Authors: Sheryl J. Anderson
Killer Deal (7 page)
“Protect?”
“Whoever did this to Garth—who knows who else they’re angry at? Gwen could be in danger, too.”
Glancing at Paula, I found she was already watching me for my reaction. “Danger from whom?”
“The maniac who did this. Until he’s caught, Gwen needs to stay vigilant. We all do.”
Everything I’d read or heard whispered or whispered myself had examined Garth’s murder as a single act, driven by either passion, which made Gwen the front-runner, or money, which shone a light on Ronnie. No one had yet suggested that Garth was the first on some sort of list. I checked Paula for her reaction, but she was looking at her boss steadily. This was not a new theory to her, but I couldn’t tell how much credence she gave it. Was it serious or just Ronnie trying to make himself a larger part of my story? Or Ronnie thinking he could stay out of the suspect column if he listed himself under “potential victims”?
“You think you’re at risk as well?”
“Shit, yeah. I’ve already spoken to the police about it.”
“Do they share your concern?”
Paula glanced down at the tabletop and Ronnie’s nostrils flared briefly. “They’re prepared to look into it.”
I assumed that meant no. “Mr. Willis—”
“Ronnie.”
I acknowledged the gesture with a nod, but couldn’t quite bring myself to say it out loud. Something about his deliberate boyishness combined with the diminutive name smacked of trying too hard and made me uneasy. Was he covering up guilt or something else? “Do you have any suspicions about who might mean all of you harm?”
“None. That’s what’s so frigging terrifying. It could be anyone. You have any idea of the number of hearts we touch, minds we change each and every day with our work? And if just one of them is sick, twisted, desperate, and takes issue with us, what can we do? Apparently, we can die all alone in
a hotel room, well before our time. Or we can be alert and ready.”
a hotel room, well before our time. Or we can be alert and ready.”
I half-expected him to draw a pistol out of his waistband and wave it at me, but thankfully, he just smacked the table for emphasis. Not to be unsympathetic—losing someone close to you to murder is cataclysmic, especially if you believe it puts you in harm’s way as well—but Ronnie’s manic behavior seemed out of proportion. Unless there was someone impacted by the merger who could loathe Garth and Ronnie equally and see Ronnie as a viable next target. “Given your concerns, is it safe to proceed with the merger?”
Ronnie looked queasy for a moment, then nodded. “I sure hope so. It’s what’s best for both firms. And I know it’s what Garth would’ve wanted.”
“We’re straying from the point of the interview, aren’t we?” Paula asked pointedly.
The point of the official interview, sure, and I couldn’t think of a way to stay on the topic of Garth’s death that wouldn’t arouse Paula’s suspicion and further inflame Ronnie’s paranoia.
“Right,” Ronnie said. “Let’s dish about Gwen.” Paula cut him a warning look, but he reached over and patted her hand sloppily. She slid her hands into her lap, out of his reach.
“I’d like to get your impressions of Gwen as a businesswoman, moving forward with both the agency and her venture with Emile Trebask in the shadow of her husband’s death,” I said.
“Ex-husband,” Paula corrected.
“The papers were never signed.”
“Unsigned papers’ll change your life,” Ronnie said lightly, making a visible effort to relax now that the conversation was moving away from the shooting. Though he professed affection for Gwen, he apparently didn’t fully embrace the thought of being her business partner.
Running Garth’s company—without Garth—potentially put Ronnie in an enviable position in a hugely competitive field. But could he maintain that position? The aging posters
on the hallway walls made me wonder. “Even with Ms. Lincoln’s involvement, are you comfortable taking Mr. Henderson’s place?”
on the hallway walls made me wonder. “Even with Ms. Lincoln’s involvement, are you comfortable taking Mr. Henderson’s place?”
Ronnie shook his head emphatically. “I’m not gonna try. He was one of a kind. But I can keep the firm moving ahead on the path he laid. As long as I still have those girls.”
“Those girls?”
Leaning back in his chair, Ronnie flashed me a grin. “You haven’t met the Harem?”
