Deadly Interest Page 2

  Bass looked up. He scowled.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  Ignoring him, I headed toward the coat check to the foyer’s far left. I handed two young girls my shawl, taking a plastic token in return. Turning toward the ballroom, my eyes scanned the sea of round tables, all covered in white linen, with light-refracting crystal held by manicured hands. I felt the tip of my own ripped nail close in on my fist and I grimaced.

  Bass scurried to walk with me as I ran my hands down the sides of my indigo blue gown, smoothing it. My dress was the only thing that hadn’t gotten screwed up tonight. It was silky and cut on the bias with a demure slit that slithered up from its calf-length hem. I’d pulled back my damp hair into a chignon, and the last glance I’d taken in the mirror before I tore out of the house made me believe that I’d at least managed a little bit of elegance.

  Bass had a nervous jumpiness about him that made him look, in his black tuxedo, like a sixty-year-old ring-bearer with ants in his pants. “Do you have any idea what it would’ve looked like if you hadn’t shown up?” he asked for the second time.

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” I took a deep breath, centering myself before moving toward the open doors. Every woman knows that her attraction is in her mind—people will react to her based on how she feels about herself. Tonight I was determined to dazzle.

  “Everybody’s been asking where you are. Where were you, anyway?”

  I was a few inches taller than Bass most days. Tonight, in my three-inch heels, I felt like an Amazon woman. Standing close, forcing him to tilt his head far up to look at me, I pasted on a smile and ignored his question.

  “Just show me to our table.”

  * * * * *

  William Armstrong, my partner at work, stood as we approached. “Alex,” he said.

  Holding out the chair next to his for me, his expression was one of concern, eyebrows close together over sparkling blue eyes. When I shot him a crooked grin, his face relaxed and I watched his eyes move up and down my body, as though seeing me for the first time.

  Something about that man’s smile turned my knees weak. I’d never seen him in a tux before, but his just over six-foot frame wore it so splendidly, that I had to bite the insides of my cheeks to stop myself from saying “Wow!”

  “You look great,” he said in a low voice as he pushed my chair in.

  I let out the breath I’d been holding. “Thank you.”

  As William sat to my left, Bass took a seat next to his long-time girlfriend, Mona. I murmured apologies for my tardiness to them. Two chairs to my immediate right were currently unoccupied but had been claimed, as evidenced by a wineglass with red-lipstick marks, and two crumpled napkins lying on the vacant seats. A man’s Armani jacket, draped so that the tag faced outward, shouldered the chair next to mine.

  “Can I get you something?” William asked, leaning forward, his fingers poised on the tabletop as though to boost himself upward at my command.

  William’s solicitousness took on a peculiar quality when I realized we were seated together, like dates. I managed to say, “No thank you,” and turned to my boss, who smirked.

  Bass had made comments in the past about William and me having a secret fling going, and when I realized my protestations to the contrary only served to encourage him further, I shut up about it and let him believe what he chose.

  Mona reached past William toward me. “It’s so good to see you again, honey,” she said. Her fifty-something careworn face was mottled from years in the sun, her black hair a shade too dark to be natural, but the creases bunching up near her pale brown eyes and the deep grooves around her mouth made it clear this was a cheerful lady.

  I clasped her little-girl hand, half-concealed under rock-studded gold rings. “You too,” I said with feeling. “How’s the big guy been treating you?”

  “He better treat me real nice,” she said, her eyes twinkling, “I booked us a reservation in one of them Sybaris swimming pool suites tonight.” She leaned back and slapped Bass playfully on the arm. “Didn’t I, honey?” She laughed then—deep-throated and merry—a surprising sound from such a small person. Next to her, Bass looked away, reddening. How a fellow as cranky as Bass could have snagged a gem like Mona had always been a mystery to me.

  I spied our station’s anchor, Gabriela Van Doren, and her date seated at the next table, chatting it up with the general manager from our competing station. I turned to William. “Why is Gabriela over there?” as it occurred to me that she had apparently been invited to bring a guest.

