He was sitting down, but instinctively I knew he wasn’t big enough to be the man who came after me in the parking lot. He was tall, but too slim. He wasn’t the man I was looking for, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have information.
“I’m not your assistant,” I said. “I’m here to interview you.”
“I’m not looking for a job.” Griswold was so blasé I wanted to put my foot in a place I knew would get his attention. Because Eliot specifically warned me about that only moments ago – or at least made a big show of mentioning it – I opted to refrain.
“I’m here to interview you for the newspaper.”
“I don’t do interviews,” Griswold said, lifting his head as he finally realized something was amiss and glancing around the room. “How did you get in here?”
I held up the all-access pass hanging on the lanyard around my neck and forced a smile. “We have an interview scheduled,” I lied. “My newspaper is in charge of all the publicity for the convention and you agreed to sit down for an extensive profile.”
“I did not.”
“You did so.”
“I think I would remember that,” Griswold said. “I never agree to interviews.”
“You agreed to this one,” I said, playing a hunch. “My understanding is that someone woke you early last week – or maybe it was two weeks ago – and you agreed just to make them go away.”
“That does sound like me,” Griswold mused. “That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t do interviews.”
“Well, you’re doing this one,” I said, sitting in the adjacent chair and staring at him. “If you don’t, the convention is going to fire you. I heard my boss talking about it. Not only are they going to fire you, they’re going to tell everyone your real name is Chris and you didn’t lose your virginity until you were in your twenties.”
Griswold’s mouth dropped open. “They wouldn’t dare! How could they possibly know that?”
I shrugged. “Perhaps it’s because all boys who fancy themselves magicians can’t get laid until they can literally put something over a woman’s eyes and fool her. Except for Harry Potter, of course. He’s the exception.”
“Harry Potter isn’t a real magician.”
“He’s a wizard,” I clarified. “He’s better than a magician.”
Griswold leaned forward, his annoyance clearly getting the better of him. “Who are you again?”
“Avery Shaw.”
“That name sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it,” Griswold said.
“I’m famous, too,” I offered. “I’m the most famous reporter in the land. I do my own set of tricks, though they probably wouldn’t impress the likes of you.”
“Probably not,” Griswold agreed. “Okay. Conduct your interview. But if you’re really here to interview me, why don’t you have a notebook … or camera? Hey, why don’t you have a camera? You need a camera if I’m going to be on television.”
“First, real reporters are not television reporters,” I replied. “They’re fakers. They’re pretenders to the throne.”
“Is that true?”
I ignored the question. “Second, I already told you that I’m with the newspaper. I’m here to do the interview, but the photographer isn’t coming until your next show. We want something action-oriented so it’s more engaging to our readers.”
“Oh, well, that makes sense,” Griswold said. “Where is your notebook, though?”
“I have a photographic memory.”
“A lot of magicians do, too.”
“Do you?”
“I’m the real deal,” Griswold replied. “I don’t rely on tricks.”
I had my doubts, but I plowed ahead anyway. “How long have you been with this particular circuit?”
“Three years.”
“Did you start as a floater or come in as a magician?”
Griswold balked at the question. “I … how do you know about floaters?”
“I’m the wisest reporter in the land,” I replied, not missing a beat. “Answer the question.”
“Technically I was a floater,” Griswold said. “That was only until they had my position ready, though. It wasn’t for very long.”
“Do you date people on the convention circuit?”
“I don’t talk about my personal life.”
“Why not?”
“I like to keep the public out of my bedroom,” Griswold said. “It’s nobody’s business.”
“So you like to pretend you’re mysterious because teenaged girls fall at your feet and gush about how cute you are,” I surmised. “I can see that. Boy band members do the same thing. They’re encouraged to keep relationships under wraps because teenaged girls can be vicious.
“Huh, come to think of it, strippers do that, too,” I continued. “They’re supposed to appear available to customers but never actually be available. Do you have those rules, too?”
“I … what?” Griswold was completely confused now. It was kind of amusing.
“Tell me about your relationship with Kristen Reardon,” I prodded. “Was it serious?”
Griswold’s cheeks flooded with color as he regarded me. “How did you know about that? Who told you?”
“That’s not important,” I replied. “How did you find out about her death?”
“I’m not answering that,” Griswold sputtered. “In fact, I’m not answering anything else. You need to get out of here. This interview is over.”
“That’s fine,” I said, adopting a breezy tone as I gripped the arms of the chair and made as if I was going to stand. “My understanding is that this is your last chance to make management happy. I heard they even have another floater ready to take your place. This one isn’t magnificent, but he is supposed to be great.”
“Tyson,” Griswold hissed, wrinkling his nose. “I knew he was after my job.”
I make things up as I go along sometimes. Luckily for me in this instance, I knew how to bluff a magician. It wasn’t difficult. “I’ll be going.”
“No, wait! I’ll answer your questions.”
I thought so. I settled back in the chair and smiled. “So who told you about Kristen’s death?”
