Killer Career

by Mandel, Morgan

  “Don’t worry. Anything will do. You’re a lifesaver. I can hardly wait to get out of these wet clothes.”

  He flashed a suggestive leer. “Don’t let me stop you.”

  She put her hands on her hips. The wetness made them slide, but she did her best to look stern.

  “You can leave now. Remember, you’ve got Anderson up today.”

  “Spoilsport,” he said, flashing a regretful look before closing the door.

  * * *

  Julie emerged refreshed, with the cuddly sweatshirt warming her skin. The thick socks caressed her chilled toes.

  Dade had already left. Julie’s secretary, Dee, and Pam, the receptionist, laughing and comparing weekend notes, strolled in the door, and gave her a double take. She didn’t blame them. Monday wasn’t casual day.

  “You were lucky. The rain must have just stopped,” Julie said. “I got drenched. Dade rescued me with a quick trip to Walgreen’s. Oh, by the way, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  While Julie explained the extent of Nora’s treachery, including the fact that Dade’s ex-secretary appeared to be missing, the two office workers looked even more dumfounded than when they’d glimpsed Julie in sweats.

  “What are we going to do? Did she ruin the forms, too,” Dee asked, her voice rising in panic.

  “The good news is I had most of them saved on my laptop computer,” Julie said. “Unfortunately, I got behind on my backups. Anyway, the basics are there. For now, we’ll prioritize and split the workload. Dade and I will type what we can ourselves. I’ll call for a temp to fill in, until we find a permanent replacement for Nora.”

  Pam looked doubtful, which was understandable since they’d had their share of experiences with the temporary work force. Sometimes it didn’t seem worth trying, yet they had to do something. There was too much to do and not enough people to do it.

  Dee, already nodding in flight, headed toward her computer to survey the damage.

  Julie went straight to her own office. There she called a one-hour dry cleaners, followed by a temp agency, where she requested the best assistant available.

  Mondays were busy enough with clients who’d suffered all weekend without advice and wanted answers now.

  With the proliferation of telephone calls and the absence of recent files on the computers for reference, the busy morning sped past leaving no time for lunch. Mounds of waiting tasks stared at Julie wherever she looked, on the desk, the credenza, even the floor, meaning more late nights at the office and no time to spend doing what she craved. At this rate her dream of being a writer would never be real.

  It had to. She wouldn’t settle for seconds. She must reclaim her life.

  Dade stuck his head in the doorway of her office around three o’clock.

  “How did it go,” she asked.

  “The Arbitrator wouldn’t let on to what he thought. We’ll have to wait for his Decision. You know what that means. It’ll be at least a month to find out.”

  “You’ve got to win. You gave it your best and you’re good. I predict a victory.”

  “If so, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  His smile of appreciation warmed her heart.

  Dee’s voice cut in over the intercom. “There’s an officer on the phone and he’s asking for Dade or Julie. He won’t say what it’s about. There’s also a call for Dade. Sounds like a new case.”

  “I’ll talk to the officer. You get the case,” Julie said, heading to her own office. She grabbed the phone before sitting down. What she heard made her blood freeze. She sank into the chair. When the officer finished speaking, she hung up the receiver slowly.

  A few seconds later, Dade stepped in. “What’s the word?”

  “It’s Nora.”

  “They found her? What did she say?”

  “They found her all right. I can’t believe this. She killed herself. The police called her apartment over the weekend. They even knocked on her door, but no one answered. They finally got her sister on the phone this morning. She went over to Nora’s apartment. The poor thing found her own sister hanging from a rope in the closet, with the chair kicked out from under her.”

  “My God, that’s terrible. So she really did snap. I had no clue she had mental problems, at least not until Saturday. Still, I can’t believe she’d resort to suicide. If only she’d asked for help.”

  “I feel awful. I never really liked her. Maybe I should have been nicer to her. She had no friends at the office. I wonder if she felt alone.”

  Dade put his arm around Julie’s waist. “It’s not your fault if she had a condition. That explains her weird note and what she did to the office. Hell, she must have offed herself right after she trashed our stuff.”

  Julie shuddered. “It’s unbelievable. How could life be so bad she’d want to end it all? It all seems like a movie or a novel. Things like this don’t happen in real life.”

  “Oh, yeah, they do, more often than you think. Still, when it hits so close, it’s hard to take in. Hell, she was intelligent, attractive, had her whole life ahead of her. I guess we’ll never know why she snapped.”

  Julie sighed. “No matter what trouble she caused, now that I hear she took her own life, I feel sorry for her.”

  Dade nodded. “I’ll see if I can get the sister’s number, find out the arrangements, send some flowers.”

  Julie’s stomach turned. Thoughts of funerals still brought up painful memories. Some things a person could never get over.

  Chapter Nine

  No phone calls kept Julie from missing the next Saturday’s workshop. Wondering what valuable writing tips she’d pick up, Julie eagerly took her seat at the glass table. The great mystery writer entered. Casting a glance in her direction, he nodded, as if to confirm this time she’d made it. She flashed him a tentative smile. She should have called to explain why she’d missed a session, but had forgotten in all the turbulence. She’d have to explain later. The man was gracious enough to make himself available, and she didn’t want to appear ungrateful.

