by C. J. Thomas
I couldn’t ignore the way my heart pounded as the cab sped down the street. The closer I got to home, the worse I felt. I wondered if I was having an anxiety attack—rapid heartbeat, sweaty palms, dizziness.
I reminded myself there was nothing to be afraid of. Dan was right. The break-in was a message, nothing more. The message had been received. They weren’t out to hurt me, whoever they were.
At least, not yet.
The thought sent a shiver down my spine and made my knees knock.
It didn’t help that I had the same feeling I’d had when driving the day before. Like I was being followed. I turned in my seat, unable to make heads or tails of the traffic behind me. I didn’t see the same Toyota, so that was a relief. Still, hair stood up on the back of my neck. I had the sensation of being watched.
It might have been my driver, I realized, staring at me in the mirror more than he looked at the road ahead. I toughened up, putting on my hardnosed act.
“Can I help you with something?” I asked, my voice tight. He didn’t reply, but his eyes found the road. I felt a little better after asserting myself. I just needed to remember who I was.
Julia Mabel.
I wasn’t some shivering little girl. I’d been around the block and then some. It took more than an uneasy feeling to knock me off balance.
Still, when we pulled up to the curb, I seriously questioned my ability to walk. My knees felt like water. I gave myself a little pep talk, sang Chaka Khan’s I’m Every Woman in my head and marched straight up to the front door. If I pretended to feel brave, I would start to feel brave. I’d done it enough times before to know it worked.
Every footstep sounded ominous as I climbed the stairs. What would await me? Probably the same mess as yesterday, I thought, and I forced myself to run up the rest of the flight and rush down the hall. Better to get it over with quickly rather than drive myself loony with worry.
I slid my key into the lock, then laughed at myself. The lock was broken, naturally. Good thing there wasn’t anything worth stealing.
I opened the door and flipped on the lights. I winced at the mess, but was glad nobody else had been in there while I was gone. Even a cleaning crew would have felt like an additional invasion. I made a mental note to pull on my big girl panties and get in there to clean it up as soon as possible, then fastened the chain on the door. It wasn’t much, but at least I would hear if somebody tried to break in while I was there.
It wouldn’t do any good to take my time—I was anxious to get back to Dan’s. Funny how comfortable I felt there, and so quickly. It was a comfortable home, of course, but there was more to it than that.
I felt comfortable with Dan. If he were anyone else, any random person, I wouldn’t have felt the same way. I would have hated the thought of staying if he weren’t such a gracious host . . . and so good in bed.
I giggled, the sound echoing in the silent apartment, and grabbed a couple of slinky nighties from the pile of clothes in the middle of the floor. Just in case he wanted a repeat of last night. And he would if I had anything to say about it. The memory made me shiver deliciously.
Then I cringed at the thought of another person touching my unmentionables, but told myself to buck up and move on. There was nothing I could do about it but deal with it.
Work clothes. I would have to start going back into the office, probably the following morning. I tossed two pairs of jeans into the bag, a few shirts. Underwear—again, that icy feeling in my stomach when I dug them out from inside the pile. I doubted the burglar went through everything one piece at a time. More likely they took handfuls. And they wore gloves, hence the lack of fingerprints. That added a measure of comfort. I doubted they would take off the gloves just to touch my underwear.
I went to the bathroom, pulling my soap and shampoo from the shower, along with other girly shower products Dan had likely never heard of. My hair already felt dry after using his pitiful excuse for conditioner—I’d been in too much of a hurry to remember toiletries when I first packed, and curly-haired girls needed a little extra love.
Satisfied with my packing, I went to my desk. I didn’t think to look too hard to make sure nothing had disappeared from it yesterday since the only thing I considered valuable had been in a bag over my shoulder. I realized as I went through the drawers that there could have been other information the burglar searched for.
Like my notes. I had a habit of scribbling thoughts on a regular notepad rather than typing them out. I’d done that after my first visit to Emelia’s apartment, jotting down thoughts, impressions. I had another set of notes from the red carpet event, my surprise at seeing Austin with Margo included.
A cold feeling swept through me. Had that been the reason for the break-in? I searched frantically, going through everything. If the notepad was missing, that would solidify the theory that it was all connected to Austin.
No such luck. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or frustrated when I found it beneath a pile of paid bills. There went that idea. I was no closer than ever to finding an answer.
Even though nothing was missing and I was physically unharmed, it didn’t mean I was willing to let things slide. I wanted to know who’d done it. I wanted to know whether I’d ever be safe in my own home again.
A knock at the door made me freeze—visitors were rare. Mia was virtually the only person who ever dropped by unannounced and I’d already spoken to her. She knew I wasn’t staying at the apartment.
“Who is it?” I crept toward the front door, my eyes searching the room for a weapon. I could have doubled back to get a knife, but it would’ve meant turning my back on the door. The person on the other side could have easily broken the chain and burst in on me. I chose to position myself off to the side, so if the door opened, I would be behind the intruder. I wished I had a baseball bat. One problem, I was never very athletic.
“Julia? Julia Mabel?”
