replied Virginia. “Plus, he’s now trying to buy her company – something I’m sure is easier for him with Blair dead.”
Emory tsked. “I don’t know. Is it enough? How much would you have to hate a business competitor to actually kill her?”
Jeff stared at the board. “Or have them killed. I’m on the fence. We’ll keep him as a suspect but move him to the bottom of the column.”
As Emory repositioned Godfrey’s photo, Jeff grabbed the next printout and grinned when he saw it. “Ah yes. The professor, Dr. Barry Sharp.”
Emory scoffed. “He’s not a suspect.”
Jeff taped his picture in the middle column. “Are you kidding me?”
“He has no motive.”
“His field of study is lightning! Excuse me, fulminology. That’s literally our murder weapon.”
“Again, what’s his motive?”
Virginia chimed in. “Why did Blair want to delay his grant money?”
Jeff punctuated the air. “Thank you! There’s your motive.”
Emory pulled Dr. Sharp’s picture from the board. “That’s not a motive. You saw his reaction when you asked about that. He was totally surprised.”
“Or he’s also practiced in the dramatic arts.” Jeff snatched the picture from his hand. “Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that something was giving Blair second thoughts about him.”
“You don’t know that.” Emory reclaimed the photo. “It could’ve been a completely unrelated financial decision. Even if it were something to do with Dr. Sharp, he wasn’t aware of it, so again I come to the conclusion that we have no motive. Another thing, how stupid would he have to be to murder someone so elaborately with lightning? He’d be the obvious suspect. If anything, it’s more likely someone’s setting him up.”
Jeff asked, “How big a crush do you have on this guy?”
Emory rolled his eyes. “Would you stop it with that! I’m just being logical.”
Jeff looked to Virginia. “Miss Tiebreaker?”
“I’m sorry, Emory. That escrow delay is nagging at me. Until we have an explanation for it, I vote he’s a suspect.”
Emory taped his photo back on the board. “Then we need to find the explanation.”
“Already on it,” said Virginia. “I set up a video conference with Dr. Arthur Igataki for tomorrow. He’s the consultant the EARTH Foundation contracts to review grant applications.”
Jeff pointed the sharpie at her. “Good call. All right, who’s next?”
Virginia replied, “Edgar Strand.”
“Our friendly neighborhood axe-wielder. Virginia, you’ve had direct contact with him. Your thoughts?”
“He and Blair got off on the wrong foot. If you add up the lawsuits, gargoyles, Easter Island heads and now the end of his marriage, he had plenty of motive to kill her.”
“Plus, he’s next door.” Emory taped his photo in the third column. “That puts him at just about the top of the list as far as opportunity goes.”
Jeff wrote Revenge under Edgar’s picture. “Next.”
Virginia spoke as the printer started again. “Coming up is Rue Darcé, who replaced Blair at Geister Innovations & Engineering.”
Emory took the page from the printer and taped it in the first column. “Is a promotion and a raise worth killing for?”
“Maybe it’s more.” Jeff wrote Money? under her picture. “We still don’t know who’s going to inherit ownership of the company.”
“You’re right.” Emory returned to the printer. “The title to the company is either in the Pangram Box or part of the will’s residuary clause.”
“Speaking of the Pangram Box, what about Zyus Drake?”
Virginia kept her eyes on her laptop. “I’m trying, but I haven’t been able to find a photo or anything on him. No social media accounts.”
Jeff said, “He probably deleted them after what happened to him.”
“I found something.”
“What is it?” asked Emory.
“Juniper gave me a list of a few people Blair invited to every party because they were excellent conversationalists. I’ve been combing through their social media, hoping someone posted pictures from the party Zyus attended. I found one.” Virginia turned her laptop around, allowing Emory and Jeff to see a picture of a beautiful fortyish woman with a tall, handsome man in his late twenties.
“Whoa!” said Jeff.
“The woman is Clair Suffolk, a Nashville socialite.”
Emory stepped closer to get a better look. “Are you sure that’s Zyus?”
“She tagged the man to an account called Zyus.Drake, which is no longer active.” She turned the computer around and read, “She captioned it, ‘I met this stunning (and persuasive) trainer at Blair Geister’s party. I start the gym next week!’”
Jeff crossed his arms. “I can’t believe that’s what he looked like before. Damn.”
“I’m printing it now.”
Emory retrieved the printout and taped it into the third column. “The obvious motive for him would be revenge because he blames her for what happened to him. We need to know more about their relationship.”
Jeff stared at the image. “Yeah, that was weird when he said they didn’t have that kind of relationship. I assumed they were lovers.”
“Exactly. If they weren’t lovers, what were they to each other?”
Virginia had a suggestion. “Maybe he was a paid escort. She was rich and focused on her work. Maybe she didn’t take time to develop a personal relationship with a guy, so she paid for some companionship – like Pretty Woman.”
Emory sat on the sofa next to Virginia and took another look at the post. “That could explain his comment.”
Jeff wrote Vengeance under Zyus’ picture. “She called him a trainer. Could you use that tidbit to find out more about him?”