  William shook his head and shrugged.

  Perplexed, I placed my hand on the back of the empty seat next to me and addressed Bass, “Then who’s sitting here?”

  A cool hand covered mine. “Hello, Alex.”

  My stomach clenched, but I forced a smile as I looked up. “Dan,” I said, trying to keep the surprised disappointment out of my voice. I pulled my hand out from under his, but I wasn’t quick enough. He snagged it, long enough for his eyes to flick over my ragged nail, and lift an eyebrow in disapproval. I maintained eye contact, smiled, and returned my hand to my lap, pretending that it was the height of fashion to have a splintered middle fingernail.

  “How have you been?” I asked, my voice flat.

  Behind him, his new girlfriend Pamela hovered with blond perfection. She and I had met, just once, under strained circumstances.

  “Great,” he said, flashing a bright oh-so sincere smile. “And you?” Without waiting for my answer he half-turned toward his date. “I’d like to introduce you to—”

  “Pam,” I finished. “We’ve met.”

  “That’s right,” Dan said, smoothly.

  She blinked a couple of times in feigned confusion, smiled faintly, and wrapped her hands around Dan Starck’s shirt-sleeved biceps. “I prefer Pamela,” she said. She gave his arm what was obviously meant to be a proprietary squeeze.

  He glanced back toward her with a sly smile, running a finger along his own jawline the way men do sometimes, as though to verify that they really did remember to shave that morning.

  Like a model from the cover of GQ, he wore local fame like an inner glow, radiating brilliance from his perfect white teeth to his golden-tanned and trim body. As beautiful as his latched-on accompaniment was, however, she paled in comparison to his confident radiance. The way she held on to him, two-handed, protecting him from my evil clutches, delivered a welcome boost to my self-confidence.

  It had been a while since he and I were an item, and despite the fact that the breakup had been a mutual decision, in retrospect I couldn’t help but believe that the relationship that had preceded it had been all his doing. He’d sought me out, wooed me, and when I responded to this handsome hunk’s undivided attention by moving in with him, I discovered that in addition to clothes and toiletries, he expected me to bring all my station’s stories, informants, and secrets into the relationship, too.

  That didn’t happen.

  I drew my line and he drew his. It was when I stepped back to get a better look that I realized there was no overlap.

  A gloved hand placed a chilled salad in front of me and I picked up my outermost fork. Dan leaned close, his shoulder skimming mine. “Good luck tonight,” he said. His eyes caught the light from the crystal chandeliers above us.

  Sincere or mocking—I still couldn’t tell.

  I stabbed a cherry tomato and brought it to my lips. “The same to you.”

  * * * * *

  The moment we’d all been waiting for came just as the last remaining parfait glasses disappeared—stolen away by quick-fingered busboys. The table before us emptied so quickly and unobtrusively that it went from cluttered to clear as though by magic. As final crumbs were scraped off white linen, the master of ceremonies took the podium in front of tall, crimson curtains. A local author, he’d been tapped for duty after his latest book hit the New York Times Bestseller list. He scratched his trim beard and began his introductory remarks.

  Willia
m inched his chair closer to mine; we’d angled them a bit when the speeches began. He wasn’t much bigger than Dan, just over six feet tall, but he was broad-shouldered and trim. Sitting between these two, I couldn’t help but compare. Dan’s Abercrombie and Fitch good looks were stunning, but almost feminine-pretty. William with his smile lines and solid build, was handsome in a real-man way. His light brown hair had a tendency to curl in humid weather, and I found I couldn’t get enough of looking at him. When he and I worked together, I felt a level of comfort I’d never achieved with Dan.

  I almost wished he could read my mind right now. I envisioned him grabbing my hand, whisking me out of this stuffy party, and taking a long drive out to where the harsh lights of the city didn’t interfere with the bright skyshow of stars.

