by C. J. Thomas
She sounded a little breathless when she picked up—I hoped I hadn’t interrupted anything with Austin. I gagged a little in my mouth, but my voice was sunny. “Hey, lady. I was wondering if you were free for lunch today. Seeing you last night reminded me it’s been too long since we caught up.”
I heard delight in her voice. “I’d love it!” We decided to meet at our favorite place in a few minutes, and I hurried out to get there on time.
I knew it was wrong to meddle, but it felt wrong to stand on the sidelines and watch her crash and burn, too. She’d done me a lot of solids over the years. I had to give her the heads up, if necessary.
She looked radiant when she joined me at our little corner table. The rays of brilliant California sun which streamed through the windows couldn’t match her smile. She looked like a woman in love. My heart sank a little.
We ordered salads, then she leaned forward with the look of a woman ready to dish some serious dirt.
“So, you and Dan Pierce! I’ve gotta admit, you make a stunning couple—then again, I’ve always thought so whenever I noticed the way you shamelessly flirt with each other.”
“We do not,” I argued. “We have chemistry, I’ll grant you that. But it wasn’t until we met up on Emelia’s story that I even agreed to go on a date with him. He tried for years, God knows. I don’t know—maybe there was something about her death that touched me. She inspired me to give him a chance, I guess.” I wanted to gag for the second time that hour, but my words seemed to stir something in Margo.
“Oh, yes. Emelia.” Margo’s face fell a little, her smile dimmed. “I’m still really shaken up by her.”
“Me, too. And, you know, it wasn’t until the papers started talking about her activism that I realized how deeply committed she was. I mean, I used to hear all the time about the marches and protests, but she was more than just a poster girl for these organizations. They’ll really miss her.”
“We all will,” Margo mused. “It’s such a shame we don’t know the impact we make when we’re alive, isn’t it? And the people we leave behind—most times, they don’t know how much they’ll miss us until we’re gone. One of life’s great paradoxes.” She sighed, gazing out the window at pedestrians strolling by.
“It’s funny, I didn’t think about it again until I saw you with Austin last night. The opposite of what she stood for.” I chuckled.
“Oh, that’s just a big misunderstanding, the environmentalists and the oil companies. If the tree huggers would just take a minute and think about their high ideals, they would understand they’re fighting the wrong people. They’re wasting their time.” Margo waved her hand like somebody in-the-know. Like she and Austin had this same conversation in the past. She made me think of a puppet, being controlled by the puppeteer even when he was nowhere to be found.
That gave me just the segue way I’d been hoping for.
“Speaking of . . . what’s up with the two of you?” I copied her body language from earlier, leaning toward her like I wanted the dirt.
She giggled, biting her lip. “What makes you ask that?”
“Come on. This isn’t some stranger. This is me. You can do the coy, teasing thing or you can tell me why I saw you falling all over Austin Haynes last night.”
“I wasn’t falling all over him.”
“You sorta were. No judgment. Just don’t insult my intelligence.” I grinned.
“You’re too jaded,” she said. “And I wasn’t falling. I was holding on. There’s a difference.”
“Fine, fine. We’ll play it your way. Why were you holding onto him? Was it a date?”
A shrug. “I don’t know. Did it look like one?”
My patience was fraying rapidly. I sipped my iced tea, taking a breath before continuing. “Come on, lady. If you’re dating the great Haynes Corporation—or, rather, its CEO—that’s a big deal. I know you’ve been dying to dish with somebody about it.”
She hesitated, pursing her lips like she was ready to burst but wanted to keep the suspense going a little longer. I drummed my fingers on the table, waiting.
She burst into a huge smile, giggling like mad. “Okay, fine! You broke me down! I’m seeing him. Happy now?”
I smiled for her sake, even as my heart sank. “Is it serious?”
Her eyes lit up like birthday candles. “Yeah. It’s really serious.”
“Oh, sweetie. You look so happy. I’m happy for you.” I felt like the world’s biggest jerk, sitting there with a fake smile plastered on my face. Happy was the last emotion I felt when thinking about Margo and Austin together. It was far too soon. Never mind his possible—probable?—role in Emelia’s murder. The whole thing felt fishy.
Should I show her the photos? I thought about it as Margo told me how great Austin was, how fabulous the sex, how generous and kind he was.
“I’m sorry to show you this,” I said, frowning, and handed Margo the phone. “You can, you know, swipe through.”
“What is this?” She glanced at me, then back down at the phone. She swiped once, twice.
“Photos found in Emelia’s apartment. As you can see.., Austin’s in a lot of them.”
“Oh.” That was all she said. I waited, eyes wide, for something more.
After a few long beats, I couldn’t stand the suspense anymore. “Is that it? Oh? I mean, don’t you see?”
“See what?” Margo handed me the phone, her attitude blithe.
I couldn’t remember ever feeling so frustrated, like she was deliberately avoiding the obvious. “They were together. Recently, it appears. And for a while.”
“I can see that.” She shrugged. My jaw dropped.
“And you don’t care?”
“Honey, I knew about them. They weren’t serious.” She waved a hand like she was shooing away a fly.
