Allison Janda - Marian Moyer 01 - Sex, Murder & Killer Cupcakes

by Allison Janda

  “No!” the three of us cried in unison, shooting out our arms to stop him.

  Mika looked momentarily stunned but sat back down, gripping the stool tightly with both hands.

  “It’s just-” Addison started. She paused and licked her lips, then glanced at Rory for help as I was clearly rendered useless verbally.

  “It’s true that we feature a lot of big names,” Rory chimed in. “But save for the occasional small fees we’re granted from ads and feature stories, we don’t collect.”

  “We don’t pay our models” I added, finding my voice. “So if you’re looking to totally switch careers, we might not be the best place to start.” I hated myself even as I said it. What 30 year old could afford to not only totally change careers, but also take gigs that were unpaid?

  “Oh, I’m not looking to get paid,” Mika said horrified. “I still plan to work outside of this. Will I not have the time? Did I give the impression of needing a paycheck?”

  Addison giggled. “Of course not.” She seemed to consider something for a moment, then asked, “How many languages do you speak?”

  Looking somewhat embarrassed, Mika switched his gaze back to his feet. “Five,” he told us. “Ukrainian, Russian, Finnish, Swedish and English.”

  “That’s quite the resume,” Rory said, once again impressed by our luck. “There are some really well-paid jobs where you could put those skills to better use. Even better than carpentry or modeling.” Addison and I shot him daggered looks. “What?” he hissed at us, shrugging. “There are!

  Mika smiled. “I guess I just prefer,” he searched for the right words, then added, “doing my own thing.”

  “Well, he’s got my vote,” Addison said, tipping back in her chair and chewing the end of her pencil. “Which is just as well because getting back to my grown up job early will score me good favor. I hate it when the boss is mad. He’ll still assign me crappy stories.”

  “You’ve been nominated for Journalism awards,” Rory told her, incredulous. “And he’ll still assign you to the Mom and Pop shop feature article?”

  “He’s a very vindictive man,” Addison assured us.

  “Excuse me,” Mika asked, quietly. “Does this mean that I have it?” His voice was low and warm.

  “Yes,” Addison grinned. “And one more thing before you go,” she added, raising a finger. Grinning devilishly at me, she continued. I could feel a full body blush starting at my face, blanketing my neck and slowly prickling its way down my arms and legs. “Given the nature of the publication, I’m going to need to ask you to remove your shirt and pants, please. It’s strictly professional, of course.”

  “Oh, of course.” He complied, albeit with more confidence than I would have predicted, given his humble roots. I managed to push the thought from my mind as soon as he’d removed his shirt. Oh, baby!

  Later that afternoon, I was working quietly in the upstairs office. Addison left almost immediately after we sent the remaining models home and I gave Betsy the afternoon off to sulk, though that’s not exactly how I phrased it when I told her to take a hike. Rory usually checked in before leaving, but it was possible that he was sulking also. While he knew that Mika was no doubt the right decision, Addison had always dated models and our latest threw a wrench in his plans now that Pete and Addison had ended things. Or were they back on again since our return? She never did confirm that he’d been in her apartment the day I picked her up to head north. Really, though, who could keep track?

  “You seemed interested,” Rory had said to me pleadingly as he followed me up to the office earlier that day. “Just ask him out before she does.”

  “Ha!” I’d responded. “I’d be surprised if she hasn’t asked him out already.”

  The office phone rang loudly and I jumped, startled by the break in silence. I’d almost been ready to pack up and call it a day but I didn’t want to miss out on anyone hoping for an exclusive, so I cleared my throat and picked up on the third ring. “Hello, this is Marian,” I found myself saying, “how can I help you?” The other end of the line was quiet, save for someone breathing softly and a few quiet crackles. I waited for a beat. “Hello?” I asked again. More breathing. More crackles. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck start to prickle and I clutched the phone so tightly that my knuckles went white. “Look,” I said firmly. “If this is-”

  “Marian? Marian?” a voice cut through, but faded back out quickly.

