by Linda Wiken
She was out of her seat before J.J. could answer.
Helped? I’ll say. J.J. decided it would be best to think about what she’d learned before leaping into the next question period. She needed to be cleverer than the murderer if she was going to trap a killer.
CHAPTER 10
J.J. paused, pen in hand, debating if she should put Kathi Jones’s name on the suspect list or the bystander list. This wasn’t how she’d planned to spend her evening, but she couldn’t let it go. She’d spent the last half hour trying to sort out whether or not she believed in Kathi’s sincerity or whether jealousy over the job had been such an intense emotion that Kathi had plotted to kill Miranda.
She thought back to her job in her previous life, as an account planner at a major advertising agency in Montpelier. Competition was intense between reps wanting to keep their jobs by landing and keeping new clients. The keeping was the part that had always excited J.J., coming up with the creative plan for the successful marketing of the client’s product, be it an actual item or a lifestyle, and working with the copywriters to make it happen. She’d probably still be doing it if she hadn’t discovered that her fiancé, also a rep at the same firm, had used his masculine wiles to compete and complete the signing of a new wealthy client. A female client, twenty years older but eager to hop into bed with Patrick. J.J. had confronted him, then resigned from her job of five years. She couldn’t stand being in the same company with him anymore nor in the same city.
At the invitation of her old college roommate, Skye Drake, she’d come back to visit Half Moon Bay, part of the north Burlington shoreline on Lake Champlain. She felt that same tug from when she’d last been there, back in her first year of college, and decided that’s where she wanted to live. When Skye offered her a job at Make It Happen, her event planning company, J.J. jumped at the change in her life. She’d never looked back.
So, she knew all about jealousy, how it could eat at you and cause you to take drastic steps. But murder had never been anything she’d considered. And she just couldn’t believe Kathi Jones would, either. Especially for a job. Although she could be wrong.
She put Kathi on the suspect list but at the bottom.
Next she made a list of who to talk to on her next visit to WBVT. Lonny Chan. Hennie Ferguson. And, of course, the elusive Donald Cooper. She’d better make an appointment with him. Come to think of it, she’d better make appointments with the other two, also. She made a note to do all of that first thing in the morning, refilled Indie’s water dish and left some treats beside it, then headed to bed.
• • •
J.J. was the first to arrive at Make It Happen the next morning. She flipped on the lights and her computer, had a few more sips of her latte, and got to work. First of all, she checked her e-mail for anything urgent. Nothing needed immediate attention, so she phoned the TV station to make those appointments.
Donald Cooper’s assistant said he was in town and had some time available at ten thirty, so she slotted her in, while Hennie Ferguson agreed to see her just before that. She had to settle for leaving a message for Lonny Chan. She left her smartphone number, hoping he’d call while she was there and she could complete her task in one swoop.
Skye kicked at the door with her foot, and when J.J. opened the door, she waltzed in, her hands holding a cardboard tray with two coffee cups and a bag of goodies in the center. Her pride and joy, her Louis Vuitton purse, swung on her arm in time to the clack of her high-heeled suede boots across the floor.
“Thought I’d treat us today. I know, you’ve already picked up a latte, but a second one will help, I’m sure.” She deposited one of the cups on J.J.’s desk and opened the paper bag, waving it under her nose. “Chocolate croissants, anyone?”
“Hmmm. Not that I need one. But thanks.” J.J. eagerly stuck a hand in the bag and brought out what she thought must be the largest chocolate croissant in town.
“Need is not the issue here. It’s purely want and desire. Plus, it’s a good energy boost.”
“And why do I need an energy boost?”
“Because I need you to do some brainstorming with me this morning. I’m stuck on the Northanda account. I need some ideas for a highly spectacular, once-in-a-lifetime corporate retreat. Are you in?”
J.J. pushed aside thoughts of her own brainstorming that needed doing. Skye had helped her a lot in the past. Now it was payback time. “I’ve got half an hour, if that works.”
