Cause for Alarm

by Erica Spindler

  Richard needed an assistant? Another sign. "When was this?"

  "Just this week." Sandy paused, thinking back. "Tuesday, I think. Yes-" she nodded "-definitely Tuesday. In the break room. Though I don't know if he's run an ad yet or if he has someone in mind already."

  Julianna brought a hand to her chest, so excited she could barely breathe. Work directly with Richard? It would be too good to be true.

  "This is perfect." She leaned toward the other woman, reaching out and capturing her hands. "You have to introduce me to Mr. Ryan. You have to, Sandy!"

  Sandy froze, her expression alarmed. "I don't know about that, Julianna. I mean, an introduction is…it would be-"

  "A vote of confidence in me," Julianna supplied. "You do believe in me, don't you?"

  "Well, sure. It's just that-"

  Julianna tightened her fingers over the other woman's. "I need that job, Sandy. I have to have it. Do you understand? I have to have it."

  "You're hurting me, Julianna," she whispered, tugging on her hands. "Let go."

  Julianna backed off, trying to look repentant. "I'm sorry, Sandy. It's just that…" She drew a deep breath. "I'm getting desperate. You can understand that, can't you?" Sandy nodded, squirming in her seat. "And this job it…it sounds perfect for me. I lived in D.C., remember? I moved in political circles. Politics are second nature to me."

  Sandy gazed at her expectantly, waiting. More, Julianna thought, she had to have more. She scrambled around for something that would convince Sandy she was qualified for the job. She thought of her mother, then her mother's lover.

  Senator Jacobson. Of course.

  "I was one of Senator Jacobson's campaign assistants." A tiny lie-she had stopped by his election headquarters several times; his campaign manager had shown her and her mother around and explained the duties of the various volunteers.

  The other woman perked up. "You were?"

  "That's right." She smiled. "He'd give me a recommendation, I know he would."

  For a long moment, Sandy said nothing. She gazed at Julianna, her face an open book. She wanted to do it, but she was afraid of sticking her neck out. Of hurting her reputation, of getting in trouble with the bosses.

  All she needed was another little push. "Just think, Sandy. If Mr. Ryan hired me, we'd be working in the same building. We could have lunch together every day. Take our coffee breaks at the same time…go out for drinks after work."

  She looked Sandy in the eyes, her expression as earnest as she could make it. "I've never worked with a best friend before. It'd be so cool."

  "It would be fun," Sandy said softly, hesitantly.

  "So, you'll do it?" Julianna caught the other woman's hands once more. "You'll introduce me to Mr. Ryan? You'll put in a good word for me?"

  Sandy caved in with a sigh. "All right, Julianna. I'll do it."

  30

  Sandy agreed to give Julianna's resumé to Richard first thing Monday morning. Julianna spent the entire weekend preparing it, taking as much creative license as she thought she could get away with. She changed her age to twenty-two. She listed her mother's contacts and former lovers as references, hoping Richard wouldn't check them. And finally, she claimed to have been one of Senator William "Billy" Jacobson's campaign assistants.

  The people at the copy store had helped her with the format. She had rented time on a computer and printed out the final copy on their laser printer. The end result looked pretty darn good, if she said so herself. She especially liked the part where she had outlined the duties she had been responsible for in her job with the senator. Who would have thought years of listening to her mother's men friends talk and a couple of tours through campaign headquarters would yield such bounty?

  Julianna had decided that after she interviewed with Richard, depending on how it went, she would break the silence and call her mother to set everything up with the senator. That way she would be covered if Richard checked her references.

  Monday morning Julianna called Sandy to wish her luck. "Hi, it's me."

  "Hi."

  "Are you ready?"

  "I guess."

  Julianna frowned. She and Sandy had met the evening before so Julianna could give Sandy the resumé and coach her on what she wanted her to say. Then, the other woman had been upbeat and excited. Now, she sounded nervous and more than a little reluctant to carry through on her promise.