Or a reality she didn’t want to face.
“They look pretty serious in these photos,” I insisted.
“He was only going along with her. He wanted to get some, she was the hottest ticket in town, so he pretended to be more serious than he was.” She shrugged. “She was too clingy.”
I considered her argument. It didn’t gel. “He doesn’t look irritated or put-off, though. They look like a cozy couple.”
“They’re all from her point-of-view, though, aren’t they?”
“He took a few of her,” I pointed out. “And they look equally happy in all of them. He doesn’t look like the put-upon boy toy, just putting up with her shenanigans.”
“I just don’t think so.” She grinned. “I didn’t think anybody else knew about them. You have some pretty impressive sources. And I thought I knew all your tricks.”
“I guess I have a few you didn’t know about.” I winked, deciding to keep Dan’s involvement as quiet as possible. If I weren’t careful, Margo’s next headline would involve a certain detective and me.
“Well, I appreciate you looking out for me. We girls have to have each other’s backs in this big, bad world full of nasty men.” She winked, then stood. “I’m gonna head back to the office. Deadlines—not that I have to explain that to you.”
“Not at all.” I gave her a big smile, but remained in my seat as she rushed out.
Something didn’t feel right about her reaction. If I were seeing a guy, hanging all over him one night, then a friend told me he was only rebounding, and his girlfriend was dead, I’d be a little more concerned than that. She tried too hard to come off like she didn’t care.
Then again, maybe she really didn’t care. She was a woman of the world—she knew how men like Austin operated. They were opportunists. They were used to getting whatever they wanted, no questions asked. She couldn’t expect him to be a one-woman man.
I could see her through the window, watching as she hurried away. She had the same bright, wide smile on her face. I hated to think of her heart broken by her new boyfriend.
Then I flashed back to the image of a lifeless, staring Emelia and knew it could be much worse.
; 132
Julia
I WAS SO deep in thought after Margo left, it was a surprise when the check landed on the table. I jumped, making the waitress jump, too.
“Sorry,” I laughed, hand over my heart. “I zoned out for a minute there.”
“Well, you could do worse than to zone out to a view like that.” She nodded out the window, indicating a flashy sports car and its equally flashy owner. I glanced up at the girl, and she looked hungry.
“You wish you had a car like that?” I asked, feeling sympathetic. “Or maybe a guy like that to drive you around in a car like that?”
She burst out laughing. “Pretty close. Isn’t that what everybody wants out here? You ask somebody what they do, and no matter what it is they actually make a living at, they tell you they’re an actress, or a model, or a screenwriter.”
I thought it over as she picked up Margo’s plate. “What do you do?”
She grinned. “I’m an actress, obviously. I’ve even been in a commercial.” She winked at me and walked away. I smiled sadly at her retreating form.
How many people were there, just like her? They never knew life didn’t always get much better once that ultimate dream was realized—or that there was always another dream just out of reach after that.
And how many of them died in bed, a bottle of pills close at hand?
Nobody dreamed to end up the way Emelia had. The fame and fortune, of course. The handsome boyfriends and trips around the world. The awards.
Not the pitiful, lonely way she died. A death the rest of the world was too fast to chalk up to overdose, secret addiction. They had loved her, and were now ready to toss her aside because she’d let them down.
They didn’t know any better than my waitress did.
Neither did Margo, for that matter.
She should have known better. She should have been smarter. Hadn’t she seen enough of what men like Austin were capable of? She was blinded by his looks and wealth.
Now it felt more important than ever to get to the bottom of Emelia’s death.
I couldn’t possibly go back to the office. I was too unsettled after that lunch—during which I’d hardly eaten anything. I had no appetite, I realized. Too much emotion, too much dread.
Did I smile at and chat with a murderer at the event the night before? The thought chilled my blood. He had that look about him that told me he didn’t care, which made it even worse.
I’d seen that look before, on the faces of serial killers. Psychopaths with no conscience, no sense of right or wrong. He didn’t even give away that they’d been together. How could he be so detached unless he was a psycho?
I hated to think of Margo being with him. She had no idea. I couldn’t exactly spill the beans, though. What if I was wrong?
And there was a distinct chance I was wrong. I’d been wrong before.
How to walk the line between concern for a friend and branding someone a murderer, then? I wasn’t sure. A cup of tea and a hot bath might make things clearer.
I sighed, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. Traffic in LA, never any better than a nightmare. Home felt like a hundred miles away when, if the roads were clear, it would have taken ten minutes to get there. The faces of the drivers around me were a reminder that I wasn’t alone in my frustration.
I turned my radio to an oldies station and crooned along with the Four Seasons, but my heart wasn’t in it. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was letting Margo walk into a trap. If anything happened to her, I would never forgive myself.
We started moving again and I sent up a prayer of thanks. I glanced in the rearview as I made a right turn to notice the car behind me turning to follow. It didn’t mean anything, and I dismissed it.
I thought about Dan instead, and smiled when I remembered how dashing he’d looked in his tuxedo. He would have looked good in anything . . . or nothing.