  “Barry?” I asked, surprised.

  “I’m on the- I’ll call you- one? -ck the doors.”

  “I can’t understand what you’re saying” I said, straining to make sense of his words.

  “The doors. Are th-”

  “What about the doors?” I hollered back.

  The line went dead. I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it for a moment before placing it back on its cradle. Then, trying to shake off the weird feeling in my stomach, I began to straighten up the desk, stacking various piles of papers. A few moments later, I glanced around the office and, satisfied, began shrugging into my coat when the phone rang again. “Hello?” I answered quickly.

  “Marian, are you alone?” the words rushed out of Barry like a tidal wave.

  “I think so,” I replied slowly. “Rory might-”

  “Lock your doors until I get there,” he interrupted me. “Now.”

  “What are you-”

  “Damn it, Marian, just lock your doors until I knock,” he barked. “Let me know when you’re back. I’ll wait.”

  Shaking, I put down the phone and began to pat my coat pockets, trying to figure out what I’d done with the keys. Finally locating them in my purse, I walked quickly down the stairs. Padding quietly across the studio, I scanned my key ring, looking for the one that could lock the main entrance, when suddenly there was a loud thud outside. I paused only for a second, running the last few steps to the door just as someone began to push it open from the other side.

  I couldn’t believe it. Alec had been murdered after all and now, the killer was coming back to finish the job.

  Adrenaline began to course through my veins and with a loud cry, I threw myself at the door and pushed with everything that I had.

  “Ow!” someone grunted from the other side. “What the-” I recognized the voice immediately.

  “Rory!” I cried, flinging the door open and throwing my arms around his neck. This issued another grunt and he shifted the small box in his arms so he could balance it on his hip.

  “Hey kid,” he replied, patting my back with his now free hand. Kicking the door closed behind us, his eyes grew dark with concern. “What’s going on?”

  Sniffling, my hands shaking with fear, I tried to lock the door several times but couldn’t fit the key into the lock. Gently, Rory steadied my hand in his, flicked my wrist and withdrew the key. Without realizing it, I’d begun to cry, fat hot tears rolling down my face, but I couldn’t form a sound.

  Rory dropped the box and pulled me into his chest. “I was just ‘round the corner,” he told me. “I was picking up some of our old editions from storage. I was thinking a throwback theme for our anniversary issue next year and I wanted to get a head start on-”

  Finally finding my voice, I let out a loud wail, which melted into considerable sobbing.

  Rory pulled back and took me by the shoulders. “What’s wrong?” he demanded with a small shake. “Are you hurt? Where’s Addison? Did something happen?”

  I shook my head and pointed up to the office, where Barry was still waiting for me to tell him I was safe. Goodness knows what he was thinking if he was able to hear any of this exchange. Rory followed me up the stairs and watched me pick the phone up off the desk, my sobs reduced to loud hiccups and the occasional sniffle.

  “Marian?” I heard Barry ask. “Marian, are you okay?” I sniffled and nodded that I was, when Rory came and took the phone from my hand.

  “Hello?” He asked. “Who is this?” A pause. “Oh, hey-a. Yup, yup she’s okay, just seems pretty rat
tled. Mmmhmm. Mmhmm. Ah, okay. Sure, I’ll take care of it. Thanks for the call. Bye.”

  I was mystified. “That’s it?” I squeaked.

  “Sounds like a girl at an office down the street was followed to her car and assaulted,” he told me. “Barry was worried about you being here alone. He’s sorry for scaring you.”

  I felt like I’d had the wind knocked out of me and was suddenly very, very tired. “I want to go home,” I told Rory, grabbing for my purse. “Can you walk me to my car?”

  “Of course,” he said, holding out an elbow for me to grasp. I leaned on him gratefully and we made our way back down the stairs.

  Once we were outside, I turned my face up to look at his. “I thought there’d been a mistake,” I admitted. “I thought he was calling to say that someone had killed Alec.”

  “Thought you were next, did you?” he asked me with a gentle shove.

