Hot Off the Press (A Hailey Webb Mystery, Volume 1)

by Deany Ray

  Blushing at my mistake, I looked down at the floor. “I talked to some of the investors, but my investigation so far tonight has been a bust.”

  “I've seen three other divers,” Mike said. “There are two of them right now.” He pointed with what looked like a tiny eclair. The young men looked like they had spent way too much time in the sun; the expressions on their overly tanned faces were cool and confident. Both wore suits with little black roses in their pockets, perhaps to signify their mourning.

  “That's Vince Parsons and Emanuel Maugham,” Mike said. “They are nice enough guys but didn’t know much about old Derek. There’s another one, Forrest Craven, who seems to have wandered off.” He leaned a little closer to me, and I could feel my heart rate picking up at the scent of his cologne as well as the warmth coming from his body. “Craven’s not as nice as the other two,” he said. He leaned back and watched the crowd for a moment. “Who are your friends that you were with?”

  “Kat has been my best friend since I met her at my other job. Her date is an intern at Pearlrover.”

  “Well, look at you,” Mike whistled. “Another source with this company.”

  I thought about it. “You could say that.”

  “Maybe I should have a talk with him too,” Mike said.

  I laughed. “Be my guest. Try prying him away from Kat.” I took a bite of cheese and cracker. “So, how many murders have you covered?”

  “There have been a couple, but they wrapped up pretty quickly—nothing like this one. As far as I can tell, the cops are pretty baffled without much to go on. No fingerprints, just nothing.”

  “Do you think it’s possible O’Connell was skimming off the top?” I asked. “Since he worked on his own, the people at Pearlrover would have been none the wiser if he took a little bauble here and there.”

  “That’s possible for sure,” Mike said. “There wasn’t a set schedule for any of his dives. That meant no one was keeping tabs on what he did and when. But the thought crossed my mind too and I did a little research. It would not have been that easy for him to monetize the stuff outside of legal channels. You would have to know how to work the black market in a way that you couldn’t be traced.”

  I stared at him. “When do you have time to find out all these things? Do you even sleep?”

  Mike laughed. “Occasionally.”

  I was about to ask another question, but I didn’t get a chance. Standing right in front of me was Connor. His face was a mixed bag of emotions. I stared at those features, once so beautiful to me, and I was pleased to note that I felt . . . nothing.

  “Hailey. Hi. Who is this?” Connor asked after a beat of silence. His voice was quiet and strange as he looked at Mike.

  “Oh, right, how rude of me.” I held out my hand. “Mike, this is Connor. Connor, I’d like you to meet Mike.” I was more glad than ever that I'd let my mother buy the dress; I was reveling in Connor's obvious discomfort.

  “Nice to meet you, Connor! I’ve heard a lot about you.” Mike shot up and held out his hand, his grin doubling in size. Those beautiful sapphire eyes of his flashed like jewels. “How are you enjoying the auction?”

  Connor opened and closed his mouth like a fish, his eyes flickering back and forth between Mike and me.

  I stood up as well and felt Mike’s hand move protectively around my waist. I could barely stifle a laugh. “Are you all right, Connor? You look ill,” I said in mock concern. Continuing the fish theme, Connor looked a little green around the gills.

  “Willard said the other day you were working for the paper, which explains why you were there—and here,” he mumbled. “Congratulations, Hailey.”

  “Thanks.” I held up my chin. Without another word, Connor spun on his heel and pushed his way into the crowd. I couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across my face as I watched him disappear into the sea of finery.

  “Well, that was fun,” Mike said.

  I gave him a grateful smile. “Yeah, it was. Thanks.” I kind of hoped that Connor might cry into his pillow later on that night, like I had done too many times.

  “That’s what I’m here for.” Mike grinned.

  “I think I’ll head to the ladies' room before the auction starts,” I said.

  “And I need another plate of something,” Mike said, rubbing his stomach. “See you at the buffet.”

