Deadlines Page 10

  What I didn't see was any sign of a struggle, or anything that struck me as being out of ordinary. No lamps were overturned, the bed was made, and no items were strewn across the floor. I knew some other people had been in and out of there since Chucky's passing, but the list was short: Jenna, the paramedics, and police officers. It was reasonable to assume that it could have been cleaned up before I arrived... or even before Jenna discovered her brother.

  "It's down here," said Jenna, dropping to her knees by the bed and indicating I should join her.

  "What are we looking for?" I asked, following her.

  The bed sides were low to the ground, with only a couple of inches between them and where the carpet began. Jenna tapped a finger next to a small object just inside the frame. "This."

  I squinted at it. "Is that a cufflink?"

  "I think so."

  I edged closer, pressing my nose as close to the carpet as I could to take a better look. "It's definitely a cufflink," I decided, taking in the classic square shape in matte silver. "It's just the right shape. See that nub on the back? It looks like it must’ve snapped off. Is it one of Chucky's?" Even as I asked, I knew she would say it wasn't. There would be no reason to call me if she thought it belonged to Chucky. It was what I called an anomaly, something that didn't belong here.

  "No, I've never seen it before," she confirmed.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Positive. I looked after Chucky's clothes and his accessories so I know everything he has. This cufflink is not his."

  "Did he have any... um... male... um... admirers?" I stuttered, hoping I wouldn’t cause any offense. Jenna told me he had girlfriends, but that didn't mean he disliked male company. I couldn't think of many other reasons why another man's cufflink might be found broken under his bed.

  "You mean is Chucky gay and did his boyfriend leave it here? No, and no! Chucky liked women, he just wasn't too great with them. And before you ask, yes, I'd know if he chose to swing the other way. Chucky was always very open with me and I'm not the type to judge. I'd love my brother regardless of his sexual preference."

  "That means it came from someone else."

  We looked at each other, both slightly startled at how close we ended up with our noses to the floor. Laughing, we pulled away, sitting upright, and I felt the oppressive anxiety lifting. "That's what I thought and I can't think of another reason any guy would be in here. Chucky didn't have a lot of friends coming over," explained Jenna.

  "Did you know every time he had friends over?"

  "No, but we socialized together a lot and it was always something casual. Game night, or a barbecue. No one in attendance would have worn a shirt that needed cufflinks."

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and switched to the camera function. Zooming in, I took a photo of the cufflink, making sure I got a good close-up of the detail. Examining the zoomed-in image, I was struck by the unusual, raised design.

  "I'll get that," said Jenna, rising to her feet as the doorbell rang. "This is good, isn't it?"

  "Definitely," I agreed, maneuvering the camera phone to snap every angle, and being careful not to nudge the cufflink out of position.

  "Shayne Winter, what are you doing?"

  I jumped, lifting my head so quickly, I thwacked it against the bed frame. At the same time, with a nifty sleight of hand, I stuck my phone inside my back pocket. Above me loomed Detective Smith, her arms folded.

  "That's a lovely sweater," I said, going straight for the compliment rather than the pang of guilt I suddenly experienced at being caught by a cop, even though I wasn't doing anything illegal. "Banana Republic?"

  "New season," confirmed Detective Smith. "Why are you here?"

  "Looking at this," I said, pointing at the cufflink.

  At the same time, Jenna said, "I thought I should call the police again."

  Smith kept her eyes fixed on me. "I can see that. We'll take it from here."

  "That's great!" I flashed a pleased smile toward Jenna. "I was just thinking..."

  "This is an active crime scene," cut in Detective Smith, "I'll escort you out."

  Before I could argue, Detective Smith had ushered both Jenna and me out of the bedroom, propelling us down the hall and past another plain clothes officer. "You're evicting us?" I squeaked as we were brusquely deposited on the stoop.

  "No, I'm evicting you," Detective Smith said pointedly. "Ms. Barnard if you could wait here while we conduct our investigation in the bedroom."