“Ronnie, don’t—” Paula attempted, but Ronnie shrugged her off.
There was a joke here I wasn’t in on, a fact Ronnie seemed to enjoy a great deal. “I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure.”
“Garth had an eye for beauty and an eye for talent. And a knack for finding both in one place. His creative directors are some of the most exquisite young women in advertising. The rest of us jealous bastards call them the Harem.”
Visions of Bond girls danced in my head. Why, yes, she’s a nuclear scientist, but she’s a swimsuit model, too! Still, given GHInc.’s track record, whoever these lovelies were, they had to know their stuff.
“You don’t approve,” Ronnie noted, making me aware I was not controlling my facial expressions.
“I’m sure I just don’t appreciate the joke fully,” I said diplomatically.
“That statement’s not for attribution,” Paula said firmly.
“Relax, Paula, Molly isn’t here to get us into trouble. Besides, it’s not like it’s a secret.”
“It’s less than professional,” Paula said, without indicating whether she was referring to the nickname or his delight in it.
“Thing is, they’re the soul of that agency. I’m just hoping I can inspire them to anything like the heights Garth led them to. God knows I miss Garth, but I still have a company to run, a reputation to sustain, and I am gonna use each and every asset at my disposal to make sure that happens. Anyone brave enough to come along for the ride is absolutely
welcome.” Paula caught his eye and he took a deep breath. “Everything I have is in this now and I’m gonna make it work.”
welcome.” Paula caught his eye and he took a deep breath. “Everything I have is in this now and I’m gonna make it work.”
Did he want pity or respect? Or both? I did feel for him, the sum total of his professional life hanging in the balance because of Garth’s death. But a man with that much hanging in the balance was a man that much more likely to take desperate steps. Had he created the situation he was now proclaiming he could overcome? Brimming with questions I couldn’t ask, I went back to the subject at hand. “What does Gwen think of the … creative directors?”
Ronnie’s thin lips twisted. “She recognizes them as a tremendous business asset,” he said with an utter lack of conviction, sounding like he was quoting from an annual report.
Again, I tried to home in on the source of his discomfort. “Were any of them anything more to Garth?”
Before Paula could object, Ronnie answered smoothly. “I never name names. That way, no one’s ever tempted to do it to me.”
“Are you married?”
“Why, are you?”
“No.”
“That’s nice to know.”
“But completely irrelevant.”
“Not at all. I like to know everything possible about the people I’m talking to, don’t you?”
“That is part of being a reporter.”
“Tell me something else about yourself.”
“I’m very anxious to ask you more questions about Gwen Lincoln.”
“She’s not easily distracted, is she, Paula?”
“What’re you trying to distract me from?”
Ronnie laughed, but it came from too high in his chest to be real. I’d caught him and he didn’t want to admit it. What didn’t he want to talk about?
“Tell me more about the Harem,” I asked, trying to sound playful.
Ronnie shook his head. “I’m not gonna waste your time
rambling. You wanna know about Gwen. What else can I tell you about her?”
rambling. You wanna know about Gwen. What else can I tell you about her?”
I wanted to talk about Gwen and the Harem, even more so now that he didn’t. I needed to come at him sideways. Remembering the odd look on the receptionist’s face, I asked, “How long have you known each other?”
I could’ve sworn what flickered through his eyes was admiration. I’d hit on the very thing he didn’t want to talk about. “We were acquainted in the days before she married Garth.”
“Acquainted” struck me as an evasion Bill Clinton would’ve been proud of. I had to press. “Ever anything more?”
His smile went a little rigid. “Yes. Now we’re very good friends. And about to be successful business partners.”
“You’ve forgiven her for stealing Emile Trebask from your agency?”
“Makes me admire her business savvy that much more.”
“And now that you’re all back together again, it doesn’t really matter.”
He leaned forward, his gaze cool and direct, and I knew whatever he said next, it was going to be a lie. “True.”
“When does the merger become official?”
He leaned back again, waving his hand dismissively. “Any day now. We put everything on hold when Garth died, of course, but the lawyers are smoothing out the last few details. And some redecorating’s being done over there before we move in.”
