by C. J. Miller
Jack stood and looked around. “We’re out of here.”
“Maybe I should go back and see if I recognize anyone,” Marissa said.
“First priority is your safety.”
She groaned. “My chandelier.”
“There will be others.”
She laid her head against the back of the seat. “Not like that one. It was unique with the colored gems.”
Jack circled the car and climbed in the driver’s side. Thirty seconds later, they were pulling onto the main road. “I’m sorry about the chandelier.”
“I shouldn’t have taken off my sunglasses. I wanted to see if the chandelier was in good condition. It was dirty and needed a good polish, but it would be great.” Marissa reached across to Jack and set her hand over his.
He turned his hand over and squeezed hers.
“Your hands are strong,” she said. “When you’re close to me, I feel safe.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. You’re still trembling.”
Her imagination might be overactive, but feeling someone lurking near her was unsettling. “I know it seems irrational, but I felt something dark.”
“Can you focus on that feeling? Was it more than a feeling? Maybe you caught a glimpse of someone and it triggered that worry. Someone who was there the day Avery was killed.”
His confidence in her was a shot of adrenaline she needed. Marissa closed her eyes and thought about the flea market. The feeling of worry had wafted around her. She could have seen someone in her peripheral vision who had unsettled her or she could have caught a glimpse of someone familiar. Hard as she was trying, she couldn’t recall what had set off the feeling of unease.
She looked at Jack and another emotion rolled through her: desire. The warmth she felt for him, the closeness and the connection they were forming wrapped around her, binding her to him. They were a team in this.
“I’m sorry. I can’t think of anything specific I saw,” Marissa said.
Jack drummed the car’s steering wheel with his finger. “I want to run something by you. Kit suggested it and I’ve been holding off on asking.” He took a labored breath. “Would you be open to going to Avery’s apartment and taking a look around? The police have searched her things looking for a connection to something or someone who led to her death. Her financials look clean, although she had almost weekly transactions in the ten-thousand range both expenses and payments. Nothing on her home computer or phone to indicate trouble.”
“What were the police looking for exactly?” Marissa asked.
“Prescription pills, drugs, gambling debts, excessive alcohol present, or any type of blackmail.”
Marissa pictured Avery’s apartment. She had an entire room that had been remodeled into a closet with racks and drawers and shelves. She and Avery used to walk through and look at pieces Avery had saved from the eighties and nineties, relics from another era. Many were gifts from designers, couture pieces worth thousands. “I could do that. But I don’t see how I would find something if the police didn’t.”
“You were her friend. You might notice something new or missing and make a connection,” Jack said.
Marissa was willing to try. If they didn’t get to the bottom of who killed Avery, Marissa wouldn’t have peace.
* * *
A police officer met them at Avery’s apartment, located in a trendy neighborhood and occupying the eleventh floor of a renovated, brick-sided canning factory. Avery had lived in the space for the last eleven years and she had made it her own.
The apartment was modern and spacious, the kitchen open to the rest of the living space, with the exception of her bedroom, which was closed off by a glossy, reflective sliding white door. The walls were white and the kitchen cabinets and countertops were white. The couch, marble floor tiles and curtains were white. The only splash of color was the teal couch in the middle of the room, Avery’s statement piece. The throw pillows on the couch had Avery’s initial’s embroidered on them in silver, the glass vase on the counter had Avery’s name etched into it and the prints on the wall were black-and-white canvases of photos of Avery, her career highlights.
This place was hers. The sadness that descended on Marissa brought tears to her eyes.
“Does everything look the same?” Jack asked.
With the exception of the stale scent in the air, it was as she remembered it. “It has been a few months since I’ve been here, but it looks the same. Can I check the bedroom?”
Jack nodded.
Marissa pulled open the barn-style white door and was struck by the brightness of Avery’s private sanctuary. Whereas the main room was stark and white, this space hummed with color. The throw rugs over the marble tile were bright pink. Her bed was covered with an orange-and-yellow comforter. The walls were painted light green and the adjoining room that served as her closet was as vibrant.
Grief tightened Marissa’s throat. She had borrowed clothes from this closet. Traded accessories. Made last-minute switches for different clutches and scarves. Regret followed close on the heels of grief and sadness.
Jack’s hands touched her shoulders. She closed her eyes and wiped away the tear that had formed. She sagged into him, grateful he was with her.
“If it’s too much, we can come back another day,” Jack said.
Marissa mustered the strength to push away her sadness and do this for Avery. “I couldn’t say if anything is missing. But I doubt Avery was having money problems. She has several pieces in this room she could have sold for thousands if she’d needed money.”
“Jewelry?” Jack asked.
Marissa shook her head. “Some of the garments are original designs from major fashion houses.”
“That’s pretty wild,” Jack said.
In the center of the closet on top of a set of drawers, Avery had stacks of fashion magazines and sketch pads with her original designs and ideas in them.
