Mindy laughed. “It sure is, and I hope our money troubles are over anyway. Barry and I are going to try to work it out.”
Drat! Cam hated it when an avoided topic became unavoidable. “Well, if that’s what you want, I hope it works. I’d just like to see you and the girls happy.”
Barry had the decency to look sheepish; she had to give him credit for that.
It took a long time to get everybody on their way. All the girls needed to collect their props, receive congratulations from friends and family—no matter how they had done—and of course, have their picture taken with Kyle Lance. He was a great sport about hanging out, especially given the annoyed expression of Jimmy Meares.
Rob interviewed the top three girls, promising that in addition to the Roanoke newspaper piece, he’d send a more extensive interview to each of their local papers. Cam thought he’d be up all night typing up the interviews. It would no longer be news in a few days, so it was best to shoot for the Sunday and Monday papers. She wasn’t sure about the other towns, but the Roanoke Tribune deadline was two A.M. to get the results into their bulky Sunday paper and midnight the next night for the Monday living section, where the in-depth interviews would go. The only exceptions the papers made on deadlines were the unavoidable, huge-news events that preempted page one—natural disasters, violent crime, or political scandal. Little Miss Begonia, when they’d known the date for weeks, would not qualify.
“Hey,” she said to Rob. “I know you have a heck of a deadline, and I’m here awhile. I can catch a ride from Annie.”
“Why does Annie have to stay?”
“Erm, or Evangeline. Go! I’ll get a ride from someone or walk twelve blocks.”
“Not at night, you won’t. No walking.” He pointed a finger at her and she rolled her eyes.
“Fine. I promise. Ride. Annie or Evangeline.”
He finally nodded, kissed her, and left. Cam was tired anyway. The only thing she’d miss about the walk was the jasmine.
* * *
As Cam wound her way to Annie, she ran across Nell and Byron Norton. She stopped to thank them profusely, then pulled Nell aside.
“I saw you earlier in an odd conversation with Barry Blankenship. Do you mind my asking?”
“The man was trying to sell snake oil—rural property on the outskirts of Roanoke—as if I don’t have rural property.” She sighed and walked away.
The audience finally dispersed as Kyle Lance drove off in his limousine, so only the contestants and their families continued to mill, alternately retrieving their things from the library and thanking the contest staff and judges. Cam had to work hard to be gracious when she was so distracted.
“What did you find on Barry Blankenship?” Cam asked Annie when she managed to find her. She looked thoroughly done with photography for the evening.
“What?”
“Did you look?”
“Yeah, two days ago. I thought you didn’t need the information once Mindy was cleared.”
“I don’t think we do on the murder, but he seems to have wormed himself back into Mindy’s life.”
“Sick. Why?”
“I don’t know, but I’d rather give her a heads-up if there is anything there.”
“Well, yeah—there was stuff—real estate stuff. There was something about a sexual harassment suit, but I didn’t end up reading it all in depth because we ran out of time and then Mindy showed up.”
“You saw it?”
“Of course.”
“You ready for a long night?”
“Not so much. Can’t you stick with one crime at a time? I got pictures for Dylan, philandering for Mindy, and neither looks like murder.”
“I’ll give you twenty free hours next weekend.”
“Huh?”
“Roanoke Garden Society is still on hiatus. I’ll work for you in exchange for helping.”
Annie sighed. “I hate you, you know.”
“I know you don’t. I also know you’re the best friend anybody could ever have.”
“And you’re a giant, demanding suck-up, which is almost as bad as being the ordinary favor vampire you always are. But I suppose if you must suck the life out of me, the butt kissing is appreciated.”
“I love you,” Cam offered.
“Shut up. When can you leave?”
“Not for another hour, at least. Evangeline can give me a ride if you want to head out and get started.”
“You’re too kind.” Annie’s unenthusiastic tone oozed sarcasm.
Cam made a kissy face. “I’ll see you in an hour.”
* * *
Cam did her part then, seeing families off, thanking staff and judges, and making sure the clean-up crew had things under control. Finally she found Evangeline.
“Would you mind giving me a ride home?”
“I’d be happy to, Cam, but I have several things still to do. Could you check with Benny?”
He hadn’t occurred to her, but there was no reason why not. Cam found him on the stage, stowing the last of the rented equipment.
“Hey, Benny. How’s it going?”
“Almost done.”
“Can I ask you a favor?”
“Probably,” he said.
“Would you mind giving me a ride home?”
“Well, sure. You mind if we stop at the urgent care and check on Dylan first? It’s just the clinic right over there.” He pointed—it couldn’t be seen through the shell, but Cam knew what he was talking about—there was an outpatient clinic that was part of Carilion Hospital. It sat just kitty-corner from the far end of the park.
Checking on Dylan wouldn’t have been her first choice, mostly because she had a full night ahead, but she did want to see how he was, so she agreed. A half hour later, she and Benny finished up at about the same time, so it worked well.
They walked across the park and intersection together after Benny had stowed the things that needed to be picked up by the rental company.
