Long before Julie McGuire had appeared in his life, he’d agreed to this appearance. Then he’d had no inkling he’d be consumed by so much hunger for a woman that he’d chafe to be near her every minute. Was this love? How could he tell when the concept was foreign to him? Right now was not the time to dissect his feelings. His fans awaited him.
Stifling a frown of impatience, Tyler opened his speech with an assortment of writing tips, then reviewed the current market and finished with the usual question-and-answer period.
An attractive woman of Oriental descent flashed him a censorious look. She raised her hand, as if daring him to call on her. He knew the type. She was trouble, but he could handle her.
“Yes?”
“Doesn’t it bother you to write about actual murders,” she asked.
“Not one bit. They’ve already happened. I can’t undo them, only approach them from my own perspective.”
“I see no benefit from reveling in another human being’s demise. To me, your books smack of sensationalism. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t recall even one perpetrator being arrested through the auspices of any of your books.”
Tyler gave a short laugh. “Ma’am, that’s not my jurisdiction. I suggest you contact the law enforcement agencies and ask them why the perpetrators are still at large. I’m but a lowly writer.”
As he’d intended, the audience broke into mocking laughter.
“Next question?”
The woman refused to be quashed. Without raising her hand, she lashed out, “It may not be your profession to collect criminals, but why encourage and glamorize them?”
“Lady, you’re not much better yourself or you wouldn’t be here talking to me. Now, let someone else get in a word.”
The woman glared at him. He glared back. The worthless bitch. She envied and criticized him because he’d made it. She’d never get anywhere herself. There were millions out there just like her. He should be accustomed to their criticism, yet the woman’s spiteful words left a sour taste in his mouth.
The bad taste didn’t go away, even while the remaining questioners exhibited the utmost respect.
After he’d stepped down, he couldn’t escape the winding line of book buyers and autograph seekers. He’d prefer to cut out to his hotel suite until the morning flight. Instead he must humor his admirers. The price of success.
Still stardom had its advantages. Their reverence assuaged his ego. He was the main attraction and man of the hour. If only she were here to share his triumph.
* * *
His wake up call came too early. He’d told the desk clerk to call him exactly at five and it was - - good grief. Tyler stared through gritty eyes at the alarm, then did a double take. It was five. He could have sworn he’d just gone to bed. Groggily, he stumbled upright and made his way to the bathroom. The gold plated handles released a spray of frigid water. He splashed his face and patted his cheeks with his personal hand towel. Gliding the razor across his face, he frowned. Though he’d made it a point to get to bed early, he didn’t look it. His lids were swollen and red, his face sallow, as if he’d binged all night. He frowned. This sort of thing had happened before, but he couldn’t understand why.
He reached into his toiletry bag for the eye drop container and deposited hefty portions into each eye. He must keep up appearances. He would not look like a bum.
In the livery on his way to the airport, the radio was already tuned in and spouting the news. Tyler closed his eyes and absently listened as he drifted in and out of sleep.
When Carolyn Wong arrived at her sister, Lucy’s apartment to pick her up this morning, she was greeted by a ghastly sight. Apparently, during the evening hours, someone had slipped inside, tied her sister to a kitchen chair and yanked her tongue out by means of a pair of ice tongs. The neighbor in the adjoining apartment recalls hearing a creaking sound around eleven last night, as if the door were opened, but since Wong was known to keep irregular work hours, the neighbor was not surprised to hear more creaking a few hours later. It’s believed the perpetrator may have sat and watched the victim bleed to death. When asked if her sister had any enemies, the shaken Carolyn Wong said, “My sister was known for speaking her mind, but she had a good heart. She didn’t deserve this.”
Tyler’s lips slipped into a grim smile. It was far too much to hope the victim in the newscast was the same bitch who’d attacked him verbally at the conference. The chance of that happening was slim, since scores of Orientals resided in New York. A coincidence of that nature only occurred in books when he arranged it.
