Chapter Two (Part 2)

“Taylor Welsh, ma’am,” Taylor said, extending his hand and dropping it without awkwardness when Mrs. Blackburn refused to shake it. “I understand you’re the owner of Sychorax Studios, and figure you’re the most qualified to clarify some questions I have.”

“You have already confiscated my personal and business files. I hardly see why you think it necessary to inconvenience me further.”

“Ma’am. Someone was running a major data-mining operation out of your business that has inconvenienced a few thousand people. It’s my job to help see that any illegal activity is shut down, and I’d prefer to work with the owner of the business rather than against, since I know you also want to see the perp caught and restore Sychorax’s good reputation just as quick as may be.”

Benjamin smirked and put his feet up on the desk in the observation room to watch. Taylor would manage well enough, looked like.

Mrs. Blackburn sniffed. “What trash did Ariel tell you?”

“I haven’t had the opportunity to speak with her,” Taylor replied smoothly, sitting down. “But I would love to have your impression as her employer.”

“You might have noticed her pay was unusually low.”

Taylor grunted.

“In all two years of working for me, she’s never qualified for a raise. Talk to her, of course, and she’ll give you all sorts of absurd reasons. The fact is, she is lazy, unmotivated, and spends her time chatting around the water cooler instead of working.”

“Her college transcripts disagree,” Taylor said, without confrontation.

“I’m not saying she doesn’t have talent. But it’s mostly as a liar. She stole her work off her roommate at Gryphus.”

“How terrible.”

“You have to beat her over the head with a deadline to get her to do anything and then she complains, and says she doesn’t get paid enough, and I’m the reason she has that degree at all!” Mrs. Blackburn tossed her head. “I singled her out, of course, wrote all her letters of recommendation, got her scholarships, give her a job when she comes back, and this - this is how she repays me. Little snit. Using my company as a front for data mining. I hope the district will press charges.”

“As soon as we have enough evidence.” Taylor gave a self-depreciating smile. “Burden of proof, you know. Maybe you could help me?”

Had Mrs. Blackburn been a little less self-composed, she might have started drooling with eagerness. Her eyes burned and she showed yellow teeth in a large grin.

“If you’d told me that first, detective, I would have been more amenable. As it is, I am at your service.”

Benjamin checked another camera and saw that Taylor was just as eager, although he hid it well.  “Could you tell me about the development of MA93?”

Mrs. Blackburn was either very bold or very foolish. Benjamin pulled out a notepad and started organizing her contradictions. Below him, Taylor did the same, writing in shorthand. She twisted the truth, sometimes she outright lied, claiming people had been in a place that Benjamin could disprove off the top of his head from scanning the file. Her confidence never wavered, and Taylor’s knee started vibrating under the table.

“Can you clarify that this document is correct?” Taylor asked, sliding the business account statements across the table.

Mrs. Blackburn looked them over thoroughly. “Oh yes. Quite. I am very precise with my accounts.”

“Excellent,” Taylor purred. His knee vibrated more. “Perhaps, then, you might explain why these-” he pointed to a few highlighted transactions- “match every one of these perfectly.”

“Oh, this.” Mrs. Blackburn swept the sheet up off the table casually. “You don’t need to worry about it. Just a little side-business my son is running.”

“How good for him,” Taylor said brightly. “What is he doing?”

“Statistical analysis.”

“I suppose that’s as good a name for it as any.”

“Pardon?”

“Mrs. Blackburn, this is the North Bank account.”

“Yes.”

“This also happens to be the account through which all transactions for purchasing illegal data were run.” Taylor’s knee was practically dancing. “Thank you for your confirmation.”

Even Mrs. Blackburn’s thick rouge could not hide the paleness that washed out her cheeks. She stammered, then cried in a false shocked tone that fooled neither detective nor police chief, “That minx pulled my poor Cal into this?! How dare she?”

“Yes, very kind of her, doing all the work and giving your son all of the money.”

Mrs. Blackburn stood up abruptly. “How dare you blame my poor little Caliban! I am leaving, sir.”

“There’s a reason I Mirandized you when you came in, Mrs. Blackburn,” Taylor replied. “I’m afraid that, under suspicion as you are, you are not free to go. Would you like to call your attorney?”

Mrs. Blackburn called Taylor a very rude name that implied exactly how meanly she thought of him. The rookie detective accepted the moniker with a happy smile on his face as he organized the papers back into the folder.

***

Leaving a fuming Mrs. Blackburn on the phone with her lawyer, Taylor bounded into the observation room, dancing from toe to toe like he might hug his superior.

“She just gave me everything! I didn’t think she would!”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Taylor slid into the seat next to Benjamin, spilling papers all over the desk. “What have we got, sir? Have I missed anything?”

Benjamin barely glanced at the clock before turning back to the station rookie. Taylor was uniquely excited and teachable to an extent that was rare among young men.

“Do you think Ariel is involved?”

“No sir.”

“Why?”

“The program has been recently dumped on her laptop. She didn’t design it. If she’d been even involved it would be cleaner. Every time Mrs. Blackburn said that Ariel met with a third party buyers, Ariel has a good alibi from either her web history or a receipt or cell phone locations. And she’s not profiting at all. Nothing in her bank account, no cash stashes under the mattress, no online shopping splurges or trips to the mall in Portland. Most expensive thing she owns is her computer, and being the geek she is, if she had that kind of money, even if she wanted to keep it quiet, she would have tricked out her baby. They framed her like Mandy down at the art depot.”

“Mandy can’t frame to save her life.”

“Exactly!” Taylor shot up out of his chair, tried to turn a cartwheel, and found that the room was too small. “Sorry, sir.”

“We don’t have Mrs. Blackburn yet.”

“No sir. But if I can get this, Maria will have it in the bag, believe me. I’m gonna drive over to the apartment and find her. If we can get Cal too, that would be great! And sir?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask Ariel for her number?”

“You can try. But only after we’ve discharged her.”

“Yes sir! Doya think she likes Mexican?”

“If she does, don’t take her to La Bandeja.”

Taylor grinned and pelted out of the room, then returned, banging the door back against its stop and tripping over himself as he swept the papers back up into their folder, organizing them with quick fingers. Benjamin fought down a fatherly smile as the young man waved at him and bounded down the narrow staircase.

***

Someone was waiting for him in his office. Benjamin made a face and quickly hid it, glancing longingly at his computer and thinking of everything that was going by the wayside for their tiny department to handle this debacle and the problems that came with so many new people in town. The man rising out of his chair made the police chief even less friendly. He was bald, and wearing an expensive suit with diamond cuff links, and a perfectly folded handkerchief in the breast pocket.

“Simon Prospero,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

The two men seated themselves.

“How can I help you?”

Prospero smiled. “I think I am more likely to be able to help you. I have recently purchased Sychorax Studios, with the sale going into effect today, and wanted you to know that you will have the full support of my company in assisting you with the investigation.”

Benjamin sat back in his chair. “I was under the impression Diana Blackburn was the owner.”

“The company is bankrupt, or will be, once it loses all the lawsuits. I believe she was eager to get out from under it.”

“And you aren’t?”

“I think it has potential.” There was a flicker of something else behind Prospero’s eyes, but Benjamin could not place it. “I also believe you have one of the lead designers in custody?”

“We do.”

“I would like to pay her bail, but there are conditions for her to meet. May I speak with her?”