Chosen by a Killer Page 2

  “Hello, Ms. Brockwell.” The attorney’s voice was deep and well-crafted. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting. I trust you have had time to go over the tentative contract and the requirements for visiting Mr. Bronlov.”

  “I have, Mr. McMillian,” Celia answered. “I’d like to know what to expect when I enter the prison.”

  “Yes, well,” the attorney paused and sounded surprised by her directness. “I suppose we can discuss that first. Of course, you will not be allowed a computer, and you will likely be searched. You may, however, bring a recording device. I would also be happy to assist you with notes.”

  Celia spun away from the phone, smiling, and looked out the window behind her desk. He was already negotiating. “It was my understanding that Ms. Bronlov did not want anyone else in the room while we conducted our interviews,” she said.

  “I had hoped we could encourage her to compromise on that point, Ms. Brockwell. As her attorney, I am not completely comfortable with her talking to the press without me present.”

  Smiling, Celia turned the page in her notepad. Of course. “And as the person whom Ms. Bronlov has asked to be her sole interviewer, I do not feel comfortable asking her to compromise her boundaries.”

  It was quiet for a moment, and Celia continued to doodle. The longer he was silent, the more certain Celia was he would acquiesce. She knew if he cleared his throat, she had won.

  “Well,” the attorney said, clearing his throat, “as Ms. Bronlov has been insistent on this point, I suppose we should accommodate her. Now, regarding the contract, are you satisfied with the preliminary terms, or do we need to negotiate any particulars?”

  “I feel satisfied with the terms Mrs. Bronlov set forth,” Celia answered.

  “Well, then, since everything seems to be in order, I will have the final contract sent for your signature, and we can schedule the first interview.”

  “Thank you, Mr. McMillian,” Celia said. “I look forward to speaking with your client.”

  Once the call was over, Celia walked across the street for lunch. She told her assistant she would be returning at 1:30 and reminded her of the 2:00 appointment with her editor. John was proficient at what he did, but he was notoriously late for appointments. Celia’s assistant, Gladys, would make sure he was on time.

  While she nibbled on a salad, Celia explored the notes she had taken researching the actress’s crime. The interviews were sparse and brief, and even the tabloids were guessing at what went on in the actress’s life. The stories contained an array of photos, all showing Natasha with the same cool, closed expression on her face. Funny that all the journalists and hacks chose such stark photos when there were hundreds of more attractive photos out there.

  Natasha Bronlov was arraigned at 1:00 this afternoon, and bail was set at two million dollars. She is expected to post bail this afternoon before returning to her Greenwich home until the trial begins. Her legal team had no comment as to their defense strategy.

  A few stories were detailing the trial and verdict. Again, her attorneys had no comment. And, of course, the most recent story was about the denial of her last appeal.

  Natasha Bronlov's legal battles may finally be over, as her last appeal was unsuccessful. After a decade on death row, it looks as if Delaware will execute its first woman in decades.

  Eventually, Celia gave up on her research and concentrated on her salad. The patrons around her were noisy; it was a popular lunch spot with its varied menu and casual atmosphere. The owner had been a fixture for four decades, and he traveled from table to table greeting guests. Celia had no idea of his real name; everyone called him Pop.

  “Ah, Ms. Brockwell, only a salad today? You’ll wound my cook!” Pop’s thick accent carried through the restaurant.

  “Last time I was here I ate so much, all I can have is salad this time. Your cook is bad for my figure.”

  Pop laughed and ambled to the next table.

  The sight of the owner caused Celia to imagine Natasha’s father. He’d been her final victim, the one who led to her arrest. It was strange to Celia that Natasha had chosen to kill him. Surely she’d known it would seal her fate. Why had she? Was he abusive, a stage father, or worse? The actress might not want a retelling of her crimes, but Celia was determined to get answers to her questions.