Marissa walked through the closet, looking at the dresses and costume jewelry. “I don’t see anything out of place, but I didn’t memorize the contents of her closet or her house. All I can tell you is that she told me she had never once used her kitchen. Her caterer did a few times, but Avery didn’t like to cook.” She whirled to face Jack. “I’m sorry. I wish I could give you more. I wish I had the answers you’re looking for.”
Compassion touched the corners of Jack’s eyes. “We’ll figure this out. I promise you. And I’ll be here with you until we do.”
Chapter 5
Marissa held up a brown basket and a roll of shiny blue ribbon. “Help me?”
“What are you working on?” Jack asked. If she was doing arts and crafts, that wasn’t his jam.
Marissa had spread out various items on her kitchen table. Ribbon, scissors, tape and glue along with envelopes and wrapped gifts.
“I need to assemble this for a charity event tonight,” Marissa said.
“You’re selling a basket?” He had seen the event on the schedule, but it hadn’t listed details about what Marissa was doing at the event.
“I am selling me with the basket.”
That got his attention.
“I decorate this and fill it with prizes and goodies and then people bid on it. Proceeds go to charity and whoever bids highest gets the basket and an evening with me.”
Jack didn’t like the idea. Not because he was attracted to Marissa. His concerns were security related. “You’re planning to run off with a stranger?”
“Not run off. Just have dinner in the private dining room of the hotel where the auction is being held. I need to participate. I’m the chairperson of the event,” Marissa said. She was threading the ribbon through the weave on the basket.
“You waited until now to make this?”
Marissa pulled the ribbon through. “I bought
the basket and the decorations and the items to fill it. I just need to organize it.”
Jack settled at the table and glanced into the bags. “All this stuff has to go in?”
Marissa opened the flip-top lid of the basket. “I may have overbought. This is the biggest one I could find. I want to set a good example. The better the auction item, the more money we raise.”
“What are you raising money for?” he asked.
“A children’s research hospital,” Marissa said.
He was surprised that she had time to chair an event and that she was taking a personal role in it. “What are you putting in the basket?”
Her smile was bright and excited. “It’s an entertainment gift assortment. I have movie tickets, concert tickets, baseball tickets, football tickets and gift cards for a few restaurants. Plus, bottles of wine and chocolates. To personalize it, I put tickets to the swimsuit show this spring. I’ve decided against being in the show, but I’m giving up my second ticket. Whoever bids the most gets a front row seat next to me.”
“I have security concerns.” Multiple concerns ranging from crowd control to monitoring whoever bid highest. And he was in tune enough with his emotions to recognize jealousy. Whoever won her basket won time with her. Though he had that in spades, their time wasn’t as he would have spent it were they in other roles.
Marissa smoothed the ribbon. “What security concerns? Everyone coming to the event tonight was vetted by the fund-raising committee.”
She was in a better mood than he had seen for the last several days. He didn’t want to dump on it. “You knew most of the people backstage at the fashion show, too.”
She winced. He didn’t mean to put too fine a point on it.
“You’ll be with me and if I feel the slightest bit uncomfortable, I’ll signal you.”
She began filling the basket. He handed her some of the larger items and she carefully arranged them. When she was finished, she sprinkled sparkling curls of ribbon around the items. The she closed the lid. “What do you think?”
“Whoever wins that basket is one lucky man and I’m thinking you’re going to start a bidding war.”
Marissa grinned. “That’s the idea.”
* * *
Tonight’s charity event was the shot in the arm of morale Marissa needed. She had pulled strings to host the event at the best hotel in the city even if Thursday was an odd day of the week. The men and women who had agreed to offer themselves as dates for the evening had come through. The baskets were beautiful and elegant and stuffed with unique items.
For the purposes of this event, the dining room had been decorated in whites and blues. She hadn’t wanted it to look like a wedding. The blue tones were soothing and blended with the natural decor of the room. The room to the right would serve as the location for the auction and the cocktail hour. It was also decorated in blues, although she had intentionally kept the flowers and decorations in the cocktail area understated, so her guests were blown away by the ballroom.
Marissa had also scored a major coup by convincing five billionaires to attend. Two were married and at the event with their spouses, but she hoped they would bid big on a basket in any case. It was for a great cause and 100 percent of the money raised went to the research hospital. Plus, the men and women she had asked to donate their time and a basket were great conversationalists. While the event had an element of romance, every match-up didn’t need to be more than a great night with a fun person.
As Marissa mingled, thanking attendees for coming, she watched Jack out of the corner of her eye. He was staying to the side of the room, but moving with her, keeping her in his line of vision.
When he looked at her, she felt tingles over her body. She was wearing an Ambrose design, one that hadn’t been in his spring collection. He had kept it for her, insisting it was perfect for her, made for her. She’d saved it for a special occasion. Tonight’s black-tie affair was that occasion. The emerald green dress fit her snugly—a one strap design, clinging to her thighs and then opening in a series of cascading ruffles that moved when she walked. She had her hair clipped to the side and twisted up, old-world romance. Everything about this night had to be perfect because much was riding on it.
