Killer Career (27 page)

Another full house. This time at the National Conference of Who
Done-Its in New York. Rabid eyes devoured Tyler as he approached the
podium. The faces of wannabe writers and mystery aficionados glommed
together into one giant blob.

Long before Julie McGuire had appeared in his life, he’d agreed to
this appearance. Then he’d had no inkling he’d be consumed by so
much hunger for a woman that he’d chafe to be near her every
minute. Was this love? How could he tell when the concept was
foreign to him? Right now was not the time to dissect his feelings.
His fans awaited him.

Stifling a frown of impatience, Tyler opened his speech with an
assortment of writing tips, then reviewed the current market and
finished with the usual question-and-answer period.

An attractive woman of Oriental descent flashed him a censorious
look. She raised her hand, as if daring him to call on her. He knew
the type. She was trouble, but he could handle her.

“Yes?”

“Doesn’t it bother you to write about actual murders,” she
asked.

“Not one bit. They’ve already happened. I can’t undo them, only
approach them from my own perspective.”

“I see no benefit from reveling in another human being’s demise.
To me, your books smack of sensationalism. Correct me if I’m wrong,
but I don’t recall even one perpetrator being arrested through the
auspices of any of your books.”

Tyler gave a short laugh. “Ma’am, that’s not my jurisdiction. I
suggest you contact the law enforcement agencies and ask them why the
perpetrators are still at large. I’m but a lowly writer.”

As he’d intended, the audience broke into mocking laughter.

“Next question?”

The woman refused to be quashed. Without raising her hand, she lashed
out, “It may not be your profession to collect criminals, but why
encourage and glamorize them?”

“Lady, you’re not much better yourself or you wouldn’t be here
talking to me. Now, let someone else get in a word.”

The woman glared at him. He glared back. The worthless bitch. She
envied and criticized him because he’d made it. She’d never get
anywhere herself. There were millions out there just like her. He
should be accustomed to their criticism, yet the woman’s spiteful
words left a sour taste in his mouth.

The bad taste didn’t go away, even while the remaining questioners
exhibited the utmost respect.

After he’d stepped down, he couldn’t escape the winding line of
book buyers and autograph seekers. He’d prefer to cut out to his
hotel suite until the morning flight. Instead he must humor his
admirers. The price of success.

Still stardom had its advantages. Their reverence assuaged his ego.
He was the main attraction and man of the hour. If only she were here
to share his triumph.

* * *

His wake up call came too early. He’d told the desk clerk to call
him exactly at five and it was - - good grief. Tyler stared through
gritty eyes at the alarm, then did a double take. It was five. He
could have sworn he’d just gone to bed. Groggily, he stumbled
upright and made his way to the bathroom. The gold plated handles
released a spray of frigid water. He splashed his face and patted his
cheeks with his personal hand towel. Gliding the razor across his
face, he frowned. Though he’d made it a point to get to bed early,
he didn’t look it. His lids were swollen and red, his face sallow,
as if he’d binged all night. He frowned. This sort of thing had
happened before, but he couldn’t understand why.

He reached into his toiletry bag for the eye drop container and
deposited hefty portions into each eye. He must keep up appearances.
He would not look like a bum.

In the livery on his way to the airport, the radio was already tuned
in and spouting the news. Tyler closed his eyes and absently listened
as he drifted in and out of sleep.

When Carolyn Wong arrived at her sister, Lucy’s apartment to
pick her up this morning, she was greeted by a ghastly sight.
Apparently, during the evening hours, someone had slipped inside,
tied her sister to a kitchen chair and yanked her tongue out by means
of a pair of ice tongs. The neighbor in the adjoining apartment
recalls hearing a creaking sound around eleven last night, as if the
door were opened, but since Wong was known to keep irregular work
hours, the neighbor was not surprised to hear more creaking a few
hours later. It’s believed the perpetrator may have sat and watched
the victim bleed to death. When asked if her sister had any enemies,
the shaken Carolyn Wong said, “My sister was known for speaking her
mind, but she had a good heart. She didn’t deserve this.”

