Kill the Competition

by Stephanie Bond

  “Those two detectives were pretty sneaky,” Libby said. “They tried to get me to say I thought you did it.”

  “Me, too,” Carole said.

  “Same here,” Rosemary added. The pinch between her eyebrows had become a distinct furrow.

  Belinda wet her lips. “What did you guys say?”

  “Well,” Libby said, her voice higher than normal, “I told them about the disagreement you had with Margo last week—but that was no secret.”

  Belinda’s stomach began to gurgle.

  “And they asked if I heard Jim Newberry threaten Margo, but I told them you were the only one. Even Brita said she couldn’t hear anything from her desk.”

  Her stomach bucked, but it was, fortunately, empty. So she was the only person who had heard Jim Newberry threaten to kill Margo, and the woman had been found in her car. There had to be a word to describe that kind of coincidence, but all she could think of at the moment was unlucky.

  “But that was all I said,” Libby declared.

  “I didn’t tell them anything,” Carole declared. “I don’t trust the police.”

  Belinda glanced at Rosemary, who shook her head. “I told them they’d be better off looking for Jim Newberry than asking questions about you. I’m surprised you’re going to work today.”

  Belinda stifled a yawn. “I thought it was better than sitting at home.” Although now she was rethinking that thought.

  “Well, I doubt if anyone gets much done today,” Libby said. “Do you know if Mr. Archer is coming in, Rosemary?”

  “I doubt it. The news really hit him hard.”

  Belinda worried the inside of her lip with her teeth. Since Margo probably hadn’t had a chance to talk to anyone about stalling the acquisition before she’d departed, approaching Juneau Archer and confessing the truth about the Payton financials would be the only responsible thing to do. The CEO would probably fire her on the spot, but at least she would have a clearer conscience. And she could relinquish some of this crushing guilt that the bad kismet she had put out into the universe had somehow set into motion this series of terrible events.

  She leaned her head back and strained to hear Julian’s voice on the radio. His sexy voice never failed to soften her, but his cheer seemed forced this morning, his accent more exaggerated, his comments about careless drivers more biting. Regret overwhelmed her for involving him in this mess. The police had most certainly already talked to him about the murder, so she would be surprised if she ever heard from him again. On the other hand, considering what Wade had told her about Julian’s womanizing, she wasn’t so sure that was such a bad thing. Of course she hadn’t objected when she was the woman being ized.

  The morning sun slanting through the window felt so comforting on her face, almost maternal. She closed her eyes. It was heaven not to have to drive.

  “Belinda, don’t go to sleep!” Libby said. “Tell us something.”

  She fought another yawn and lost. “I read the DOs and DON’Ts manuscript, and I thought it was great.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. And I have another one for you—‘DON’T forget that men are unnecessary.’ ”

  “Let her sleep,” Rosemary said. “She’s been through hell, and a person can only take so much.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re proof of that.”

  “Be quiet, Libby. Do your hair.”

  Belinda heard them through a haze as she sank deeper into the seat. The steady rhythm of the tires on pavement and the gentle sway of the car was…so…

  Sexy. Like Wade Alexander’s smile, when he let himself…his ex-wife had taken his smile with her…taken his smile and left a cat…like Vince…Red Rover, Red Rover, make Belinda start over…

  A murmur of voices came to her…Libby…Carole…Rosemary…drinking martinis…poor Jeanie in the wrong place, wrong time…Margo had gotten what she deserved…what goes around comes around…as long as everyone keeps their mouth shut…everything will be fine…

  She was crossing the street with a man…Julian…from around the curve came a speeding car…she couldn’t move…she didn’t want to move…exhilarating terror gripped her just before impact—

  She started awake. Fear drained from her slowly, like a bathtub full of cold water, drawing off to leave a person even colder. She shivered and tried to focus on the passing scenery. She felt as if she’d closed her eyes for only a few seconds, but they were nearing the Stratford Building. She wet her lips and tasted Aqua Net. Gradually she tuned in to the conversation around her.