I laughed at myself. If I played my cards right, I might have the chance to see him in his birthday suit. There was no missing the attraction. The only thing holding me back was the fear of getting too close to him.
A frown replaced my laughter, and I made a left turn onto my street. The car behind me made a left, too.
The hair stood up on the back of my neck. Was I too keyed-up, paranoid? Was I making things up? Or was the person in that car following me?
I was a half-dozen blocks away from home, with traffic crawling again. With the number of cars on the road, what were the odds that this car was still close behind me?
My palms went clammy. Relax, Julia. It’s probably just coincidence.
My instincts shut down the passive voice of reason. Why are women so quick to second-guess themselves in situations such as these? Follow your gut. You know this is weird.
I did know. I’d been in enough sticky situations to sense one when it formed. How many times had an angry wannabe celeb followed me from the office, back in the old days? Or a publicist, or even that one time when a disgraced singer hired a heavy to scare me into retracting a story about their drug relapse? I was no stranger to threats. It was part of the job.
This felt like one of those times.
“Crap,” I muttered, keeping an eye on the plain, late model Toyota while maneuvering through traffic. I flipped on my right signal, as though preparing to switch lanes.
Sure enough, the signal blinked behind me, too. They were either completely amateur or didn’t care whether or not I knew they were following me.
Who would have that cavalier attitude?
I immediately thought of Austin. But he wouldn’t be caught dead in a Toyota.
Who got me out of those old situations, where I’d been afraid for my safety? Dan, naturally. He had made short work of the thug who tried to menace me . . . then asked me out roughly three minutes after loading the creep into the back seat of a patrol car.
His timing was never very good, though I guessed he thought he’d strike while the iron was hot and I felt vulnerable enough to accept.
I wanted to call him. I wanted him to come and protect me. How would that look, though? And what if I was making it all up? He might think I used it as an excuse to be with him when it became clear I was in no trouble. I knew how he thought. I could see the slow-spreading grin just as clearly as if he were in front of me.
I decided to pull into my garage. If the car followed me, I would stay in the car and call him. Or I might lead the tailing car around until Dan caught up to us.
I kept an eye on the mirror as I turned into the facility, tapping my access badge to raise the gates. After slowing as it passed, the Toyota continued down the street.
I didn’t get a look at the driver, but breathed a sigh of relief. Probably figured they couldn’t get in without a pass—either that, or my imagination was running away with me.
All that concern for Margo.
Still, it might not be a bad idea to call Dan and let him know it felt like I’d been followed. Nothing came of it, but if anyone were gunning for me, I’d feel better knowing he knew. If I suddenly dropped off the radar, God forbid, he would be aware.
I jogged up the stairs to my floor, then went down the hall with a grin on my face, imagining the way Dan would have me laughing. He’d probably tell me I was a paranoid idiot, but I could stand the teasing tone of his voice so long as I knew I was safe.
My apartment door was open a crack.
I was so not safe.
Shit! My heart took off at a gallop and my insides turned to water.
I pressed myself against the wall opposite the door, my head turning left and right. I was alone in the hallway. Was the apartment empty?
I fumbled in my purse, looking for the can of mace I carried but as yet hadn’t needed to use. I prayed I wouldn’t have to this time, either.
Dammit, why hadn’t I called Dan? He’d be on his way by now.
I should leave.
I should go, right now.
Only there was somebody following me out there, on the street, mayb
e waiting for me to flee in panic when I saw how they’d broken in. It could have been a trap.
I whimpered, feeling like a caged animal.
Screw it. I was going in. Anybody in there would get a face full of mace.
I kicked the door open, hoping to startle anyone inside. The place seemed empty, completely quiet.
And a total wreck.
I whimpered again when I saw the state they’d left it in, whoever they were. Cushions everywhere, potted plants on the floor, dirt scattered. Drawers turned out, cards and mail strewn across my desk. Thank God I took my laptop to work with me. Even my kitchen was wrecked. What could they have been looking for in the kitchen? My grandmother’s fried chicken recipe?
The bedroom was worst of all. I felt violated when I saw the way my clothes were tossed around, my drawers clawed through. The closet was empty, dresses and shoes thrown here and there. My mattress was half off the bed, stripped, pillows torn apart.
What could I have that they wanted? Who were they?
I pulled out my phone with a shaking hand and dialed the police. I managed to tell them what happened before bursting into helpless tears.
133
Dan
“I DIDN’T THINK you would be here,” Frank muttered, sitting down with his lunch.
“Where did you think I would be? I already ate.” I sipped my cold coffee, wishing I had remembered to get something better when I ran out earlier.
“That’s not what I meant. I thought you’d be at your girlfriend’s place.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I replied, not looking up. I was too busy going over reports from witnesses who claimed they saw nothing and heard no one around the time of Emelia’s death.
Of course. Nobody knew anything. Why would we catch an easy break in the case? My partner’s words barely registered.
“Fine, whatever. Either way, I thought you’d wanna be there, after the break-in.”
“Hmm?”
“I said, since she had a break-in, I’m surprised you’re not there.”
It took a second, but the message came through. “What do you mean, she had a break-in?” I sat up straight in my chair.