  Julianna tightened her grip on the receiver. "Sandy, you're not having second thoughts about helping me, are you?"

  "Of course not," she said after a moment, the way she dragged the words out belying their meaning.

  If she thought Julianna was going to let her off the hook, she was in for a big surprise. "Good," she said, "because you don't sound too upbeat this morning. And if I'm going to get the job, you have to be enthusiastic. You've have to present me positively."

  "I know. It's just that-" Sandy hesitated, then sighed again. "It's just that Mr. Ryan…he's a partner. If this backfired…it could cost me my job."

  "What could backfire?" Julianna lowered her voice, softened it. "You know me, Sandy. We're best friends. And I'm telling you, I can do this job and do it well. If Richard Ryan hires me, he'll be so happy you'll probably get a raise and a promotion."

  "And we'll be able to have lunch together every day. Right?" "And coffee breaks, too." Julianna smiled, knowing she had won. "I'd never do anything to hurt you, Sandy. If I didn't know I could do the job, I wouldn't ask you this favor. You've got to believe me."

  "I do." Sandy made a sound of relief, then giggled as if drawn into Julianna's excitement. "I'm just being a jerk."

  "Be sure to mention what good friends we are and that I worked for Senator Jacobson."

  "I will."

  "You're sure? You won't forget and let me down?"

  "Of course not."

  "And don't tell him where we met or when. Unless he asks."

  "Got it."

  "Remember," Julianna said, suddenly so nervous she felt ill, "you're doing him a favor. I'm perfect for this job. If you believe it, he will, too." As Sandy prepared to hang up, Julianna stopped her. "And call me the minute you know something. I won't stray from beside the phone until you do."

  Sandy's call came at four-thirty that afternoon. "He's agreed to interview you," she said, sounding excited. "Tomorrow morning at eight sharp."

  31

  "Mr. Ryan," Julianna said, stepping into his office and holding out her hand, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

  "The pleasure is mine." He took her hand, then indicated the leather chairs facing his desk. "Have a seat."

  "Thank you." Julianna sat, working to quell her nerves, her runaway heart. Richard Ryan would not be compelled to hire a nervous girl. She had to present herself as a collected, intelligent and savvy woman.

  She had to be like Kate.

  To that end, she had worn her best "Kate suit," had applied her cosmetics with extra care and stood in front of the mirror for long, precious minutes, practicing Kate's hello, her smile, her gestures.

  The transformation had been startling.

  Richard cleared his throat, lifting his gaze from her resumé. "It says here that you worked for Senator Jacobson. You seem a bit young to have been on his staff."

  She straightened. "Twenty-two. Not that young."

  One corner of his mouth lifted. "Wait ten years," he murmured, then returned his attention to the paper before him. "I'm surprised he hired you without a college degree."

  Fighting panic, she folded her hands in her lap. "Billy was a family friend. He was kind enough to take a chance on me even though I had no experience." She met Richard's eyes. "I didn't let him down. And if you hire me, I won't let you down either."

  Again, Richard's lips lifted in a half smile. "You seem confident. Self-possessed. That's important."

  She leaned slightly forward, her heart in her words. "If you hire me, I'll work hard for you. It wouldn't be just a job to me. I believe in your platform. Your policy of being tough on fi
rst timers, on using plea bargaining as a last resort, on the three strikes rule."

  He smiled, obviously pleased, and she went on, hearing the passion in her own voice, the excitement. "It would be an honor to work with a man like you, Mr. Ryan. A man of integrity and intelligence. It would be a thrill to help you become St. Tammany Parish's next District Attorney."

  For a moment he said nothing, simply gazed at her, then he glanced back at her resumé. "I see you performed a variety of tasks for Senator Jacobson. Donation solicitation, mailings, public relations and canvassing." He lifted his eyebrows. "That's quite a broad spectrum of duties."

  She scrambled for an explanation, suddenly realizing she might have claimed too much. "I was one of the underlings, no doubt about it. Basically, I filled in where I was needed. One notch above a gofer."

