Authors: Sheryl J. Anderson
Killer Deal (4 page)
“Kyle’s just assuming I’m going to dig too deep and get into a mess.”
Tricia framed the base of her cocktail glass between her delicate hands. “Now, he does have a certain amount of past experience on which to base that. So you really can’t blame him.”
And I couldn’t disagree with her either, which painted me into a corner. “I’m learning from my mistakes as I go.”
“Which we all applaud.”
“And how better to see what I’ve learned than to test myself?”
“Are you rehearsing on me?”
“Depends. How convincing am I?”
“I’m always won over by simple earnestness. You’re going to have to put something extra in the mix to sway Kyle.”
“I should concentrate on persuading him I won’t get into trouble this time.”
“Excellent plan. And when you’re done, you can persuade my mother I’ll be married by Thanksgiving.”
One of Tricia’s great advantages in life is that she can completely snark you out and it takes a moment for you to realize that’s what she’s done. Even when it sinks in, you look at that porcelain goddess face and those huge Bambi eyes and think:
Did I hear her right?
Did I hear her right?
I thumped my hand over my heart. “
Et tu,
Tricia?”
Et tu,
Tricia?”
“Molly,” she continued smoothly, “if you’re going to turn this interview with Gwen Lincoln into your investigative breakthrough, which I’ve been assuming all day is your intention,
you need to commit to it. No matter what anyone else thinks, does, or says. And I speak these words with great sweetness in case any of them need to be eaten at a later date.” She toasted me with her tequila mockingbird, then sipped it in punctuation.
you need to commit to it. No matter what anyone else thinks, does, or says. And I speak these words with great sweetness in case any of them need to be eaten at a later date.” She toasted me with her tequila mockingbird, then sipped it in punctuation.
I mustered an appreciative smile. “You’re absolutely right.”
“Thank you.”
“He’s just being protective.”
“Probably.”
“He’ll come around once I get to work.”
“Possibly.”
“You’re supposed to be fanning the flames, not dampening them.”
“No, that I’ll leave to her.” She tipped her glass ever so slightly in the direction of the door, where Cassady was gliding in. An odd expression danced around Cassady’s face, as though she were trying not to smile and not quite sure why she’d want to, all at the same time.
“You didn’t wait for me,” she sighed as she sat down.
“Comment or complaint?” I asked.
“Observation. An empirical one, at that.”
I nudged Tricia. “She’s been with scientists, learning new words.”
“She’s picked up worse things in the course of an evening,” Tricia said.
“How many rounds behind am I? I’m surprised. It’s usually a man who’ll get started without you.” Cassady looked past us, searching for the cocktail waitress and pretending not to see Tricia’s grin.
“How hideous was it?” I asked.
“Actually, not so much. Interesting, even. I got into a pretty intense discussion with one of them afterward.”
The waitress swept by and paused expectantly. Cassady has that kind of timing. It had taken us twenty minutes to order our drinks, but now, Cassady’d barely had time to decide where to set down her bag and she was ordering a metropolitan.
The waitress left and Cassady leaned forward on the table, chin in her hands. The odd look was still on her face and I couldn’t quite decipher it.
The waitress left and Cassady leaned forward on the table, chin in her hands. The odd look was still on her face and I couldn’t quite decipher it.
“Were you discussing science or how a pocket protector ruins the lines of a good jacket?” Tricia joked.
“Physics.”
Tricia and I exchanged a look. “Physics,” I repeated. Cassady’s always had wide-ranging interests and her work often places her in fairly esoteric company, but I couldn’t recall her talking about physics before. If pressed, I’d say the most scientific thing I’ve ever seen her do was walk into a party and instantly analyze the number of potential hookups in the room. But that’s not science, it’s math. Calculus, even.
“Where’s Kyle?” she asked with a sly smile.
“Hang on. You can hurt people changing subjects that fast. Tell us more about discussing physics.”
“Especially since Kyle isn’t coming because he doesn’t approve of Molly’s new assignment,” Tricia said.
“Not so much disapproval as a lack of wholehearted enthusiasm,” I amended.
“Is he being protective or obstructive?” Cassady asked, more of Tricia than of me, supposing that I’d be a bit biased.
