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

by Allison Janda

  “He said he had feelings for you.”

  “Maybe he was just hoping to get into my pants.”

  “But he didn’t try,” she said, pausing to peer at me over her reading glasses. “He just said it. And then never touched you. It’s like he’s serious.” We both thought about this for a few moments and then Addie went back to typing up her article. “I don’t know,” she said between clicks. “It sounds like there might be some actual potential. Which you deserve after multiple disappointments and your disturbingly long dry spell.”

  “Why don’t you ever have dry spells?” I asked glumly.

  “Because I’m not picky,” she said without breaking her typing.

  “But you still ended up with a winner.”

  “After a lot more bullshit. I’d prefer to have started dating Rory about three years ago rather than going through my endless string of fun losers.”

  “It’s not like he wasn’t interested.”

  “Sometimes, you just can’t see it until you need to.”

  I squinted hard at her screen. “What are you writing?” I asked her, struggling to read the small type.

  “Nothing,” she answered, turning the screen so that I no longer had a view. “Or at least nothing that I can tell you about just yet.”

  “Is it all part of your big secret plan?”

  “Yup.”

  “Looks like an editorial.”

  “Stop thinking about it.”

  I sighed. “Well, I’m going to head out. I just wanted to fill you in on my bizarre morning.”

  “Bizarre indeed,” she replied. “Let’s keep in touch this week. Let me know when you hear back from Janet. You feeling okay? Need a watch dog? I can call Rory.”

  “No, it’s fine,” I said, waving her off. “I’m headed over to the offices anyway. There’s nothing to do at the apartment other than sit around and stare at Fred. Besides, Rory is piecing together the new issue. We send to print on Friday. I want to see Mika’s spread.” Addison’s lips curled into an evil grin. “Don’t,” I warned her.

  “What did I say?” she asked innocently.

  No sooner had I walked in the door of the studio than my phone begin to ring. Smiling, I pulled off my mitten and grabbed the phone out of my pocket. It wasn’t Mika. It was Janet. “Hey!” I answered in happy surprise.

  “Hi!” she returned. “How in the heck are you?”

  “I’m good, I’m good,” I said, slowly pulling off my other mitten and my hat as I made my way upstairs to the office. “Glad you were able to call.”

  “The hubs and I were on a belated anniversary trip down south,” she said lazily. “Ever been to Costa Rica?”

  “Oh sure. I haven’t,” I laughed.

  “You really need to go,” she told me. “The beaches, the hiking, the mountains.” She sighed. “I’m ready to go back.”

  “How soon until Rob retires?”

  “You kidding?” she scoffed. “Even when he retires, he’ll never actually retire. Not to the point where we could run off and live in another country half the year, anyway.”

  “Yeah, but you’re in Florida, now. Life sure could be a lot rougher.”

  She giggled. “Very true. I’ll count my blessings instead of continuing to whine. How much snow have you gotten so far?”

  “About eight inches.”

  “We have a spare room. Right now, the dog is the only one who uses it.”

  “I may just take you up on that if things keep going the way they are,” I told her.

  “Your message sounded a bit worrisome. Care to fill me in?” I did. I recounted everything from start to finish, including Mika’s sleepover and the editorial that Addison wouldn’t let me see. Janet let out a low whistle. “That doesn’t sound like the department I left behind at all.”

  “I know,” I told her. “I’m so confused. And disappointed. But I knew that I can count on you and Barry to maybe guide me towards a few more people in there who I can trust to give me the honest scoop.”

  “Barry Delcore?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Huh. I didn’t think he’d actually stay with the department. What’s he up to these days? Was he promoted or anything?”

  “He’s a detective now,” I said. “One of the younger ones. What made you think he wouldn’t stay with the department?”

  “You know he took acting in college, right?”

  “Yeah, we went to both high school and college together,” I told her. “But after his freshman year at the university, his dad said he’d only pay tuition if Barry took on a more serious career. He bounced around for a couple of months but one night during a study session I asked him to quiz me for a criminal justice class. He was hooked.”