  She looked at her clasped hands a moment, then back up at him. "I'll be honest, at the time it was a bit of a pain, but now I realize that having experience in so many areas is one of my assets."

  "I agree, Ms. Starr." He cocked his head, studying her. "You look familiar to me. Have we met?"

  "No." She shook her head. "At least I don't think so. I haven't been living in Mandeville that long."

  He leaned back in his chair. "What brought you all the way down here from D.C.?"

  His question surprised her. It was one she hadn't prepared for. She groped around for an answer that would make sense to him. She lowered her eyes a moment, then returned her gaze to his. "My mother passed away last year after a…" she cleared her throat "…after a long battle with cancer. I have no other family and after she died, I just didn't want to stay."

  "I'm sorry."

  She inclined her head in acknowledgment of his sympathy. "Anyway, I'd always heard about New Orleans, about Mardi Gras and the French Quarter and had always dreamed of visiting." She smiled. "So, here I am."

  "But now you're in Mandeville."

  She smiled. "New Orleans wasn't quite as I imagined it to be. Then one Saturday, I drove across the lake-and fell in love."

  He returned her smile. "I can understand that. I grew up in New Orleans, but now I wouldn't live anywhere but the North Shore." He stood and held out his hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Starr, and I will definitely keep you in mind for the job."

  She worked to hide her disappointment. She had fantasized that he'd offer her the position right off. "Do you have any idea when you'll make a decision?"

  "Soon. If you haven't heard from me in a week, give my secretary a call. Her name's Nancy."

  After shaking his hand, she started toward the door, then stopped and turned back to him, heart pounding, desperation tugging at her. "I want this job, Mr. Ryan. I need it. If you give it to me, I'll work hard. I'll perform any task, no matter how menial. If you give me this job, I won't let you down. I promise."

  He looked pleased with her speech. "I'll keep that in mind. Oh, and Ms. Starr?" She stopped again and turned expectantly toward him. "My condolences on the Senator's passing."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Senator Jacobson. I was a fan of his policies. His murder was more than an outrage. It was a real loss for America."

  Julianna stared at him, the room starting to spin. A tingling sensation started at the top of her head and inched downward. "Murder?" she whispered. "Billy's…dead?"

  Richard came around the desk; he took her arm. "You're white as a sheet. Come, sit down. I'll get you a glass of water."

  He led her to the chair she had occupied only moments before. She sank onto it and lowered her head to her knees and breathed deeply and slowly through her nose. After a minute the dizziness passed. But not her shock.

  Billy was dead. Murdered.

  Dear God, her mother.

  "I'm so sorry," he said, handing her the water. "I never would have said anything…I thought you knew. It was in all the papers."

  She shook her head and took the glass, hand shaking. She sipped, then met his eyes. "I haven't…with the move…" She took another sip. "When did it…how…?"

  "About four months ago. He was shot, though I don't remember all the details. I don't think they ever caught the killer. Or if they did, I didn't hear about it."

  Her mother's lover was dead. Murdered.

  They hadn't caught the killer.

  John.

  She began to shake, though she tried to hide it. She got to her feet, forcing a semblance of calm, though she could see by Richard's sympathetic expression she wasn't doing all that good a job of it. She held her panic at bay by telling herself over and over that Billy's death had nothing to do with her or John. Why should it? People were murdered all the time, it was a tragic fact of modern life. Hadn't John always said so? Hadn't he always said that death was a bullet that couldn't be dodged, not forever anyway?

  Richard walked her to his office door. "Sorry I can't give you any more details. You could go to the library and check the back issues of the Times Picayune."

  The library. Of course. "Thank you, Mr. Ryan, I think I will." She smiled weakly at him. "I look forward to your call."

  Somehow Julianna managed to make it from Richard's office to the Covington branch of the St. Tammany Parish library. There, the librarian helped her find what she was looking for on the microfilm, then left her alone.

