Once Upon Stilettos (Enchanted, Inc. #2)

Once Upon Stilettos (Enchanted, Inc. #2) Page 18

I cleared my throat. “Before you zap Jake again, I need your help with something.”

“Of course. What is it?” Owen asked, re-capping his dry erase marker and looking over at me with a welcoming smile that made my knees feel a little watery.

“Memo for the department head, from the boss. I don’t think I know where his office is.”

“I’ll get it to him.”

“It’s no problem. I can deliver it myself if I know where to go.”

“Let me take a look at it.” His tone had gone from casual to the least bit commanding, so I handed over the memo. As he read it, I tried to contemplate the unthinkable. Owen had been the victim in this situation, and he was the one who’d reported the crime. That would generally leave him above suspicion. Then again, that sort of thing happened on TV all the time, where the killer was the one who “found” the body and reported the crime. Maybe he’d reported this so he could go on spying and we wouldn’t suspect him.

I shook my head. It couldn’t be Owen, and not just because he was so incredibly cute. Idris really hated him, so even if Owen went crazy and decided to become a spy, Idris would probably laugh in his face. I’d seen how freaked out Owen got over the idea of dark magic. He wouldn’t go near the stuff, and that was what Idris was all about. For the time being, I put Owen in the “safe” column.

He finished reading the memo and looked up at me. “It’s enchanted, isn’t it? A binding spell, it seems, jointly cast by Rod and Mr. Mervyn.”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

He shrugged. “Magic has fingerprints. I’ll get this to the director.”

“Thanks,” I said, wondering if I should be suspicious about his evasion.

I must not have hid it well, for he grinned and said, “Don’t worry, there’s nothing sinister going on. Mr. Lansing tends to avoid people in general. Almost everything for him goes through me.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, thanks again. I guess I’d better finish my rounds.”

As I left, I heard another zap behind me, followed by another yelp from Jake. “I don’t think that’s it either, boss,” Jake whispered painfully.

On my way out, I was surprised to find Sam entering the department. “What’s up, Sam?” I asked.

“Hey, dollface, nothing much. Just doing a routine security sweep of the department.” He winked as he said the word “routine.”

“Probably a good idea in these times. I left a memo for you in the security office.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

My final stop was the sales department. As far as I was concerned, the entire sales department was suspicious, but that probably had more to do with my personal experience with salespeople than with any actual evidence. Before I moved to New York, I ran the business end of my family’s farm and ranch supply store, and I’d dealt with more than my fair share of slick sales guys. The MSI sales force seemed like good people/elves/gnomes/whatever, but they came and went often and interacted with a variety of people outside the company. As long as they could get the information from inside MSI, they could sell it to almost anyone on the outside without looking the least bit suspicious.

Most of the sales beings I knew were out of the office as I passed through the department. I went straight to the office of Mr. Hartwell, the director of sales, whom I was convinced was a giant Ken doll brought to life. He gave the memo a cursory glance, then put it aside as he said, “We need to have a meeting about marketing soon. It’s time to shake things up again.”

“Of course. Let me know and I’ll put it on my calendar.” While I kept up a cheerful front, I groaned inwardly. Great, more to worry about. I had my usual job, and now this spying thing, and then I’d have to do more marketing. I was going to be busy. Then again, marketing would give me more excuses for investigating. But I could put him to work, too. “Did you get my e-mail about the winery?” I asked.

“Yes, I did. We have them on record as a customer in the past, but they dropped off about a year ago. I’ll get Corporate Sales on it to see what happened. It sounds like they found another supplier.”

I knew who that other supplier might be, and it wasn’t good. “Please let me know what you find out,” I said.

I returned to Merlin’s office suite and found myself wondering about Trix as I looked at her desk. She had access to Merlin, which meant she had similar access to the rest of the company through her association with him. She was also out sick on the day Owen discovered the spying. I’d seen her Saturday, and she hadn’t looked particularly brokenhearted then, but she could have fought with Pippin on Saturday night or Sunday and still not felt well enough to be at work Monday. I left her in the “possible” column until I had actual evidence, but I reluctantly admitted that I needed to check out her story.