  At 2:08 John entered her office, still eating the sandwich he had ordered for lunch. It wasn’t typical for the boss to come to the employee’s office for meetings. However, John’s office was so cluttered, it was all but impossible to find room to work, much less have anyone in for a meeting. He would rather not have to put things in order. It also meant that if he was running late, no one was at his office door waiting.

  “So, Celia, what’s happening with the CEO piece? Did you crack him yet?”

  “He tried to put me off, saying he needed to talk with his attorney to craft a statement. I let him know how that would play in a story. He agreed to make a brief comment. An hour later I had enough for an article.”

  “I swear you could have been a detective.” John tossed his napkin into the wastebasket. “You don’t need a bad cop. So when do you think you’ll have something ready?”

  “It should be ready to go by the end of the day. That means it can run in the next edition.”

  “Perfect!” John pushed himself out of the chair and began pacing a bit. “So when do you plan to fly out to Phoenix? Later in the week?”

  “About that,” Celia had rehearsed her speech. “I need to visit a friend in Delaware on Friday. I was planning to take the train Thursday night, and I can fly into Phoenix from there.”

  John stopped and frowned. “I was hoping you’d be able to do the Phoenix bit Thursday or Friday.”

  “I already have the appointment set up in Phoenix for 9:00 am. on Monday. I’ll be back in the office writing Monday night.”

  “Do what you need to do then. Your friend sick or something?”

  “Something like that.”

  John grabbed a handful of candy off Celia’s desk and left. Celia took out her recorder and headset and began working on the CEO article. A revealing article by day’s end would appease John. Not to mention, it was time this man’s shady practices were exposed. It was just dumb luck that he hadn’t already been prosecuted. He wasn’t nearly as smart as he thought he was. How he had managed to rise in the ranks to run a company was beyond Celia’s understanding. It certainly wasn’t his intellect.

  It was almost 6:00 when Celia sent her article, and she was supposed to meet Bart for dinner at 7:00. She’d been seeing the widowed attorney for a couple of weeks, and she still found him pretty charming. They’d passed the third date mark, and he wasn’t getting antsy the way most men did, as if the number three entitled them to something. Celia had insisted on splitting the bill on their first date, and though Bart had expressed appreciation, he had told her it wasn’t necessary. Butterflies weren’t fluttering in her gut, but they rarely did. He was attractive and interesting, and she was looking forward to the date, which was more than she could say for the last few men she’d met.

  “I’m taking off, Gladys. You should shut down too and enjoy the weather.”

  Gladys grabbed her purse. “I think I’ll walk out with you. Maybe I can take the dog for a walk.”

  Since she had a few minutes before Bart picked her up, Celia decided to take a short walk. The weather wouldn’t be this warm for much longer. She walked down JFK, watching as people milled in and out of buildings. Once she reached 15th Street, she saw the familiar buskers setting up their guitars or keyboards outside the park; soon it would be filled with music. Love Park was relatively quiet; it was too late for the summer tourists and too early for the fall tourists. A couple of families were there, their children playing in the water feature. Celia sat away from them in silence, scrolling through her phone. She put her earbuds in so that no one would try to strike up a conversation. Small talk wasn’t Celia’s favorite thing. Finally, just before 7:00, she made her way back to her
building, where Bart would pick her up.

  “Glad you’re back,” Bart gave Celia a quick kiss before opening the car door for her. “I hope it was a good trip.”

  “Oh, it was. You’ll read about it in the next edition.”

  “Vermillion’s okay?”

  “Sure, I love their gazpacho.” Celia turned off her cell phone. “So what about you? Anything you can share about the tax case?”

  “It’s a real mess. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be taking depositions. I’ve got three more this week.”

  “Sounds fun. No wonder you wanted a night out.”

  “Exactly. And I missed you.” Bart squeezed her hand.