  “Yeah,” I laughed, sniffling. Then I shook my head and, without meaning to, started to cry all over again.

  “Hey,” Rory said, stopping in front of me and pulling me in for another hug. “Nothing is going to happen to you while I’m around.” I heard the smile in his voice and was instantly grateful to have such a good friend. I nodded into his chest. We stood like that for a few minutes and when I pulled away, he offered me his elbow again and we continued to walk in silence down the lit street. When we reached my car, Rory opened the door for me.

  Ducking inside and tossing my purse onto the passenger seat, I inserted my key into the ignition. Turning back to him, I smiled. “Thank you,” I told him sincerely. “For everything.”

  He shrugged and grinned sheepishly.

  Returning the grin, I reached out to close the door, but he grabbed the frame with his hand. “Hey?” he asked me. “Do you ever think about just getting a gun?”

  “What?” I asked incredulous. “No!” The thought was horrifying. While my father had given my brother and I the basic rundown of gun safety, I’d never felt comfortable with the power and liked to keep my distance. Besides, I knew plenty of cops, detectives and concerned citizens who carried guns on their person 24/7. Chances were that if I was in a bad situation, I’d have some firepower around me. With the exception of tonight, it seemed. Okay, perhaps Rory had a point.

  He shrugged again. “Well,” he told me, “if you ever find yourself in need, there’s a gun under the files of my bottom drawer.”

  “You have a gun?” I asked. “In my studio?”

  “Technically, it’s in my cubicle,” he responded “but yes, I have a gun.” He gave me a knowing look. “We work in a rough neighborhood, kid. And you, of all people, should know that.”

  It was true. I’d taken my fair share of crime scene photographs in the area where our office was located. They tended to be further north, for the most part, but one could never be too sure.

  With a grim smile, I closed my door and waved to Rory as I drove away.

  Later that night, I sat on my couch eating a Snickers bar while I stared at Fred swimming back and forth. “You have it so easy,” I told him through munches. “I don’t see anyone encouraging you to buy a gun.”

  As far as I knew, my father had never had to fire his gun anywhere other than the shooting range. While he’d ensured that I was knowledgeable enough to be lethal, I just never had it in me as an adult to make the actual purchase. Still, I found myself turning Rory’s words over in my head. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been right about something. Perhaps there was something to his summation of where our studio was located.

  No. Shaking my head to clear the thoughts, I stuffed the remainder of the Snickers bar into my mouth and turned back to Fred. “I’m not going to let it get to me,” I said between chews. “Alec wasn’t even murdered. I’m being ridiculous.”

  My cell began to ring and vibrate wildly on the coffee table. “Hello?”

  “How you holding up?” asked Barry.

  I sighed. “I’m fine,” chew, chew, “just jumpy, I guess.”

  There was a sigh on the other end of the line, then, “You didn’t hear this from me.”

  I clutched the phone tighter and sucked in a breath, swallowing the rest of my candy bar. “If this is another one of your inane-”

  “Marian, I just need you to be a little careful the next few days,” Barry cut in.

  “Careful?” I asked. “What do you mean careful? I’m always careful.”

  “I mean something isn’t totally right with the body, Marian,” he told me. “You need to be careful. You know. Be aware of your surroundings and all that.”

  My mind started to race and I felt the Snickers bar rolling around in my stomach. “What’s wrong with the bo- with Alec?” I asked.

  Barry lowered his voice. “The autopsy wasn’t totally clean.”

  My heart began to pound. “But you said-”

  “I know what I said, Marian,” he hurried on. “That’s the report I was given.” I heard him sigh. “Unfortunately the new Captain heard that your dad was sniffing around. I was just trying to help. Anyway, the Captain- he’s worried you’re trouble and he knows that you and I talk.”

  “Trouble!” I huffed.

  Barry sighed heavily. “Look,” he said, his voice suddenly sounding old and tired. “I told you what I was told. I’m only calling you now because someone I trust told me different. You know as well as I do that nobody over here wants to be told how to do their job, especially the new Captain. Especially by a small-town guy like your dad. That’s not me being mean, that’s just how it is. Don’t tell anyone about this. Don’t look into this. Tell your dad to quit sniffing around.” He took a shaky breath. “Just be careful.” He paused. “Lock your doors and all that.”