Marissa glanced at Jack. In his tuxedo, he blended well. Did he have experience with this type of event? The extent of what she knew of his background was that he had three siblings and worked with Kit and Griffin at a car company.
She strolled to him. In this room of actors and actresses, reporters and media moguls, models and photographers, she wanted to be with Jack. He seemed always at the ready and he was darkly good-looking with midnight eyes and a commandingly powerful build. “You are welcome to socialize tonight.”
Though he called no attention to himself by being loud or boisterous, she couldn’t stop looking at him. “I’m working. I’m good here.”
Marissa admired his work ethic, but security was tight. Everyone in attendance was on her list. They were friends and colleagues and special guests. She wouldn’t start living her life being suspicious of every person in the room.
On a more selfish level, if he relaxed, she could enjoy time with him. Of all the people in the room, he interested her most.
Marissa had bought tickets for her mother and a date and her brother and his date, who Marissa assumed would be Zoe Ann. Marissa hadn’t made up her mind about allowing her brother and his pregnant girlfriend to live with her, but speaking with Zoe Ann would help Marissa to understand if they needed help, or if her mother saw trouble where it didn’t exist.
“I wasn’t suggesting you disappear at the bar, but you look stoic. Maybe smile and blend,” Marissa said. He could drop the tense readiness for a few hours, couldn’t he? She wondered what he would be like on a date. Tense, ready and careful or could he let down his guard enough to let her in?
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. “How is this?”
Marissa laughed at the forced expression. She touched his arm and felt heat lightning moving through her at the connection. “Okay, you tried. I want everyone to feel relaxed and in a generous mood. The hospital needs funding. They lost a big donor last year and haven’t made up for it.”
Jack was looking at her but watching around them, as well. “This has personal meaning to you?”
She was invested more than she could express. It felt important for him to recognize that she was more than her beauty. Though she was accustomed to being underestimated, she cared about people, most especially those charities she had committed to helping. “Of course. I’ve been planning this evening for nine months. I’ve called in every favor with every celebrity and pseudo-celebrity I know. I even called an old boyfriend from college who works at one of those big financial firms to get him to give me the personal contact information for big name clients.”
“That’s generous of you.” His eyes seemed to convey appreciation of what she was doing.
Attaching her name to the cause was only to bring interest. “If I don’t do something like this every year, I get helplessly caught up in my own stuff.”
“Meaning?”
How could she explain it without sounding narcissistic? She was self-involved to a large degree and people around her promoted that. Unmarried and without children or pets, she had only herself to consider. “My manager, my agent, my mom and most of the people around me are all about me. On a photo shoot, everyone is looking at me. After a while, I get wrapped up in my problems. My contracts, my cash flow, if I miss a workout and eat a piece of cake. Which is a miserable place to be. I do these events to get outside myself. If a magazine cover I was on gets terrible reviews or people send me hate mail about looking too thin or too fat, it goes to my head. But this event keeps me grounded. Makes me remember that a troll calling me ugly online is unimportant.”
The more he got to know her, the more he
liked her. “The event looks lovely. You should be proud.”
She was. She had secured amazing guests for the night. The lights dimmed once. Marissa’s heart hammered. What happened in this room in the next two hours would be critical to the hospital. The waiters and waitresses would be serving appetizers and drinks to stave off hunger and irritability. Once the baskets were paired, those who were matched up would move to the formal dining room in which small tables were assembled to provide for private conversation.
As the first basket was set in the front of the room on a white linen–covered table, excitement ping-ponged inside her. Her good pal, a news anchor for a top television broadcast, was first. The news anchor was intelligent and beautiful and a wonderful speaker. Marissa wanted to start the bidding high by having a great first candidate and set the tone of bidding high for the rest of the night.
“First basket was created by Abigail Stevens.”
A whoop of approval from a table of suit-wearing men.
The contents of the baskets were a mystery, but dinner with Abigail this evening was worth at least several thousand dollars.
The bidding began at one thousand dollars. The table of men seemed to be in competition with each other, driving the price high. Within minutes, a portly gentleman with gray hair had forked over eight thousand, five hundred dollars for the basket and dinner with Abigail. Abigail hugged the man and by the genuine warmth and easiness between them, Marissa guessed they were friends or at least friendly.
The next basket was set out for bidding to begin. Then another. Each basket netted more money than the last.
Marissa’s anxiety touched down as she tracked the donations. Her goal was a quarter of a million dollars and she had the right people in the room to do it. She would match the donations, a fact she hadn’t disclosed to the hospital and would do anonymously.
Her palms started to sweat when her basket was placed on the table. She smiled as the auctioneer spoke her name. Several heads turned in her direction. Relaxing her shoulders and keeping her expression calm, she gave a demure wave. Posing for pictures was easy, but she felt on display and the importance of the night was not lost on her.