“The latter in service of the former,” Tricia replied.
“So what’re you going to do?”
“Write the article and trust that he’ll understand.”
“And you’ll do just the article. No extraneous digging around or up or in or whatever the proper preposition would be in this case. Which, as a journalist and a sleuth, I would expect you to know,” Cassady teased.
“‘Sleuth.’ What an interesting word,” Tricia said.
“Much sexier than ‘reporter,’” I said.
Cassady nodded. “I believe it’s Latin for ‘pathologically curious.’ But you didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m pretty sure you didn’t ask one.”
“Will you just do the article?”
“Now you’re asking one.”
“And you’re still not answering.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to write the article,” I said crisply. “Now tell us about the science lesson.”
Cassady thought a moment, then offered, “Everything in the world is connected in unexpected ways.”
There was also something unexpected in the brilliance of her smile. “Ah. Are we talking about the science lesson or the scientist?” I asked.
“I’ll let you know tomorrow. After lunch.”
“I don’t think I can stand the suspense. Don’t we at least get vital statistics?” Tricia asked.
The waitress returned with Cassady’s cocktail and she let us sit in anticipatory silence until the waitress withdrew. We were hugely intrigued, she knew it, and she enjoyed it. “As I said, let’s wait until tomorrow and see if it’s worthwhile information. Tonight is about the next step in Molly’s career. To forward strides,” she toasted.
“And to unexpected ways,” I returned.
A surprising combination of the two capped off the evening. After relaxing conversation and even more relaxing cocktails, I made my way home and surrendered to jeans and a Tom Petty T-shirt, my favorite reading clothes. Dabbing a drop or two from Emile’s vial behind my ears for inspiration, I threw a bag of popcorn in the microwave and dove back into my stacks of research.
Gwen Lincoln was taking shape in my mind as a strong, determined woman who had met her doppelganger in Garth Henderson and the combined intensity had been too much. Was it possible that there was a limit to how much of any one emotion a relationship could hold? Almost sounded like a physics problem for Cassady’s new friend.
At a time when mega-agencies dominated advertising, Garth Henderson had prided himself on staying small and focused—a niche agency. Originally, GHInc.’s clients had been up-and-coming fashion folks. He’d had a good eye and most of his clients had done hugely well and stayed with him, which paid off handsomely in all sorts of ways.
Ronnie Willis and his agency were cut from similar cloth,
with slightly less sparkle. Ronnie’s clients and his campaigns for them had been more hit-and-miss than Garth’s, but there were occasionally brilliant campaigns and clients—like Emile Trebask—so a merger between like-minded artists had made sense.
with slightly less sparkle. Ronnie’s clients and his campaigns for them had been more hit-and-miss than Garth’s, but there were occasionally brilliant campaigns and clients—like Emile Trebask—so a merger between like-minded artists had made sense.
But now, with Garth gone, what was Ronnie gaining, other than a precariously poised client list, by going ahead? Was his own agency in that much trouble, that merging with a dead man’s company was better than staying solo? Or did he have faith in Gwen’s managerial abilities being able to translate from one field to another? Emile Trebask and Ronnie Willis were both placing a lot of faith—and a lot of money—in Gwen Lincoln’s hands. It made me want to meet her all the more.
I was so deeply immersed in my reading that the sound of a key in the front door caught me unawares and literally made me jump. I scrambled to the door, surprised to glimpse Kyle through the gap as the chain went taut. I fumbled it open and he paused uncertainly in the doorway.
“I didn’t think you were home.”
“I wasn’t expecting you.” That sounded awful, so I added, “So soon.” I glanced at my watch, surprised to see it was a little after ten. “Oh, it’s later …” I gestured feebly to the stacks of reading. “I lost track of the time.”
He closed the door gently behind him. “This okay?”
