Free Executive Dirt: A Sedona O'Hala Mystery by Maria Schneider Page A

die long before the test finished, but running any test still counted.
    I also dutifully packed a phone to take home. Maybe I’d find a second or two to run a trial on it while I was brushing my teeth before bed.  There weren’t likely to be any other available seconds because I had a cake to bake and people to entertain the rest of the evening.
    Just as I stood to head out, Cary’s voice drifted from somewhere down cube.  I ducked, but clearly heard him say my name and something about, “Of course, we discussed the idea of letting the customer choose a name for their phone assistant! Sedona was already testing the idea at my request.”
    “Oh, for the love of patents, you liar.” Of course, now he’d come to my cube with some made-up test document. I didn’t have time for him. He probably wouldn’t let me leave until I agreed to sign an affidavit swearing the customer naming the phone assistant was his idea.
    I crouched lower, adjusted my backpack and duck-waddled over to Joe’s old cubicle.  Monique was talking into her cell and walking out of her cube.  If she glanced over the tops of the walls, she’d see me scurrying along like a mutant marine.
    I quickly grabbed my earlobe, but who had time to put earrings on in the morning? I was lucky to get my clothes on straight! The “lost my earring” excuse wouldn’t fly.
    Joe’s cube was as sterile and empty as every other cube in the building.  No one had bothered to clean it after he died, although the police had taken his laptop. There was nothing but standard issue desk, chair and cabinet.
    I wasn’t desperate enough to climb in the cabinet to hide, was I?
    Cary’s voice closed in.
    With a grunt, I pulled Joe’s chair aside and scooted under the desk, my back to the hallway side. I yanked the chair back in with me.  If Cary found me, he might be dumb enough to believe I was testing the cell phone reception under a desk. And if he didn’t believe me, who cared?
    I shifted my backpack around in order to scrunch further into the corner. My butt landed on one of the support bars, sending a shooting pain into my rear.  As if Cary wasn’t enough of a pain in the ass without the extra jab.
    I kept quiet. Cary’s khaki pants were just visible as he walked past into my cube. I leaned my head away from the opening and held the phone to my ear just in case he caught me.
    There was the sound of papers being shuffled.  He was either leaving me a note or wadding up his latest “plan for a patent” draft.  I held my breath. There was nothing saving me but a thin cube wall.
    His cell phone buzzed. He must have had it set to vibrate mode, but this close, the sound was quite audible.
    After a silent moment, he said, “As soon as I find it.  He wasn’t wearing it.”  After another pause he said, “It’s hardly going to be discovered randomly, and even if it is, no one will know where it belongs.”
    I peeked around the side again just enough to glimpse one of his legs. Who was he talking to? Who cared?  If he had to do some chore or other, he’d forget about me.
    His voice faded, accompanied by the sound of footsteps and slacks swishing.
    I pushed the chair the tiniest bit.  No sound of anyone.  I scooted and had to clamp down on a squeal.  The support post was either following me out or I’d sat on something that had moved with me, bruising more of my butt.
    I felt along the floor until I located the offensive object.  It wasn’t too dark to recognize Joe’s watch because it lit up when my hand hit one of the buttons. “Eww.”
    I had never noticed much about the watch other than suspecting Joe used it to help him translate Pig Latin faster. The thing obviously did more than tell the time, but the leather watchband was stretched oddly as though forced to fit the watch.  The holes for the buckling prong were very distorted.
    A closer inspection revealed that the space between two of the holes was cut, forming one larger hole.  The watch must