  "I can't believe you're kicking me out! I got here first!" I squealed with indignation. "Also, can I recommend that heel in an inch higher? It would give a super-boost to your leg length that would work better with those pants."

  Detective Smith twisted her heel and looked down at it thoughtfully. "Do you think?"

  I nodded solemnly. "One hundred percent."

  A cloud passed across her face. "Lower heels work better when kicking out unwanted persons from active crime scenes."

  "In that case, you're doing fine," I said as Detective Smith shut the door in my face.

  "That's not good," said Jenna. We both stared at the closed door. "I thought she would be more helpful."

  "Are you kidding me? This is great!" One look at Jenna's face told me she wasn't following. "Detective Smith just called the bedroom an active crime scene. She's taking the cufflink find very seriously!"

  "Really? What made her change her mind?" Jenna asked as we both looked toward the front door again. I wished I could see through it and right down the hall to where Smith was probably pressed to the floor in exactly the same spot I was only moments before. "Is the cufflink that important?"

  I shook my head, feeling just as confused as she was. It was important, sure, but if I had to declare an active crime scene every time I misplaced an accessory, there would be a string of unsolved crimes across the country. No, Detective Smith had to have another reason besides her sudden interest in Jenna's discovery. The question was, what?

  Chapter Twelve

  "That was so much fun to watch!" Placing my hands in Richard's outstretched hands as he stopped in front of me, I was beaming. My excitement threatened to overcome me. Wasn't this why I moved to LA? For the thrills, and the excitement? And now I just witnessed my first TV show taping. I hoped, as Richard squeezed my fingers, that it wouldn't be my last. "I've never seen a show taped before!"

  "Soon you'll be a pro," Richard assured me, leaning in to kiss both cheeks, and giving every indication he was pleased to see me. "Did you find your way to the set okay?"

  "I did. I caught a ride with one of the interns. Thanks for putting my name on the list at the gate and sending someone to meet me."

  "No problem. I'm glad you called. I was hoping it might be a social call, but I get the feeling it's work-related?" he asked, pulling a disappointed face. That quickly disappeared and was replaced by the same beam and flash of white teeth he greeted me with.

  "It's both actually," I admitted. After I left Jenna to talk with Detective Smith, Richard was the first person I called. I figured he had a right to know his best friend's death was now an active murder investigation. That, and he might remember something useful.

  "Let's grab a coffee while they do their thing," Richard said, dropping an arm around my waist to guide me towards the coffee bar across the set, behind the cameras. "Let me guess. You're not one of those girls who like complicated coffees, are you? I hope not because I don't think the coffee maker can take it. Last time it was a latte?"

  "A latte would be great," I told him as he reached for two cardboard cups next to a professional-sized machine.

  "Teamwork, I like it! So tell me your news. Is it your story? Is it Chucky?"

  "Yes." I nodded sagely, dialing back the happy feelings to a more appropriate level. It wouldn't do to look gleeful when I imparted the bad news. "I just came from his house. It's being declared a crime scene."

  Richard stopped, his hand pausing at the machine. "Are you kidding?"

  I shook my hea
d. "I wish I were. The detective kicked me out."

  "Now you're kidding."

  "'Fraid not."

  "I can't believe this!" Richard's hand shot to his mouth as he sucked in a deep, shocked breath. "Did this detective tell you why it's being called a crime scene?"

  "No."

  "I should call the police department. Poor Jenna! She must be so upset. First her brother dies alone, and now this. I can't imagine what she must be going through."

  "I saw her earlier and she seemed okay," I assured him.

  "Chucky was all she had. He was her only family, and her job."

  "I think she just wants to find out what happened to him."

  "The detective didn't say anything at all?"

  "Nothing."

