Secrets in Silicon Valley (Miranda Marquette Mysteries Book 4)

Book summary

In Secrets in Silicon Valley, Miranda Marquette's new life in Santa Clara takes a dark turn when a string of mysterious deaths follows an unexpected call from a past acquaintance. As high-stakes politics and lethal secrets collide, Miranda must navigate this dangerous landscape to uncover the truth before it's too late.

Excerpt from Secrets in Silicon Valley (Miranda Marquette Mysteries Book 4)

May 2010

The aftermath of the murder trial last year was far-reaching. Sarah, my former upstairs neighbor, and her former boyfriend Bill ended up in Federal Prison—Sarah, for first-degree manslaughter and Bill as an accessory for killing her roommate, Jane.

Despite Sarah’s confession in court and subsequent conviction, there was still a contingent of internet die-hards who insisted I was guilty. In a way, they were right. I wasn’t guilty of murder, but I felt guilty about the murders of so many people near to me over the past three years.

My therapists have said that it was normal for me to feel responsible for the deaths of four people I had known within such a short period. I lie awake at night wondering if my recent past has prevented people I know and love, like Jason, from getting close to me because they fear for their lives.

Maureen, my present therapist here in Santa Clara, had been working with me to help me to reconcile my role, or lack thereof, in the murders. There were a large and growing number of internet rats dubbing me the Princess of Death, who continued to express a desire to see me in jail, even though the legal system had declared me completely innocent.

History had a place for people who found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Salem Witch Trials were a perfect example. The fact was, those convicted witches were just regular people caught in a struggle between two prominent families in Salem: the Porters and the Putnams. When all was said and done, of the two hundred accused of witchcraft, they executed twenty innocent women. It took intervention by law enforcement from Boston for the insanity in Salem to end. Much of the time these days, I was feeling like a modern-day Salem witch.

When would this insanity end?

***

The alarm went off at 7:00. I turned on the shower as hot as it would go. The water stayed warm forever, but it was never quite hot enough. I thought about asking the landlady to turn up the water heater, but she had given me such a great deal on the apartment, I hated to bother her with petty requests. I vowed to find the water heater and turn it up myself, but I hadn’t had the nerve to venture down into the basement to find it. This house was the first property with a basement I had lived in since moving to California, so I feared if I ever ventured downstairs, an earthquake would pick that time to rumble through. After some consideration, I decided the water temperature was tolerable.

I toweled myself dry and looked in the full-length mirror on the wall. My daily running was paying off. A few weeks ago, I could tell I had put on a few pounds, which was understandable with the number of stress factors I had endured over the past year. I had lost my company, which was closed down by the government. I had lost all my assets, also courtesy of the government. I found a job in Santa Clara and relocated from my ocean view ranch in Malibu to a furnished apartment in Santa Clara, usually reserved for students at Santa Clara University.

Amazingly, I had adjusted remarkably well to those changes. On the other hand, a source of constant frustration was my boss, Jason. When we first met nearly two years ago, he seemed interested in me, but then made it clear that he wasn’t ready for a relationship as he was still recovering from a bad break-up.

Then last year, in a sweet gesture, he left me a note that he was ready to take the plunge. Since then, he had changed his mind no fewer than five times. We dated once every week or two, and it always seemed to me that we had a good time, then he suddenly became awkward and distant. Then we went out a few weeks later with the same result for days afterward.

I was getting a complex, so on the advice of Tea, my co- worker, I saved for weeks so that I could go shopping and update my wardrobe. Everything I had been able to salvage when I moved was too formal for work or too conservative. More than ten years my junior, Tea felt like I needed to update my closet if I could get his attention. Or perhaps I could garner some of his co-workers’ attention and make him realize just what he was missing.

With that in mind, I slipped into my new Victoria’s Secret bra and shimmied into my matching panties. I surveyed myself in the mirror with no complaints. It was risky to wear a mini skirt when it was as likely I’d be standing on a ten-foot ladder in the warehouse as sitting at my computer entering orders. I decided to ask one of the guys for help if I needed something off the top shelf in the warehouse.

