Chosen by a Killer Page 7

  “Bart, I don’t think—“

  “No expectation. Just friends. Dinner only. I have two tickets to the hospital gala. I know how much you like Nora Jones.”

  Celia thought for a minute. She seriously doubted Bart only wanted to be friends. However, she’d love to see the singer perform in such an intimate setting. And it was a gala, which would be much more public than a dinner for two. “Sure Bart. That sounds great.”

  “Great!” Bart stood and handed Celia the flowers. “I’m glad we got things fixed.”

  “Me too,” Celia said. “These are beautiful, thank you.”

  Bart walked toward the door, and Celia followed. “The gala starts at 8:00, so I’ll pick you up at 7:30.”

  “Sounds good,” Celia said, keeping a bit of space between her and Bart. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  After Bart left, Celia went to the kitchen and looked through her cabinets until she found a vase. After filling it with water, she took the flowers, ready to cut them. Then, instead, Celia opened the cabinet under the sink, pulled out the garbage can, and dropped them inside.

  Chapter 10

  On Friday night, Celia and Marlene met at Zahav, an Israeli restaurant they both enjoyed. It was a bit crowded, but because the owner knew them both, they managed to get seated quickly. After ordering drinks and hummus, Marlene pinned Celia with a serious look.

  “So tell me more about this Bart.”

  “Well, I think he’s fine. I was still pissed off when we talked before.”

  “What does that mean? What happened?”

  “We went out a few times. He’s pretty charming. Then I met him at a bar one night and we had a fight, parted ways. We were both drunk.”

  “Okay, following,” Marlene nodded.

  “Well, I went out the next night to a pool place. You know I love to play pool.”

  “I know you love hustling,” Marlene laughed.

  “True. Well, I played a few games with a guy. He was funny and hot. We ended up back at my townhouse. Let’s just say we were both exhausted and fell asleep.”

  Marlene sighed dramatically and pretended to pout. “Ah. Memories of wild sex.”

  Laughing, Celia continued. “Well, we were both still asleep, and someone knocked at my door.”

  “Oh, I know where this is going. It was Bart, coming to grovel.”

  “I don’t know why he was there, but he heard Tom in the background, and he blew up. I get why it bugged him. But we never said we were exclusive, and we’d had that fight and ended things.”

  “Yeah,” Marlene shook her head. “That isn’t how they think. You were both drunk. He thought it was just a fight. And I assume you’d been sleeping with Bart, right?”

  “I had been.”

  “Sorry, hon. You two were a couple. At least in his mind. But still, he didn’t have to act like a jerk.”

  “Well, he tried to apologize and I ignored his calls. Then he showed up again.”

  “Wow. What did he say?”

  “He apologized. He apologized for the fight and for making assumptions. He fell on his sword.”

  “Okay...” Marlene sounded surprised. “Is that all?”

  “Well, he said he wanted to be friends. He invited me to that gala tomorrow night.”

  “You didn’t say yes, did you?”

  “I wasn’t going to, but Norah Jones is singing.”

  “Oh Celia,” Marlene scolded. “You know he wants to be more than friends.”

  “Probably, but it’s a public venue. I will not let him come back to my place. And it’s Norah Jones.”

  “For someone so brilliant, you don’t always understand nuances, do you?”

  Celia was a little miffed. “Look, I’m a big girl. I can handle an evening with a man who said he only wanted to be friends.”

  “I know you can. But don’t go out with him after this. Something about him seems off.”

  “Yes, Mom,” Celia teased. “Boy, those maternal hormones are kicking in, aren’t they? Do I have a curfew?”

  “Bitch,” Marlene teased. “I am getting hungry, though. Don’t they know they can’t keep a pregnant woman waiting for food?”

  After dinner, the two of them walked in and out of random shops, catching up and gossiping. Marlene was an expert gossip. She told Celia more backstories about the staff at The Journal than she’d ever wanted to know, including stories about John’s antics before Celia began working there. Celia talked about some of her travels, and Marlene expressed jealousy. Celia laughed at Marlene for needing to pee at every place they visited. But she felt herself relax for the first time in a while. She’d been so busy traveling, interviewing killers, and navigating Bart’s ego, she hadn’t realized how much she needed a mindless night with a female friend.