She dragged her chair over to Skye’s desk, sat back, and bit into the still-warm croissant. “Yum. Heavenly.”
“Agreed. So, here’s what I’ve got so far.” Skye flipped open her iPad and found the document, a work in progress. “They’re trying to rebuild with a fairly young team after some setbacks and missteps. I’m thinking make it three days, that’s according to management, who feels they can’t afford to be away any longer. Something in the Middlebury area so it’s not too long a drive.”
“What does the Northanda group do?”
“Insurance. Haven’t you seen their ads on TV? Their logos on the sides of buildings? Their name in the paper in some very recent high-profile lawsuits? These kids are the go-getters. They’re all pretty savvy when it comes to what they’re promoting, in their late twenties and early thirties mostly, and game for almost anything. Ideas?”
J.J. leaned back in her chair and gave it some thought. Most ideas that came quickly were the old tried and true ones, but she had a feeling that’s the last thing the Northanda group wanted. “I suppose you’re thinking at least a half day of physical activity forcing them to rely on one another?”
“Uh-huh. I’ve been thinking about something involving a zip line, among other things, maybe in Jeffersonville or Bromley.”
“Now you’re all over the map.” She grinned. “You know, I’ve always wanted to try one of those.”
“You have? You, who can’t stand heights? That you?” Skye couldn’t have look more surprised.
J.J. adjusted her posture. “In theory, yes. What appeals is that you’re really securely tied in or up, as the case may be. There’s no chance of taking a misstep and falling into a canyon or down a cliff.”
“In theory. So, we’re agreed. That’s day one maybe, in the afternoon after they’ve had a chance to sign in, grab a coffee, and have a bit of orientation. Day two should be … what?”
Skye’s phone rang and she glanced at the caller ID. “Nick,” she mouthed as she answered the call.
J.J. took the cue and moved back to her own desk. She tried not to eavesdrop on the lovebirds’ conversation, as hard at that was to do in the small office. She set aside thoughts of the Northanda issue and found her mind wandering back to the murder. She thought it might be a good time to visit their co-tenant across the hall, Tansy Paine, who seemed to have her fingers on every pulse in the community. Chances were she’d heard something about Miranda Myers or the TV station or both.
Tansy’s outer office was empty. Again. J.J. wondered if the assistant was soon to be a former employee. She could hear Tansy’s voice coming from behind the door in the inner office. It sounded like she was on the phone. J.J. sat on the side of the desk, waiting, hoping it wouldn’t be a long call. When she heard the phone being hung up, she knocked on the door and entered as Tansy called out.
“J.J., great to see you. Business or pleasure? Should I start the clock?”
J.J. gave an exaggerated shudder. “I can’t afford your lawyer fees, I’m afraid, so it’s purely pleasure.
“Good. I’d hate to think you’re in trouble again, although that was a nasty business on the boat.”
“I think I’m still in shock. It’s almost surreal what happened to Miranda Myers. Did you know her?” Might as well jump right in.
Tansy eyed her a few seconds and then smiled. “I didn’t know her, and I know you’re trying to get information out of me because you’re meddling again, aren’t you?”
J.J. bristled. “I wouldn’t call it meddling. I feel a certain amount of
responsibility. I did organize the event, after all, and asked her to be an emcee. And then there’s my friend Connor Mac, who I’m sure is at the top of the suspect list.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because they had history and he’s disappeared. Or something.”
Tansy whistled. “Oh boy. Not a smart thing on his part. This is the guy you’ve been dating?”
“Not really ‘dating.’ We’re good friends and go out on occasion.”
“So, dating. Define disappear.” Tansy pulled a small compact mirror out of her desk drawer and did a quick check of her face and hair. The spiky ends of her short red hair stood at attention and almost matched the shade of her lipstick.
“No one has heard from him for a couple of days.”
She looked up at J.J. “I gather, not even the police?”
“As far as I know, no.”