  Julianna scanned the article. It had happened November sixteenth. The senator, the paper reported, was found shot to death in his Washington hotel room. He had been shot at point blank range; he died instantly. At the time the article was written, the police had no suspects though they were following several leads.

  Julianna stared at the screen, her vision blurring with tears, her teeth beginning to chatter. She hugged herself. Something didn't sound right, she thought. Why had Billy been in a hotel room? Sure, he lived with his family in Virginia, but whenever he was in town he stayed with her mother.

  "Are you all right?"

  Julianna lifted her gaze. The librarian had returned and was looking at her with concern. "I'm sorry," Julianna whispered, "what did you say?"

  "Is there anything I can do for you?"

  "No, I-" Her tears threatened to spill over, and she fought them back. "You said I could make a copy of this?"

  "That's right. They're a quarter a page."

  Julianna dug two quarters out of her purse, one for the front page and headline about Billy's murder, the second for the rest of the story, buried at the back of the paper. She handed them to the woman, who made the copies for her.

  Julianna thanked the librarian and left, clutching the copies to her chest. She made it home, though she had no recollection of climbing into her car, let alone driving, and raced to the phone. Heart thundering, she dialed her mother. The phone rang once. Then twice. While she waited, she told herself over and over that her mother was safe and unharmed. That Billy's death had nothing to do with her or her mother, nothing to do with John.

  On the third ring a recording informed her that the number was no longer in service. The receiver still clutched in her hands, Julianna sank to her knees. It couldn't be, she thought. She had dialed incorrectly; that was all. She tried it again, paying closer attention this time.

  The same recording rang in her ears.

  Fighting complete hysteria, Julianna dialed long distance information and asked for a listing for Sylvia Starr. The operator informed her there was no such listing in the

  D.C. area.

  No listing for her mother. Billy was dead.

  Julianna bent at her waist, phone cradled to her cheek. Dear God, what did she do now? She had to make sure her mother was all right. She had to find her.

  Clark Russell. Of course.

  Swiping at her tears, she called information, then dialed the CIA in Langley, Virginia.

  "CIA. How may I direct your call?"

  "Please, could you…" Julianna whispered, choked with tears. "I need to speak-"

  "You'll have to speak up," the woman said, "I can't understand you."

  She cleared her throa
t. "Clark Russell. Please."

  "May I tell him who's calling."

  "Julianna Starr."

  There was a moment's silence on the other end of the line, then a series of clicking sounds. A moment later a man came on the line. "This is Todd Bishop. May I help you?"

  "I was…I need to speak with Clark Russell, please."

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Russell is no longer with the Agency. May I help you?"

  "No longer with-" Julianna struggled for an even breath. "But where…when did he-"

  "He retired this past January, the lucky guy. Is there something I can-"

  Julianna slammed down the receiver, a low moan escaping her lips. She sank to the floor, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She pressed her face to her knees and rocked, struggling to get a grip on herself, on her fear.

  Billy was dead. Murdered just three weeks after she had run away. Clark was no longer with the CIA. Her mother was missing.

  John was cleaning house. He was exacting revenge.

  Her mother was dead, too.

  No. She brought her hands to her ears as if by doing so she could block out the sound of her own thoughts. It wasn't true. Her mother was fine, living on a yacht with that Arab millionaire, the one she had met shortly before Julianna left, the one she hadn't been able to stand. He had made himself more attractive to her mother by sweetening the pot. It had happened before.

  That was it. Julianna swiped at the tears on her cheeks. Her mother had ended her relationship with Billy, taken the millionaire's offer and closed up the brownstone. That's why Billy had been staying in a hotel. That's why her mother's number was no longer in service. As for Clark Russell, he had retired, just as that man had said.

  It all made sense. More sense than believing John was out exacting revenge on anyone who had known her.

  Calm stole over her. She smiled and stood, chiding herself for letting her imagination run away with her. Learning of Billy's death had been a shock, of course, but from now on, she would keep her attention fixed firmly on Richard and the future they would have together.