  “So, are you thinking of names yet?” Celia asked.

  “Well, we’re talking about it. Dave wants a family name if it’s a boy. I would like to use my Nona’s name if it’s a girl.”

  “What was your Nona’s name again?”

  “Olivia.”

  “Oh, I like that. I can’t stand these strange new names people choose. Especially celebrities. What are they thinking? Can you imagine the news in twenty years? Senator Astral took the floor today to champion a new gun control bill. This is Plum Johnson-Evanovich reporting.”

  Marlene giggled. “Hmmm, I kind of like Astral.”

  “Don’t you dare! I will adopt that child myself.”

  By 10:00, Celia could tell Marlene was about to fall asleep standing on the sidewalk. They said their goodbyes, and Celia drove home. Predictably, Lucille was in her front yard calling for Jerry when she got home.

  “Oh, hello dear,” Lucille asked. “Have a nice evening?”

  “I did. Dinner with an old friend.”

  “Oh, I see. Your young man was here earlier. I thought you might have been out with him.” Jerry walked out from behind Celia’s bushes and rubbed himself on her legs before allowing Lucille to pick him up.

  “Not tonight. Just the girls. Goodnight, Lucille.”

  Celia was a little irritated as she unlocked her door and walked inside her townhouse. They were going to the gala tomorrow night. Why would Bart just drop by like that? Marlene was right. He probably hoped he could convince her to be more than friends. She would have to make that clear at the gala, and that would be the end of it. Nora Jones or no Norah Jones.

  The light was blinking again. Celia almost deleted the message without listening, but she couldn’t quite do it.

  “Celia, I’m going to be in the Philadelphia area for business next week. I figure you live somewhere near The Journal office. Please call me back. There are some things you need to know.”

  A little curious, Celia listened again. What could her estranged father possibly have to tell her? And why didn’t he just spill it in a message? It felt like manipulation, and she bristled. She was well acquainted with his manipulation; Celia had learned the skill from him. She pressed the delete button and went to bed.

  On Saturday, Bart arrived at 7:30 exactly. Celia gave herself a once-over in the mirror before answering the door. She looked amazing, she had to admit. The blue dress fit her in all the right places, and her hair had just the right amount of loose curls teasing her neck. She opened the door and smiled. Her date was equally stunning.

  “You look wonderful tonight,” Bart said, kissing her cheek. She stiffened a bit but smiled.

  “Thanks, you look pretty good as well. Shall we go?” Celia held her wrap with both hands so he wouldn’t try to take her arm. No touching or affection, she thought. Very clear boundaries.

  Once they arrived, a valet took Bart’s Mercedes, and as they walked in, Celia could feel a few stares. She straightened and walked with a bit more hip movement. Too bad Bart was such a clinger; they made a breathtaking couple. They found their assigned table and sat down, greeting another couple already seated there.

  The dinner was delicious, and Celia managed to keep Bart at arm’s length.
A few important people had their say, and then Norah Jones was introduced. Celia applauded along with everyone else, and she relaxed as the artist began to play and sing. After several selections, she took a break, and the house band began to play. Several couples began dancing, and Bart turned to Celia.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  “Yes I would,” she smiled.

  Bart was an excellent dancer, and Celia enjoyed following his lead. She kept a bit of distance between them, despite Bart’s attempt to pull her closer, but he didn’t react. After a couple of dances, she said she was ready for something to drink, so they made their way to the bar.

  “Celia? Is that you?”

  Celia turned to see Keith, dressed in a security uniform, walking toward her.

  “Hello, Keith, how are you?” Celia shook his hand.

  “You look great!” Bart stepped beside Celia as Keith gave the compliment. “I’m Keith Rhodes.” He shook Bart’s hand.