She placed the compact back in her drawer and slowly closed it. “Well, I wouldn’t get involved if I were you. But I know how you love being told that. So I’ll tell you that I have met Miranda Myers on occasion, but it’s her brother I know better. We were classmates at UVM and have kept in touch. He’s actually running for state attorney, and knowing him, it’s just a stepping-stone. He asked me just a couple of weeks ago to work on his campaign, but I declined. As much as I respect and like him, I try to keep out of politics.”
“Interesting. Quite a high-profile family, then.”
Tansy shrugged. “They’re both the types of personalities that are out there. At least, his sister was.”
“Do you think I could drop your name if I try to talk to him?”
“Sure, but I’d hold off for a while if I were you. Don’t want to appear too crass.”
J.J. bit the inside of her cheek to hold in her first response. Then she smiled as she stood, and said, “Of course. I’m not planning on intruding on his grief. Thanks for the information.”
Tansy nodded and started flipping through her pile of papers before J.J. even opened the door.
J.J. was still shaking her head as she entered her own office.
“What’s up?” Skye asked.
“I think Tansy must believe I’m a total idiot.” She outlined their conversation, and Skye laughed.
“I wouldn’t take it to heart. You know Tansy. She’s dynamite in a courtroom, or so I’ve heard, but doesn’t always apply a filter out in real life. I fully believe you will act tactfully and tastefully.”
“Thank you. I’ll try to live up to your expectations. Ready to get back to brainstorming?”
“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like to put it off till a bit later today. I have a Nick errand to deal with first.”
“That’s perfectly fine. I’ll start my search for a caterer for the high school reunion, and then I think I’ll try out some of that tact at the TV station.”
“You’re not planning on using Epicurial Expressions again? I thought you said they did a good job for the casino night.”
“They did, but I want to try someone a bit more in tune with the times, that being the ’80s. I’ll have to do some research and see just what food was popular back then.”
“Uh, right. You were too young to remember.”
“That’s it. What does Nick want you to do?”
“He asked if I could pop by the drapery store and make a final choice between the two sets we’ve been looking at. He doesn’t know when he’ll find the time to go back. And here I thought dentists led well-ordered, nine-to-five lives.” She chuckled.
“He’s lucky he’s got you is all I can say.” She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind the coffee machine. “Whoa, no time for caterers. I’d better take off or I’ll miss my chance to talk to the manager at the TV station. Wish me luck.”
“You got it.”
• • •
Hennie Ferguson was waiting at the front desk for J.J. when she walked into the station lobby.
“Hi,” Hennie said, sticking her hand out, then introducing herself. “I saw you when you were in yesterday so I thought I’d wait here. I’m sorry but I don’t have a lot of time. They’re rotating staff in Miranda’s slot”—she paused to sniff—“so I’m running at turbo speed. It seems I’m the only one who knows what’s going on here.”
“The glue.”
“Huh?”
“That’s what my mom always calls herself. The glue that holds the household together. Guess you’re it for the show.” J.J. smiled, hoping to put Hennie at ease.
It seemed to work. Hennie’s narrow lips relaxed into a small smile, but the blue eyes behind her large, dark-rimmed glasses remained wary. Her dark hair was held back with clips and fell straight, well past her shoulders. She wore a long-sleeved white blouse with a dark green cotton vest overtop, brown slacks, and flat shoes. She reminded J.J. of one of the characters on the TV show The Big Bang Theory. She wondered if it ran on WBVT and that’s where Hennie found the look.
“Yeah, guess that’s right. So let’s go to my desk. What do you want to ask me anyway?”
J.J. followed her down the corridor, keeping her eye on the interior “courtyard” that was completely glassed in and held the broadcast studios. The offices were built around this core. Hennie’s office was almost directly across from the front door, J.J. guessed. Hennie pushed open the door and pointed to a chair. The office was barely large enough for one desk, a massive file cabinet, and the chair. Posters of classic rock groups covered what wall space wasn’t hidden behind furniture. A small window, tiny horizontal shades pulled shut, probably looked out on the alley, or so J.J. imagined.