  I smiled and watched Mike walk away. Then I made my way to the restrooms, discovering a line that wouldn't get me in and out before the auction started. Hmm. I needed a new plan. I went up to the men’s room door and knocked. Nothing. I cracked the door open just a bit. “Anyone in here?” Nothing. No sound came from the other side. Without any more hesitation, I pushed my way into the bathroom and headed for the stalls. The room was just as barren as the ladies' room had been full. It was a sumptuous little room filled with fragrant soaps, and it even had a padded bench right inside the door. It looked like the inside of a celebrity’s bathroom, all glitz and polished marble.

  There was no time, however, to take in the decor. I should take care of business now since some guy would be shoving into the room any minute now. I pushed open the door to a random stall.

  But much to my horror, that stall wasn’t empty. The man was fully dressed, his suit in disarray. Like the divers I had seen, he had a little black rose tucked into his pocket, but mostly my eyes were drawn to his face. It was as white as a ghost. His eyes were open and empty.

  The reason for the guy’s demise was no mystery to me. A kitchen knife stuck out at an odd angle from his chest while blood seeped slowly from the wound. A massive puddle of red spilled across the floor, staining the edges of my perfect, glittering heels.

  I screamed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Blood, blood, so much blood.

  Someone must have heard me screaming, and a man came rushing in. I don’t know who he was, but his handsome, clean-cut face turned sheet-white at the gruesome sight before him. I don’t remember either of us calling for security, but I do remember them bursting through the door like a SWAT team in an action movie. Seven young security guards, all of them dressed in suits, stared in horror at the bloody scene. They looked a little lost, but they were, after all, just guys who worked security. I doubted they were prepped to deal with murder when they signed up for this grandiose event. And I was only an assistant—who seemed to have a talent for discovering random dudes after they’d been stabbed to death.

  “We should call police and close this bathroom off right now,” one of the officers said. “And we should all step out of here before we mess up the scene.” The others nodded, and one of them took me gently by the arm. I listened in as they made a plan. They took care to stay calm and not draw attention—yet—and they quietly posted men at every door to keep everyone inside until the cops got here. I wondered if the killer had escaped already or if someone standing close to me had just rammed a knife in someone’s chest.

  I shivered at the thought, sinking down onto the rough red carpet right outside of the men’s room. I put my head on my knees and tried to imagine I was somewhere else. On a beach. Lying in a lounge chair. Sipping a strong cocktail while ordering another . . . and another. I’d thought the universe might throw a girl some breaks for trying to get her life back on track after it exploded. Now, I had no idea if I should laugh or cry. Not even the gorgeous dress I had on could make me feel any better.

  The cops arrived in no time, and word soon got around that the auction had been canceled. Instantly, an air of panic replaced the gaiety.

  A young woman in an EMT uniform gave me a warm blanket and some water. Although I couldn’t bring myself to smile back at her, I thought about telling her my name in case we met again, if this whole find-a-body thing kept happening to me. I stared down at my once gorgeous shoes as the blood seeped through the glitter.

  It didn’t take long for Mike, Kat, and Intern Boy to come rushing to me.

  “Hailey! You okay? What happened?” Kat ran a hand soothingly across my bac
k.

  I looked up at her. “I just wanted to have a nice night out,” I whined, my voice cracking in the middle of my words.

  Everybody winced at the awkwardness of that.

  “I heard someone found another body,” Mike said, glancing around. “Some guy got stabbed with a knife from the buffet, or something like that.”

  “Oh, my.” Intern Boy stared down at the carpet.

  “The cops won’t tell me anything, which is typical,” Mike said. “They’ve promised they’ll fill me in once they get a second.”

  “Found a body?” Kat asked, her eyes growing wide.

  I raised my hand. “Found a body. That was me.”

  Mike stared at me, his face a little white under his tan. “You found another body? You’re kidding, right?”

  I sighed. “Nope.”

  Mike paused before he spoke. “I can’t decide if you’re the luckiest person I’ve ever met or the unluckiest.”

  “Unluckiest,” I answered miserably.