I didn’t recognize the voice—however, if they were willing to speak to me rather than breaking the door down, they weren’t there to hurt me.
I hoped.
“Yes? Who are you?”
“Open the door, please. I need to speak with you.”
Should I? I crept around to the front of the door, opening it with the chain still on. My eyes flew open wide.
“Austin?” I threw my weight against the door, trying to close it, but he was too fast for me.
And too heavy.
He managed to break the chain, stumbling into the apartment. I fell against the back of the sofa, staring into his wild eyes.
Oh, Dan. Why didn’t I tell you when I left the bar?
144
Dan
THE STATION STARTED EMPTYING out and I couldn’t help feeling surprised when I saw how late it was.
“Eight o’clock already? Shit. I can’t believe it.” I stretched, rolling my head from side to side.
“Yeah, time flies, don’t it?” Frank let out a snide laugh.
“Something like that.” I let out a deep sigh, more frustrated than ever. We were getting close to building a compelling case, but not close enough. Certainly not as close as I would have liked to be after nearly twelve hours of work.
“You should split,” I said, yawning.
“What about you?”
I thought about Julia waiting for me at the house after her drink with Margo. I thought about what we could be doing together, instead of me sitting behind my desk with a stack of meaningless paperwork in front of me. I wondered what she was wearing, what she was doing. I thought about waiting until she went to sleep, then sliding into bed with her and—
“Hello?” Frank waved a hand in front of my face. Lucky for me there was a folder across my lap or he would’ve seen exactly why I’d zoned out. I never would’ve heard the end of it.
“Hmm? Oh, me? I’ll be okay. Just another hour or two. I don’t feel satisfied yet.”
“That settles it, then. I’m staying, too.”
I had to grin at my partner.
He was a pain in the ass, but he came through when it counted. He was doing the extra work on Emelia’s case more as a favor to me than anything else. While I didn’t think he’d let me forget it when it came time for him to call in a favor, I told myself to make it up to him somehow.
“In that case, partner, why don’t you mosey on down to the coffee shop and get us both something?” I tossed him a twenty. “Real coffee, too. Don’t bring me back any of that homemade in-house shit and keep my money. I’ll know the difference.”
He smirked. “Okay. I’ll pick up sandwiches, too. My treat.”
“Sounds good—but not that greasy stuff. Turkey or something for me, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckled as he walked away. “I know you wanna be in tip-top shape for when you go home to your girlfriend.”
I didn’t know what annoyed me more—that he said it, or that he said it so loud. Everybody in earshot turned and looked at me with an amused face.
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” I buried my head in the paperwork, ignoring the chuckles and snorts around me. That was all I needed—the rest of the squad thinking Julia and I lived together.
I shook my head, telling myself to get a grip. I had a case to work on. I could think about her when I got home.
I would do a lot more than think, too.
I would run my hands all over her. I would sink into her, so deep, making her back arch up off the bed. She was tight, hot, wet. So wet for me, so fast, I could feel her now. She would grunt when I slid home, touching her deepest parts. I’d make her body scream just like she screamed my name. She’d go wild like she did when I took her before. I’d taste her, smell her. Drown in her.
“Hey.” My head shot up from my desk to find Frank coming back toward me. I put an extra folder over my crotch to hide the aching hard-on.
“What, did you forget your wallet or something?” He’d only been gone for a minute.
“No. This just came in.” He had a knowing look on his face and a thick folder in his hands. He tossed it onto my desk.
“What is it?” I flipped it open as I asked, my eyes going wide when I saw the massive amount of work there. Interviews, eyewitness accounts. All of it directed toward Emelia’s private life.
“Statements from Emelia’s staff. Housekeeper, personal cook, chauffeur. Her assistant, her publicist. It’s a fucking goldmine.”
“I can’t believe it.” This was what I had been waiting to see. Two junior detectives must’ve spent hours upon hours getting it all together. I saw Austin’s name peppered throughout the reports.
“Yup. I only skimmed it on my way up here from the captain’s office. He caught me as I was leavin’.”
“Holy hell.” Julia would lose her mind when she found out I had such a huge break.
“I’m gonna go to the shop now. When I get back, we’ll go through it together.”
I waved him off. Like I would wait until he got back. It was like he didn’t know me at all.
By the time he did return—record time, really, only twenty minutes—I felt like the cat that ate the canary. While there were still two possible motives, it looked clearer than ever that Austin was our man.
“I feel like such an ass,” I said, ripping open my turkey sandwich.
“I even got it on whole wheat for the health nut,” Frank said, sitting down with his meatball sub. “Why do you feel like an ass?”
“Because we just spent the whole day digging through a lot of nothing when we could’ve waited until we saw this.”
He wheeled his chair over and I made room on my desk for him. I wanted to throw away all the pointless files we’d sifted through.
“Okay. Fill me in.”
He took a bite. I handed him a napkin to clean up the marinara sauce already on his tie. It had to be a record.
“All right. First, we have the housekeeper. She says right here, in plain English, that Emelia often had an overnight guest in the weeks preceding the murder. When asked who that guest was, she says she never got his name, but she recognized him from the news. Austin Haynes. She never saw anybody else, either. Just him.”
