by Casey Mayes
His face suddenly lit up. “I love your puzzles,” he said. “They’re part of my daily routine.”
“Why thank you,” I said. I wasn’t a celebrity in any sense of the word, but it always pleased me when someone let me know they enjoyed my puzzles. “They’re great fun to create.”
“Are they? Honestly?”
“Of course they are,” I said, startled by his reaction. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “I’m Brady Sims. I do the Wuzzle World puzzles for Derrick,” he said. “I struggle with them every day. To make matters worse, I don’t earn much making them, but they’re all I’ve got.” He grew even more somber as he added, “Even worse, I think Derrick’s about to fire me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Come on, think about it. We’re all away from our home bases, and Derrick is lining his clients up like dominoes ready to push over. This can’t be good news any way you look at it, can it?”
The thought that my syndicator was about to drop me had never entered my mind. “I’m sure you’re wrong.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Savannah. There are computer programs to make word jumbles all over the Internet now,” he said. “The only really creative thing I do is the drawings that go with them, and frankly, they’re the weakest part of my puzzles.”
“I don’t know; I find them charming.” In truth I did, but much like a mother might enjoy the masterpieces of her kindergarten children. “Much the same thing can be said about my puzzles as well.”
“Oh, I love your snippets,” he said as he smiled for a moment, referring to my little musings that accompanied each published puzzle.
“So, there you go. No computer can replace your drawings, or my writing. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
At that moment, the conference room door slammed open, rattling it in its tracks. A large woman stormed out with a red face and unnaturally platinum hair, shouting, “If you think you can just write me off, you’re mistaken. My Bridge column is too popular with the readers; you’ll see that when you crawl on your knees begging me to come back, but Sylvia Peters will not budge.”
As she stormed off, Brady turned to me and asked, “Do you still think it’s just my imagination?”
Before I could reply, a mousy-looking woman with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and thick glasses perched on her nose came out of the conference room. “Brady, Derrick will see you now.” Was that an expression of pity on her face? She said his name so softly it was almost too low to hear.
Brady looked at me for a moment with real sadness in his eyes, and then he got up and started walking toward the door as though he were making his way to the gallows.
Instead of following him inside, the woman approached me and said, “Miss Stone, Mr. Duncan will be with you shortly.”
“Actually, it’s Mrs.,” I said as I stood and held out my hand. “We haven’t been introduced.”
“Sorry about that. I’m Kelsey Hatcher. I’m Mr. Duncan’s new executive assistant.” Her hand was cold and a little clammy, and I wondered if the slight tremor in it was from nerves.
“It’s nice to meet you, Kelsey. You can call me Savannah.”
She looked taken aback by the suggestion. “Oh no, I couldn’t do that.”
“Of course you can. It’s pronounced just like the city in Georgia.”
She smiled briefly at me, and then disappeared back into the conference room. It appeared that whatever was going on today would be happening to me next.
IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG FOR ME TO FIND OUT. SEVEN MINUTES after Brady Sims went into the conference room, the door opened again, and he stumbled back out. He looked as though he’d just been shot, though there was no sign of blood anywhere on him.
I hurried toward him. “Brady? Are you all right?”
He didn’t even look at me as he brushed past. What had Derrick said to him?
Kelsey came to the door again, and beckoned me inside. As I looked at her, I could feel a wave of queasiness creep over me, but I fought it back. Now was the time to be strong.
I was two steps from the door when my cell phone rang, filling the small space with the cacophony of ducks squawking. It had been a joke assigning that particular ringtone to my husband, but I wasn’t in the mood to laugh at the moment.
I flipped it open quickly, said, “This is not a good time,” and then slid it back into my pocket.
“What was that noise?” Derrick demanded as I walked into the conference room. He was a slight man, barely a hundred and fifty pounds, and if I wore heels, I could look down on him, not that I ever wore heels when we met. I refused to dress up for the man. He was a thorn in my side, and I didn’t care who knew it, including him.
“That was my cell phone,” I explained as I looked around. The room was bare and simple, a plain chocolate brown table with a cushioned chair on each side of it. I looked around and spotted a third seat by the door, no doubt Kelsey’s sentry position, Cerberus guarding the gates of Hades.
“Turn it off,” he snapped.
“I already did,” I said, steeling myself for the coming assault.
“Then sit down, Savannah. I don’t have all day.”
I hadn’t even realized that I’d been doing it, but I’d been looming over him, emphasizing his lack of stature compared to mine. I personally didn’t equate height or size with expertise and ability, even though my husband was a big, strapping man who also happened to be intelligent, caring, and a fine human being.
And suddenly the sound of ducks filled the room again. What was he, daft?
I pulled the phone out, flipped it open, closed it without answering it, and then turned the ringer to vibrate.
“I thought you said it was off.”
“My finger must have slipped,” I lied. “What is this about?”