  They chatted about small things during dinner. Bart was attentive and engaging, and Celia felt herself enjoying the date again. He reached across the table to touch her hand, and she could read his body language. Celia found herself wanting to ask him back to her townhouse. She felt energized having finished another article, and she was feeling some excitement about the upcoming initial meeting with Natasha. Expending some primal energy might be just what she needed. She smiled as she sipped wine and pictured Bart without his expensive suit.

  “So, since I’ll be ready to get away from work after these depositions, and you’ll have another big article under your belt, I have an idea.” Bart poured some more wine for both of them. “How do you feel about the mountains?”

  “I enjoy them, especially for skiing. Why do you ask?”

  “My fraternity buddy has a chalet in Ashville. I thought you might like to get away for the weekend. You’ve been so busy. We could go down on Friday and come back Sunday evening.”

  Celia felt a little twinge. They hadn’t slept together yet, and now he was suggesting a weekend away? Of course, she was planning on rectifying that after dinner, but still. His invitation sounded a little warning bell in her brain. Thankfully she had an appointment at the prison.

  “That sounds wonderful, but I have to take a short trip to see someone on Friday, and I may not be back until Saturday morning. Maybe another time?”

  “Sure.” Bart frowned slightly. “So where are you going?”

  “I’m visiting a friend in Delaware. I’m not sure how long I’ll be there, so I had planned to spend the night.”

  “Too bad, we’d have a great time.” He smiled. “Of course, I’m having a great time tonight, too, having dinner with a beautiful woman.”

  Celia leaned forward a bit, closing the space to distract Bart. “So are you interested in dessert?”

  It only took Bart a second to register the double entendre. “I’d love something sweet.”

  Celia excused herself to the restroom while Bart stayed back and took care of the check. They met outside and Bart opened the door for her when the valet brought his car. Before starting the engine, he leaned over and gave Celia a long kiss. She pushed him away playfully and sat back, crossing her legs so that her skirt rode up just enough. It had the desired effect, and Bart revved the engine before pulling away from the curb.

  When Celia and Bart arrived at her house, her neighbor Lucille was outside looking for her cat.

  “Hello, Celia. I’m out looking for Jerry. You know how he wanders away.”

  “He does seem to wander, Lucille. I hope you find him soon.”

  “And who is your friend?” Lucille asked, smiling.

  “I’m Bart.” He stepped forward and shook Lucille’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Why thank you. I’m Lucille.” Jerry ran out from beneath some bushes. “Oh, there he is! You two have a nice night.”

  Celia bid Lucille goodnight and unlocked the door to her house. Once it was closed, Bart kissed her long and hard, and they made their way to the bedroom.

  “Let’s try not to disturb the cat,” Celia laughed.

  Chapter 3

  Natasha’s attorney, Andrew McMillian, was in his late forties, but it was apparent he was trying to retain his youth. He was very fit, with a trendy haircut and a fitted suit. Very metro, Celia thought. Of course, Natasha had several attorneys, but he was taking the lead with the interview contract. Celia read it carefully in his office. There were the tentative dates, her remuneration in addition to what the paper would be paying her as staff, several requirements and restrictions, and some prison-specific guidelines.

  “It’s just as we discussed.” Andres gave her a pen. “There will be regular visits involving only you and Me. Bronlov. No leaking of the story or teasers beforehand. The story will run after the execution.”

  “Everything seems to be in order,” she said. “Is there nothing left to be done about her appeals?”

  Andrew shook his head. “It’s in the hands of the governor and the powers that be now. I’m still looking for options. I know someone close to her has written letters, and I thought he might have some pull, but so far nothing.”

  “It’s been a long time since a woman was executed.”

  “Yes, it has. You know, I wonder sometimes if the privacy that was so important to Natasha during her career might be hurting her now. People don’t have the emotional investment in her that they have with more open celebrities. Considering her crimes, I guess the privacy made sense, but now I think it’s a liability.”

  “I can understand that,” Celia said. However, inwardly, she understood the actress’s desire. Celia was the same way. Her business wasn’t everyone’s business. Luckily, people didn’t fawn over journalists the way they fawned over actors.