  My brain tinged. “Is this why you called me earlier?”

  “Yes,” he admitted. “Now listen to me. I know you didn’t do this. But I know Rory and Addison about as well as I know the Queen of England.”

  “They’re good people,” I assured him. After a moment I paused, then continued with, “Rory told me he has a gun at the office.”

  “What?” Barry shouted into the phone. Then, “What?” he hissed more quietly.

  “Yeah,” I told him. “After you told him there was an assault down the street, he walked me to my car, asked if I had a gun, then when I said no, he told me that his was hidden in his file cabinet if I ever needed it.” The silence was deafening. “He’s not your guy,” I insisted. “He may as well be my big brother.” Barry didn’t respond, so I hurried on. “And I’ve known Addison since we were in diapers. She’s crazy, but not like this. She thinks too much. There’s no way she could have been behind this, she’d never have been able to unwind enough to pull it off.”

  “What about the other girl?” he asked.

  “Betsy?” I shook my head into the phone. “I don’t know her all that well, but she’s not exactly what I’d chalk up to be a cold blooded killer.” We were both quiet for a few moments. “I guess it could be someone that neither of us suspects. Like the intern.”

  After a few more seconds of pondering, Barry heaved another sigh. “Look, Marian,” he said quietly, “I trust you. That’s why I’m telling you this. I trust that you know your coworkers, too. But questions are headed your way, and a lot of them, I imagine. Keep your mouth shut. Don’t ask questions. Don’t answer them.”

  “Are we suspects?” I asked, taken aback.

  “Yes,” he answered matter-of-factly. “Why do you think I’m asking you to lay low until all of this gets figured out?”

  “But we didn’t-”

  “I believe you,” he cut me off. “I don’t know how or why they’re linking it back to you just yet, but I can tell you that until this is all cleared up, you need to be careful.” There was a pause. “You need to get a gun.”

  “Why does everyone keep saying that?” I seethed. “I’m not going to get a gun.”

  “Just think about getting one, will you?” he begged. “If it isn’t any of you, I have no idea who it
could be. Things are going to stay tight-lipped around here until your dad backs off, they find new evidence, one of you four winds up dead, or all of the above.”

  I gulped. He wasn’t joking. “How long until toxicology is back?” I asked.

  “It could still be a few weeks,” he admitted. “Although, if they’re thinking it could be someone on the inside, they’re going to work a whole lot faster.”

  “I’m not even a salaried employee,” I muttered. “Why is it that I have to deal with this?”

  “Don’t plan on any work for a while,” he said. “And think about getting that gun.” He paused. “Oh, and Marian?”

  “What?”

  “You can’t tell a soul about this conversation. Addison, Rory, your parents- keep your mouth shut, or I could lose my job. Do you understand me?”

  I nodded and though he couldn’t hear me, the other end of the line clicked and I found myself staring at my cell, even as it blinked that the call was over. I couldn’t believe that this was happening. What could the police possibly have as evidence that made them consider us criminals? “Whatever it is, it must be a doozy,” I told Fred. Disinterested, he maintained a mellow paddle near the bottom of his tank.

  Laying my head back on the couch, still clutching my phone, I closed my eyes and tried to piece together the puzzle.

  The week passed by me in a blur. Knowing that I was useless at faking upbeat emotions when my insides felt like they were turning out, I avoided the studio at all costs. Rory would sniff out my secret in a second. That was if Addison Dawes, undercover reporter, didn’t hound it out of me first. I responded to texts with cheery punctuation and a lot of emoticons, hoping to cover the worry and fear I felt — I was drenched in it. I’d even gotten my gun permit and purchased a .45 Magnum, much to my mother’s dismay. Meanwhile, my father had muttered something to me about being able to keep the porn nuts at bay and I took it as a token of approval.