“Vicks.” Sam is looking at her. “Come on. You’ve got to see now—”
“I see nothing! Just a few random words. How can we even be sure it was Justin?”
Sam turns to me. “Are these voice mails? Can we still listen to them?”
“No. They were just … you know. Phone messages. They left them and I wrote them down.”
Vicks looks perplexed. “OK, this makes no sense. Did you introduce yourself? Why would Justin have left a message with you ?” She exhales angrily. “Sam, I don’t have time for this.”
“He didn’t realize I was a person,” I explain, flushing. “I pretended to be an answering machine.”
“What?” She stares at me, uncomprehending.
“You know.” I put on my voice-mail-lady voice. “ I’m afraid the person you’ve called is not available. Please leave a message. And then he left the message and I wrote them down.”
Sam gives a muffled snort of laughter, but Vicks looks speechless. She picks up the Lion King program, frowning at the words, then flicking through to the inside pages, although the only information she’ll find there is the actors’ biographies. At last she puts it back down on the table. “Sam, this means nothing. It changes nothing.”
“It does not mean nothing.” He shakes his head adamantly. “This is it! Right here.” He jabs a thumb at the program. “ This is what’s been going on.”
“But what’s been going on?” Her voice rises in exasperation. “Who’s Scottie, for fuck’s sake?”
“He called Sir Nicholas ‘Santa Claus.’ ” Sam’s face is screwed up with thought. “Which means it’s likely to be someone in the company. But where? In IT?”
“Is Violet anything to do with it?” I venture. “It was her phone, after all.”
There’s silence for a moment—then Sam shakes his head, almost regretfully.
“She was only here for about five minutes, and her father’s a good friend of Sir Nicholas… . I just can’t believe she’s involved.”
“So why did they leave messages for her? Did they have the wrong number or something?”
“Unlikely.” Sam wrinkles his nose. “I mean, why this number?”
Automatically I look at the phone, flashing away on the desk. I wonder in a detached way if I’ve got any voice mails. But somehow, right at this minute, the rest of my life seems a million miles away. The world has shrunk to this room. Both Sam and Vicks have sunk into chairs and I follow suit.
“Who had Violet’s phone before her?” says Vicks suddenly. “It’s a company phone. She was only here for, what, three weeks? Could it have been someone else’s number previously and those messages were left by mistake?”
“Yes!” I look up, galvanized. “People are always calling the wrong number by mistake. And emailing the wrong address. I even do it myself. You forget to delete it and press the contact’s name and the old number pops up and you don’t realize. Especially if you go to some generic voice mail.”
I can see Sam’s mind working overtime.
“Only one way to find out,” he says, reaching for a landline phone on the desk. He jabs in a three-digit speed-dial and waits.
“Hi, Cynthia. Sam here,” he says easily. “Just a quick question about the cell phone that was allocated to Violet, my PA. I was wondering: Did anyone else have it before her? Did anyone else ever have that number?”
As he listens, his face changes. He makes a fierce, silent gesture at Vicks, who shrugs back helplessly.
“Great,” he says. “Thanks, Cynthia—”
From the stream of tinny sound coming from the phone, it’s clear this Cynthia likes to talk.
“I’d better go… .” Sam is rolling his eyes desperately. “Yes, I know the phone should have been delivered back… . No, we haven’t misplaced it, don’t worry… . Yes, very unprofessional. No warning… . I know, company property … I’ll pop it along … yes … yes … ”
At last he manages to extricate himself. He puts the receiver down and is silent for an agonizing three seconds before turning to Vicks.
“Ed.”
“No.” Vicks breathes.
Sam has picked up the phone and is staring incredulously at it. “This was Ed’s company phone till four weeks ago. Then it was reassigned to Violet. I had no idea.” Sam turns to me. “Ed Exton was—”
“I remember.” I nod. “Finance director. Fired. Suing the company.”