“I’ll try.”
Jeff tapped the pen to the second column, with the lone photo of Dr. Barry Sharp. “The Foundation column is a bit sparse.”
Emory rejoined Jeff at the board. “What about the coal mine her foundation is closing down. I know Juniper mentioned the miners don’t know that yet, but I’m sure some must be suspicious.”
Jeff tapped Emory’s chest. “She did say there was a near riot when they found out she was buying it.”
“I found an article on it.” She scanned the article and read an excerpt aloud. “Coal mine supervisor Spike Dean led an employee revolt against the temporary shutdown, staging a sit-in that turned violent when sheriff’s deputies were brought in to remove them.” Virginia looked up from the laptop. “Obviously, this Spike Dean figured out the shutdown was never meant to be temporary.”
“Agreed.” Emory tilted his head toward the sharpie in Jeff’s hand. “Sounds like a possible motive. Revenge for the loss of his and his friends’ jobs.”
Jeff looked to Virginia. “Picture?”
“There’s one with the article, but you can’t see his face too clearly. Printing now.”
Emory pulled the black-and-white picture from the printer and examined it with Jeff. Spike Dean, hands cuffed behind his back, wore a miner hat that cast a shadow down the middle of his forehead as a deputy led him from the mine.
Jeff took it and taped it to the second column. “Yeah, can’t make out much. It’ll do for now, but we should try to find a better picture of him.”
“What about house staff?” asked Virginia.
Emory watched for Jeff’s reaction when he asked his next question. “Kenn Marty and the others?”
Jeff laughed. “I see what you’re doing. They each got a quarter of million dollars in the will, but I doubt any of them knew that ahead of time.”
Virginia said, “Everyone except the gardener, George Henry. He started working here after the will was filed.”
Jeff held up his index finger. “Then he had no reason to kill her. Are we done?”
Emory identified an omission. “We’re missing one very important suspect.”
“Who?” asked Jeff. “Oh, you mean—”
“Our employer.”
Virginia closed her laptop. “Juniper? No.”
“I agree. Why would she hire us?”
Emory replied, “I don’t know, but there are important details she’s not telling us, particularly about Tommy Addison’s death. Also, why was she convinced Blair Geister’s ghost was coming after her? What did Juniper do that was so terrible, and why was she afraid her boss would find out?”
“You’re right. Printing her picture now.”
Without arguing, Jeff waited by the printer. “We have three categories and three PIs. What do you say we divide and conquer?”
“That’s fine with me,” replied Emory.
Virginia said, “Me too.”
“Good.” Jeff taped the picture of Juniper to the first column with the question Cover-up? written as the motive. “In the Business category, we have Myles Godfrey, Rue Darcé and Juniper Crane. In the Foundation category, we have Dr. Sharp and the miners. In the Personal category, we have Eden Geister, Zyus Drake and Edgar Strand. I’ll take Business.”
Emory snapped a picture of the board with his phone. “I’ll take Foundation.”
Jeff scoffed. “I don’t think so. Virginia can be more objective about it.”
Virginia put aside her laptop. “I think I should stick to the Personal category. I’ve already built relationships with two of those suspects.”
“She’s right.” Emory tilted the top of the drafting table to where it was before, concealing the murder board. “And I should take the Foundation category because that’s right in my wheelhouse.”
“Is that what you call it? All right. I’ll take Business.” Jeff pulled his phone from his pocket for a quick glimpse. “How did it get so late?”
Virginia stood and stretched. “It’s not late.”
“It is for me. I didn’t sleep well last night. I say we call it a day.”
Emory checked the time on his phone. “It’s a little early to stop working. I want to search for the Pangram Box. We only have sixty-two hours until the deadline.”
“It’s Friday. We’ve been working every waking hour. Let’s take the rest of the afternoon off and take advantage of that awesome movie theatre downstairs.”
Emory sighed. “Okay.”
“Great!” Jeff turned to Virginia. “Can you figure out that projector?”
Virginia closed her laptop. “Probably.”
“Excellent. Pick out a good movie.” Jeff emptied the wine bottle into his glass on the desk. “Emory, you select a wine. I’ll find some noshables, and we’ll all meet in the theatre.”
In the wine cellar, Emory perused the racks for an inexpensive red. When he came to the bottle of Coyote Red from La Fleur’s Winery, his eyes turned to the painting on the wall. He stared at the haunting figure of Hugo Hickory searching for his lost heart while Waya’ha watched. Emory picked up the bottle of wine, and the painting swung away from the wall. He placed the bottle on the table and opened the safe to find nothing inside. But there was something inside when we first opened it. I’m certain I saw something.
He closed the safe and returned the bottle to the rack. When the painting swung back to the wall, he stared at it some more.
Emory gasped. “Is that…”
Jeff walked into the cellar, his arms laden with bags of veggie chips, left hand clutching the stems of three wine glasses between the fingers. “Are you having a problem deciding?”
Emory turned to his partner and announced, “I know what Blair Geister’s up to.”