  “…maybe Margo was the person Ricky was referring to when he said something bad was going to happen to someone I’m close to,” Carole was saying.

  “You and Margo weren’t close,” Rosemary said.

  “We were close in proximity.”

  “When?”

  “Whenever I delivered her confidential envelopes.”

  “That’s a stretch,” Libby said. “Hey, sleeping beauty, are you awake?”

  Belinda sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Sorry about that.”

  “Feeling better?” Carole asked.

  Belinda nodded, but the remnants of her troubling dreams still hunkered in the corners of her mind. Had she imagined the conversation between the women? It had seemed so real…but then so had the car racing toward her. It must have been how Margaret Mitchell had felt, paralyzed with fear, marveling over the sheer absurdity of her life ending in such a trivial fashion.

  Here lies Belinda Hennessey. She was caught off guard.

  Rosemary slowed to turn into the parking garage, then buzzed down her window and swiped her employee badge to trigger the steel arm to raise. As they drove up and around, eyes peeled for an empty parking space, Belinda fought a rising sense of panic. Everything about the building had taken on an eerie quality—dark corners and shadowy twists and turns.

  The entire eighth floor of the garage had been cordoned off, no stretch of the imagination as to why. Belinda’s heart rate speeded up. They climbed to the twelfth floor before they found an empty spot. Rosemary parked, and they all took their time rolling out. Belinda looked around nervously, expecting to see Jim Newberry jump out from behind every concrete column.

  “This ought to be an interesting day,” Libby said as they walked toward the elevator bays. “Well, what do you know, they finally got the sixth elevator fixed.”

  Belinda stared at the clean spot across the doors, where the Out of Order sticker had been, and she started to perspire. She wasn’t normally a touchy-feely person, but this building seemed to vibrate with bad karma. “I’m taking the stairs.”

  “Are you okay?” Libby asked.

  Belinda nodded, pushed open the door to the stairwell, and exhaled. Perhaps, she thought as she gripped the handrail and descended at a child’s pace, she should have stayed home today. It was ludicrous to think that she or anyone at Archer could simply go on about their business. Margo was still too alive in her memory to be dead. By the time Belinda reached the eighth floor, she was imagining she could smell the woman’s overpowering perfume.

  Too many elements in her life were spinning out of control. She longed for the unexciting existence she’d enjoyed before moving to Atlanta, with her future mapped out in tedious detail. Tears of frustration pricked at her eyelids, but she blinked them away. So many things were out of kilter, could she ever set them right?

  As Belinda walked through the Archer reception area, conversations halted and people stared. She strode to her cubicle, her skin prickling from their unabashed fascination. Her head felt light—the lack of sleep and the stress of the previous day were catching up to her. When she entered her cube, she dropped into one of her mis-matched chairs and breathed deeply until the stars subsided. Fatigue pulled at her shoulders, tears threatened. Her phone rang, startling her—an external call. She inhaled and picked up the receiver, determined to sound normal.

  “Belinda Hennessey.”

  “Belinda, it’s Julian.”

  Her pulse jumped. “Julian�
��hello.”

  “God, I heard about everything.” From the background noise, she could tell he was calling from a cell phone. His voice rose and fell as if he were walking. “I tried to call you last night, but I couldn’t get through.”

  “I stopped answering the phone,” she murmured. “Reporters, you know.” Then she caught her gaff. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “My colleagues can be annoying, I know. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay, considering.”

  “I’m surprised to find you at work today.”

  “The police encouraged me to maintain my routine. I assume they’ve talked to you, too?”

  “Yes, they questioned me about taking you home Monday night.”

  “I’m so sorry to have gotten you involved.”

  “It isn’t your fault.” His breathing was labored. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through. Have the police been bullying you? Alexander?”

  “Um, no.” Her thoughts flicked to what Wade had said about Julian and his ex-wife, and she thought it best to change the subject. “Everyone will be much happier when Jim Newberry is found.”