  “Put yourself into each book,” Jensen said. “Douglas, what’s your greatest fear or weakness?”

  “Being hit by a car. When I was ten, I saw my little brother die that way.”

  “That’s a tragedy, but let some good come of it. You’ve got firsthand experience as a reference. Use what you know for a murder scene.”

  “Helen, yours?”

  “Cancer.”

  “That’s easy. A protagonist racing against a clock of doom. Very compelling.”

  “And you, Julie? What’s your biggest fear?” Jensen said, staring at her intently.

  “I’m afraid of closed-in places.”

  “Why is that?”

  It was too scary to think about. Her heart skittered at the reminder. She’d started to tell, so she’d have to continue.

  “When I was four, I rushed into an elevator at the Downtown Observatory. The doors shut before my parents could get in.”

  Julie’s throat went dry as once again the walls of the tiny cell closed in on her. She was all by herself and scared.

  After so many years, the incident still shook her. To steady her nerves, she reached for the glass of water beside her on the table.

  “Then what happened?” Jensen said, daring her to continue.

  “I was too short to reach the panel. I couldn’t get the doors open. Someone upstairs pushed a button. The elevator climbed to the fiftieth floor and got stuck.”

  Her voice and body shook as she relived the experience. “I was alone and trapped. No one was around to save me. I’d never see my parents again. I knew I would die in that awful box. An hour later, when the firemen finally opened the door to rescue me, they found me huddled in the corner. I couldn’t move. They had to pick me up and carry me out. They said I’d suffered emotional trauma. It happened so long ago, yet it’s as clear to me as yesterday.”

  Jensen smiled, as if she’d handed him a marvelous present. “What you’ve described i
s magnificent fodder. The heroine is stuck in the elevator and must devise an escape before the villain cuts the cable. An elevator such as the one in my penthouse, with the controls on the top floor, would be ideal. Of course, the story’s been done in countless variations, but with your firsthand experience, you can bring it to life.”

  “I won’t do it.” The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  “Are you a coward,” he asked, flashing a derisive smile.

  “Not usually, but in this case, yes. Whenever I think of the incident, I’m petrified. It never gets better.”

  “Then you must include it. You have to face your demons and conquer them.”

  She felt lightheaded at the thought. “I have a hard enough time riding elevators at work each day. That’s enough of facing demons for me.”

  “You won’t know unless you try.”

  If only it were that simple. He thought he was helping her, but he could never relate to her situation. He had no idea how emotions could turn physical, paralyzing your ability to think or behave. Or did he?

  She looked at him speculatively. “And what about you,” she asked. “What’s your greatest weakness?”

  His eyebrows shot up and his lips curved. “Ah, a little table turning. I could lie and say I have no chinks in my armor, but I won’t. Let’s see. You may not believe this, considering the content of my books, but I do have a weak stomach. There, now you know. I’m also human.”

  “That’s all? What are you most afraid of?”

  “You are a persistent gnat.” His eyes glinted as he stared back at her. Had she gone too far?

  He cleared his throat as if stalling for time, then answered, “All right. If you must know, I’m afraid of writer’s block. Fortunately, to date, I haven’t shown any proclivity toward it.”

  The participants hooted, Julie amongst them. He was obviously humoring her. Judging from the number of books he’d had published, Jensen would never suffer from that curse.

  “Now let’s review some fundamentals.”

  As Jensen described how to insert back story into a manuscript, Julie couldn’t forget the scary challenge he’d thrown at her.

  Was she strong enough to dissect her fear and put it into words? Could she lay open her raw feelings for everyone to see? If she did, would she conquer her fear or make it worse? She’d lived with the handicap for so long she’d learned to accept it. It would be wonderful if she could be like other people and do things like ride elevators in peace.

  She half listened as Jensen said, “That will be all for today. Next Saturday’s assignment is to bring a newspaper article which can be adapted into a mystery novel.”

  Julie waited for the few waiting participants to finish their discussions with Jensen and then approached him.

  “Yes,” he said, turning to her.

  “I just wanted to thank you for the suggestion. I’ll take your advice and include my claustrophobia in a story. Maybe it will help.”

  He looked pleased, as if she were his star pupil and had won a Nobel Prize. “It will. You’ll see. Keep me apprised of the results.”

  Julie nodded, knowing that by the time she’d finished her book, the workshops would be long done. Jensen couldn’t really care what happened to her. He was merely being polite.

  Chapter Ten

  He parked in the public garage five blocks from her home and traveled on foot the rest of the way. The early afternoon sun shone brightly, warming his face and arms. The day was crystal clear. A dense privet hedge obstructed his view making him almost miss the red brick ranch set back in the quiet suburban street.

  No one would notice him if he followed the bushes to the back of the house.

  She should know better. For her own safety, the area surrounding her home should be open for view. Anyone could hide in the foliage, jump out and attack her.