* * *
His head pounded during the entire flight back to Chicago. Drained and disoriented, Tyler stumbled off the airplane at O’Hare. In a daze, he made his way through security and the baggage check. Outside, as usual, no one was on hand to greet him.
That had never bothered him before. Now, a massive weight of loneliness settled upon his shoulders, making them slump. The snow was falling. In a few weeks it would be Christmas. While others would spend the holiday with their loved ones, he’d again be by himself, pretending it was just another day.
The air was brisk. Snowflakes caressed his cheeks and lips. What would it feel like if she were touching them instead?
“I need you,” he said, acknowledging his weakness, though he knew she couldn’t hear him.
The livery driver, who’d just pulled up to the curb, answered, “Sorry, I got caught up in traffic. I’ll be right there, sir.”
Wearily, Tyler nodded. This stranger would be company for the ride home, not the beautiful Julie. Would it always be his destiny to travel through life alone?
Not if he could help it. Enough self pity. Weariness gone, his mind clicked into high gear. Why give up so easily? He had the brains and wherewithal to get what he wanted. He’d play out the scenes as if they were in a book. He was good at that. No, great.
The miles crawled by on the expressway. Impatiently he waited for the livery man to deposit his bags inside the penthouse.
“Thanks for your help,” Tyler said, reaching into his pocket, withdrawing a bill and handing it to the man. “This is for you.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Thank you, sir.” He walked backwards and almost ran out the door.
Tyler smiled to himself. He must have given the man more than he’d thought. No matter. Why waste time on trivialities when he had more important matters to attend to. Energy coursed through his veins, as his mind clicked along, developing the next move.
Abandoning his bags in the hallway, he strode to the study and typed in the entire plot outline. Satisfied with the result, he was free to rest.
* * *
Though he was accustomed to sleep deprivation, the next three nights proved especially long for Tyler. Finally, it was Friday and time to put his plans into action.
He reached for the telephone beside the couch. “Is Julie McGuire there? I’ve got an emergency. I absolutely must speak to her.”
He strolled across to the bank of windows. Swirling snow obscured his vision. The storm was building.
“I’m sorry, sir. She’s on trial this morning,” a voice broke in.
Just as he’d expected. When he’d last spoken to her, she’d told him she’d be booked this week, but in an emergency, her partner could fill in.
Smiling, he asked, “This is extremely important. What about her partner?”
“One moment please, I’ll check.”
Tyler waited, impatiently drumming his fingers on the window pane.
“Donovan here.”
At sound of his enemy’s voice, Tyler’s mouth twisted into a grimace. This next part would require groveling, which he absolutely detested.
“Mr. Donovan. I’ve just returned to town and found a message on my recorder requiring immediate attention. The estate lawyer insists on my doing the inspection with him and presenting my specifications this afternoon or the deal is off.”
“Sure it can’t wait until Monday? Julie should be free by
then.”
“Absolutely not. The man’s only in town for one day and only for a few hours. If I don’t catch him now, the whole works will go down the drain. Need I remind you there’s a bit of money involved?”
There. Was that enough to convince him, or could Donovan detect his lies crossing the phone wires? Come on, jump to the bait. I’m counting on you.
“I’m not really versed on the matter. It’s in Julie’s hands,” Donovan said.
“Your partner has kept meticulous notes. In no time, I could bring you up to speed at my place and then we could head on over. It’s pretty much a done deal. I just need legal presence.”
Donovan sighed into the phone. “I don’t usually meet at a client’s home, but I’ll make an exception. I’ll give it a try.”
He had him. Tyler strove to hold back the triumph seeping into his voice, as he said, “Thanks, I appreciate it. My garage is on the south side of the building. When you reach the door, press one zero three six on the keypad. Pull your car in. Then take the elevator straight to the penthouse.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“I’ve got to get over to Jensen’s. Something’s come up on that Grand Granada deal. Kill my calls for the day,” Dade told Pam, as he shrugged into his suit coat and dashed out the door.