  “He’s the man who threatened your boss?”

  “Yes.”

  “He has to turn up sooner or later.”

  “Where are you calling from? I heard you on the radio only a few minutes ago.”

  “I just landed. But I’m headed to Chattanooga for a couple of days of flight training. I wanted to check on you before I left.”

  Her first thought was that they were supposed to have had lunch this week. Her second thought was that she really didn’t mind them not. Still, he had called. “That’s very kind of you, Julian.”

  A shadow fell over her desk. When she looked up, her mouth parted slightly at the sight of Wade Alexander in uniform standing in the opening of her cubicle. He looked…good. And irritated.

  “If the police badger you about my involvement,” Julian said, “let me know, and my boss will have it stopped.”

  “Um, no,” she said hurriedly, holding up her finger to indicate to Wade that she’d be off the phone in one minute. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Just don’t let them push you around, okay? I’ll call you soon.”

  “Okay. Good-bye.” She hung up and manufactured a smile for Wade. “Hello.”

  A vein had popped out in his temple. “Hardeman?”

  “Yes. He was checking on me.”

  “That makes two of us. Did you get any rest last night?”

  “No.” And from the shadows under his eyes, she suspected he hadn’t fared much better. “Has Jim Newberry been found?”

  “No.” He pushed his hand into his hair. “I hate to hit you with this first thing, but can you come back to Ms. Campbell’s office? We want to go over a few details.”

  Belinda nodded and pushed to her feet—too quickly. The blood rushed to her head, and she swayed. Wade was there with a big steadying arm. “Easy. Have you had anything to eat this morning?”

  She shook her head.

  “Have a seat—I’ll be back with some food and coffee.”

  She nodded gratefully. When he disappeared, she took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and dialed Juneau Archer’s office. Rosemary answered.

  “Rosemary, it’s Belinda. Did Mr. Archer make it in?”

  “No. He’s not feeling well, probably because of the news. He said he’d try to be in tomorrow. I guess you’ll want to talk to him about divvying up Margo’s duties.”

  “Among other things.”

  “I’ll make sure he knows.”

  “Thanks, Rosemary.”

  “Belinda.” Rosemary’s voice held an odd note. “I’m sorry all of this happened…to you. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”

  Alarm filtered through her chest. “Rosemary, what do you mean?”

  “I…I know you came to Atlanta to start a new life. I’m sorry it’s turning out so badly. You don’t deserve this.”

  “Thank you, Rosemary.” Belinda swallowed. “Your concern means a lot to me.” She hung up, part of her relieved to be able to delay the discussion with Mr. Archer, part of her desperate to get it over with, all of her perplexed by Rosemary’s behavior. Why did she have the feeling that the girls knew something she didn’t know?

  A rap sounded on her cubicle wall. Clancy Edmunds stood there, wide-eyed and twitchy. “Hi, Belinda.”

  “Hi, Clancy. I heard about the money—did it turn up?”

  He shook his head. “I collected your payment last. I don’t suppose you saw me drop it as I was leaving?”

  “No.”

  He looked forlorn. “Oh, well, I guess the money is pretty small potatoes considering everything else that’s going on. Listen, Belinda—” His face reddened. “All those things I said about Margo…you know I was just kidding, right?”

  Ah. “Everyone says things they don’t mean.”

  He leaned forward. “Do the police think that Jim Newberry came back to off Margo and stuff her in your trunk?”

  “Um, I believe that’s the general consensus.”

  “Do you know who’s going to take over for Margo?”

  “No. I’m going to meet with Mr. Archer as soon as he comes in to talk about transitioning things.”

  He tugged at his psychedelic tie. “Do you know if Margo had a chance to sign the performance evaluations before she…checked out?”

  Belinda’s eyebrows rose. “No, I don’t.”

  His expression was sheepish. “Well, I thought maybe you could suggest to Mr. Archer that evaluations be, um, revisited.”

  “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll mention it to Mr. Archer.”

  Wade appeared with a brown paper bag and two coffees, and Clancy perked up.