  He frowned and continued, flattening himself against the bushes, following them to the rear of the house. He’d almost made it, when a threatening growl startled him. A mutt of indiscriminate origins barked and raced back and forth at the other side of the bushes, glaring at him with baleful eyes. Though indirect, apparently Julie did own protection.

  “Jimbo, stop chasing the squirrels and get in here,” a woman’s wavering voice said.

  After a whimper of protest, the dog loped away.

  The coast seemed clear. Though he suspected even youthful eyes couldn’t discern anything through the dense bushes, he’d wait to make sure the old biddy wasn’t watching from the window.

  After a few minutes, it seemed safe enough. He proceeded to the back door. The worn lock yielded easily, making his frown deepen. Anyone could get in. She took way too many chances.

  He passed the plump armchair and sofa in the living room as he followed the enticing floral scent. Its source was a good-sized bedroom where he discovered an unmade four-poster bed. Though the tell-tale smell of sex was absent, the thought she may have rushed out after making love made him frown.

  A pair of crumpled jeans lay in a corner. A tee shirt hung on a doorknob. He swore as he almost tripped over a pair of weights marked thirty on the handles. She should find a better place for them. He gritted his teeth. It was obvious her life was out of control. The law firm and her partner took priority over her own needs.

  At the dresser, he stooped to breathe in the source of the tantalizing floral scent: a miniature perfume bottle. He stood still, picturing her standing in front of the mirror and dabbing the scent onto places hidden by her clothes. His pulse throbbed, as did his impatience.

  He wanted her now, yet reason told him not to hurry. Timing was everything.

  Lace peaked out of a hastily closed dresser drawer. His fingers itched as he fought the urge to feel the cloth’s smooth surface. He’d leave no clues to reveal his presence. His purpose was to fulfill a mission, which, judging from what he could see, would be simpler than he’d anticipated.

  The office was somewhat more organized than the bedroom, but not by much. Since she was obviously obsessed with work, this would be the best place to leave the plant. The objective was to find a spot above suspicion, yet noticeable.

  Ah, there it was. Smiling, he positioned the object.

  * * *

  The next Saturday Julie found herself once again seated at the glass table in Jensen’s penthouse. The past week had been exceptionally hectic, with two trials a day, a real estate closing, tons of new clients, along with prospective homeowners insisting she review their contracts. In a way it was good Nora’s funeral had been kept private or she’d have had to juggle that in the mix as well. As soon as the thought popped into her head, she felt guilty. Maybe it would have made a difference if she’d been nicer to Nora. She’d never know. It was best not to dwell on it.

  She’d been doing her best to get her side of the partnership in order, but it hadn’t been easy, especially since she still felt the urge to write.

  She’d forced herself to get up an hour early each day to work on her manuscript, yet it wasn’t enough. As soon as she got into the story, she was yanked away and had to quit. On the train, she seethed with frustration, but made herself focus on the job and not writing.

  She’d been so tied up she’d almost neglected today’s assignment. Fortunately this time her haphazard housekeeping had come in handy. Last night, when she’d sat down at her desktop computer in her cozy home office, she’d unearthed an old newspaper clipping in the most unlikely of places, sticking out from the edge of her mouse pad.

  A while back she must have meant to read it and it had somehow had gotten buried. Thank goodness it had taken that moment to emerge. It contained outdated news, but would serve the purpose.

  Again Jensen singled her out. “Well, Ms. McGuire, I see I didn’t scare you off. May I ask what you found?”

  “A story of a woman murdered in her bed. The weapon was unusual, a lock pick.”

  A flash of recognition shot through his eyes. “Where did you get that?”


  “From an old clipping I’d saved and almost forgotten about.”

  “I see.”

  He paused, as if lost in thought, then said, “Well, I guess I’ll have to confess. Ms. McGuire, you have uncovered the plot of Goodbye, My Darling, the novel I’ve just completed. It deals with an unsolved murder performed precisely in the manner you described. Congratulations on being so clever,” he said, throwing daggers at her. “Now, did someone else find an article about something I haven’t worked on?”

  The participants laughed, except for Julie, who sat frowning. She’d followed his instructions, yet he acted as if she’d done something wrong. Strange. She didn’t even remember placing the article under the mouse pad. Now she wished she’d never uncovered it.

  She barely took in the rest of his class. When it was over she didn’t even look in Jensen’s direction as she rushed from her chair to the door. He didn’t call after her this time. That was fine. She didn’t need him.

  Once outside and breathing in the early summer air, reason returned. Why was she being so sensitive? She was a novice and could use all the help she could get. The man was an expert. If she was serious about her craft, she’d take what he dished out. Thin skin was not an option.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dade frowned as he stared at the brimming briefcase he’d plunked down on the side of the couch. Damn, he’d never catch up. The bombshell of Julie’s announcement had thrown him into such a tailspin he couldn’t think straight. That was before Nora’s actions had put him on his present guilt trip. He’d never find his way out of this mess. June had flown by and he’d not taken time to enjoy it. He had to get a life.

  Work could wait. He needed a break. Grabbing his cell from his pocket, he dialed Todd’s number.

  “How ya doin’ buddy,” he asked.

  “Good. In fact, very good. Are you ready for this? I met someone.”