After my first couple of weeks of employment, I had made a strategic error when I started dressing for comfort in sweats and tee-shirts. My recently updated wardrobe represented an upgrade of my original strategy of dressing for success, but with improved clothing options. It felt right as I zipped my newly acquired miniskirt and left my blouse's top two buttons undone.

Although, after a few days of my new strategy, I wasn’t sure if my newfound popularity with the opposite sex was everything I’d hoped it would be. After all, I was trying to get Jason’s attention, and he was as oblivious as he had ever been.

Suddenly two new product development engineers found a critical need to show up at my desk at all hours of the day. Rick and Barry couldn’t have more different in their styles or alike in their intentions.

Rick was the quintessential ladies’ man. He was a mid- forties divorcee with slightly graying hair and a boyish look and charm to go along with it. Knowing that women found him attractive was his most annoying quality. He lacked that slightest amount of humility. He was also too much of a man’s man to be appealing, to me at least. He gave me the impression that he’d much rather go to a dive bar with a couple of guys after work with the intent of ogling women all evening than ever date one. Barry, on the other hand, was a woman’s best friend.

‘Friend’ being the operative word. He would bend over backward to do women favors, which made my skin crawl. He offered to move my car into a shadier parking spot once the sun had crossed the sky. He begged to grab my lunch from the fridge and deliver it to me. He would almost break his leg to get in front of me so that he could open the door. He was more of a puppy dog than most four-legged ones. But worse than that, his habit of calling me ‘Miss M’ made me want to crawl into a hole and never come out, like nails on a chalkboard.

Another noticeable change for me, with several construction projects going on outside and adjacent to the employee parking lot, was an occasional whistle from several workers on my way in or out. I chose to ignore them. They didn’t need to know I always appreciated the compliment.

About a week into my new dress code, I got an idea. I would arrange a follow-up meeting with Bob and Jason regarding my system recommendations. Nearly a year ago, I had suggested some computer network and software upgrades, which I promised would save the company hundreds of thousands per year. As Jason had warned would happen, I had received only platitudes from Bob. After all this time, his pessimism about getting Bob to take any real action seemed justified.

After my usual morning gossip with Tea on Monday, I slipped out of the customer service suite and headed to the main offices. I was hopeful that Jason was at his desk. As usual, computer printouts littered his desk. I often wondered if he really gleaned any information from those reports or was just trying to look busy for Bob, but I never let on.

Evidenced by the fact that he nearly jumped out of his skin, I startled him when I entered. “Hi, boss! Good weekend?”

He noticeably blushed, either because I startled him or because he noticed that I wasn’t wearing my typical sweats and an ‘I Heart Venice Beach’ tee-shirt. I held his glance noticeably longer than usual, so I figured my wardrobe change was a hit. He stammered just a touch, “Miranda, h-how nice to see you. Long time no see. Well, you know what I mean.”

I smiled. “Sure, I do.” I paused for effect. “Hey, want to get back together with Bob to do a follow-up on my presentation? I’ve never heard anything back from him. I honestly thought I had him convinced.”

He glanced at the calendar on his desk. He seemed a little disappointed that I was here on business, or perhaps that was wishful thinking. “How about Thursday at two?” he responded looking more at me than at his calendar.

I’d left my cell phone in my cubicle. Even though I knew I had nothing on my calendar, I didn’t want to seem unimportant. “Let me check my calendar,” I said with a slight smirk.

His perplexed look told me he didn’t know if I was kidding or not. “Okay, Miranda, let me know.” I got up from the chair in front of his desk and started toward the door.

Before I could reach the door, he softened his tone, “Miranda?”

I paused and turned around, hopeful and anticipating, but let down again.

He spoke in a lower voice so that no one outside his office could hear. “Have you noticed anything strange about Rick lately? He seems different.”

I almost asked, ‘How should I know?’ but he and I were already in a weird place, so I did everything I could do not to sound sarcastic. “Gosh, Jason, I don’t know. He seems fine to me. In fact, better than fine as far as I can tell.” I winked and headed back to my workspace. I wasn’t sure I had accomplished anything, but if he was jealous of him, that should have kicked it up a notch.

When I returned to my desk, I sat, wondering if I should give up on Jason. There was no question he had issues. Sure, I had problems of my own, but I had learned through years of therapy not to chase a lost cause.