"The professionals with guns and badges."
"What about my story?"
"So far, only one other reporter has called about Chucky; and since he's one of yours, I think you can still get the exclusive."
"One of mine?" I asked, frowning.
"Yeah, from your newspaper."
"Don't tell me... Ben Kosina?" I groaned as my shoulders dropped. I should have guessed he would go sniffing around, although how he found Detective Smith was somewhat puzzling. Did he have a contact in homicide?
"I figured you were working the story together. Doesn't sound like he knows as much as you though."
"What did you tell him?"
"Nothing."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."
"No problem. I think," Smith said, and her look told me she thought I was strange. "Now go back to your laptop and wait for my call."
I wanted to tell Detective Smith that I was not a girl who waited around for a call, but I figured she wasn't interested in hearing my opinion. Hoping she would be distracted by Daisy just long enough for me to check out the cufflinks, I knew exactly where to start. I said goodbye and made my way back to the car, calling Jenna en route.
"Can you still get access to your brother's house?" I asked.
"Yes. Why?"
"I need for you to look for something. A pair of cufflinks that match the one you found," I told her. "They were a gift from a wedding he attended in Vegas as one of the groomsmen. I need to know if Chucky still has his pair."
"I checked all his stuff and I found a couple but none that match."
"He might have put them away somewhere but I don't think he'd throw away a gift like that."
"I'm at home. I'll go there now and took another look around."
I hung up on Jenna, dialing again as I idled my car. Not only did I need to ask Richard about his cufflinks, I also needed the addresses of the other groomsmen; and who better to ask than the only groomsman in the party that I knew?
"I was hoping you would call," he said smoothly. "You practically ran out on me and I was worried about you. Is everything okay at your apartment?"
"All's fine," I assured him, "but I need to ask you a couple more questions about Chucky."
"So it's business, not personal," he chuckled. "We could make it both? What do you need to know?"
"I'm trying to track down two men who were at the wedding you and Chucky attended in Vegas last year. The groom was Jim Terrance."
He paused. "Oh? How come?"
"Just chasing a lead."
"Why don't you come over to my place now? I have some news I'd like to share with you, and we can talk about everything then."
I opened my mouth to say now wasn't a good time, but the line went dead. That left me no choice. I had to meet Richard immediately, or Detective Smith would surely head over to his place, getting the names of the other groomsmen and beating me in confirming their stories. I glanced up at Daisy's apartment, wondering how their conversation was going. Detective Smith's offer to ensure I had the story sounded genuine, but with Ben sniffing around, I couldn't eliminate the chance he hadn't put all the pieces together already. He might even have been pitching the story to Bob as I stood there on the sunny sidewalk.
Richard was the only one who could fill in the missing gaps about the other two men as well as his own matching set of cufflinks. I got in my car and gunned the engine, my heart pumping. I was so close, I could practically smell the ink of my front page.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I couldn’t see any sign of life at Richard's house so I pressed the buzzer again and waited. When footsteps arrived on the other side of the door before it swung open, I managed a big smile, and hoped he was in an amenable mood. "Hi, Richard!"
"Shayne, you look as beautiful as ever. Come in." He stepped back, allowing me more room to enter before closing the door, and clicking the lock behind us. "I was just making a protein boosting juice after my workout. You have to try it. It's green, but don't let that put you off. It tastes great."
"I can't stay," I told Richard, hurrying after him as he walked toward the back of the house. "I'm working on the story and I have to check a lead with you."
"Sure. You know, you might look into working with a film company. We always need researchers that are as good at their jobs as you are. Take a seat," he said, indicating the bar stool at the island. "I'll get that juice for you."
I dropped my bag on the counter and slid onto the bar stool, considering the right moment when I would reach for my phone and show him the photo. Sooner would have been better, lest Detective Smith beat me in interviewing the other two men. As soon as I ruled out Richard, I could find out which of the other two men was missing a cufflink. Richard was facing the picture window, a large jug of vile-looking green liquid in front of him. He reached for a tall glass on one of the open shelves. "We just wrapped up the first episode," he told me, his back still turned. "I'd love for you to come to the screening."