When he stepped onto Monroe Street, he noted the snow plows had fought a losing battle. In the ensuing hours since the morning rush, a foot of snow had accumulated. Being a native of Chicago, Dade was normally immune to weather variations, but in his present mood the sight aggravated him.
This was the pits. He didn’t want anything to do with Jensen, yet here he was, dashing out into a blizzard to clinch a multimillion dollar deal for the jerk. If it weren’t for Julie, he wouldn’t do it.
On Michigan Avenue, the wind howled, rocking the tiny BMW. To the right stood the frozen crystal mass of Lake Michigan. A snow-covered RV sped past him, depositing muck onto the BMW’s windshield. The wipers spread the film, making it impossible to see.
That did it. Dade pounded the steering wheel. Damn, he’d played it stupid. He should have called the other lawyer first. With this mess, the guy couldn’t fly out of O’Hare today anyway. The inspection thing could have waited. Now it was too late. He was already half way to Jensen’s and may as well finish the journey.
As traffic stalled at the next intersection, he stemmed the rising tide of irritation and tried to look on the bright side. At least Jensen would see him and not Julie. The less he saw of her the better.
At the office, he’d taken a quick glance into the file and everything appeared in order. Like Jensen had said, Julie had done her legwork. Barring an unforeseen monkey wrench, today would be a piece of cake.
Turning onto the south side of the building, he readily found the entrance to Jensen’s private garage and punched in the security code. The door opened, revealing a separately contained area.
He let out a low whistle at the sight of a vintage Ferrari nestled between a late model Jaguar, a Mercedes SUV and a late model Porsche. What a setup. Not many could afford even one of these luxury cars, much less a private garage in a prime location to put them in. This took big bucks.
Though he made a hell of a living as an attorney, this stuff was way out of his league. Lots of women would go for a guy like this. Who’d blame Julie if she fell for Jensen?
He could. She damn well knew better. It wasn’t Jensen who really cared for her.
Swearing, he pressed the elevator button. Within seconds, a chime signaled the cab’s approach. The door closed softly behind him. He sped upwards to the penthouse.
As soon as the door opened, Jensen met him in the foyer.
“Sorry to put you through all this, Donovan,” Jensen said, holding out his hand.
Dade grudgingly shook it. Who was the man kidding? Jensen could care less about putting him out. From what Dade could gather, the man had one goal and that was self-aggrandizement. To hell with anyone else. Well, two could play that game.
“No problem,” Dade said, lying through his teeth.
Damn, he didn’t want to be here. For once in a long time, he’d finally had a free day. He’d intended to sort through the files and mull over his choice of an associate or new partner. Now that would have to wait. Julie owed him big time for this. For that matter, she owed him for wanting to leave in the first place. A stab of hurt hit him again at the thought.
“Is anything wrong?” Jensen said.
Dade smoothed over his brow. He should know better than to let his feelings show in front of a paying client. He gave a short laugh. “Nothing’s wrong, except for the rotten weather. The wind’s howling and it’s a regular blizzard out there. I dodged some hairy looking spin-outs on the way over.”
“How does the saying go? You must first taste the bitter to know the sweet. Is that not right?”
“Something like that. Anyway, let’s get the ball rolling before the other party’s snowed in.”
“Yes. My office is right down the hall. We can go over the paperwork there.”
They trooped over the plush carpet and came to an interior windowless room which could almost pass for another apartment. One side was equipped with three desks, computers, printers, scanners. The second contained a large kitchenette. The third held four black leather recliners, each with an end table.
Jensen gestured toward the nearest chair. “Sit down. Make yourself comfortable. While you go over the papers, I’ll get you some coffee to warm you up. I must warn you, I did come up with a few last minute provisions. You may wish to read them over beforehand. Let’s see, where did I put that list? Ah, yes, I believe it’s over there, by the far computer.”
