Ghost of a Chance

Alex crossed the floor and climbed the stairs to the office. An elderly secretary brought him a stack of folders for everyone who was working on the day of the theft, and directed Alex to an empty office. One by one he went through the employee files, but nothing jumped out at him. There was one man who had asked for a raise several times in the last few months, but a quick check of his time card showed that he’d been given the requested raise a week before the theft.

If there was someone in the factory that had a beef with Barton or the company, there wasn’t any evidence in the files. Alex sighed and shut the last folder, dropping it back on the stack.

“That bad?”

Alex looked up to find the Lightning Lord himself leaning on the frame of the open door. He was dressed casually, in a white shirt and dark slacks with a burgundy vest. The ends of his lightning bolt mustache were turned up in a smile.

Alex didn’t know how long Barton had been there watching him. It spoke to how tied he felt that he didn’t notice the man arrive.

“No,” Alex said. “Just not as easy as I’d hoped.”

“What have you learned?”

“I’m pretty sure someone here tipped off the thief.”

Barton’s easy demeanor vanished.

“How dare you makes such an accusation?” he fumed. “Where is your evidence?”

Alex wasn’t prepared for this response. Barton seemed to be taking the suggestion that one of his employees was in on the theft rather personally.

“I don’t have any evidence,” Alex said. “Not yet, anyway.” He explained about the timing and how the thief must have known the loading dock schedule down to the second in order to get in and steal the truck at exactly the right moment.

“It points to an inside job,” Alex explained.

“That’s the easy explanation,” Barton admitted, his voice still full of resentment.

“There’s also the guy who took a shot at me yesterday,” Alex said. “I was across the street, checking out the alley just down from the loading dock. I wanted to know if someone could have watched from there and learned your schedule, but it turns out you can’t. When I went to leave, someone shot me in the back and stole my rune book. They probably thought it was my notebook.”

“You don’t look like a man who got shot in the back,” Barton said.

“Shield runes,” Alex explained. “I do find it interesting, though, that someone was waiting for me in that alley. How did they know when I’d be here?”

The anger in Barton’s eyes abated a bit.

“You think someone here called the gunman and tipped him off?”

Alex nodded.

“Who knew about the shipment the day the motor was stolen?”

Barton thought for a moment, then raised an eyebrow.

“Only Jimmy Cortez, Bill Gustavsen, and myself,” he said.

“What about the men who loaded it on the truck?”

“Jimmy would have called them in to load the motor, but they wouldn’t have known beforehand.”

Alex leaned back in the chair and thought for a moment.

“What about Gustavsen’s log book? Could someone have looked in there and seen the shipment?”

“No,” Barton declared with certainty. “He didn’t know when it was supposed to be shipped out until that day. I called him in the morning.”

“So the only people who had time to tip anyone off were Cortez, your floor manager, or Gustavsen?”

“The idea is preposterous,” Barton said, his indignant tone coming back. “I’ve known both of them for years! They’re loyal men.”

Alex held Barton’s gaze for a long moment, the shook his head.

“There is one other possibility,” he said. “But you’re not going to like it either.”

“I’m listening,” Barton said.

“If no one here tipped off the thief, then maybe this was a crime of opportunity.”

Barton laughed out loud at that.

“You came highly recommended, Mr. Lockerby, but I must say I’m not impressed. Why would someone take the motor if they didn’t know what it was?”

“They just wanted the truck,” Alex explained. “I noticed that you have spaces for two trucks to park in your loading dock, but there’s only one there now. The other truck is still missing, isn’t it?”

Barton tacitly admitted that it was.

“If the thief only wanted the truck, then they might have just dumped the motor. If they dropped it in the river, that would explain why the rune can’t connect to it.”

Barton’s expression didn’t soften one bit.

“There’s just one hole in your theory, Lockerby,” he said, darkly. “If the theft of the motor was a crime of opportunity, then who shot at you in that alley? Assuming you were telling the truth about that.”

He had a point. The idea that some random person had shot Alex in the back and then stolen his rune book didn’t seem likely.

“People in my business make enemies, Mr. Barton,” Alex said. “It’s possible one of them followed me here from somewhere else and just waited for me to leave before jumping me.”