"I hope I can make it," I said, keeping my answer purposefully non-committal. I wasn't sure I wanted to accompany Richard on anymore dates. I liked him on a superficial level and found him attractive, but his agenda was headed in a very different direction from mine. My goal in dating was to find a nice guy. I got the impression Richard only wanted to date for the purpose of looking like a nice guy, and I wasn't hungry for any kind of publicity. That might sound odd after making my home in a city stuffed full of stars and wannabes, but I was much happier writing the stories than making them. No, Richard needed someone who would lap up the limelight alongside him. And as to what I needed? I wasn't sure.
"Everyone will be there and we'll have a party afterwards with select press," he prattled on as he reached for the jug.
I zoned his voice out as he explained which press would be there, and instead kept looking around. Something caught my eye in the glass dish on the counter. Nestled amongst the coins and a spare key and several cufflinks was a single, silver cufflink. I picked it up, turning it over as my breath caught in my mouth when I saw the unusual raised design.
"Here, try this," said Richard. He leaned over the island and pushed the tall glass towards me, his eyes instantly darting to where my fingers were frozen around the cufflink. Without saying a word, he held my gaze.
"Isn't it annoying when you lose one?" I said, filling the silence quickly. "I have a whole dish full of single earrings that I can’t find matches for."
"Oh, that." He flapped a hand. "I lost the mate to it right after the wedding I wore them to. I'll probably throw that one away. I just read a book about the power of clearing away the old to make space for the new. You should read it, especially if you're into decluttering."
"I'll look it up. But you shouldn't throw this away," I continued. "It looks expensive." Turning it over in my fingers, I noted the jeweler's mark on the back. Beneath that was stamped a teeny tiny edition number. With a horrible, sinking weight in my guts, I recognized that too, but really wished I hadn't.
I no longer needed to ask Richard about the other two men. I had no reason to investigate their cufflinks. I held the matching cufflink in my hand.
Worse still, I was alone with him and no one knew where I was.
I needed to get as far away from Richard as I could without alerting him to my suspicion. As soon as I was safe, I could call Detective Smith and tell her where she would find all the evidence she needed.
In my bag, my phone began to trill. I reached for it, but Richard got there before me, nudging my bag tauntingly out of the way as he leaned against the counter. "Why interrupt a pleasant morning with work?" he said. "Let's sit on the terrace, and you can tell me all about your story. I've been talking about me too much already."
"I'm thinking of dropping the story," I told him, scrambling for a plausible lie. "I've been so desperate to get one that I've been temporarily blinded to the reality."
"So it was an accident after all?"
"I don't think we'll really ever know."
> "Then why did you want to know about Jim Terrance?"
"I thought he could give me a quote or two. Anyway, I'm going to write up my obituary and leave it at that. It has to be a good story to become a headline, but there isn't one here," I added, hoping I sounded calmer than I felt. "A murder story needs a murderer and the detective in charge thinks it was a home invasion. They will probably never catch the killer."
"I've got to say I'm surprised. You wasted a lot of time running around town, interviewing people over the story."
"I'm annoyed with myself for getting so carried away."
"You said you wanted to follow up a lead?"
"Only a couple of lines that I can use in my obituary." I dropped the cufflink casually into the dish as if it meant nothing and reached for the glass of juice. As I opened my mouth to take a sip, I stopped without letting the juice slide past my lips. What if Richard suspected I had an ulterior reason for being at his home? What if he realized the significance of the single cufflink? No, I rationalized, if he had known where the matching cufflink fell, he would have gotten rid of this one. But, pointed out the paranoid part of my mind, what if Richard did something to this smoothie? His body shielded his actions while his back was turned to me. If he really did force his best friend to swallow enough pills to kill him, and held him down with enough pressure to leave an imprint on his skin with his cufflink that later snapped off and rolled away, he would have no problem poisoning me. Or maybe even holding me down while he finished the job. "Yummy," I said, placing the untasted glass of juice on the island. In my purse, my phone began ringing again. Richard was still in my way, however.