Jensen sauntered across the room and returned with a printed sheet. “There you go,” he said, handing the paper to Dade. “No sense in spending money if I can’t get everything I want.”
“Very true.”
“And now for the coffee.”
Dade glanced down at the list. A central office for visiting executives. Okay, that would work. A gym. That could be arranged. A daycare center? What was that all about? Had Julie heard about it? Probably not. It was probably one of the last minute provisions.
The daycare center would be a problem. It would need accreditation.
Hearing a scraping sound, he glanced up to find Jensen depositing a lacquer tray on the nearby table.
“Many have been known to complain about my coffee, so I took the liberty of bringing extra cream and sugar, just in case.”
Dade nodded and absently picked up the steaming mug. How should he approach this clause? How adamant was Tyler? Damn, the man was right. The coffee was bitter, in fact awful. Making coffee was definitely not one of his talents. The Great Mystery Writer had at least one kink in his armor.
Better to forget personalities and get this done. No matter how appalling the taste, he could use more caffeine to get through this mess. He reached for the cream and sugar, applied them liberally and took a huge swallow. At least the concoction was warm going down.
“I don’t foresee many problems with these issues, except for the daycare thing. How strong are you on that point? There’s no way we can push that through today.”
Tyler gave him a small smile. “Well, that’s just a little something I thought up on the spur of the moment, a way to get the kiddies out of the parents’ hair when needs be. What do you think of the idea?”
Dade smothered a yawn. Damn, he was tired. The lines on the paper ran together. The coffee should have perked him up, but apparently he was past that.
“It’s not a question of like or dislike, but feasibility. There are ordinances to consider.” Was it his imagination or were his words coming out ultra slow?
“You do have a keen mind. I’m sure nothing gets past you. You’ll figure it out,” Tyler said, with a strange look in his eyes.
“Maybe they’ll go along with a contingency clause. That’s all I can think of at the moment.”
Damn, he was surprised he cou
ld think at all, much less speak. Fighting the snow storm on the way over must have taken a lot more out of him than he’d realized. When he got this job over with, he was definitely calling it a day. He could hardly wait.
Tyler glanced at his watch. “It’s almost meeting time. We certainly don’t want to be late. I think I’ll bring some coffee along for the ride. What about you?”
“No, thanks.” Dade turned his glance away from the thermos in Jensen’s hand. He’d had enough. The stuff was nasty and made him want to heave. How could Jensen drink it?
Dade rose from the recliner. The room lurched crazily. Sweat broke out on his brow. Damn, Jensen kept this place hot. Well, that was his choice. He paid for the joint.
Right now fresh air would feel mighty good.
The elevator opened onto the garage level. Dade stumbled out. Jensen accompanied him to the BMW. Dade clicked open the doors and turned to Jensen. “Climb in.”
“I’ve got a better idea. Let’s take separate cars. Then we can go our own way later.”
Fine, he didn’t care for Jensen’s company either.
Dade’s tongue felt swollen as he tried to form the words, “All right.” His heart pounded strangely. He couldn’t concentrate, but for some reason his thoughts fastened on the question of which fancy car Jensen would choose to drive. Not that it mattered.
He almost fell into the driver’s seat of the BMW. He turned the ignition switch on. Jensen was saying something, but he couldn’t hear him. With clumsy fingers, Dade hit the button, opening the window halfway.
Jensen leaned toward Dade. “Are you all right?”
“I feel kind of funny. I don’t know what’s wrong.” To his own ears, his voice sounded far away. “Ah, that would be the sleeping pills taking effect. The ones I put in your coffee.”
“What are you talking about?” Dade tried to focus on the man’s face, which faded in and out.
“It’s simple, Donovan. I’ve won and you’ve lost. Julie’s mine. I could have had her already, if you hadn’t survived the car crash that should have done you in.”
Killer Career Page 21