  “Bart Vandiver,” Bart said with a thin smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too. I hope you two are having a nice evening.”

  “We are,” Bart said. “We were just headed to the bar.”

  “I won’t keep you then,” Keith said. “Nice to meet you.”

  Bart began walking to the bar, but Celia stayed back. “Good to see you. Moonlighting I see.”

  “Yeah, prison guards don’t make the big bucks,” he joked.

  “I’ll see you next week,” Celia said, and then she joined Bart, who didn’t look especially pleased. Oh, well, she thought, that’s his problem. It’s not like Keith was a rival. No one was a rival because they were just friends, right? She smiled and ordered a drink, ignoring his expression.

  They danced for a little while longer, and then Nora Jones began performing again. Celia enjoyed her immensely, but when she bowed for the final time, Celia was ready to go home. She hoped Bart wouldn’t suggest a nightcap.

  “This was wonderful, Bart, thank you. But I’m exhausted for some reason.”

  “Probably all that dancing,” Bart smiled. “I’ll take you home.”

  It started to rain as they drove back to her townhouse, which Celia counted as lucky. Once they pulled into the driveway, Bart reached for his door handle.

  “Oh, you don’t have to get out in this weather. I can see myself in. I’m so tired I’ll probably fall right into bed and sleep. Thank you for a wonderful evening.” She exited the car before Bart could protest.

  Once she was inside, Celia shed her dress, took down her hair, and scrubbed the makeup from her face. She was tired, that hadn’t been a lie. Two nights out in a row were enough for her after a busy week. Shaking her head, she thought, So this is what forty feels like. Once in bed, she flipped through a few channels and then settled on a documentary. However, she was asleep before the narrator even finished the introduction.

  Chapter 11

  Even though Celia was looking forward to the next interview with Natasha, she had to admit the week without travel to and from the prison was a nice change. She had other pieces to finish, research to do, and several meetings, including a quarterly staff meeting—“all hands,” as John liked to call it. It would have been a nightmare to add travel and an interview into the mix.

  At 10:00 on Wednesday, the entire staff gathered into the too-small conference room. All chairs pointed toward the podium, where John would lead things. Celia tapped her pen on her notebook and watched the stragglers trickle into the room. John wouldn’t begin to talk until everyone was there and he had their undivided attention. He hated being interrupted. Finally, the last couple of people took their seats in the back.

  “Okay, everybody, let’s get started. I’m gonna ask you to turn off your phones or put them in your pocket on silent. We need to focus, and none of these stories needs to get out of this room.” It was the standard speech he gave at the start of every meeting.

  “First,” John continued, “the numbers. Our readership is up, which is good news. Thanks for the hard work. Two-thirds of our stories were picked up internationally this quarter, and a few of our reporters are working with the big three. Let’s hear it for Omar Sirami and Celia Brockwell.

  “Now, we have a lot of work to do. I don’t want anyone—anyone—one-upping us on a story. We get it first. Always. That means nobody sleeps on the job, and nobody talks about the big stories outside these walls.

  “Now, let’s talk about stories and collaboration.” John pointed to a reporter. “Hannah, how’s the piece about the gala going? You got your pass and the research on the spending of funds from previous galas?” Hannah nodded, and John moved on. “Great. George, the vet story? The guy who euthanized pets without permission? Where are we on that?”

  “I’ve got testimony from three clients and an assistant who doesn’t want to be named. The vet is stalling with the records.”

  John looked down for a moment, gripping the podium. “Who’s in charge of the office there?”

  “An older lady.” George consulted his notes. “Her name is Jeannie Grey.”

  “Okay, I’ll get someone from animal services to lean on her. Don’t even bother with the vet. He’s just trying to cover his ass.”

  The meeting continued, with John asking for specifics about various stories, recognizing those getting the job done, and berating those dragging their feet.

  “Finally, Celia,” John said, grinning. “You’re last because you’ve got some big stuff going. How’s the case with the CEO going? Subpoenas, dates, what you got?”