Tyler’s lips slipped into a grim smile. It was far too much to hope
the victim in the newscast was the same bitch who’d attacked him
verbally at the conference. The chance of that happening was slim,
since scores of Orientals resided in New York. A coincidence of that
nature only occurred in books when he arranged it.

* * *

His head pounded during the entire flight back to Chicago. Drained
and disoriented, Tyler stumbled off the airplane at O’Hare. In a
daze, he made his way through security and the baggage check.
Outside, as usual, no one was on hand to greet him.

That had never bothered him before. Now, a massive weight of
loneliness settled upon his shoulders, making them slump. The snow
was falling. In a few weeks it would be Christmas. While others would
spend the holiday with their loved ones, he’d again be by himself,
pretending it was just another day.

The air was brisk. Snowflakes caressed his cheeks and lips. What
would it feel like if she were touching them instead?

“I need you,” he said, acknowledging his weakness, though he knew
she couldn’t hear him.

The livery driver, who’d just pulled up to the curb, answered,
“Sorry, I got caught up in traffic. I’ll be right there, sir.”

Wearily, Tyler nodded. This stranger would be company for the ride
home, not the beautiful Julie. Would it always be his destiny to
travel through life alone?

Not if he could help it. Enough self pity. Weariness gone, his mind
clicked into high gear. Why give up so easily? He had the brains and
wherewithal to get what he wanted. He’d play out the scenes as if
they were in a book. He was good at that. No, great.

The miles crawled by on the expressway. Impatiently he waited for the
livery man to deposit his bags inside the penthouse.

“Thanks for your help,” Tyler said, reaching into his pocket,
withdrawing a bill and handing it to the man. “This is for you.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Thank you, sir.” He walked backwards
and almost ran out the door.

Tyler smiled to himself. He must have given the man more than he’d
thought. No matter. Why waste time on trivialities when he had more
important matters to attend to. Energy coursed through his veins, as
his mind clicked along, developing the next move.

Abandoning his bags in the hallway, he strode to the study and typed
in the entire plot outline. Satisfied with the result, he was free to
rest.

* * *

Though he was accustomed to sleep deprivation, the next three nights
proved especially long for Tyler. Finally, it was Friday and time to
put his plans into action.

He reached for the telephone beside the couch. “Is Julie McGuire
there? I’ve got an emergency. I absolutely must speak to her.”

He strolled across to the bank of windows. Swirling snow obscured his
vision. The storm was building.

“I’m sorry, sir. She’s on trial this morning,” a voice broke
in.

Just as he’d expected. When he’d last spoken to her, she’d told
him she’d be booked this week, but in an emergency, her partner
could fill in.

Smiling, he asked, “This is extremely important. What about her
partner?”

“One moment please, I’ll check.”

Tyler waited, impatiently drumming his fingers on the window pane.

“Donovan here.”

At sound of his enemy’s voice, Tyler’s mouth twisted into a
grimace. This next part would require groveling, which he absolutely
detested.

“Mr. Donovan. I’ve just returned to town and found a message on
my recorder requiring immediate attention. The estate lawyer insists
on my doing the inspection with him and presenting my specifications
this afternoon or the deal is off.”

“Sure it can’t wait until Monday? Julie should be free by then.”

“Absolutely not. The man’s only in town for one day and only for
a few hours. If I don’t catch him now, the whole works will go down
the drain. Need I remind you there’s a bit of money involved?”

There. Was that enough to convince him, or could Donovan detect his
lies crossing the phone wires?
Come on, jump to the bait. I’m
counting on you.

“I’m not really versed on the matter. It’s in Julie’s hands,”
Donovan said.

“Your partner has kept meticulous notes. In no time, I could bring
you up to speed at my place and then we could head on over. It’s
pretty much a done deal. I just need legal presence.”

Donovan sighed into the phone. “I don’t usually meet at a
client’s home, but I’ll make an exception. I’ll give it a try.”

