Free A Promise to Protect (Logan Point Book #2): A Novel by Patricia Bradley Page B

not just Tony’s. I book everyone’s commercial flights and hotels. It’s kind of my specialty, you know.”
    “Did you book Tony’s room at the Peabody last night?”
    She shook her head. “Is that where it, uh, happened?”
    Ben nodded.
    “It wasn’t company business, so I wouldn’t have booked it.” She walked past him. “His office is down here on the right.”
    Tiffany unlocked the wooden door. “Like all the offices, it’s—oh!” She stopped, and Ben almost bumped into her. “Geoffrey, I didn’t know you were in here.”
    Franks looked as startled as Tiffany. His fingers flew over a keyboard and his computer screen darkened, then he swiveled his chair around to face them. “Can I help you with something?”
    “Geoffrey Franks, I presume?” Franks imitated the dress code of his boss Ian, differing only with a bow tie rather than a necktie. Ben reached his hand out. “I’m Ben Logan.”
    “The sheriff,” Tiffany added.
    “I know who the sheriff is.” Franks unfolded from the chair and stood. He was a couple of inches shorter than Ben, but compact. The accountant adjusted his black-rimmed glasses then clasped Ben’s hand with a firm grip. “Yes, I’m Geoffrey Franks.”
    Tiffany’s nostrils flared. “Well, no one told me you had already taken over Tony’s office.”
    Ben didn’t know if Tiffany’s indignation stemmed from not being told or from Franks already commandeering Tony’s office.
    “I wasn’t aware that upper management informed the receptionist of every change in job description.”
    Ouch. The man’s pleasant appearance belied a sharp tongue. Ben turned to Tiffany. “Thanks for showing me the way. I’ll stop by your desk on my way out.”
    “You’re quite welcome, Sheriff.” She leveled a frosty glare at the interloper as she walked out the door.
    Geoffrey huffed a breath and shook his head. “Sometimes I think I should have accepted the accounting job with the school district. When one starts out on the line in a factory and moves into management, one never receives the proper respect.”
    “So you started with Maxwell Industries out in the plant?”
    “Yes, in the shipping department, loading trucks. Then I moved to drilling the barrels on the rifles, the receiver building, you name it, I’ve done it here. Put me through college, though.”
    “And now you have Tony’s job.”
    He nodded. “Not that I wanted it this way. Tony was a good guy.”
    “What exactly was Tony’s job?”
    “He kept up with inventory—every piece made each day, every Maxwell .270 and AR-15 assembled—it’s all tracked. And he kept all the books, like payroll, federal deposits, insurance.”
    “Do you know of any enemies Tony may have had?”
    “Other than Billy Wayne? I heard he’s the one who killed Tony.”
    As always, news traveled fast in Logan Point. “Maybe. I’m justchecking out a few other leads.” He glanced around the paneled office. Smaller than Phillip’s. A painting with bold red strokes drew his eye. Someone had good taste. “Did Tony download a lot of his work?”
    “Oh no, sir. Any type of portable storage disk is totally forbidden here. Industrial espionage is a very real problem in the rifle industry. And there are very strict guidelines we follow. There was no reason Tony would download anything, especially since the new Maxwell .280 is in develop—” Geoffrey swallowed hard. “I should not have mentioned the .280.”
    “Don’t worry, I won’t pass it on.” Ben jotted a note on his pad. “Did Billy Wayne have access to information on the computers?”
    “No, he mostly worked on the networking end, or if one of the computers crashed, he’d get it going again.” He scratched his jaw. “Although anyone that good with computers could probably access anything he wanted to.”
    “One more thing. Did you ever play cards with Tony?”
    “I’m not a fool, Sheriff. Tony had a photographic memory—knew every card in play. It wasn’t a fact that