“Are you involved in the campaign for Success?”
“Of course. We’re all very excited about it. The campaign and the perfume. The print campaign will be previewed at Emile’s gala. Awesome work.”
“So you’re looking forward to the future.”
“You bet.”
“No regrets about having to give up your autonomy and individual creative vision to merge with a company that’s now less than what you were expecting?”
Ronnie stared at me for a cold moment, lacing his long
fingers together in front of his face. “You’re way too young to understand the true meaning of a question like that.”
fingers together in front of his face. “You’re way too young to understand the true meaning of a question like that.”
“I understand whoever killed Garth Henderson took more away from you than a partner. Do you think that was the goal?”
Fear dashed across Ronnie’s face and his hands fell away. “No. This isn’t about me.”
“And yet you’re concerned you could be next.”
“As a loose end, not a primary target. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“And Mr. Henderson did?”
Paula tapped her pen on the table. “I don’t see how idle speculation could possibly add to a profile of Ms. Lincoln. Perhaps you’d like to e-mail me the rest of your questions and we’ll reply in kind.” Interestingly, Paula seemed more upset with Ronnie than with me, but whichever, she was pulling the plug. She stood and waited for Ronnie to do the same.
He hesitated, then rose slowly, his face settling back in that same “here comes a lie” expression. “Let me say one last thing. I’m gonna miss the hell outta Garth, but I take comfort in the fantastic possibilities of my new partnership with Gwen Lincoln, a woman of tremendous business instincts and creative drive.”
I flipped off my recorder and slowly gathered up my things. Now I was certain he was hiding something, but I also knew if I pushed it, Paula would make sure I never talked to him again. “I appreciate your candor and your time, Mr. Willis. I’ll be in touch, Ms. Wharton.”
I shook both their hands. Hers was the same rote jiggle she’d given me when she’d entered. But Ronnie, who had barely bothered on the way in, now held my hand in a death grip. “I don’t need to tell a smart one like you how delicate all this is,” Ronnie said, that hint of fear creeping back into his voice.
“I don’t want to cause trouble for anyone,” I assured him, thankful that no one who knew my track record was around to dispute that.
The slouching assistant materialized to escort me to the
elevator. I said I could find my way, but she insisted. I wasn’t sure if they were worried I’d get lost or if I’d steal something on the way out. I had hoped to chat with the receptionist again, but she wasn’t at the desk, replaced by a young man who sat up so straight with his hands folded on the desk that I suspected electrodes in the chair or drugs in the coffee.
elevator. I said I could find my way, but she insisted. I wasn’t sure if they were worried I’d get lost or if I’d steal something on the way out. I had hoped to chat with the receptionist again, but she wasn’t at the desk, replaced by a young man who sat up so straight with his hands folded on the desk that I suspected electrodes in the chair or drugs in the coffee.
Back down on the street, I paused to turn on my phone and consider the potential guilt of Ronnie Willis. He was hiding something, but was it related to Garth’s death or some other aspect of the merger? Were professional or personal demons haunting him?
Before I could formulate an answer I was happy with, my phone rang. It was Tricia, wondering if I’d heard from Cassady. My head was so full of Ronnie and Gwen that it took me a moment to remember Cassady’s lunch with the physicist.
“Maybe they aren’t done yet,” I suggested, heading back toward my office.
“It’s almost three o’ clock,” Tricia said.
“Maybe it’s a good lunch. Or the service is slow.”
“I’m just so intrigued. It’s not like her to withhold so much information. Speaking of which, how did your interview go?”
“Interviews, plural.”
“Tell me, tell me.”
I was beginning to when my call-waiting beeped. “Hang on, let me see if this is Cassady.”
“I’ll hang up and you can three-way me back in.”
Tricia did just that and I picked up the second line just before it escaped to voice mail. “Hey, you,” I said, not bothering to look because I was so sure it was Cassady.
“Hey, yourself.”
It wasn’t Cassady and I could hear him chuckling as I groped for a clever response and failed to find one.
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