He had him. Tyler strove to hold back the triumph seeping into his
voice, as he said, “Thanks, I appreciate it. My garage is on the
south side of the building. When you reach the door, press one zero
three six on the keypad. Pull your car in. Then take the elevator
straight to the penthouse.”

Chapter Thirty-One

“I’ve got to get over to Jensen’s. Something’s come up on
that Grand Granada deal. Kill my calls for the day,” Dade told Pam,
as he shrugged into his suit coat and dashed out the door.

When he stepped onto Monroe Street, he noted the snow plows had
fought a losing battle. In the ensuing hours since the morning rush,
a foot of snow had accumulated. Being a native of Chicago, Dade was
normally immune to weather variations, but in his present mood the
sight aggravated him.

This was the pits. He didn’t want anything to do with Jensen, yet
here he was, dashing out into a blizzard to clinch a multimillion
dollar deal for the jerk. If it weren’t for Julie, he wouldn’t do
it.

On Michigan Avenue, the wind howled, rocking the tiny BMW. To the
right stood the frozen crystal mass of Lake Michigan. A snow-covered
RV sped past him, depositing muck onto the BMW’s windshield. The
wipers spread the film, making it impossible to see.

That did it. Dade pounded the steering wheel. Damn, he’d played it
stupid. He should have called the other lawyer first. With this mess,
the guy couldn’t fly out of O’Hare today anyway. The inspection
thing could have waited. Now it was too late. He was already half way
to Jensen’s and may as well finish the journey.

As traffic stalled at the next intersection, he stemmed the rising
tide of irritation and tried to look on the bright side. At least
Jensen would see him and not Julie. The less he saw of her the
better.

At the office, he’d taken a quick glance into the file and
everything appeared in order. Like Jensen had said, Julie had done
her legwork. Barring an unforeseen monkey wrench, today would be a
piece of cake.

Turning onto the south side of the building, he readily found the
entrance to Jensen’s private garage and punched in the security
code. The door opened, revealing a separately contained area.

He let out a low whistle at the sight of a vintage Ferrari nestled
between a late model Jaguar, a Mercedes SUV and a late model Porsche.
What a setup. Not many could afford even one of these luxury cars,
much less a private garage in a prime location to put them in. This
took big bucks.

Though he made a hell of a living as an attorney, this stuff was way
out of his league. Lots of women would go for a guy like this. Who’d
blame Julie if she fell for Jensen?

He could. She damn well knew better. It wasn’t Jensen who really
cared for her.

Swearing, he pressed the elevator button. Within seconds, a chime
signaled the cab’s approach. The door closed softly behind him. He
sped upwards to the penthouse.

As soon as the door opened, Jensen met him in the foyer.

“Sorry to put you through all this, Donovan,” Jensen said,
holding out his hand.

Dade grudgingly shook it. Who was the man kidding? Jensen could care
less about putting him out. From what Dade could gather, the man had
one goal and that was self-aggrandizement. To hell with anyone else.
Well, two could play that game.

“No problem,” Dade said, lying through his teeth.

Damn, he didn’t want to be here. For once in a long time, he’d
finally had a free day. He’d intended to sort through the files and
mull over his choice of an associate or new partner. Now that would
have to wait. Julie owed him big time for this. For that matter, she
owed him for wanting to leave in the first place. A stab of hurt hit
him again at the thought.

“Is anything wrong?” Jensen said.

Dade smoothed over his brow. He should know better than to let his
feelings show in front of a paying client. He gave a short laugh.
“Nothing’s wrong, except for the rotten weather. The wind’s
howling and it’s a regular blizzard out there. I dodged some hairy
looking spin-outs on the way over.”

“How does the saying go? You must first taste the bitter to know
the sweet. Is that not right?”

“Something like that. Anyway, let’s get the ball rolling before
the other party’s snowed in.”

“Yes. My office is right down the hall. We can go over the
paperwork there.”

They trooped over the plush carpet and came to an interior windowless
room which could almost pass for another apartment. One side was
equipped with three desks, computers, printers, scanners. The second
contained a large kitchenette. The third held four black leather
recliners, each with an end table.