“I heard some of the other workers talking about it,” Griswold replied, his expression turning from angry to morose. “I didn’t believe them at first. We were supposed to be keeping things on the down low, so I couldn’t come right out and ask. The boss held a meeting a couple of hours later and confirmed it.”
“Do you know how she died?”
Griswold shrugged. “Does it matter? She’s dead.”
“She was strangled and then stabbed through the throat,” I volunteered, watching his face for his reaction. He appeared genuinely horrified. “That’s what’s called an ‘up-close’ kill. That means she probably knew her attacker.”
“You think it’s me, don’t you?” Griswold’s tone was flat. “I didn’t kill her. I … loved her.”
I wasn’t sure he was capable of love, but her murder clearly upset him. “I’m sorry for your loss. I need to know if she had any enemies. Did anyone hate her enough to kill her?”
“No one hated her,” Griswold answered. “She was a nice girl and I really liked her. She didn’t put on an act. I mean … never. Everyone here puts on an act, but she was the real deal. That’s part of the reason I liked her.”
“I can see that,” I said, rubbing my chin. “Still, this is a business in which people can’t help but compete with one another. Was she in competition with anyone?”
“No. She was happy being a floater. If she tried to move up the ladder, maybe then she would’ve ticked someone off. She never wanted that, though. She was happy with her station.”
“What about other men?” I prodded. “Was she involved with anyone else? Was there a love triangle or anything?”
“This isn’t a soap opera,” Griswold said. “Love triangles aren’t a real thing.”
“They kind of are,” I argued, and I wasn’t just saying th
at because I was living a weird one in my everyday life. “Maybe someone had a crush on her. Maybe she hurt someone’s feelings by turning them down and didn’t realize it. Did she ever tell you any stories like that?”
“I … don’t think so,” Griswold said. “We were low-key. We were happy to sit in our hotel rooms and watch movies instead of going out with everyone else. We weren’t really part of the ‘in crowd,’ if you know what I mean.
“Most of the people here want to be someone, so they’ll step on everyone to achieve that,” he continued. “I needed to remain mysterious and Kristen just wanted to be left alone. She never ticked off anyone because she wasn’t involved in playing games like everyone else.”
“Could her refusal to join in have angered someone?”
Griswold shrugged, helpless. “I honestly don’t know. All I know is that I miss her and I don’t know what to do with myself.”
I wasn’t sure how it happened, but for some reason I felt sorry for him. He really wasn’t a bad guy. He just pretended to be one. “Well, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“That’s a stupid thing to say. It’s empty. It means nothing.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “I’m still sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t help me,” Griswold said. “Sorry does nothing. What am I supposed to do now?”
I had no idea how to answer. “I guess you can only do what feels right in your heart.”
“Yeah, but I don’t know what that is.”
Oddly enough, I understood the feeling. “Oh, stop pouting. I’ll find you a bottle of exotic water.”
“Are you going to spit in it?”
“No. That would be immature.”
“I guess that’s something,” Griswold muttered.
“I might rub the lip of it in my armpit, though,” I said.
“You are … so weird. I kind of like you even though I want to hate you.”
“Yeah, I have that effect on almost everyone.”
25
Twenty-Five
“Where are you going?”
I jerked my head over my shoulder and found Jake trailing behind Eliot and me in the parking lot shortly after five. The convention would continue for a few more hours, but the sheriff’s department was taking over security camera duties so Eliot could leave at a reasonable hour. That was his primary focus and Derrick seemed happy to take over the task when Eliot mentioned it. Of course, Derrick still lived in fear of what I would do to pay him back for the dinner fiasco – and I encouraged that.
“We’re going to look at a house,” I replied, seeing no reason to lie. “Eliot says it has everything we want and there are no red bricks in sight.”
“I didn’t say there were no red bricks in sight,” Eliot clarified. “I said that this house had orange bricks. The neighbors might have red bricks.”
“I’m not sure I can tolerate that.”
“Knock it off,” Eliot warned. “We’re finding a house and you’re going to live with red bricks from the neighbors whether you like it or not. Other people like red bricks.”
“Stupid people.”
“Avery!”
“Someone should film you guys living together,” Jake said, grinning. “It would be the best reality show ever. I can’t wait until Avery meets the neighbors. She’ll go from hating the bad element to being the bad element.”
Eliot smirked. “That occurred to me, too.”
Well, it hadn’t occurred to me. This was just … dismal. What if he was right? “I never thought about that.”
“You’ll be fine,” Eliot said, pressing his hand to the back of my neck to keep me moving toward his truck. “You seem to make friends wherever you go.”
“Not on purpose.”
“Yes, I know,” Eliot teased. “No matter how surly you try to be, people still like you. What a terrible cross to bear.”
“Whatever,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest and glancing at Jake. “What’s with you? It’s Saturday night. Shouldn’t you be attending some political fundraiser or something?”
“I cancelled my appearance tonight,” Jake replied. “I … um … broke up with Cara this afternoon and didn’t want to answer questions about where she was or deal with people trying to fix me up once they realize I’m alone.”