  “I have wondered if running this story before her execution might be beneficial. What do you think?”

  “That isn’t what is in the contract.”

  “I know,” Andrew said. “But contracts can be amended. I was hoping that maybe both of us could encourage her to go in that direction. She seems to value your instincts.”

  “I haven’t even met her yet,” Celia replied. “But I have to say, I’m inclined to do what she wants at this point. I suspect she thought a lot about granting interviews before she extended the invitation. I’m not going to jeopardize that unless there is a chance she might agree.”

  Andrew sighed. “I can see why she thought you were the perfect choice for interviews. You sound just like her.”

  Celia smiled. “I think I’ll choose to take that as a compliment.”

  “Well, she is a formidable woman.”

  “That she is. I am looking very forward to meeting her.”

  “Good, great,” Andrew replied. “We have the first appointment set up for 9:00 am. It would be smart to arrive a few minutes early if possible. Do you need transportation?”

  “No, I have that arranged.”

  “That’s fine then. Would you like me to accompany you to the first interview?”

  There it is, Celia thought. One last attempt to get into the room. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine. I may not have visited a death row prisoner, but I have been in prisons before.”

  “Alright then.” Andrew frowned. “If you have any questions, just give me a call.”

  After leaving the law office, Celia met Bart for lunch downtown. There was a new café close to his office, and she’d been wanting to try it. The chef was said to be able to do wonders with vegan cuisine. When she walked into the restaurant, Bart was already seated, and he waved at her.

  “Glad you could make lunch.” Bart pulled out the chair for her.

  “Thanks for the invitation. I’ve been wanting to try this place. A couple of my colleagues have raved about it.”

  “You look great.”

  “Thanks, you too. How’s work?”

  “I’m billing so many hours on this I may retire early,” Bart chuckled. “How about you? Anything exciting?”

  “Just the same old same old. Expose corruption, report the truth, all that jazz.”

  “You’re very talented. I read the latest piece, and it’s a work of art.”

  Celia smiled. Bart certainly was good for the ego. “Thank you.”

  The waiter arrived,
and they placed their orders. Bart ordered a zucchini pasta dish, and Celia ordered a salad with roasted tofu. She laughed when Bart wrinkled his nose a bit, and she explained to him that tofu takes on the flavor of whatever it is cooked in, so, despite its appearance, it doesn’t taste like Styrofoam. He looked skeptical, but he said he might try a bite if he felt brave enough.

  “So do you have any big plans for the weekend?” Celia asked.

  “I’m going to a fundraiser. My former in-laws run a non-profit in Wilmington.”

  “Sounds interesting. So you’re still close with them?”

  “We stay in touch. Stella and I were only married for five years, but her parents really needed support after her accident, so I stuck around for a while.”

  “That was kind of you. I guess you probably needed support as well. Do they know what caused the accident?”

  It only lasted for a second, but Celia noticed it. Bart’s face darkened and then blanked. She’d seen interview subjects do the same thing. There was something under the surface. “There was a problem with the car. It was a curvy road at night. I think she just lost control,” Bart smiled thinly. “So how is your friend? The one you are visiting?”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’ll be okay. She just hates being cooped up.”

  “So what’s wrong with her?”

  Celia shrugged. “It’s a woman thing. I don’t want to violate her privacy.”

  Bart’s jaw tightened. “I see.”

  Their food arrived, and they began eating. Celia was surprised at how delicious it was. Bart’s looked good as well. He was brave enough to try a bite of her tofu, but he wasn’t a fan, he said. Celia laughed as she finished her meal. They chatted about work and the goings-on in the city. Bart asked her to dinner on the following Tuesday, and she accepted. He was a lot of fun, and the sex was fun. She was hoping they’d go out regularly without becoming too serious. Getting attached wasn’t on Celia’s to-do list. She’d have to keep Bart at a distance; he was definitely the attaching type.