  I sighed, but it was lost in the audience’s polite applause.

  “The nominees for this year’s Davis Award for excellence in reporting are . . .”

  The master of ceremonies spoke slowly. One at a time, he named three feature stories and those in the media responsible for bringing them to light. I waited. I knew we were fourth on the nomination list.

  “Midwest Focus NewsMagazine for ‘Crowning Glory.’ Gabriela Van Doren, anchor, and Alexandrine St. James, reporting.”

  William reached over and squeezed my hand.

  His simple gesture made my breath catch.

  “And our final nominee tonight is . . . Up Close Issues for ‘Scandal in the Catholic Church,’ Dan Starck, anchor.”

  No reporter named on Dan’s story. I found that interesting.

  The crowd settled into an anticipatory silence. I watched everyone at our table lean forward in unison, as though straining to hear the announcement one half-second sooner than anyone else.

  The man at the podium grinned out at the crowd, peering over his half-moon glasses. “And this year’s Davis Award for Excellence goes to . . .”

  There was no drum roll, but I felt the hard beat in my heart.

  “Up Close Issues, for ‘Scandal in the Catholic Church.’”

  The gentleman at the podium smiled and gestured toward our table as I sat back in my chair. My perfunctory clapping was lost in the roar of the room’s applause.

  Dan stood as the bright spotlight found him. He didn’t blink, but I did, as the searing whiteness accidentally hit me first, before moving to capture his look of surprise. It was as practiced as my smile, I’d bet. He turned toward Pamela, kissed her, and then made his way, grinning, through the round tables full of beautifully dressed people, clasping outstretched hands, eager to touch their perception of greatness.

  William leaned over. “You okay?”

  The taut strings of my smile were still working, and I spoke between closed teeth. “No surprise,” I said, not looking at him. “I’m fine.”

  The spotlight clicked off, leaving us with that immediate-loss-of-light blindness. I worked my mouth to loosen it, and strove for serene.

  Dan stood there, gazing out, looking like the Reverend Jim Jones might have, right before urging his followers to drink the Kool-Aid. As if born for this moment.

  I felt a sudden, vicious stab of fury.

  This was his moment. But it should have been mine.

  “Thank you,” he said, waiting to begin until the crowd quieted. His manicured hands were wrapped around a crystal, flame-shaped trophy he hefted twice, as though weighty. He spoke briefly about how wonderful it was to be surrounded by so many pillars of the community.

  He was right about that. There had to be over a thousand people present, only a quarter of whom were media folks. The rest were lawyers, bankers, business-owners, and philanthropists who attended Chicago gala affairs as part of their job descriptions.

  I had to give Dan credit; his speech was engaging. He came across as sincere, speaking in a modest manner of how much this award meant to him and how he chose every single day of his life to do the best job he could and how he’d never dreamed of being awarded for such humble efforts.

  “Of course,” Dan was saying now, “I owe a great deal of gratitude to so many people.”

  Here it comes, I thought.

  Dan began summing up. He hadn’t yet mentioned our station, Midwest Focus, and he hadn’t mentioned me. I told myself I didn’t care. But I knew Bass did. The little fellow’s head stretched out, straining, and even from here, I could see the glitter of anger in his eyes. Mona kept one hand on his back, making small circles as though quieting a nervous animal.

  “And I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Alex St. James, over at our competing station, Midwest Focus.”

  Bass leaned further forward.

  For the first time all night, I lost awareness of William next to me. He faded as the room dissolved and I could see nothing more than Dan standing there, bathed in the only light on the planet. Would he really admit that this story had been mine? That through luck and conniving he’d stolen it from me? That I’d killed a man in the process and had nearly been killed myself?

  “Her tenacity is remarkable,” he said. “Like the little engine who says, ‘I think I can,’ she works very hard at her job.”

  I felt my mouth open.

  He flashed a smile my direction that I wanted to slap off of his smug face.