  “Huh. That I did not know,” she answered. “He just never seemed overly involved in the work. Changed partners a lot more often than the rest of us, too. Any idea who he’s with now?”

  “Carly something or another. I’ve only met her once.”

  “Carly Ipson,” Janet supplied. “She was good people. Why don’t you try reaching out to her? Frankly, I’ve known her far better and longer than I have Barry. But I guess you’ve known him a long time. Plus, I don’t really like any men outside of my husband. And even he’s questionable at times.”

  We both laughed and chatted for a few more minutes about work, men and the craziness that was life. After we hung up, I took a deep breath and let it out. I felt more at peace than I had in a very long time, as I always did after speaking with Janet. She was one of those people that you wouldn’t speak to for a year but could pick things up right where you’d left off. Though she was a few years older than me, we’d taken to each other right away. She was like a big sister without all of the fighting and chaos.

  Checking my watch, I decided it would be a fine time to pop in on Rory and convince him to take me to lunch. Downstairs, he was bent over his computer, fervently alternating between clicks and typing. “How’s it going?” I asked him.

  “Oh, fine,” he said. “Almost done actually. And Mika is looking pretty good.” He turned his screen so that I’d have a better view and I literally gasped out loud. “I know, right?” Rory said, turning the screen back so that he could focus on the typed review that was off to the left of the photograph.

  “Photoshop?” I asked him, trying to peer around his head to take in the photo again.

  “Nada,” Rory answered. “You took some pretty inspired shots.” I gently socked his shoulder. “Well, you did,” he murmured under his breath. Click. Click. Click.

  “Can you still make your deadline if you take me to lunch?” I asked.

  “Sure can. And I’m driving.” He clicked the save button and closed out of his computer. Standing, he grabbed his jacket off of the coat rack in his cubicle.

  “You bought something new?” I asked, walking towards the exit.

  “Didn’t you see Addison earlier?” he asked. I nodded my head and pushed the back door open, the wind hitting my face sharply. At least it had stopped snowing for the time being. “I can’t believe she didn’t spill the beans,” he said, pulling a clicker out of his coat pocket.

  A gorgeous, silver car flashed its lights and beeped at us. “Is that an Audi?”

  “Sure is,” he told me, tossing me the key. “And on second thought, why don’t you drive it?”

  I hesitated, taking in the sleek curve of the car including the “In Transit” stickers that showed none other than today’s date. The shiny silver hubcaps and the graceful lines of the bumper. “I don’t think I should,” I said, weakly holding out the keys to him, but he was zipping past me and sliding into the passenger seat before I could say much else. Gulping, I opened the driver side door and slipped behind the wheel. Hesitantly, I started the engine and felt the car let out a low, throaty purr. I laid my hands softly on the wheel and closed my eyes, feeling its power. “Time to let loose and do a little living, kid,” Rory said. “Put her in gear and take me somewhere good.”

  T
wenty minutes later, we’d pulled into the lot of our favorite dingy bar, Al’s Burgers. Not only did they have an eye-popping array of beers on tap, they also served the best Juicy Lucy’s in the city. As a matter of fact, Addison herself had written just that in her review of them about two years ago. Theirs had been one of my favorite photo shoots from over the years — with our entire gang, Rory and Addison included, posing with a Juicy Lucy and a pint of beer.

  The studio had been filled with laughter that day. The models had been the only ones stripped down to their usual ‘attire’ but somehow, Rory and Addison had come into their own throughout the session. The final result was magical. I smiled at the poster-sized photo that Al himself had bought from us and enlarged. It hung behind the bar, above all the taps, for everyone to see. Next to it, in a much smaller frame, was the photo and accompanying review from Food Porn. It added some character to the dark bar, which was scattered with buzzy fluorescent lighting and cheap, standing room only tables.

  Rory and I took two of the coveted stools that were situated along the actual bar. Al greeted us with a friendly wave and signaled that he’d be down in just a minute. He was in the process of drying pint glasses.