  I tried to pull off my strappy heels, but my fingers shook so much that Kat had to do it for me. She, Intern Boy, and Mike made a protective circle around me as I set my shoes off to one side, wanting to get the blood as far away from me as I could. The coppery smell of it made me sick.

  Mike looked like he wanted to ask me more. His reporter’s instinct, I could tell, was about to burst as he gazed around us at the scene, making mental notes. Kat took one of my trembling hands in hers, smiling at me whenever I looked up. Intern Boy looked ill, and Mike stayed alert as he watched the scene around us. I found their presence soothing and found myself praying that Connor wouldn’t reappear and make the evening even worse.

  “Okay,” I said to Mike, “I know you’re anxious to know what I saw. So let’s get this over with.”

  Gratefully, he produced a small notebook from the jacket pocket of his tux, and I went over the unsavory details as quickly as I could.

  He asked me a few more questions about what I had seen, interspersed with fervent queries like, “You sure you’re okay?”

  I assured him I was.

  “Let me try the cops again,” he said, “and see what they’ll be willing to tell me. Then I also need to get some quotes from people in the crowd. You know, ‘How did it feel when the party turned into a murder scene?’ Readers tend to like that stuff.”

  “Great. Awesome. Happy for them.” I gave a sarcastic thumbs-up.

  “We’re staying here with Hailey.” Kat squeezed my hand. “You do what you have to do, and we’ll meet up with you later.”

  “Well, well. If it isn’t Ms. Webb,” a rough voice said from my left. “This isn’t your best week, is it?”

  I glanced up into the face of one of the police officers who had questioned me the first time I found a body. What kind of person ever in your life says a thing like that? The older, graying officer looked almost amused at seeing me. Again.

  “Officer Marcus, good to see you,” I told him with a frown, “or maybe not so good.”

  “At least you don’t have any dogs or torn clothes this time around, Ms. Webb.” The officer held out a hand to help me up. “We’d like to ask you some questions.”

  This was so déjà vu. “Didn’t expect anything less.”

  “Your second body this week. It’s an unfortunate talent, I would say.”

  “A temporary one, I hope.”

  “We’ll need to take your shoes, Ms. Webb,” he said, pulling out an evidence bag. I obediently put them in, and with one swift motion, he sealed the bag.

  “Please take them,” I said. “I don’t even want them back.” Bye-bye new and expensive shoes.

  “We’ll be over by the door,” Kat told me in a whisper as she squeezed my hand.

  Wearily, I nodded and went over the details of my discovery with the officer, answering his questions. He looked at me with genuine curiosity. “Why exactly were you in the men’s room, may I ask? It seems that when you go into these places where you don’t belong—someone else’s boat, for instance—you see things you can’t unsee. So there’s a little tip.” The smallest of smiles began at the corner of his lips.

  Great. I got the cop who’d rather be a comic. I was so not in the mood, but I smiled politely.

  “Yeah, that was a big mistake,” I said. “There was quite a line to get into the ladies’, and the men’s room, it was empty, or at least nobody answered when I knocked.” Empty it was not.

  There were more questions that seemed to take forever. So many little details that the officer had to know!

  “I can tell you’re tired,” he said. “I’m really sorry, Ms. Webb. We need to record these things while they’re fresh in your mind. Details get forgotten pretty quickly.”

  “Some of them I wish I could forget,” I said.

  When the interview was over, I walked toward Kat and her date, and they met me halfway.

  “Want me to stay the night?” Kat anxiously linked her arm through mine. “Do you think you can even sleep?”

  I assured her I was fine. I felt Mike’s arm move gently around my shoulder. “I’ll see that she gets home safe,” he said. He looked down at my bare feet and frowned. “Hmm. I don’t think they have spare shoes at an affair like this.”

  “I’m fine,” I told him wearily. “I don’t even care. I’m just anxious to get home.”

  He slipped off his shiny dress shoes. “Take these, and I’ll keep the socks. That way, we’ll both have something to keep the cold air off our feet.”

