Laura Caldwell - Red Blooded Murder

“Why? You two looked like you were having fun the other night.”

She peered around, as if to see if anyone was listening. When she turned back to me her face was filled with distaste. “I didn’t tell you the other morning, because I was still trying to sort it out in my head, but I think he’s been following me.”

I stood. “What do you mean?”

Another glance around. “I found some stuff in his apartment, all this information on me-notes, pictures, articles, things like that. He had what grocery store I go to, where I get my hair cut, everything.”

“Was it information he could have learned by asking around?”

“He knew my gynecologist.”

“Wow. Bizarre.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to call the cops on him?”

“I do, but like I said when you were at my house, I cannot afford bad publicity right now, not with Trial TV just starting. And there’s no way the cops would keep this quiet.”

“Wait. Jane, why didn’t you tell me this when we found the noose? If he was following you, maybe it was him.”

She shook her head. “I thought about that, but…” She shrugged. “I don’t know how to say this, but I just don’t think he would do something like that. He’s not the type.”

“He was following you.”

“Yeah, but I think the following thing might have to do with his book. When I found those notes he made about me, he also had stories about other newscasters.”

“So? All that says is he’s a freak who gets his rocks off stalking newscasters.”

“He doesn’t know where I keep the key.”

“If he really was following you, he might have seen you use it at some point.”

She gave a brief nod. “I guess. And I guess I was just hoping the whole thing would blow over, and I’d never see him again. Things have been so rocky with Zac, I haven’t wanted to add anything to the mix.” She smiled wistfully. “I wish Zac could have been here today.”

“Does Zac usually watch your broadcasts in person?”

“No, but today was special, you know? He was supposed to come by this morning, but he’s still in Long Beach.”

She blinked a few times. Her eyes became tear-filled. “We’ve got problems.”

“What can I do?”

She forced a smile and batted a tear away. “You can go with me to the launch party tonight. You’re invited because you’re an employee now, and I hate going to these things alone. Zac usually goes with me.”

“Of course. I’d love to.”

She told me the address for the party and asked me to meet her at a bar down the street beforehand.

I sat down and jotted the name of the place then looked up at Jane. “You sure you don’t want to do anything about this Mick guy? I mean, he did show up here today.”

“Yeah, but he had an excuse, and he left. He didn’t even talk to me. And I haven’t heard anything from him since I spent the night there. It’s a situation that will go away.”

I raised one of my eyebrows and gave her a dubious look.

“And if it doesn’t, I’ll go to the cops.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Now make sure you wear something fabulous tonight. That’s an order from a higher-up at Trial TV.”

“Got it. What are you going to do until then?”

“See a friend of mine. I need someone to get my head straight, you know?”

“I know. My friend Maggie does that for me.”

“The tough part will be that I have to tell this friend I won’t be around much anymore. I need to focus on my marriage.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

She put her hand on my shoulder. “And hey, you’ve been a good friend to me, too. Thank you for that. Really.”

I stood and hugged her. “Anytime, Jane.”

She squeezed me back. The embrace lasted only for the briefest second. It seemed a mundane moment. But it was one I would return to again and again.

W hen I arrived at the bar at six, there was no sign of Jane.

The place she’d chosen was a Latin bar/restaurant on Illinois Street. Jane said she loved the place, and I could see why. It was a sexy, splashy lounge with sensual drum-based music.

The bar was packed so I stood at the back, behind the crowd. After a while, I checked my watch. Jane was definitely late, which was curious, since her newscaster background usually made her exceptionally punctual. But then again, the day had been a hectic one.

I texted her-I’m here. Want me to order something for you?

I shifted back and forth and looked around. Still no Jane. I checked my watch a few times. Had I misunderstood her somehow? I called, but her phone rang and then went to voice mail.

The River East Arts Center, where the party was being held, was on the same block as the bar. Maybe she was already there?

I hustled down Illinois Street, where the Arts Center was lit up and glowing. Located not far from Navy Pier, the gallery was an elegant two-story loft space, which overlooked the river and was decorated with everything from sculptures to oil paintings to pop art. As I walked around, searching for Jane, I peered at some of the discreet stickers at the bottom of the art. Most of the pieces cost as much as I could make in a year at the Fig Leaf.

But Trial TV had spared no expense for their opening party. A band stood in front of the glass wall and belted out jazz numbers. Waiters circled with glasses of sparkling wine. The place was full of elegant people laughing, toasting.

All they needed was a lead newscaster.

I went back to the bar to find it was still packed. I couldn’t even make my way to the front. And still no sign of Jane.

By now, she was half an hour late. I called and got her voice mail again. I texted once more-Are you on your way?

When she was forty-five minutes late, I went back to the gallery.

Tommy Daley came up to me. He wore the same gray shirt and yellow tie he’d worn to work, but he’d put a shabby tan blazer over it. “Have you seen Jane?”

“I’m looking for her, too. We were supposed to meet up the street, but she didn’t show.”

“Goddamn it. Ari Adler arrives in five minutes, and Jane was supposed to greet him. Find her, will ya? Find her now.”

I called Jane three times, texted her twice and checked the restaurant again. Still no sign.

I thought of her words earlier this afternoon. She was going to see a friend. I need someone to get my head straight, she said.

Who was the friend she was meeting? Was it really a friend or one of her flings? Jane said that Zac was gone. Would she have met the person at her place?

Jane’s town house wasn’t far-just a few minutes by cab ride. I went out front, where a row of cabs waited. A couple minutes later, I was in front of her house. The lights were on, just like the other night. Was Jane still here getting ready? Maybe running late?

I gave the cab cash and asked if he could wait. If Jane was simply late and was ready now, we’d be back in time to greet Ari Adler.

I hurried up the front steps and rang the doorbell. I could hear the sound echoing inside, a vacant sound.

I peered in the window to my right. I saw the chairs where Sam and Charlie and I had sat a few nights before. At the thought of that night, and the scarf shaped like a noose, I felt a chill travel through my body.

I rang the doorbell again. Still no Jane. I called her. “Jane, I’m standing outside your house,” I said to her voice mail. “Where are you?”

I waved at the cab driver, signaling for one more minute.

He shook his head and yelled out the window, “I go!”

“No, wait!”

But he pulled away.

“Damn,” I muttered, then pounded on the door. Even if Jane was home, we’d now have to hunt for a cab, which would take up valuable time.