Hirschbeck grunted. “Sondra told me one of our employees mentioned a strange account in the system before Higgins came on. I’ve asked the financial auditors to verify the account’s purpose,” he said.
So Hirschbeck already knew but had been playing it close to the vest. How could I blame him? I’d have done the same. “I’m thinking it’s not another account, but the same one. Someone went into the system and changed the dates to set up Brad. The only way to verify it is to hire a computer forensics expert to determine if the computer records were altered and, if possible, by whom.” Faint hope stirred in me that he’d see the logic in this.
He grunted. “Hiring a computer expert is an expense we hadn’t anticipated. First, we have to justify it with headquarters.”
Damn. More corporate hoops to jump through, I thought. “If the auditors find only one suspicious account—and I think they will—you’ll still face the question of whether that account was created after Brad came on or it’s the same one your employee mentioned, and it was altered to implicate Brad,” I said. “That would be grounds for examining the computers.”
For a long moment, he was silent. “You’re righ
t. I guess we’ll have to wait and see what the auditors find. Got any other expensive suggestions?”
“No, but I have a question,” I said. “There’s another potential suspect in Sondra Jones’s murder. Possibly a Kozmik employee or someone who’s done business with the company. Tall, blond, huge—and hard to forget. Does he sound familiar?”
“Not really.”
“He was caught on camera entering and leaving the building on the evening Jones was murdered, about a half-hour before Brad Higgins arrived. You’re sure you’ve never seen someone like that, at a meeting or in the hall?”
“I haven’t, but that doesn’t mean much. We have eighty-five employees. I don’t know every one of them. He could’ve been doing business with any of them.”
I suppressed a sigh. “Do you keep photos of your employees on file?”
“No.” He sounded brusque and defensive. “You could contact Personnel,” he said in a calmer voice. “See if they’ve hired anyone matching that description. Otherwise, you’d probably have to check with each department head. If he’s not an employee, someone may know why he was here.”
I groaned under my breath. Going from department to department would beat interviewing eighty-five employees, but it would eat up the clock— and shoe leather. Seeing no alternative, I said, “I’ll start with Personnel.”
* * * * *
Hirschbeck gave me the number for a woman named Kendall in Personnel. She spoke with a Midwest twang, lots of hard A’s. When I described the hulk, she grew animated. “Gosh, it’s been quite a while, but I remember. You don’t forget someone that big. And mean-looking. I thought he was creepy.”
“You hired him?”
“No, no. He came by, asking for one of our departments. In Personnel, we get a lot of people asking where so-and-so is. You know? I guess ’cause our office says ‘Personnel,’ right on the door. So they figure we know how to find anyone.” She giggled. Didn’t seem that funny. Maybe she’d smoked weed on her last break.
“Did he mention his name?”
“Oh, no. He wasn’t chatty at all. He just asked where he could find . . . . Darn, I can’t remember. I do recall that his request struck me as unusual . . . .”
“Why?”
“Well, other than his lack of social skills, he didn’t seem the type to be interested in . . . . If I could just remember what he was looking for . . . .”
“Accounting?” I asked, trying to prod her memory.
“Um, no, no. That wasn’t it. Marketing? . . . no . . . .”
“Something to do with finances?”
“No, no. Not financial. It was something that didn’t fit his looks, know what I mean? Usually, they’re more . . . nerdy. That’s it! It was . . . game development.”
“Game development?”
“Yes, I remember thinking, he didn’t look like a computer game developer. They’re usually wimpy and wear glasses.” She giggled again.
Game development. And the embezzled money was being used to purchase something on computer discs. Stolen programs for computer games maybe? Another piece of the puzzle fell into place.
* * * * *
After I hung up with Kendall, I finished transcribing notes from our conversation and reviewed what I knew so far. When I got to the conversation with Elva McKutcheon, I slapped my forehead. Could the blond man have been the one looking for Cooper? The one Elva thought was a cop because, in her words, “he carried a piece”?