  I offered him my thanks and shuffled in the large shoes toward the exit, where he called a cab. “I’ll ride with you to your place and see that you get there safe,” he said, opening the door of the car, which arrived in record time.

  I sat close to him in the back seat, too traumatized to say a lot. Finally, I broke the silence. “Did you find out who the dead guy was?”

  “Forrest Craven, one of the divers I mentioned.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack,” he said and paused. “Okay, bad choice of words.”

  “Another diver! What do you think that means?”

  Mike just shook his head.

  I let that info sink in, and I knew I’ll probably need time to process it.

  We arrived at my apartment, and Mike rushed around to get my door. I took off his shoes and gave them back, earning a what-the-heck raised eyebrow from our driver.

  Mike saw me to the door. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

  “A warm shower and a pillow will put things right,” I said, then I hesitated. “Mike, listen . . . you’ve been really great. Thanks for bringing me home.” The simple comfort of his presence on the mostly silent ride had slowed my heart rate a bit.

  “Glad to do it, Hailey.” He gave me a small smile. “You’re gonna be okay.”

  At home, I showered quickly and climbed into bed, cursing my stupid luck. I asked myself if I had somewhere broken someone’s mirror or walked under a ladder to turn myself into some magnet for disaster. I nestled comfortably underneath the sheets but couldn’t keep the night’s events from spilling through my thoughts. When I did finally manage to fall asleep somehow, I dreamed of bathrooms, blood-soaked heels, and gruesome boats whose occupants were no longer living.

  The next morning, I woke at six, and I could not fall back asleep. I dragged myself out of the bed and folded it back into a couch, ignoring pieces of the sheets and blanket hanging out the sides. I was too tired to care. I filled my biggest mug with coffee and whipped cream and sat down on my messy couch in a foul mood, cursing the muffled laughter of someone outside who dared to be happy on this day.

  A bird sang lazily on a tree outside my window; its song was off-key and grating. I hated birds. And sunshine. And the trees. I was just that cranky.

  Coffee—I needed more. I got up and poured myself a refill. To distract myself, I glanced around my place, trying to decide how I would decorate once I had some money coming in. I liked the new couch cushions. Perhaps I would sprin
g for a soft and comfy chair in some color that would pop. Plus, art. I needed art. I’d find some prints that were peaceful. Nature scenes, perhaps, but no boats, of course. No boats whatsoever!

  Thankful to have some food waiting in the fridge, I scrambled myself some eggs and added in some cheese. As I ate, I turned on my laptop to check Mike’s story out in today’s Gazette. Seeing it right there in the headline—“Second Diver Stabbed To Death”—made it all come rushing back. Why would someone be targeting the divers? So much of this story did not make sense to me. Why, for example, would someone commit a murder at a party with a zillion people all around? The fewer potential witnesses the better, it would seem to me. Perhaps the murder wasn’t planned, a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. The murder weapon was a knife, though, that the killer most probably took from the buffet. Then it was planned. Sort of. I sighed. I didn’t know what to think.

  I read through Mike’s story, which made no mention of any artifacts Craven had discovered. Still, I felt money had to be a factor, given the timing with O’Connell.

  I added some hot sauce to my eggs and put my mind in detective mode. The killer had to be a man because of the location in which the second murder happened. Wasn’t that convenient? I thought about it for a moment as I chewed. Not so fast, I decided. Given who had found the body, it wasn’t proof of anything. A woman could just as easily have entered the men’s room.

  I took another sip of coffee, thinking over the events of this week. Something was nagging at me, and it involved my ex. It still didn’t make sense that he had left the field of publishing entirely when he gave up his old job. He had always seen himself as some wunderkind in his chosen field, destined for great things. While he’d invested here and there, it was never something he’d had much interest in.

  I thought of Connor’s face when he’d spotted me with Mike at the auction—and in that perfect dress! That perked me up even more than the caffeine had, and shortly after eight, I felt energized as I headed off to work.