“It’s the day of reckoning,” he said with the wisp of a smile dancing on his thin and cracked lips.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why the melodrama? If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”
He tapped a stack of papers on the desk in front of him. “Fine, have it your way. Consider this the official notice required in the contract we signed. You’ve been sold, as of noon tomorrow.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The second I sign these deal sheets, your column becomes the property of Harrison Enterprises. I have a feeling you won’t like it one bit. They won’t put up with the garbage I’ve had to take from you over the years.”
“You can’t do that,” I said. “I have a say in who I work for.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, his smile becoming broader by the minute. “I can buy and sell you as though you were nothing more than a box of laundry detergent.”
“Is that what you told the others, too?”
He frowned. “No, I had different news for each of them. They’re being dropped altogether, and with the noncompete agreements I put in their contracts, they can’t work for anyone else for five years.”
“Derrick, sometimes you can be a real jerk,” I said.
“Keep talking and I’ll show just what a jerk I can be. Your husband’s not around to protect you now, Savannah. This is the real world.”
I stood. “You’re not going to get away with this.”
“I already have, and if you had any sense at all, you’d shut that trap of yours and be a good little girl before I have to spank you and put you in your place. You think you’re something special, but in truth, you’re just a plain, ordinary hack with no real talent at all.”
Normally I’m not a woman of violence. I’m not foolish enough to think that it resolves much of anything, but there are times when the only way to deal with a bully is to stand up to him. I wish my motives were that pure as I struck out and slapped Derrick’s face, but honestly, I did it because of the way he’d been goading me since I’d signed that syndication contract with him years ago.
I didn’t even regret it as my hand started stinging from the impac
t of the blow. I looked at Derrick’s face and saw the crisp white outline of my hand on his cheek, and tried to keep the blossoming smile from my lips.
“That’s it. You’re fired,” he said with a hard edge in his voice that I didn’t recognize.
“You can’t fire me,” I said. “We have a contract, at least until tomorrow. Remember?”
“I can do whatever I want, Savannah. Now get out.”
I walked out of the room, not even glancing at Kelsey as I did. In all honesty, I’d forgotten she was there, watching us the entire time.
What had I done?
And more important, what was I going to do now?
Chapter 3
I HAD TO CALL ZACH AND TELL HIM WHAT HAD JUST HAPpened. When I flipped open my phone, I saw that he’d left a message when I’d hung up on him so abruptly before. I nearly cried as I heard him say, “Sorry about that. I’ve got a meeting with the prosecutor, so I can’t talk. Hope everything goes well with you. Call me tonight. Bye.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Love you.”
I wanted to talk to him—I needed to—but I knew that wasn’t going to happen. He was smart enough to turn his own phone off when he was in a meeting.
I had to think. If either one of my uncles were around, I would call them, but they were currently near the Arctic Circle, and I’d been warned that they’d be out of cell phone reach until further notice. It had surprised me when their voices had sounded so close when they’d last called from Anchorage, but Chena Hot Springs was a lot farther north than that. They were taking in the natural springs, the ice sculpture museum, and a plane ride to the Arctic Circle itself, using the trip as an excuse to get reacquainted.
At least for the moment, I was on my own. I thought briefly about going straight to Jenny’s place, but I didn’t want to burden her with my troubles. Besides, I needed some time alone to think.
I got into my car and started driving around Raleigh, no destination in mind, just a chance to clear my head. I found myself near the capitol building, and by some miracle I found a parking space in front of the promenade across the street. The grounds around the capitol were lovely, carefully manicured and dotted with statues, tributes, and cannons, but I needed a place to sit and think. On my side of the street, there was a tree-lined expanse of geometrically laid gray square pavers, with buildings on both sides, a museum in one direction, and an office building in the other. I walked over to a stone planter and sat down facing three bronze statues perched on the steps to the museum. One of them, a Native American woman, had her hands held up to the sky, as though she were pleading for help from above.
I knew the feeling.
I was in serious trouble, and I fully realized it. Could I fix this? Surely if Derrick had originally intended to transfer my contract to the other group he wouldn’t be able to fire me out of hand, not if my columns were part of the deal. Didn’t that give me some kind of leverage? I realized that maybe this change would be a blessing in disguise. I didn’t mind the idea of not working for Derrick a minute longer than I had to. I certainly wouldn’t miss his threats and complaints about my work. Would working for someone else really be that bad? Now that I had some time to think about it, I realized that the jerk might have actually done me a favor by selling my contract to someone else.
But I’d taken care of that with one swift slap.
I wouldn’t deny that it had felt good, but I wasn’t about to pay for my rash behavior for the next five years if I could help it.
There was only one thing I could do, no matter how distasteful it was going to be. I had to get down on my knees and grovel until Derrick forgave me and included me in the sale.
It wasn’t going to be pleasant, but I didn’t see that I had any real choice.
I walked back to my car, glanced at my dashboard clock, and saw that I’d been sitting there for nearly an hour and a half. Was he even still at the hotel? I drove there as fast as I could, pulled into the parking lot, and then slipped inside.
