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
<BigB@123.com>
“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,
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