Kyle had had his own key for about a month now. Danny and the other doormen adored him, so he came and went like any other resident of the building, even though we hadn’t reached formal consolidation. He had clothes, toiletries, and CDs here, but I wasn’t sure what the official tipping point was. Sports memorabilia on my bookshelves? Changing the answering machine to something cute about “
we’re
not here”? Return-address labels with both our names? The ultimate was certainly his giving up his apartment—I had the better deal for price and location—but I knew we weren’t there yet. How would I know when we’d arrived?
we’re
not here”? Return-address labels with both our names? The ultimate was certainly his giving up his apartment—I had the better deal for price and location—but I knew we weren’t there yet. How would I know when we’d arrived?
“I’m really glad to see you,” I told him, trying not to sound too anxious.
“Sorry about this afternoon,” he said, not taking his jacket off. He had about ninety seconds to take it off or I was going to get nervous, no matter how unattractive it might be.
“Me, too.” He reached into his jacket, but left it on, and took out a folded sheaf of papers. Hefting them in his hand for a moment, he debated with himself one more time before holding them out to me.
I leaned in and kissed him rather than taking the papers, because I wanted to and because it was important to show him I cared more about seeing him than about whatever papers he’d brought. His response was warmer than it had been at the precinct, but there was still a fair amount of reserve. And the jacket wasn’t budging, so I slid my hands inside it to ease it off.
“New perfume?” he asked, his mouth against my ear.
“Like it?”
“Interesting.”
“It’s Gwen Lincoln’s new scent.”
He took a deep breath, but I wasn’t sure if he was checking out the perfume again or sighing. “I should go back,” he murmured and I stopped with my hands in back of his shoulders. “I wanted to bring these by, see how you were doing.” I slid my hands back out of his jacket and he laid the papers directly into my hand, watching for my reaction.
While the papers were clearly important, I was still more concerned about him. In the year we’d known each other, we’d been through more than our share of ups and downs; the more we fell for each other, the more the downs hurt. I didn’t want this to become one. “Can you come back here when you’re done?”
He gave me that look that somehow travels down the optic nerve to the muscles at the back of the knee and makes them go soft. “May I?”
“Please.”
He nodded vaguely. His attention seemed even more focused on the papers than mine was, to the point that he tapped them with his finger so I’d open them. Unfolding the sheaf, I discovered copies of incredibly official papers. The
affidavits of probable cause that had been filed for the search warrant for Gwen Lincoln’s apartment the day after Garth Henderson’s murder.
affidavits of probable cause that had been filed for the search warrant for Gwen Lincoln’s apartment the day after Garth Henderson’s murder.
I felt like he’d brought me flowers and chocolates. Even better, because it went against the grain for him to do this, but he’d done it anyway. Maybe I could convince him to be excited about the article after all. If I didn’t make a fool out of myself and overreact right now. “Thank you very much,” I said with sincerity and, I hoped, not a trace of joyous squealing.
“These are public documents, I’m not leaking anything to you,” he stressed. I nodded my understanding. “And if you wind up needing to talk to Detective Donovan, there’s still some work to be done there. Work you’re going to have to do.”
Detective Donovan. “I’ll take it one step at a time,” I promised. And meant it.
He laughed a little, which delighted me. “Hey, a new approach.”
I deserved that, so I returned the laugh. But I really was determined to be different this time. It was important to both of us for a lot of reasons that I handle this article carefully. “I appreciate this very much.”
“Even when I don’t approve, I still believe in you,” he smiled.
“Appreciate that very much, too.”
He took my face in his hands and kissed me with heat and gentleness wrapped into a delicious, dizzying combination. I tossed the papers behind me, hoping they were heavy enough to sail all the way to the coffee table, and slid my hands back inside his jacket.
I got the jacket off and then the shirt. “Do you really need to get back?”
“Yes,” he said, lifting me off my feet and walking toward the bedroom.
“How soon?”
“Try and watch the clock.”
I didn’t even try. I did attempt to get up with him at about
midnight, but he advised me to stay right there until he returned. He had some paperwork to finish so it could be on his lieutenant’s desk first thing, but he’d be back. Kyle’s a night owl bordering on insomniac and swears he does his best thinking in the middle of the night.
midnight, but he advised me to stay right there until he returned. He had some paperwork to finish so it could be on his lieutenant’s desk first thing, but he’d be back. Kyle’s a night owl bordering on insomniac and swears he does his best thinking in the middle of the night.
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