The E-Mail Mystery Read online

  said.

  “Okay,” Bess said. “I'll post a notice in the local

  computer users' newsgroup. If people around here can

  help us, they'll post a response, and we can check if we

  got an answer when we meet in the office tomorrow

  night.”

  “Wait a sec,” Nancy said as Bess's hands flew over

  the keyboard. “Don't give out any private information,

  like that the problem is in my dad's office, or even that

  it's law related. And you said we can't give out our

  phone numbers. Remember that warning at the top of

  the screen not to give out your password.”

  “I know that, Nan. Don't worry,” Bess said. “How's

  this?” she asked, showing Nancy what she was going to

  post.

  Seeking help to track E-mail from one place to

  another: who sent it, who received it, was it sent in-

  house

  or

  from

  outside.

  Please

  reply

 

  “Perfect,” Nancy said. “It doesn't give away

  anything—except your E-mail address at the end,

  right?”

  “Right,” Bess confirmed, using her mouse to move

  the cursor onto the Send button, and posting the note.

  “And even if someone can track my E-mail address,

  there's no way to connect me with your dad's firm.”

  “All right, that sounds pretty safe. Show me some

  more of those computer thingies,” Nancy requested.

  “Sure,” Bess said. “I don't need to be on-line to do

  that. In fact, I printed out a list of them from my on-

  line computer chat guide. I have it right here.

  “Uh-oh,” Bess said suddenly, twisting her wrist to

  glance at her watch. “It's almost nine o'clock. I've got

  to run home so I can log on to my chat group, or I'll

  miss the discussion.”

  “Can't you leave me the list?” Nancy asked. “I'd

  really like to see it.”

  “I'm sorry, Nance,” Bess said. “I'm going to need to

  refer to it tonight. I promise I'll bring it to the office

  tomorrow evening.”

  “Great,” Nancy said. “I've got to go now, too. I

  promised my dad I'd be at work early tomorrow. But

  can't you just relax and log on to your group here?”

  “I could, but I won't have my personal screen name

  or my printer. I like to download stuff sometimes and

  read it later. I've really got to run.”

  Bess quickly exited the local computer users' mail

  group, where she had posted the notice seeking an on-

  line expert to trace computer E-mail activity, and

  logged off the machine.

  The girls sipped the last of their cappuccinos, long

  since cold, and started to leave the café. As they walked

  out, Nancy asked Bess, “Do you think someone will see

  that note you posted in the local computer users' mail

  group and send you an answer?”

  “Probably,” Bess said. “People on-line love to help

  one another.”

  “Or hurt one another,” Nancy said, thinking of their

  earlier conversations about dangerous people and

  places on the Internet.

  Blaine Warner was leaving the Sacred Cow next

  door at the same time the two girls were coming out of

  the Art.Café coffee bar. She nodded hello to Nancy,

  then continued up the street alone.

  “That's the woman from your dad's office,” Bess

  whispered. “What happened to her date?”

  “I don't know,” Nancy said. “Maybe he couldn't take

  too much of her, either, so he ran out early and left her

  with the check.”

  The two girls laughed, and said good night. Then

  they walked their separate ways home.

  The next day Nancy went into the office early. Since

  she was alone in the library, she decided to research

  the backgrounds, specifically any criminal cases, of her

  father's clients who had recently settled claims quickly.

  Nancy pulled out her list of the clients' names and

  scanned the heavy red legal folders where the old cases

  were stored. “Let's see . . . Bob Jamison . . . James Fox

  . . . Jeannette King . . . Harriet Wasser . . . here they

  are.”

  The first thing Nancy noticed was that the files were

  all free of dust, even though some of the cases were

  several years old. Either the janitorial staff here is very

  thorough, Nancy thought, or someone else looked at

  these files recently and wiped them off.

  Nancy sat down with the thick files and began to flip

  through the papers inside. As she read she discovered

  that in each case there was information from a previous

  criminal case that could possibly harm the client in the

  current case.

  Bob Jamison, the contractor who had been injured

  falling off a ladder, had had a similar injury from an old

  car accident. That might cause a problem in the new

  case, Nancy thought. Jeannette King, the bank

  manager who had been going to sue for job

  discrimination, had been wrongly accused of stealing

  money when she had been a teller. Carson Drew had

  got her an acquittal, but Nancy thought Ms. King's

  background might hurt her in the new case, and she

  probably didn't want to have the old charges brought

  up again.

  James Fox, the councilman with the get-tough-on-

  crime policy, had a drunken driving conviction that had

  come out during his previous case. He sure wouldn't

  want anything like that to come out, Nancy thought.