“Well, that’s a start. But we already knew they had somethin’ just from the pictures.”
“It gets better. She says that when she asked her boss about it—just in passing one day, while she was dusting or doing some other work—Emelia explicitly asked her to keep quiet about the relationship.”
“Oh, well, there you go. Now we know they were deliberately keepin’ it a secret.” Frank looked pleased.
“So that’s the first interview. The next is the cook. Emelia flew him out with her when she traveled, went on vacation, whatever. She hardly made a move without him. When she went skiing in Vail last winter, guess who spent a weekend at her mountain house?”
“A certain billionaire with a name that sounds like he comes out of a soap opera?”
I almost choked on my sandwich. “Yeah. That’s him. He says Austin was pretty particular about what he ate and how it was prepared. A real tight ass. No food allergies, just very picky. I’m getting the idea the cook didn’t like him very much.”
“One way to piss off a cook is to tell them how to do their job,” Frank mused.
“Exactly. If he wanted to keep the two of them a secret and not get the cook’s mouth blabbing all over town, he could’ve been a little smarter. Emelia asked him to keep it quiet, though. Just like she asked the housekeeper.”
“Holy shit. They worked hard at it, then.”
“It gets better.” I pulled out the chauffeur’s interview. “They used to have sex in the car sometimes. This’ll stay off the record—I would hate to have that get out. I can’t stand it when those sleazy tabloids get their hands on stuff like that.”
It was Frank’s turn to almost choke. I realized what I had said, and held a hand up to signal him to stay quiet. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But Julia wouldn’t talk about that. She has a little more class.”
He nodded. “I ain’t arguing. She’s a class act.” For once, he wasn’t kidding, and I could’ve kissed him for it.
“So they were pretty hot and heavy, but secretive,” I said. “Once, she had the driver take her to the airport to pick Austin up as a surprise. She had him drive around for two hours with the partition closed while they went at it like animals in the back.”
“Damn. I wouldn’t have guessed it from her. She always seemed like a sweet, innocent type.”
“That’s Hollywood for you. Which leads me to the publicist. She didn’t want to open up—you’ll see her interview is much longer than the others because she kept hedging questions and acting all jumpy. She had a lot of respect for the kid. They all did. Anyway, she finally starts spilling her guts around three or four pages in.” I flipped through it, skimming the page until I got to the specific section I wanted. “Here it is. She said she worked overtime keeping the two of them out of the public eye. A few different publications caught wind of them—like in Vail, for instance. They were spotted together. She squashed any rumors whenever they came up. It was Emelia’s expressed order.”
“Does she say why?”
“She does indeed, but not for another three pages. The woman’s a pro at double-talk, I swear.” I flipped ahead. “I quote: Emelia didn’t want anyone to know about the relationship since she and Austin were so opposed in their views on environmental protection.”
“Wow. That’s pretty deep. But it’s nothin’ that would make him kill her.”
“Listen to the rest: If they went public, Emelia feared, it would mean the end of either of their careers, if not both. She would be seen as a fraud. Her reputation was sterling, and it meant a lot to her to keep in intact. Meanwhile, his investors would lose faith if they knew he was dating a conservationist—especially one with the clout Emelia had. She was always in the public eye. If she told her fans to boycott the company or protest what they did, they would have done it in a heartbeat. That’s how much they loved her, how much faith they had i
n her.” I looked at Frank when I finished reading. I knew the look of triumph on my face was mirrored on his.
“Fuck me runnin’.” One of my favorite expressions of his. “So that’s it, then. He was afraid she would bring down the company if anybody found out they were together.”
“Looks that way. The assistant says pretty much the same thing. It was all hush-hush.”
“So why not break it off, then? I mean, really, don’t this seem like a lotta hoops to jump through?”
“It looks like they were in love,” I said. “That’s one theory, at least.”
Frank didn’t look convinced. “I didn’t know those people fell in love.”
I snorted. “You’re such a romantic. Like I said, that’s just one theory.”
“What’s the other one?”
I sat back with my coffee, staring at the ceiling while I thought it over. “What if their relationship wasn’t real? What if Emelia was only with him so she could get insider information on him? I mean, if she was so committed to the environment, where would she stop? Would she ever stop?”
Frank pursed his lips, screwing up his face. That was always a sign he was thinking especially hard about something. “So, what, you think he found out about her spying?”
“That’s what I think. He found out she was using him and he knew she would take her information to the public.”
“That was a big risk for her to take, though. Right? What if the fans found out and turned on her before she got everything together?”
I shrugged. “I guess it was a risk she thought she needed to take. I mean, what if they didn’t find out? And it looks like they wouldn’t have—hell, they might never have if it wasn’t for Julia pushing me on this. They might never have known about the relationship. So what happens? Emelia comes out of it looking like a hero, squashing the big, bad oil tycoon and his minions. She’s a champion. I never knew the girl personally, but it sounds like a risk worth taking.” I smiled at him. “She must’ve thought so.”
“Apparently.” Frank looked through the interviews, muttering to himself as he read. I finished my coffee while I waited for him to put his own opinions together.