  She bit back a smile. “Clancy Edmunds, this is Lieutenant Alexander.”

  Wade inclined his head. “Mr. Edmunds.”

  Clancy crossed his fidgety arms. “Will the police be here all day?”

  “Looks like it, sir. We’ll be getting prints from everyone. And between the theft and the murder, the CEO has requested that all employees submit to a polygraph exam.”

  “A l-lie detector test?”

  Wade nodded. “Considering that two employees have died, we agree that it’s a good idea. Examiners are setting up in the conference room.”

  Belinda’s throat constricted. Would pervasive ethical guilt skew the results?

  “That’s against my civil rights,” Clancy sputtered, then he squinted. “Isn’t it?”

  Wade gave a little shrug. “No one can force you to take the test, sir.”

  “Ah-hah—but if I don’t, I’ll look guilty!”

  The man’s melodrama might have been comical if Belinda hadn’t been thinking the same thoughts.

  Wade set the coffees and the food on Belinda’s desk. “I suppose an unwillingness to take the polygraph could be perceived as having something to hide. The money that’s missing—wasn’t it stolen from your desk?”

  Clancy’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yes.”

  “Was it common knowledge that you kept cash there?”

  He shrugged. “If there was something going on, a pool, or a collection for flowers, I typically took care of it.”

  “Would Jim Newberry know there was money in your desk?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “We’ll need a list of people who had access to the drawer where you kept the money bag to match against the prints that were lifted yesterday.”

  “That’s easy—I have a key, Brita Wheeling, and Carole Marchand.”

  Belinda frowned. “Carole?”

  “In case she has checks or anything valuable to deliver and no one is here to take it.”

  Wade withdrew a notebook and made notes. “The money bag was taken?”

  “No, just the cash. I told all of this to another officer yesterday. Tom, I think was his name—blond, nice eyes.”

  Wade looked up, then returned the notebook to his pocket. “I�
�ll get with Tom for all the details.”

  “Anything else, Officer?”

  “Not now.”

  Clancy started to turn, then snapped his fingers. “Belinda, I came by to remind you that your sofa will be delivered this evening. Sorry about the timing, but the truck gets loaded for a week’s worth of deliveries. Will you be home?”

  “I plan to be.”

  “Good. I need to check with Rosemary, too.” The man gave Wade an appreciative once-over, waved toodle-loo, then disappeared around the corner.

  She smiled at Wade. “I think he likes you.”

  One dark eyebrow went up. “He’s not my type.”

  The words “but you are” hung in the air between them. Her smile froze.

  “Your eye looks better,” he said.

  “Thanks, it feels better.”

  He opened the bag and withdrew a bagel. “Cream cheese okay?”

  She reached for the food. “Perfect. Thank you.”

  He sat in her pea green visitor’s chair, pulled a lid off the other coffee, and drank from the steaming cup. His big frame took up most of the available space in the cubicle, pressing on her breathing room. His gray eyes were clear and alert, framed with dark lashes and expressive eyebrows. His profile was jutting and imperfect, his skin ruddy from razor burn. The man emanated a physical intensity that set her on edge. He seemed unbridled and…hazardous.

  Hazardous in a “reorder a woman’s life” kind of way.

  “You okay?” he asked. “You look like you just had a scary thought.”

  She blinked. “Any updates on Jim Newberry?”

  “No. But he has family in Columbus, Georgia, and Gainesville, Florida, so we have a lot of places to look.”

  She bit into the bagel and chewed slowly. Her jaws ached at first, reminding her how long it had been since she’d eaten anything solid. The women’s magazines were missing out on the Find-a-Dead-Body diet. “What now, Lieutenant?”

  “Now the investigation keeps moving forward. It’ll take a long time to question everyone, and even longer to assimilate all the information. By the way, I had a chat with your neighbor last night.”

  “Perry?”

  “Yeah. I can see now why you were hiding from him. You said he pestered you, but did you ever feel threatened?”