  And Harriet Wasser, the landlord who had sold her

  building to her tenants, had been indicted for not

  providing heat in the middle of winter.

  It sure looks as though all of these people have a

  reason not to want to go to court again, Nancy thought.

  I have to talk to them and find out why they're so

  scared. Maybe someone from Williams & Brown got

  hold of this information and threatened them with

  leaking it if they didn't settle quickly.

  As Nancy sat there, looking at the files, Henry

  walked in. “Good morning,” he said cheerily. “What are

  you doing, Nancy?” he asked. “I thought you were just

  backing up computer files.”

  “Well,” Nancy said, thinking fast, “I also have to file

  the paperwork connected with the cases, so I was just

  studying the old files to see how you like to organize

  stuff here.”

  Henry looked at the names on the files and raised

  his eyebrows. “These are all the same people who are

  in those cases you're cleaning off the computer, right?”

  he asked.

  “Yes,” Nancy replied, closing the files carefully. “The

  new cases are all civil cases, which my father doesn't

  usually handle unless he has a history with the client.”

  “I've got to make some copies for Blaine,” Henry

  said, changing the subject, to Nancy's relief. He left the

  law library, and Nancy put away the files on the storage

  shelf. Then she sat down at her computer and began

  the
file-copying work she had started the day before.

  But her mind was wrapped up in the E-mail mystery.

  Nancy didn't hear Blaine Warner enter the library

  until Blaine was standing right behind her. “Could you

  make copies of these documents for me?” Blaine

  asked, slapping down a thick pile of court papers by

  Nancy's keyboard. “It's Henry's job, but I can't find

  him anywhere. I need them for a court appearance

  today.”

  Nancy was irritated at having her work disturbed

  and at Blaine's manner, but she picked up the stack of

  papers. “I just saw Henry a few minutes ago,” Nancy

  said. “He said he had to make some copies for you. But

  I'll get them started until he shows up.” Then she

  headed for the copy room.

  “Drop them in my office, stapled and collated,”

  Blaine called after Nancy.

  “Yes, ma'am,” Nancy muttered. Blaine could really

  be annoying, she thought.

  Nancy entered the copy room and sighed. Whoever

  had used it last had left a big mess on the machine. It

  must have been Henry, Nancy thought. She put down

  the stack of papers from Blaine on the paper supply

  shelf, careful to keep them in order, and then began to

  gather the papers from the top of the copying machine.

  Once Nancy had the surface of the machine cleared,

  she took the first of Blaine's documents and used the

  staple remover to pull out the heavy-duty staples. Then

  she placed the stack of papers into the document

  feeder.

  The machine hummed and clicked, but the papers

  didn't start feeding through the copier. Nancy noticed

  a light on the control panel and looked at the readout

  that gave the following operator message: “Remove

  original from document glass.”

  Someone must have left something in the copier,

  Nancy thought. She removed the stack of papers from

  the document feeder and placed them carefully on the

  shelf. Then she lifted up the cover to see what was

  inside.

  There, on the glass, was a handwritten list of all the

  clients whose cases had been settled early—in Henry

  Yi's distinctive script!

  7. Trailed!

  Nancy stood open-mouthed, the incriminating list of

  familiar names in her hand. Then she quickly put the

  handwritten document back in the copying machine

  and made a copy for herself. She had just removed the

  copy from the paper tray and placed it on the shelf next

  to Blaine's work, when she heard someone enter the

  room behind her.

  “Nancy!” Henry cried, startling her. “Just the person

  I wanted to see.”

  “Oh, Henry,” Nancy said.

  “No, that's a candy bar,” he said with a laugh. “But I

  assure you, I'm just as sweet. I think I left something in

  here before,” he continued.

  “You sure did,” Nancy said, opening the cover of the

  copying machine. “I was making some copies for

  Blaine—because she couldn't find you—and I

  discovered this in the copier. I recognized your

  handwriting; it's so unusual. What are you doing with a

  list of all my father's clients whose cases were settled

  early?”

  Now it was Henry's turn to be startled. Then he

  smiled, a little too easily, Nancy thought.

  “Well, when I found out that's what you were

  working on, I thought I'd do a little research, just so

  we'd have something to talk about,” Henry said

  smoothly. “Get to know each other a little better, you

  know.”

  Nancy just looked at him, hands on her hips. She

  realized she'd better hide her copy of his list. She

  turned her back to Henry and restacked some papers

  on the shelf. She asked him, “So, what do you think?”

  “About what?” Henry asked innocently. Nancy could

  feel him watching her back.

  “The cases,” Nancy replied, turning toward him

  again with several sheets of blank copy paper hiding

  her copy of Henry's list. “The ones that settled early.