“Cozy,” J.J. said, moving some newspapers off the chair before sitting.
“I don’t even notice anymore. I’m usually buried in newspapers. Yes, it’s the old-fashioned way, but it complements researching on the computer.”
“What are all the file cabinets for?”
Hennie shrugged. “Old stuff. Before my time, in the age of dinosaurs when everything was totally paper. Nobody’s gotten around to sorting it or throwing it out. I’ve forgotten it’s there. So, what do you want to know?”
J.J. pretended to be interested in her surroundings, but she kept Hennie in sight, watching for reactions. “Did Miranda have any enemies here at the station?”
“Right to the point.” Hennie sat on the edge of her desk and looked to be pondering the question. “Not really enemies. There’s a lot of jealous people in TV, and since she had a prime-time spot, she was the target of a lot of it. But then again, she gave as good as she got.”
“Oh, really?”
Hennie nodded. “She wasn’t about to be put down by Kathi Jones or anyone else. I admired her for that. She knew what she wanted and set about getting it.”
“Do you think Kathi might have tried anything?”
“Like killing her? Not likely. Kathi likes spreading rumors about people. Death by words, that’s her style.” Interesting. Maybe.
“And Miranda’s style?”
Hennie straightened up and grabbed a clipboard from her desk. “What’s that got to do with it? She is the victim, isn’t she?”
“You’re so right. What about Miranda’s private life?”
“She didn’t talk about that very often. I knew when she was planning on meeting someone after the show, of course. She’d leave here dressed to the nines. And, of course, I knew if a guy showed up here to see her, like Connor Mac would the odd time.”
“Were they seeing each other?”
“I guess, but like I said, I had no real way of knowing.” She glanced at the clock. “Uh-oh. Got to move it. The pre-air meeting starts in five. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
She nodded at J.J. and went to hold the door open for her. “Miranda was more into innuendos.”
J.J. looked at her sharply and got a deadpan look in return. She thanked Hennie and made her way back to the reception area. She watched the goings-on in the studios as she retraced her steps. One large window allowed h
er to see what looked to be a recording studio. For what, she wasn’t sure. One fellow with a large headset on glanced her way, then quickly looked back at the page he was holding.
“Mr. Cooper is waiting for you,” the receptionist told J.J. when she approached the desk in the front entry. “Just go down the hall, the other direction. His office is the corner suite at the far end.” She answered an incoming call before J.J. could say anything.
Walking around the opposite side of the studio block presented an entirely different view. This was the newsroom side, and J.J. marveled at the number of monitors and TV screens angled around the room. Most people were sitting at their desks, either typing on the computer or talking on the phone. For so many people and so much equipment, J.J. found it surprisingly silent. Talk about soundproofing. She found Cooper’s office right where she’d been told. She took a deep breath, trying to ease the knot in her stomach that had started to tighten when she’d first mentioned Miranda’s name this morning. Get a grip. It’s not your fault. She knocked and entered when he called out.
Her first impression was that this was the power place. The window blinds were open and the view was a spectacular one of Lake Champlain. From this level, it was difficult to see the buildings cascading down the hillside below the station.
She pegged Donald Cooper to be in his late fifties, although his closely cropped light hair and freckled face made it hard to be sure. A stocky man, maybe five foot six, close to J.J.’s height. He was wearing a blue dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a red tie. A dark suit jacket hung on a hook behind the door. He rose to shake her hand as she crossed to his desk. When she’d settled in a chair, he offered her a coffee but she declined.
“Okay, right down to business. What can I do for you, Miss Tanner?”
“As I said on the phone to your assistant, I’m the one who hired Miranda Myers to be co-emcee at the casino night, and so I feel some responsibility here. I’m hoping an untrained eye, namely mine, can spot something that the police might not in their investigation.”