Holy crap! “You broke up with her?” My eyebrows flew up my forehead. “Like … for real?”
“No, I didn’t it in a video game,” Jake snapped. “Of course it was real.”
“But … you were here this afternoon,” I said, my mind busy with a series of endless possibilities. “You didn’t do it over the phone, did you? Oh! You didn’t do it by text, did you? I did that to a guy I dated once – we only went on two dates, for crying out loud – and he threw a rock through my front window.”
“I love hearing these stories about your past,” Eliot deadpanned. “They make me love and respect you even more than I do now.”
“Stuff it,” I muttered, annoyed. “Seriously, though. You can’t break up with someone over the phone. It’s considered bad form. I know because Carly explained it to me after I made the mistake myself.”
“I did not break up with her over the phone,” Jake said. “In fact, I wasn’t planning to break up with her until tomorrow. I didn’t want a scene at the fundraiser, so I decided to wait one more day. I was going to fake sick so she wouldn’t try to go home with me.”
“Oh, that’s smart,” I said. “I find projectile vomiting scares off even the most ardent admirers.”
Eliot flicked my ear and shook his head. “You’re a freaking nightmare sometimes. You know that, right?”
I ignored him. “If you weren’t planning to do it today, Jake, how did it happen?”
“She called to talk to me and I might have mentioned that I didn’t have time to focus on her because I was worried about what you were doing,” Jake answered. “That set off a firestorm of curse words I haven’t heard since the time you were drunk in high school and tried to light a cigarette off the stove and burned your eyebrows off.”
I snorted. “I remember that. It was like this big whoosh across my face. Thankfully my eyelashes were saved.”
“Yes, that’s just what I was thinking,” Jake drawled, shooting me a dirty look. “I hung up on her because I didn’t have time to listen to the drama and she showed up here.”
“She did? How did I miss that?”
“I believe you were drying Griswold the Magnificent’s tears,” Jake replied. “That went south really quickly, by the way. You went in there all gung-ho and then ended up feeling sorry for him. How did that even happen?”
“He was very convincing. Forget about that, though. No one cares about that. Cara showed up here and … what? Did she challenge me to a brawl? Did I miss my one and only shot of dueling to the death?”
“Sadly, I don’t think it will be your only shot,” Eliot said, his dark eyes contemplative as they searched Jake’s face. “I missed it, too. I’m sorry if you needed backup.”
“You were where you were supposed to be,” Jake said. “Avery’s safety is more important than the implosion of my love life.”
“Says you,” I shot back. “Give me the dirty details. What happened then?”
“She showed up and demanded we talk,” Jake said. “I took her into the security office and … snapped. I told her we were done and that I couldn’t take the jealousy and her crap any longer.”
“What did she do?” It was like watching General Hospital, only the storyline was juicier and no one was propping up a mob boss. “Did she cry? I’ll just bet she’s a crier.”
“Avery, shut up,” Eliot ordered, casting a sympathetic look in Jake’s direction. “Did she cry? I hate it when that happens. Avery rarely cries, but when she does I give her whatever she wants. That’s how I ended up pretending to be Princess Leia the one and only time I’ll ever do that.”
Jake was appalled. “Why do I need to hear about that?”
“I wasn’t saying it for your be
nefit. I was saying it for hers. I keep catching her shopping for plus-sized costumes. She thinks they’re the only thing that will fit my shoulders.”
“I did that once,” I protested.
“She started out crying,” Jake said. “It was uncomfortable and I apologized. Then she turned angry. I mean … she turned quick.”
“Like when David Banner was tossed over a bar in the original Hulk television series and turned into a big scary monster when no one was looking?”
Jake made an exaggerated face. “Yes. It was exactly like that.”
“Really?”
Jake shrugged. “Sadly, yes. It was like that and it was freaky. She said that she knew it was going to happen and then she blamed you. I knew she was going to do that, but … it still sucked. I tried to explain that you had nothing to do with my decision, but she didn’t believe me. Then she made a veiled threat about telling everyone what a jerk I am and took off.”
“That sounds rough,” Eliot said. “If you need to go for a beer or something, it shouldn’t take more than an hour to look at the house.”
“How about I just go with you to look at the house?”
I was shocked at the suggestion. “You want to go house hunting with us?” Despite my worry, I couldn’t get Carly’s offhand comment from earlier about a threesome out of my head. “That seems … weird.”
“It’s totally weird,” Jake agreed. “I don’t want to drive my official vehicle in case she follows me, though. Derrick is taking it back to the department for me. I thought I could go on an outing with you to throw her off.”
That didn’t make it any less weird. “You’re hiding from her? For how long?”
“Just until she cools down.”
“You can come with us,” Eliot said. “Another voice of reason might be good to talk Avery off the ledge when she considers jumping.”
“Why will she consider jumping?”
“He’s exaggerating,” I answered.
“Oh.”
“I’m not exaggerating,” Eliot said. “She’s a pain when she wants to be.”
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