Dylan was waiting outside an ER-style waiting room. They’d put his ankle in a splint while they waited for the X-rays to come back, but as Cam and Benny arrived, the doctor was explaining that he had a break and his leg needed to be casted.
“How long will that take?” Benny asked.
“He should be back in a half hour,” the woman said.
“Does it hurt?” Cam asked.
“Why, Miss Harris, I didn’t know you cared,” Dylan said.
Benny snorted and Cam blushed.
“You didn’t see who did this, did you?”
“No, but I saw something.”
What?”
“Man acting real fishy—whispering and telling some woman off, then kissing her, but making her go—it was that guy in the video with the lady cop.”
“That toad!”
“Sounds right.”
“But you didn’t see anything else?”
“Maybe. Ask when the drugs wear off. My memory is a little fuzzy.”
Cam rolled her eyes.
“I’ll come back for you, okay?” Benny said. “You probably aren’t supposed to drive.”
“Especially not with the pain meds, and I’m definitely going to demand more of those.” Dylan grinned.
“I’m really sorry it’s broken,” Cam said.
“I know what you can do to make it feel better.”
“I’ll send a card right away,” Cam said, blushing even brighter.
“See you,” Benny said, and Cam led him back out, hoping her face wouldn’t burst into flames.
Cam was glad Benny didn’t feel compelled to ask about it. She wasn’t sure what she would have said, aside from her protest that she was happy with her boyfriend. She was deeply relieved to be dropped off at home.
* * *
“About time!” Annie shouted when Cam finally got home. It was almost one in the morning.
“Yeah. Sorry about that. I had some trouble finding a ride.” She didn’t confess to stopping by the clinic with Benny. She wasn’t sure
if Annie would tease her or scold her, but she wasn’t in the mood for either.
“So pictures or trash about Barry first?”
“Pictures. I’ve already got a little trash to work with, so let’s work with what we don’t know.”
Annie gave her a strange look. She knew something was up but didn’t press Cam about it, for which Cam thought she had the time rather than Annie’s sense of decency to thank. Annie pulled up a file of pictures on her computer and then clicked on one. She must have been searching and found the spot they needed before Cam got home.
“See, this is where Kyle Lance started his last song of that first set. I have a few of him, and that blue lighting is reflected on the audience.”
“Okay.”
“And back here—the song before, the audience is in white light—remember that obnoxious starlight thing?”
Cam did. The song was sappy, and there’d been white-on-white disco lighting, which had threatened to give her a headache. “Yeah.”
“So what we’re looking for is audience differences between the white pics and the blue ones, right?”
“Sounds right to me, when you put it like that. I guess that’s why we pay you the big bucks.”
“Yeah, still waiting for that check.”
Cam sat next to Annie as her best friend tried to identify audience shots of the same places, one white and one blue, so the pictures could be compared, one spot at a time.
It was tedious, but finally Cam spotted it.
“There! Can we get closer? Someone’s leaving; looks like a man.”
Annie selected the area and enlarged it.
“It looks like the man, you mean. Headed in the right direction, even.”
“And Dylan said the man had been arguing with Olivia Quinn but then he kissed her.”
“Man, what a jerk! Wait. When did Dylan say that?”
Cam ignored Annie. “We need to warn Mindy.”
“Oh, that’ll go over well. But I wouldn’t wish that whack-job on anyone. Even Mindy,” Annie said.
“You’re too generous,” Cam said. “So what did you find on him?”
“Restraining order—situation sounds a little like what happened to Evangeline, and then this . . .”
Annie hit a tab and a blog popped up.
“What is this?”
“Not proof positive, but I cross-referenced Barry, real estate, cheating, and various swear words on the blog search engine. This one looked good, so I checked out the author profile. She’s in Lynchburg. She claims to have been drawn in and duped, first sexually, then for an investment, by a real estate bigwig named Barry who has since been transferred to Roanoke.”
“Yeah, awfully high on coincidence, but a blog . . . people can say almost anything, can’t they?”
“Well . . . they can . . . but maybe we could contact her.”
“Some stranger? Online?”
“Oh, come on, Cam. Where’s your sense of adventure? Don’t tell me you’ve never emailed a stranger before.”
Cam frowned. She had. Quite often, but always in a professional context. This just seemed sleazy.
“What do we say?”
“The truth! That the sleaze is trying to get back with his wife, and we are friends . . . you’re friends with her anyway, and are concerned. You’re looking for information to convince her not to get back together.”
“Okay?” Cam agreed in theory, but the whole thing still felt sordid.
Annie tutted and pushed the computer at Cam. “You’re the P.R. person. Think of it like convincing someone to contribute to a cause.”
Cam narrowed her eyes. Annie fetched her a glass of wine, made her take a drink, and then repeated herself. Cam finally managed to get the words out.
Burned by a Real,
I stumbled across your blog and think I know the identity of this horrible man. He is technically married to a friend of mine, and has recently made inroads toward reconciliation. As her friend, I’d like to warn her about the kind of man he really is. I know you can’t say publicly, but hoped you might give me a few more details so I can prove to her she should stay away.