  "I'll get to the bottom of it later. Believe me, whoever that detective is will be getting a piece of my mind." Richard shook his head again as his mouth set into a grim line. Hitting the button, he filled my cup and added a lid, handing it to me. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound mad at you, or at this. I appreciate you telling me. I want you to know that. It's just really frustrating. I don't know what to think. Only that it's too much to take in. Can we change the topic while this sinks in? You said this was partly a social call too? I'm going out on a limb here, but does that mean you wanted to see me?"

  "Well, yes." I paused, a rush of insecurity flooding me. I could have called Richard with the news, but I asked to meet him on set. I wanted to see him. He was nice and attractive and... actually, he was very attractive. Not that I could say any of that without looking desperate. Truthfully, I liked him and not just because he outshone all the guys I'd met so far in LA. I wanted to know more about him.

  "Actually I'm glad you're here. There was something I wanted to ask you," Richard said as he finished filling the second cup.

  "Yes?" I waited, looking up at him, breathless to hear whatever he had to say.

  "Would you like to have dinner with me?"

  "Yes!" Acceptance shot out of my mouth before I had a moment to think.

  "I mean... a date."

  I wrinkled my forehead, wondering what he thought I believed he was inviting me to dinner for, if it were something other than a date. Was he insecure too? Did he think I might say no? If only he knew the two dates I'd gone out on since arriving in LA, his confidence would probably have jumped up a few points. Not only that, but my own confidence was taking a pleasing surge now that I had a date with a genuine, nice, and completely unmarried, man. Gran would be so pleased to know. "Yes."

  "Really?"

  I faux punched his arm in what I hoped was a friendly, casual move that would counter his apparent surprise. Perhaps being a sidekick for so long had permanently damaged his confidence? It was something I could relate to, thanks to my recent career downgrade. "Yes, I'd love to go on a date with you. I'm so pleased you asked me."

  "Oh. Oh, well, that's terrific. I will get us a table for tomorrow night and pick you up at eight." We smiled at each other, and I was giddy with relief and anticipation. I had high hopes for this date!

  Hearing a throat clearing behind me made me spin around. My jaw dropped open as the man waiting behind us was the last man I expected to see. I was pretty sure he wasn't waiting for the coffee machine.

  "Ben?" I gasped, momentarily thrown by the presence of Ben Kosina in a new location. Just like he loomed unbidden over my cubicle, so he hovered now. He looked annoyed too, but I wasn't sure if it were me, or because he didn't expect to see me either.

  "Shayne?"

  "You two know each other?" asked Richard, awkwardly standing between us.

  "We're colleagues," said Ben, stretching out a hand to shake Richard's. "Ben Kosina, LA Chronicle Chief Reporter. How do you two know each other?"

  "From the story..." Richard started, but I cut him off quickly with, "What are you doing here, Ben? Don't you have an important news story somewhere?" Somewhere, anywhere, far from here, I pleaded with the universe, just so long as it wasn't near Richard. The last thing I needed was Ben sniffing out my story. I only just confirmed it was newsworthy!

  "As it happens, Richard is my story. I think you're expecting me?" Ben said, turning his smug face from mine to Richard's.

  "Oh sure, you're the reporter my agent said to expect."

  "You're the what now?" I spluttered.

  The satisfied smile Ben gave me failed to satisfy me. "I'm interviewing Richard for a story for The Chronicle. We're all very excited about the new TV show. I can see you're very busy today," he said as he shot a side look to me. "Shall we get started?"

  "Sounds great. Shayne, would you excuse us? My agent set this up after we spoke. I would have pushed it back, but you know what they say about publicity..."

  There was no way I would show Ben how annoyed I was. Richard didn't need to know either, not that it was his fault. "Not a problem at all."

  "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Ben began, clearly expecting one of us to fill the blanks in on exactly what he was interrupting.

  "Not at all. I was just heading back to the office." I spun on my heel, turning my back on Ben and giving Richard my most brilliant smile. "It was great to see you, Richard."