  After lunch, I drove Rory back to the office. “You coming in or…?”

  “I think I’m just going to head home,” I told him.

  “You sure? Do you want me to go with you?”

  I smiled and handed him his keys. “No, I’m okay. Really.”

  He shook his head. “Of course you are. I just-” he paused and we looked at each other for a few moments. I reached out and covered his hand with one of mine.

  “I know,” I told him gently. “But I can’t keep wondering if and when.”

  He covered my hand with his free one. “Good point.”

  I covered his hand with my free one and we played that game for a few seconds before I laughed and gave up. As we stepped out of the car, he grinned at me over the roof. “I’ll email you the final mockup tonight,” he told me. “Will you have time to do the sweep?”

  “I’ll be waiting,” I grinned. “And based off of what I’ve already seen, I can’t wait.”

  On my way home that afternoon, I turned up the radio and sang along with every tune I knew. I switched up the radio stations every once in awhile and bounced back and forth between mainstream pop, ’80s and ’90s music and an R&B station. The snow had started up again, but was only lightly dusting the roadways. The wind wasn’t blowing at all.

  I pulled safely into the parking lot of my apartment building. Checking around, I grabbed my purse and made a mad dash for the inside before anyone could pop out of the bushes and drag me away. As soon as the elevators dinged open on my floor, my phone began its familiar ring. I patted both coat pockets before starting to dig frantically through my purse. I finally found it in a side pocket. I’m not entirely sure why I never put it in the same place. It would make my life so much easier. “Hello?” I asked hurriedly, not bothering to check the number.

  “Just hearing you answer the phone makes me smile,” Mika told me.

  I smiled, stopping in front of my door as I dug for my keys. “Is that so?”

  “It is. What are you up to?”

  “Oh, just got home. Went to go check out next month’s issue. I’ll get the rough draft from Rory tonight and it’s set to go to print this Friday. There’s this really hot guy featured. I kind of want to ogle the photos before anyone else can.”

  “Any chance I could get a preview?” he teased.

  “I might know someone,” I teased back, unlocking my front door. As soon as I stepped inside, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “Wait a second,” I said quietly, pausing in the hallway.

  “Marian? What’s wrong?” Mika asked, his tone slightly panicked.

  “Someone was here,” I answered. “I’ll call you back.”

  “No. Marian, wait-”

  I hung up and stuffed my phone deep into my purse and then set my purse on the floor near the door. Locking the door behind me, I removed my coat, knelt down and started rifling through my purse for the sock that held my gun. I wasn’t totally sure how to use it, but it couldn’t be that difficult, right? It was already loaded, after all. At least, I was pretty sure it was.

  My phone started to ring again but I ignored it. Pulling out the gun, I slowly raised it, like I’d seen in every crime movie and television show I’d ever watched. The phone stopped ringing and the apartment plunged into silence. Seconds later, it rang again. Ignoring it, I peeked around the corner of the entryway and into the living room. No one was there. Slowly, I made my way around to the other side of the couch and gently pulled aside the curtains with the barrel of the gun. They were empty, too.

  Spinning, I crept slowly into the kitchen. Opening my cabinets one by one, and finally the pantry door, I realized that it was all clear. Making my way to the opposite end of the apartment, I quickly checked the bathroom. Nothing had been disturbed. That only left one room. With a deep, calming breath, I tried to relax my shoulders. That’s what they always said when characters were being taught how to shoot on television, right? Then, I tiptoed the rest of the way down the hall and gently pushed my bedroom door open with the barrel of my gun. I checked the closet, under the bed and behind the door. Realizing that everything was clear, I lowered my weapon and slumped to the floor. As I went to slide the gun onto my bedside table, I paused. The top drawer was slightly ajar.

  As just about anyone close to me can tell you, I am obsessive compulsive when it comes to keeping things tidy. Dishes don’t stay in the sink. Rugs remain perfectly straight. My drawers are always completely closed. It’s weird, but it’s my thing. I had not left that bedside table drawer open.