The Barry in question is 40, dark-haired, about 6’2”, and has two daughters, seven and ten, who would be heartbroken if there was a reconciliation and then more bad behavior.
Could you please let me know if it sounds like the same man, and if it does, share some details to dissuade his wife? I’d be very grateful.
Cam Harris
“Daughters are a nice touch,” Annie said when she read it. “I would have left them out, but thinking about it, you probably tripled her chance of responding.”
“Now who’s sucking up?” Cam asked.
“I do not suck up. I’m a truth-teller, my friend. So take your compliment like a man.”
Cam snorted and pressed Send. “Now what?”
“I was thinking bed, but if you have a line of Chippendale dancers in your closet, you might convince me to stay awhile.”
“No dancers.”
“Then I say we call it a night. Maybe this woman will respond by morning.”
Cam had to admit the idea of sleep appealed to her. She’d had far too little for a week. She hoped she might even sleep in.
CHAPTER 18
Unfortunately, Cam had trouble sleeping. She thought with the pageant over, it should have been easy—her stress was finally gone. But the blogger troubled her, and she had strange dreams. When the sun peeked under her curtains, she gave up and got out of bed. Since she was up anyway, she decided to check her email.
Nothing. She put on a pair of Crocs with her pajama shorts and tank top and went out to do a little early-morning weeding to clear her head. It occurred to her she did this too often, as the task took less than an hour, but then she came in and showered and checked her email again.
It felt early, but it was actually almost nine. If the woman got up early, she might have responded.
Cam logged on and was pleased to see there was in fact an email from ‘Burned.’
Dear Cam,
I can’t be specific. I happen to be a public figure of sorts and need to keep my identity private—the foolishness I displayed would ruin my reputation.
It does sound like the same Barry. In fact, recently I had to endure watching him trying to win his wife, so I know what you say is true.
As for details to help you convince your friend, I spent a weekend with him two years ago when he was meant to be at a real estate conference in Arlington. He also took me on a hot-air balloon ride once at Virginia Beach. Accommodations at the time were comped—he was trying to get me to buy a beach house . . . he called it our love nest.
I got the impression, after the fact, of course, that he frequently used sex to sell real estate. I guess I wouldn’t have objected, had he been more honest about it.
Burned
Cam put on coffee and tried to digest the information.
Mindy was probably still in town, if the signs of reconciliation could be trusted. Cam thought that she and the girls were probably staying at Barry’s, since they’d checked out of the Travelodge when the risk of Olivia had first come up. That made it very hard to contact Mindy without alerting Barry.
She pressed speed dial for Annie so she could share the news.
“Are you freaking serious? I have one day to sleep in and you call me at . . .” She paused, probably looking at a clock or her phone. “Nine-fifteen?”
“That woman responded.”
“Big whoop.”
“And I need help figuring out what to do.”
“You are so helpless. Is coffee made?”
“Just about.”
“Cream?”
“What do you think?” The two debated cream versus skim milk frequently.
Annie gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I’ll bring the cream.”
It was only five minutes before she heard Annie stomping down the stairs rather too heavily. She wore slippers, boxer shorts, and a T-shirt that Cam thought
belonged to Jake. She set a carton of half-and-half on the table as she sat. Annie’s expectant look demanded coffee, so Cam obliged.
“Nice outfit,” Cam said.
“Yeah, I went for maximum embarrassment. I put on Jake’s clothes, then when he wakes up, he’ll have to put on mine.”
“Oh, geez. Jake’s there?”
“Where else would Jake be? Rob’s place?”
“Oh, stop it. We just were so late. I didn’t think . . .”
“That I had a cuddle-muffin up there waiting for me? Cam, open-door policy. I got up there last night and there he was.”
“Okay, then I don’t feel quite so guilty. At least you got lucky.”
“Not so much. He was asleep already. But had it been winter, I suppose the body heat might have been a bonus.”
Cam laughed, then she turned her computer to Annie, who doctored her coffee first, then read. Cam waited, sipping her own coffee.
“‘Had to watch him wooing his wife’? You don’t suppose she was here, do you?”
That hadn’t occurred to Cam, but if Mindy was to be believed, it had to be the case. “Either here, or he tried to reconcile before. But that’s not what Mindy said. Do you think we should ask her?”
“No. I don’t think we go to Mindy until our arsenal is full. I think we talk to him.”
“About?”
“What Dylan saw. What I saw. Jake’s not scheduled to work today. Maybe I can get him to go.”
“Oh, yeah. That will fly,” Cam said.
Annie squinted for a minute. “You’re right. Jake won’t work. Just remember the rules: public place—don’t give too much away . . . record it.”
“You’re coming, too, aren’t you?”
“Probably, but I’m not changing until you have something set up. You might not be able to get him to meet with you, and I might get to go back to bed. Do you have his cell?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. He called me, remember?”
“So call him.”
Cam had to psych herself up. She wasn’t a big fan of confrontation. She stepped out her back door and breathed in the rose fragrance. It reminded her of her mom, which always helped. Finally, she pressed the numbers into the phone.
The Begonia Bribe Page 20