  "You too. I'll call you soon to confirm the details."

  "You have my number." Richard leaned in to kiss both cheeks again, giving me a thrill, which I concealed well. As I left both men together, neither spoke when I walked away. I had to hope Ben thought my presence on set was simply a social call and he wouldn’t ask any questions about Chucky. I wished I could have stayed and monitored their conversation, but there was no way I could do that without alerting Ben to the real story. But as I walked away, despite my hopes, the reporter in me already knew that Ben's suspicion-o-meter had risen to Code Red.

  ~

  "I've got to go, Gran, but I wish you had some advice for me on this. I don't know if Ben is after my story, or if he was just there for an interview about the show. It was kind of strange though. I know what you're going to say: ask him. But I can't! We aren't exactly buddies and I don't know how things work at The Chronicle. Maybe they steal stories from each other all the time. Anyway, I love you and miss you." I hung up, wishing Gran answered the phone and imparted some of her wise advice as I glanced toward the door again.

  I was on high alert for Ben's return to The Chronicle. Every time the door to the office opened, I tried to glance over casually, but several times I was disappointed. When the door opened the next time, I barely registered it, merely glancing up when Ben passed by. I ducked my head down again, hoping he'd go to his desk. I didn't know yet how to find out about his interview with Richard, but I had to get my hands on his notes somehow. What if Richard said something and Ben discovered the bigger story than just the comeback of Richard Adamson?

  Ben stopped a few paces beyond my cubicle, turned, and met my eyes before making a beeline for me.

  Uh-oh.

  "How do you know Richard Adamson?" he asked, his directness somewhat surprising. Gone were his jovial attitude and winsome smile. Now his eyes were shut down, and his mouth was set in a firm line as he waited for my answer.

  "Through an acquaintance," I said, since it was sorta the truth.

  "Nothing to do with Chucky Barnard?" Ben asked.

  I fought to stop my eyes from narrowing so as not to tip off Ben that his question riled me. Again, I stuck to the truth. "Actually, Richard's name did come up in relation to the obituary I'm writing."

  "So… he's an interviewee?"

  "That's right."

  "And nothing more?"

  "Nope." Not yet anyway, but Ben didn't need to know that.

  "Sounded like you two were going on a date."

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "Dinner at eight." Ben waited, assessing me. If I were anyone else, I might have crumbled, but I was an ace reporter and could out-stare anyone.

  "Oh, yes, that does sound like a date," I quipped.

  "Let me give you some advice, a guy like Richard Adams
on isn't worth your time."

  I blinked. I wasn't expecting that. Instead of searching for a story, that sounded a lot like jealousy. "I'm sorry, what?"

  "Adamson is not the kind of guy you want to date."

  "How is it any of your business whom I choose to date?"

  "I've had two stories suppressed by our lawyers on Adamson already. He is not a good guy," he said with firmer emphasis.

  "And now you're warning me to stay away from him?" I relaxed back into my chair. This was good. And by good, I meant downright annoying. It was annoying enough when I thought Ben was sniffing around my story. Now he wanted to mess with my dating life too! And that was after sweeping my job out from under me faster than a magician with a tablecloth. Except, what if this were all some kind of ruse to get me away from Richard so Ben could get to the bigger story? Richard must have let something slip, but without access to Ben's notes, what could it be?

  "Yes, I am. You seem like a nice person. A little high-strung maybe, but a nice person. Smart, too. You can do much better than a guy like Adamson."

  High-strung? "A guy like you maybe?"

  Ben straightened a little, pushing his shoulders back, and didn't answer.

  "Here's the thing, Ben: I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself. So why don't you take care of your business and I'll take care of mine? I don't want to know whatever rumors you made up about Richard. Just stick to your own stories." With my fingers in the air, I mimed walking away.

  "My own... Shayne, I'm trying to help you."

  "Shayne! My office!" boomed Bob, saving me from a sharp retort.