The door to the conference room was closed, but that didn’t mean anything. He could be in there firing someone else, for all I knew. I waited five minutes, and then I knew I couldn’t just stand around hoping that he would come out.
I opened the door and instantly saw that something was very wrong.
It looked like I was too late for my apology to matter anymore.
Derrick was slumped over the table, his face buried in prime rib, and even from the doorway, I could see that someone had stuck a steak knife into his back.
IRAN TOWARD HIM. MAYBE THERE WAS STILL A CHANCE TO save him.
“Derrick? Can you hear me?” I tried to find a pulse as I leaned over him, but there wasn’t any that I could find. That didn’t mean it wasn’t there, though. I flipped open my phone and dialed the first two digits of 911 when his assistant, Kelsey, walked into the room. As I pressed the last 1 she dropped the tray in her hands and started screaming.
I doubted the operator could hear me over her shrieks, but Hotel Security was right behind her, and it was only after they charged in that I realized how this must have looked to them all.
I had just elevated myself to a whole new level of trouble.
“I DIDN’T DO IT,” I SAID AS I FACED THEM. “WHEN I WALKED IN, I found him like this.”
Kelsey was still screaming, and I wasn’t sure they even heard me over the noise. I’d expected a pair of weapons to be aimed at me, but all they had were cell phones. Unless one of them had a stun gun in his pocket, I should be all right.
“Would you stop that?” I snapped at Kelsey. She wasn’t making the situation any easier.
“You stabbed him,” she said, now whimpering.
“I did no such thing. I just got here.”
Kelsey wasn’t buying it. “Don’t lie. You hit him before. I saw it.”
That got the security team’s interest, and I really couldn’t blame them. “It’s all very simple to explain,” I said.
“Save it for the police,” one of the guards said. “Now step away from the body.”
I knew better than to try to argue with them. I did as I was told, and a minute later, paramedics arrived, along with a police escort. Before I could say a word, one of the security men pointed to me, and a man in a nice suit walked over to where I was standing.
“What happened here?” he asked me as the paramedics began searching for a pulse.
“We had a disagreement, I left, regretted it, then came back to apologize. When I did, I found him like that.”
“You seem pretty calm after just discovering a body.”
I nodded toward Kelsey, who was now collapsed in the arms of one of the security men. “I’m not like her. I’ve been a cop’s wife a long time.”
That got his attention. “Someone on our force?”
I shook my head. “No, he used to be the head of the Charlotte police department.”
“But not anymore.”
“He was shot in the line of duty, so he had to retire.”
“You’re Zach Stone’s wife?” he asked.
Maybe things weren’t going to be so bad after all. “I am. My name’s Savannah,” I added as I extended a hand to him.
He ignored it, and I put it back by my side. If he was impressed with the new information, he didn’t show it. “My name’s Shawn Murphy. Let’s go to the station.”
“You’re arresting me? Based on what?”
“I’m questioning you,” he said patiently, as if I were too simple to understand words any bigger. “You’re an ex-cop’s wife. You should know the difference.”
“Fine, I’ve got nothing to hide. Let’s go.”
As we started for the door, Kelsey suddenly came alive. “You didn’t have to kill him!” she screamed at me.
“I didn’t,” I said, “and I wish you’d quit saying that I did.”
As we walked out to the officer’s unmarked car, he asked, “Is she a friend of yours?”
“Did she sound like she was?” I snapped.
; “Hey, no reason to take it out on me. I’m just trying to find out what happened.”
“I wouldn’t mind knowing that myself.”
We drove a few blocks, and he pulled into a parking lot clustered with blue and white police cruisers. An imposing building with rows of glass and red brick faced us, and I was quickly led inside.
“Now, let’s start from the beginning,” he said as he settled in behind his desk.
“I want to talk to my husband first,” I said.
“He’s not a lawyer,” Detective Murphy said.
“No, but he’s the only one I trust. I’m not about to answer a single question until I talk to him.”
The detective studied me a few moments, and then said, “Then I guess we’ve got a problem. I’m trying to investigate a murder, and so far, you’re my only witness.”
“But I told you, I didn’t see anything,” I said loudly. “Derrick was already dead when I got there.”
“So you say,” Murphy said, jotting something down in his notebook. “You two had a fight, didn’t you? Or are you denying that now, too?”
I suddenly realized that though I’d claimed I was going to be quiet, I was being anything but. “I’m calling my husband, unless you want to stop me.”
“Go ahead,” he said.
I grabbed my phone, and then realized that his would still be off.
“Did you change your mind?” the detective asked.
“Just about who I’m going to call.” I dialed an entirely different number, and Jenny answered on the third ring.
“You’re early,” she said the second she heard my voice. “I’m just getting out of court.”
“That’s handy, because I’m at the police station,” I said.
“Where are you parked? I’ll swing by and pick you up.”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m inside. They think I killed Derrick, my syndicator.”
“That’s not funny, Savannah.”
“It’s not meant to be. I need you.”
There was a brief pause, and then Jenny said, “Don’t say another word. I’ll be right there.”