  Timidly, I worked the drawer open with the barrel of my gun. There, sitting tidily in the middle of my clean, folded sheets was a cupcake swathed in a trademark Yummy Tummy wrapper.

  I’m not sure how long I sat there. My phone had rung a few more times, but I continued to ignore it. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t seem to remove my gaze from that stupid cupcake wrapped within the signature Yummy Tummy wrapper.

  “Marian?” asked a voice from the doorway. Screaming, I stood and reached for the gun. “Woah, woah, woah!” Mika said, raising his hands. “It’s okay, it’s just me.” Shaking, I slowly lowered the gun. He approached me with caution, his hands still raised to show me that we wasn’t hiding anything. “You didn’t pick up. I got worried.”

  Something occurred to me and I quickly raised the gun again. Mika paused. “How did you get in?” I asked, my voice deathly low.

  He hesitated. “Your door was unlocked.”

  I shook my head and kept the gun level at his chest. “It wasn’t. I locked it when I came in. After I hung up with you.”

  “You didn’t,” he said, taking a tiny step forward.

  I got the feeling that he was sizing me up, trying to figure out how he could wrangle the gun out of my hands. “Stop!” I cried. He did. “Quit talking to me like I’m crazy. I’m not crazy. I know I locked that door.”

  “Put down the gun and let me explain.”

  “No.”

  “Marian. Please.”

  “There’s a cupcake in my drawer. Did you put it there?”

  “A what?”

  I motioned to the drawer with my head. “Come look,” I told him. “Slowly.”

  He looked befuddled, but did as I asked. “Why did you put that there?” he asked me.

  “I didn’t!” I shrieked. “Someone has been in my apartment. Someone put that there. Now tell me, how did you get in?”

  “Okay,” he said, slowly reaching out. “I’m going to take the gun and we’re going to talk about this. Look at me. Look at me, Marian.” I did. I searched his eyes completely. “Give me the gun, please.” Slowly, keeping my gaze locked with his, I handed him the gun. He looked visibly relieved. After a few quick-handed movements, he was peering into the bullet chamber. “This isn’t even loaded.”r />
  “Oh,” I said, sitting back down on the bed.

  “Do you even know how to shoot this?” he asked me, incredulously.

  “Maybe I just wanted you to think I had a loaded gun,” I said matter-of-factly.

  “You never unlocked the safety.”

  “The what?”

  “Oh, Marian. I’m going to teach you so many things.”

  I felt a stirring in my nether regions, but fought hard to ignore it. “How did you get in?” I asked him again.

  “I’ll get to that,” he promised. “But first I need you to tell me what happened.”

  A bit later, we were sitting at the kitchen table. Mika had made himself at home, boiling water for tea and setting out two mugs. “You can’t stay here by yourself tonight,” he told me. “It’s dangerous.”

  “I’m tired of staying with other people,” I told him. “I’m not leaving. James has already been here. He’s probably not going to come back.”

  “Why are you so sure that it’s James?” he asked.

  “The cupcake was clearly from Yummy Tummy,” I answered defensively. “And it’s obvious that he is involved in some shady business. He told me himself at dinner.”

  “First of all, anyone could have simply bought that cupcake,” he told me, handing me a mug filled with steaming hot tea. “Second of all, what is this obsession with James?”

  “It is not an obsession,” I scoffed. “I’ve just known him a long time. We have…we have history. And now he’s trying to kill me.”

  “If he is trying to kill you,” Mika said, taking a seat backward on a chair, “then it sounds like it’s just business.” I glared at him and contemplated dumping my tea on his head. “What kind of history?”

  I froze. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Well, if it’s history, it shouldn’t matter. Spill.”

  I cleared my throat. “We dated. Well, date. We went on a date. Once.”

  “Go on.”

  “And then we…well, we slept together. Later. Another time. A long time after our date.” I tugged at my sweater. It was getting incredibly hot and uncomfortable in the kitchen. “I kind of- he kind of- was. Well, the first. One. And then…well, it was just once.”