  “She was determined to cover this story, and even though she couldn’t, her efforts should be an inspiration to all of us to not let stalling and wheel-spinning get us down.” He nodded in pontification. “She’s quite the determined little thing, and she ‘thinks she can.’ That’s an attitude I hope she’s able to maintain forever.”

  He smiled, said a few more insipid things, then bowed to the crowd amid more applause, to head back to the table.

  Behind the stage curtains, a band had set up. Now with Dan’s speech complete, the heavy red draperies parted and the sounds of tuning began.

  “Dan, dinner, and dancing,” I said. “What more could anyone want?”

  No one missed my sarcasm, and even as I heard the tone of my own voice I felt petty and small.

  “Excuse me,” I said, standing.

  William stood up, following me through the obstacle course of tables blocking my path. I knew I couldn’t stay in the ballroom for one more minute. As I scooted to the open doors at the far right of the room, I smiled with the grace of an automaton at the people reaching to tap me and laugh as I passed.

  A man I recognized as a defense lawyer in our building—one whose practice came under our station’s scrutiny a year or so back—stood up, effectively blocking my path. His well-fed face broke into the ugliest smile I’d ever seen. Raising his wine glass as if in toast, he wiggled his bald head in a drunken way, slurring his words when he spoke.

  “The little engine that could,” he said, attempting a leer. “I like that.”

  I didn’t break stride. “Excuse me.”

  He moved, but I caught the drift of his deep chuckle as I passed and I wondered if my face flamed as hot as it felt.

  All I wanted was to grab my shawl, pull off my heels, and run, not walk, to my car. I wouldn’t, of course. I’d never give Dan that satisfaction. What I needed was a moment to pull myself together—the ladies’ room was just about a hundred feet ahead. Duck in, pretend to do my business, and walk back out. Maybe then I’d be able to fake it.

  I almost laughed out loud when I remembered my plans to dazzle.

  William caught my elbow just as I crossed the ballroom’s threshold.

  I half-turned, but kept walking.

  “Hold on a minute,” he said.

  Like I hadn’t understood the tug on my arm. Couldn’t he take a hint?

  “What?” I snapped.

  Bass came through one of the other sets of double doors. He and William corralled me far off to the side, tucked into the shadowed area created by the left-hand curved staircase. “What?” I asked again, but my voice was weaker.

  Bass’s hazel eyes glittered in the scant light. He pointed the way we’d come; his hand shook. “Get back in there.”


  Slow-motion, it dawned on me that William hadn’t let go. He’d adjusted himself, however, and instead of gripping my elbow, he held a hand steady on my shoulder and his fingers moved slightly on my back, almost in a caress. I watched him shoot a look of fury in Bass’s direction.

  “Give her a minute,” William said. Then to me, “Are you okay?”

  With one man ordering me around and the other trying to be Mr. Supportive, I nearly lost it with both of them. I didn’t need either of them to tell me how to behave. What I needed was to be alone and the two of them in the tiny space were crowding me. I felt the rise of anger like bile in my throat, and it took all my self-control to keep from slapping William’s hand away and telling my boss to go to hell.

  “I’m fine,” I said with a calm I didn’t feel.

  Twin looks of disbelief on their faces made me doubly determined to seek refuge in the bathroom and pull myself together.

  “I need to use the washroom,” I said. I turned to William and gave a quick arm-wiggle, effectively dislodging his hand. “Do you mind?”

  They both stepped aside. I squared my shoulders and strode away.

  Chapter Three

  I shouldn’t have been surprised, I suppose, when Bass and William’s panicked eyes met me upon my return.

  “Can I get you anything?” William asked, for the second time that night.

  Dazzle, I told myself.

  I braved a smile. “White wine. A Riesling, if they have it. If you don’t mind.”

  He moved to his feet with a swiftness that surprised me. Relieved, it seemed, at being assigned a task.

  Mona reached to grab my hand the moment he left. “You hang in there, honey.”