"Does it need more lemon to balance the kale?" he asked.
"Maybe just a little squeeze," I said, using my thumb and forefinger to indicate a tiny amount. I hoped Richard would step out of the way, leaving the path to my phone clear, but he didn't budge. Meanwhile, the phone started ringing for a third time. "That must be my editor," I said, sliding off the stool. "I have to get it."
Richard stepped backwards, picking up my glass and reaching for my bag. He carried them both outside, leaving me no choice but to follow him. He called over his shoulder, "Let's sit outside," and he placed the glass on the table before he opened my purse.
"Richard!"
"It's Ben," he said, pulling out my phone and viewing the display. "Is Ben your editor?"
"Yes," I lied, holding out my hand for the phone.
"No, I happen to know your editor is named Bob. Who's this Ben guy?" he persisted.
"The assistant editor," I lied again as I held out my hand. A sick, clammy feeling pulsed through me. Richard wasn't buying my story. "My phone, please, Richard."
Richard took a long look at the phone in his hand before casually tossing it into the pool. It sank to the bottom with barely a splash.
I rushed forwards, staring at my lifeline now lying on the bottom of the pool before I spun around. "Richard!"
"You didn't think I was just going to hand your phone to you, did you? We both know why you're really here. Are you recording this?" He opened my purse further, rummaging inside before giving up, and looking at me. "Are you wearing a wire?"
"What? No!"
"I need to check you," he said, taking a step closer. I walked backwards, putting more space between us as I looked around. I realized, much to my annoyance, that it was a stupid reaction, since I was actually moving away from the house. I needed to get out of there, but how? Richard stood between me and the open doors to the house. I had to think fast before Richard forcibly searched me for a wire that didn’t exist. And when he realized I was here, all alone, without any cops listening in, what would happen to me then?
During our date I had a chance to look around his small yard and pool. I knew there was a locked gate on one side that led to the front driveway. Unfortunately, it was far too tall for me to scale. The fence concealed a steep drop on the other side, and below that was a road that led to a cluster of houses. Even if I did make it around the pool and hurdled over the fence, I risked breaking or spraining something when I scaled the other side. If I hurt my feet or ankles, there would be no way to run, although escaping the property on foot would make it more difficult for Richard to follow me. If only a neighbor would happen to look outside and wonder why a woman was hurriedly scrambling down the hill. My mind made up, I began to edge backwards.
"Don't make this harder, Shayne. You're trying to trap me."
"Trap you? For what? I'm not running any celebrity stories on you," I told him, trying to divert his attention. If he suspected I had another motive, or possibly some dirt on him, would he leave me alone?
"Don't treat me like I'm stupid. You're a reporter, so I know you've been digging around."
"Okay, fine. I wanted to do a story on you. You know, the real hero of everyone's childhood. The guy everyone could relate to. I was trying to get some dirt on you now that you're back in the public eye again," I lied.
Richard paused, a flash of confusion crossing his face before his eyes hardened again. "I don't believe you. This is all about Chucky. It's always been about Chucky. I don't know how you found out, but I know you know."
I held up my hands, playing the innocent. "I don't know anything."
"You. Know." He stepped forwards.
"Know what?" I countered, playing for time.
"What the hell? If you're wearing a wire, I'll destroy it after I've killed you."
"Whoa! Wait! Killed me? You can't do that!"
"You're right. After you have a horrible, fatal, accident..."
I pulled a face. "That doesn't work for me either."
"I'll make sure you get a great funeral. Your grieving boyfriend..."