  The ones on your list.” She brushed past Henry to

  leave the copy room. Nancy headed for the law library,

  where she had left her leather portfolio beside her

  computer station.

  Henry answered as he followed her up the hallway,

  his original list in his hand. “Well, it's a little odd they

  all settled so early, don't you agree?” he asked

  nervously.

  “Yes, I do,” Nancy said as she stuffed the papers into

  her portfolio, her back still to Henry. “And so does my

  father.” She turned around to look at him and noticed

  that his eyes were glued to her computer screen. Is he

  trying to look at my files again? Nancy wondered.

  “I know,” Henry replied almost smugly.

  Nancy looked at him. What is this guy up to? she

  wondered. “I don't think you started this list after I

  came to work here. I think you've had it for some

  time.”

  “What makes you say that?” Henry asked defen-

  sively.

  Nancy didn't have a chance to answer, because

  Blaine came storming into the library at that moment.

  “Nancy, Henry, what are the two of you doing

  standing around talking again?” Blaine demanded

  angrily. “I stopped by the copy room, and saw all my

  documents sitting on the shelf, Nancy. And really,

  Henry, you should be doing that work, anyway. I pulled

  Nancy off her computer filing because I couldn't find

  you.”

  “I'm sorry, Ms. Warner,” Henry said, putting his

  handwritten list under a stack of papers next to his

  computer. “Sorry, Nancy. I didn't realize you were

  stuck with my work. I'll get on it right away.” He

  quickly exited the computer room, leaving Blaine and

  Nancy alone.

  “And what were you doing in here?” Blaine asked,

  glancing at Nancy's computer screen as Henry had a

  few moments before.

  “I just had to put something in my portfolio,” Nancy

  answered. “Henry walked in on me while I was doing

  your copying, and started up a conversation. I didn't

  want to be rude, so—”

  “Well, sometimes you have to be rude to get your

  work done,” Blaine said coolly.

  “And sometimes you have to go out for an early

  lunch.” Blaine and Nancy turned to see Mr. Drew

  standing in the door of the library. “Would you care to

  join me, Nancy?”

  “I'd love to, Dad,” Nancy said, glad to be saved from

  the confrontation with Blaine. “I've been wanting to

  ask you some questions about these cases I've been

  filing for you.”

  Blaine looked from father to daughter. “I guess I

  should get a bite to eat myself,” she said. “I always get a

  little testy when I'm tired or hungry.” Nancy noticed

  Blaine tried to smile. “I should probably get Henry to

  eat something, too. I've been pretty tough on him

  today. Sorry if I spoke sharply, Nancy.”

  “Th
at's okay, Blaine. I understand,” Nancy said. She

  picked up her portfolio and exited through the

  reception area with her father.

  “How about the Steak and Ale?” he asked as they

  waited for the elevator.

  “Sure,” Nancy said. “That place really is a hot spot.”

  “What makes you say that?” her father asked with a

  smile.

  “Yesterday when I delivered those documents to

  Williams and Brown, I heard one of the partners

  making plans to eat there. And Blaine went there, too,”

  she added as they walked out of the lobby into the

  bright sunlight.

  Nancy and her father walked to the restaurant and

  settled in a comfortable booth. They scanned the large

  menus, and when the waiter arrived, both ordered

  hamburger platters.

  “With a side order of onion rings,” Mr. Drew added,

  smiling at Nancy. “I know you love them.”

  Nancy asked for a green salad with her burger,

  instead of fries. “I'll be getting enough grease from the

  onion rings, thank you very much, Dad.”

  Once they had ordered, Nancy asked her father for a

  little more background on her growing E-mail mystery.

  “Tell me about some of the clients that settled so early.

  Like that guy who called the house yesterday, Bob

  Jamison. Why was he so scared?”

  Mr. Drew smiled at his daughter's intelligent

  question, but his eyes showed his concern about the

  cases. “I represented Bob two years ago when he was a

  victim in a hit-and-run car accident. He came to see

  me last week, when he got hurt falling off a faulty

  ladder he'd just bought. But the day after the

  preliminary interview, the insurance company for the

  store offered a small settlement, and as you know, Bob

  called to say he wanted to take it.”

  “Did he tell you why he decided to settle so early?”

  Nancy asked.

  “No,” her father replied, shaking his head. “I tried to

  call him back yesterday when I got to the office, but he

  wouldn't take my calls. If he was worried that the old

  accident might endanger the case, I would have told

  him otherwise. The opposing attorneys might have

  tried to make something out of that, but there would

  be no basis in fact. The injuries were quite different,

  and they were all carefully documented by the doctors

  and the hospitals each time. And anything in our

  preliminary interview is privileged information. But as