Story code: ST-001182
Part 2: The Paper Trail
The door to the records office swung open, and Director Vance entered, accompanied by two building security officers in gray uniforms. Vance did not look at the window; he went straight to my terminal. “Who has access to the balcony today, Jim?” he asked, his voice flat and demanding.
I pointed to the monitor. “The system shows a single entry log at 12:14 PM.”
Arthur stood by the filing cabinet, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He cleared his throat. “I must have dropped my keycard in the plaza during lunch, Director. I was out of the building from noon until twelve-thirty. I only just realized it was missing when the alarm sounded.”
Vance leaned over my shoulder, his eyes scanning the digital spreadsheet. “The swipe was registered at 12:14 PM. If you were off-site, Arthur, then someone else has your card.”
I clicked the tab to open the building’s main gate logs. The security officers stood by the door, their radios crackling with static. One of them stepped out onto the balcony, cutting the nylon ropes with a pocketknife to drag the heavy canvas banner back inside.
“The plaza cameras are down for maintenance today,” Vance muttered, tapping the edge of my desk. “But the gate logs should confirm when you left, Arthur. Did you swipe out at the main turnstile?”
Arthur nodded slowly, but his eyes darted toward me. “Yes. I went to the diner across the street.”
I pulled up the turnstile records. The screen refreshed, showing the exit and entry timestamps for all department personnel. I scrolled down to Arthur’s name. There was an exit log at 12:02 PM. There was an entry log at 12:28 PM.
But the balcony swipe at 12:14 PM was physical. It required the actual piece of plastic to be pressed against the reader next to my desk.
“If you were at the diner at twelve-fourteen,” Vance said, looking from the screen to Arthur, “then how did your card get back inside the building to unlock the balcony door? The turnstile logs show no one else entered with your credentials.”
“I… I might have left it on my desk before I went to lunch,” Arthur said. His voice was higher now, the words coming out in a rushed tumble. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. “Perhaps someone took it from my office while I was gone.”
I looked at the mirror hanging on the wall next to my desk. In its reflection, I could see the narrow gap between the filing cabinets and the corridor. A dark utility jacket was visible for a second before slipping quietly around the corner toward the back exit.
Vance didn’t notice. He was staring at the log. “If someone took it from your desk, Arthur, they would have had to know exactly where you kept it. Your office is locked when you’re not in it. Who else has a key to your office?”
Arthur remained silent. His chest rose and fell in short, sharp breaths. He looked at the reflection in the mirror, then down at the floor, refusing to make eye contact with either of us. The proof on the screen directly contradicted his explanation, leaving a clear trail that pointed to an inside job.