"I don't have any boyfriend," I pointed out. Sure, a boyfriend wasn't everything, but as a single woman, I hated knowing that fact might be revealed at my funeral. A niggling, little voice in my head told me it would be more than embarrassing to die single and alone. Perhaps I’d be relegated to the burial equivalent of the single people table at weddings. I sucked in a deep breath, concentrating harder. More important than dying single was dying at all. I had to keep Richard distracted until I could catapult myself over the wall.
"Sure you do. Me! It'll make the ratings skyrocket! I can see it now: Richard Adamson, survivor of so much tragedy… I might even cry. You'll probably get that front page you want so badly and definitely make your deadline."
I gulped. Without another thought, I spun on my heel and sprinted around the pool, temporarily ruing the moment I pooh-poohed the idea of a personal trainer. If I had hired one, I'd probably be a lot faster and not fallen quite as hard as I did when Richard barreled into me from the other side, tackling me to the ground. My cheek skidded across the tiles, only coming to a stop within inches from the edge of the pool. Not that I had any chance to admire the silky blue view. His hands wrapped around my ankles, pulling me backwards. I wriggled violently, kicking him and flailing my arms and hands as Richard dived on top of me, pinning me down with his weight. Despite all my bucking, I was no match for him. I opened my mouth to scream, but the moment it sounded, his huge hand clamped over my mouth, muffling me.
Using his other hand, he landed a blow to my cheek, knocking my head back. I had a moment while staring up at the sky, thinking this was exactly what it meant to “see stars.” Then a dark shape loomed over us; and a set of arms reached for Richard. I blinked, struggling to find my voice, but I could not compete with the darkness fast descending on me.
"Shayne. Run!"
I blinked, allowing a glimpse of light into my eyes. I knew that voice.
"Shayne! Get up, Shayne!" The voice grunted before it suddenly fell silent.
"Ben?" I murmured as the darkness overtook me.
I woke up with a pounding headache.
"Shayne, are you okay?"
"Ugh," I moaned, trying to raise my hand to my head until my shoulders locked and I winced. My hands were tightly bound behind my back with something that felt li
ke a strip of fabric. I blinked again as Ben's face swam into focus. Blood beaded at his eyebrow. What the hell was he doing here? I looked around, wondering where here was. The room didn't look familiar, but the decor did. "Where are we?"
"Richard Adamson's study; it’s off the living area."
"Why?"
"I think he's working out how to get rid of us both without detection."
"No, I meant why are you here?"
"I was following you."
"What?" I squeaked.
"Shh!" Ben hissed. "I've been following you ever since I realized Chucky's obituary was really a murder investigation."
"Oh, crap."
"'Thanks might be a better word."
"I can't thank you. I'm tied up."
"How did you plan on thanking me?" Ben asked, grinning. "Shayne, you were about to be found at the bottom of his pool, drowned, if I hadn't intervened."
"That could still be the case," I pointed out. "I'm tied up. Wait, are you tied up too?"
"I was until a few minutes ago."
"Why didn't you escape?"
"Because you were still unconscious and I doubted my ability to sneak you out of here without Richard noticing. He intends to kill us both."
"In the pool?" I blinked again, confused.
"No, accidental drowning looks suspicious when there are two bodies. He needs some more time to work out how to get rid of two bodies without getting caught. He might be a bit longer."
"I feel like we ruined his day."
"I'm pretty sure he feels the same way. Hold on, I'm going to untie you." Ben bumped against me, his hands brushing mine. For a moment, I thought he curled his fingers around mine, and gave them a reassuring squeeze, but then, they were gone and he pulled the knot securing my bindings. "Nearly there. Just one more... uh-oh." Ben froze. I frowned at him, eagerly waiting for him to untie the knot when I realized his focus was diverted elsewhere. I turned my head slowly, following his gaze. Richard stood in the doorway, staring at us.
"Who knows you're here?" asked Richard.
"Everyone," said Ben. He reached for my fingers and we held onto each other. I waited for the moment Richard realized Ben was untied, but it didn't come. "I sent an SOS from my phone out to all my contacts, giving this location."
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