  “Right now they’re deposing people, lots of people. I expect more lawsuits. Of course, their lawyers are trying to stay tight-lipped, but I'm pushing. I won’t stop.”

  “I know you won’t. You’re relentless. What about the state legislation piece? You and Julia on track?” Celia looked across the room at Julia and nodded, and Julia gave her a thumbs up. “Good.” John looked around and then leaned forward a bit. “And what else have you got for us?”

  “That pretty much covers it,” Celia replied.

  John walked around in front of the podium and folded his arms. “You sure? Nothing else you want to share with us?”

  Celia looked at John and raised an eyebrow. “I’m absolutely sure, John. There is nothing else to share in this meeting.”

  After holding Celia’s stare for several seconds, John smiled and leaned back against the podium. “Okay, then, folks. Get your asses back to work.”

  Celia walked back to her office, and she was about to close her door when John placed his hand on the panel. “Can we chat for a minute or two?”

  “Sure,” Celia nodded. She sat at her desk and offered John the chair in front of her, but he remained standing.

  “So you don’t even want to let the rest of the staff in on the big story?”

  “I’d prefer it was just between you and me for now. Just to make sure nothing leaks.”

  John shook his head. “So, you trust the underpaid prison guards to keep their lips sealed but not your own colleagues?”

  “I can’t control what happens at the prison. I have no choice but to let them do what they will. However, I can control who knows what outside the prison. It’s not a matter of trust.”

  “How about this—you give me a preliminary write-up, and I’ll sit on it.”

  Celia leaned forward. “John, why does this bother you so much? You’ve never asked for anything like that. This isn’t the first hush-hush story we’ve done.”

  “Everything about this bothers me. Why did she pick you? Why all the secrecy? Why is she even telling a story now, when she’s set to be executed? This is a woman who lived in the limelight her whole life, and I just have to wonder what her angle is.”

  “She performed in the limelight,” Celia corrected. “She did everything a celebrity can do and then some to live as far from the limelight as she could. As for why she sought me out, I have no idea. I’m not a bleeding heart emotional, bent on overturning her sentence. Hell, I was practically t
he only stoic reporter after 9/11. I’m not worried about her angle. The story will be good for us.”

  “Good for you, you mean.”

  “And that’s another thing, John. When one of the people here succeeds, you succeed. The publication succeeds. When has that ever been a bad thing?”

  John looked at Celia for so long, she wondered if he was having some sort of stroke. Finally, he placed his hands on her desk. “I just think you need to remember who is in charge here.”

  “You can go now, John. This is ridiculous.” Celia wiggled her mouse to wake up the monitor and began typing. After a few seconds, John left her office, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Less than a minute later, someone knocked. Celia looked up from her laptop, and Julia was standing in the doorway. “Got a minute?”

  “Sure, have a seat.” Celia smiled. “Want some water?”

  “I’d love one,” Julia answered. “What’s up John’s butt today? He didn’t look happy just now.”

  “Oh, he’s having one of his phases,” Celia sighed, passing Julia a bottle.

  “Ah, one of his ‘I’m the boss’ moments?”

  “Exactly. He does it every time he doesn’t get his way.”

  Julia laughed and sipped her water. “True. I think he’s still mad he didn’t grow to be six feet tall.”

  “You’re terrible. I love it.” Celia laughed. “So what’s up?”

  “I wondered if you’d hear anything about a bigger media company trying to buy us out.”

  “No, I haven’t heard anything like that. What did you hear?”

  “Well, you know how inept John is with technology sometimes. I had to help him the other day, and I happened to see part of an email from over his head.”

  “What did it say?”

  “I didn’t see much, and he was not happy at all when he realized I caught a glimpse. But it would explain why he’s been such an ass the past few weeks.”

  “Well, you know,” Celia got up and closed the door. “We’re getting more and more attention. Omar and I aren’t the only ones getting called upon by the bigger pubs anymore. Not to be a jerk, but I think we’re outgrowing John’s ability to manage things.”