In The Market For Murder

CHAPTER ONE

If you’re going to sleep your way to the top, don’t start at the bottom, my favorite aunt once told me. It was my twelfth birthday. Eighteen years later, her voice still haunts my memory. The only thing her statement accomplished was making me blush whenever I thought of her. Unlike my aunt, I’d never been that ambitious, or ruthless, which is why I was standing in the executive office suite I rented in downtown Philadelphia. I suspected my aunt would’ve been unimpressed.

I shared my office with a likable young trial lawyer, Blaine Winston. While my aunt would have been disappointed in me, she most definitely would have approved of Blaine. He was ambitious and willing to work his way to the top, whatever that means. He’s assured me numerous times most young lawyers are. Young Mr. Winston spent most of his days in court. We split the cost of the office but he was rarely around. Our arrangement worked out brilliantly. Plus, I’ve been told his leather-bound law anthologies make me look more interesting.

I let out a sigh. The day had dragged on. A least there hadn’t been any emotional emergencies for me to sort out. That was, until my mother called. I regretted picking up the receiver the moment I did.

Dylan Alexandra, she drew out my name, enunciating every letter as she did. It was a habit that had irritated me since birth. Hello Mom, I tried to mask my irritation and sound pleasant instead. I’ve asked you a thousand times not to refer to me by my full name. It’s stuffy.

It is the name you were given at birth, and it is the name I will address you by until either you or I die, she said in her clipped New England accent.

Die? A little morbid for four in the afternoon, don’t you think? Did someone spoil your tea time? I sat at my desk and absently rifled through some files as she talked.

Nothing that serious, I assure you.

She was serious. I allowed myself the smile itching at my lips. That’s a relief. What’s on your mind?

I apologize, daughter. Are you busy? The sarcasm was so thick I felt smothered by it. She’d always had a way of making me feel short of air. I could almost see her sitting at her white marbled vanity, wearing one of her many silk shirts, probably the purple one, tucked into camel colored slacks. She’d be wearing a belt that matched her shoes. Heels, of course. Her shoulder-length auburn hair would be drawn back in a severe bun, accented by her prized ivory hair pin she’d gotten in Africa when she’d gone on safari with my father.

Planning another scandalous campaign, no doubt? I’m still getting over the Satin Slippers campaign. She let out an audible sigh. I never thought my daughter would be a Sultan of Spin.

If she’d hated my last campaign, she definitely would not approve of the Naked Origins campaign I’d been working on. Mom, we’ve been over this a number of times. Satin Slippers is a very respectable, high-end lingerie shop. Penelope Cruz was our spokesperson. And besides, I didn’t think a woman could be a Sultan, but if the shoe fits... I knew my humor would be lost on her, but it was worth a shot.

Apparently it fits you well, much to my heart’s despair. Proper women do not pander sex to sell products.

They do, you just ignore it.

Perhaps that’s true. However, no Scarborough should have to pander. Besides, Penelope Cruz has a skewed moral compass.

I laughed out loud. I’m sorry, Mom, but I am really busy at the moment. I have a few things I need to finish up before I can quit for the night. Is there something important you wanted to discuss?

Yes, I called to see if you had plans to come home for the holidays. You know I could use your company. It’s lonely this time of year.

I instantly cringed. I was happy she couldn’t see my reaction. I can’t promise you anything, but I will try to get up to see you.

Try? Why? Do you have someone special you are spending it with? Her tone reflected both her curiosity and her demand for more information.

No, was all I offered by way of explanation.

Then you shouldn’t be alone during the holidays, either. Clearly it was settled in her mind that I was coming up. I tried to gently remind her I was an adult and could make my own decisions. I’ll try to come up, I promise. I said.

Just then, Lily, my part-time administrative assistant, knocked on my door. I had never been so grateful for the interruption.

Why can’t I ever get a simple commitment from you?

I’m sorry Mom, but I really have to go. We’ll discuss it later.

I’m only asking you to please consider it.

When my mother asked me to consider things, she usually had it in her head that it was a done deal. I wasn’t in the mood to argue with her, especially in front of an audience. I will consider it. I love you. I’ve got to go. Bye. I set the phone down in its cradle and looked at the young college girl leaning against the doorway.

Come in, Lily.

She stepped a fraction into my office. Lily had come to me this past fall and asked me for an internship. Despite my hesitation, she was the niece of the owner of the bar I sometimes worked, she’d proven herself valuable. She’d earned herself a job with me after her semester ended. I haven’t told her yet. I didn’t want to give her a reason to start slacking. Valuable or not, she was still a college student.

She pointed at the phone. Mother?

Who else? I sighed.

She laughed. She still telling you what proper women do?

I stacked the files I’d been halfheartedly looking over neatly on top of one another. Yes, and she will until she takes her last breath. She can’t help it. It’s engrained in her blood. I think she is waiting for me to turn out like Jo from The Little Women.

Yeah, well, that’s not happening. Lily leaned her waif-like frame against the door of the office. She was dressed the way all the young girls her age do when they entered the work force for the first time. A short-waisted crew neck sweater layered under a black jacket with matching body-hugging black pants and black knee-length leather boots. Her sweater today was teal. It matched her eyes.

No, it’s not. Besides, I’m not into boys’ schools. What’s up? I asked.

I wanted to let you know you have one more appointment for the afternoon, a Mr. Richardson, at four-thirty. Then your schedule is clear for the rest of the day.

Thank you. Do we know what he does?

No. He was a call-in, last minute. He didn’t give me much information on the phone. I tried but he wouldn’t budge. She must have read the disappointment in my face because she added, I’m sorry.

It’s not your fault. You’ll have this from time to time. But in the future, try turning up your natural charm and get some details so we don’t have blind meetings. She straightened up a little, embarrassed by her oversight. How is the campaign for Naked Origins coming along?

It’s coming along. Your idea for the sample girls to give out Naked Origins Snack Bars wearing just a burlap body apron has generated quite a bit of buzz.

Good. Please tell me they wore aprons that covered all their girl parts.

She rolled her eyes. Yes, I ordered them myself. They were one hundred percent organic aprons made from coffee beans. They covered everything essential.

Good. I knew there was reason why I kept you around.

You keep me around because I am your brilliant protege, she shot me a smile,and I make the best coffee on the planet.

Couldn’t argue with her there. Her coffee was award winning. That you do. I finished stacking my take-home files and leaned back in my chair. I looked up at her. She was a pretty girl. It would be both an asset and detriment to her. I should know. They really make aprons from coffee beans?

She nodded. I tried to picture aprons made of coffee beans but drew a blank. I bet they were scratchy.

Probably, she said. But at least they smelled good.

Well, remember this, the most important thing is whether they looked good. A little discomfort can go a long way for media coverage.

They looked great. I took some pictures of the team before we sent them out for our clip book. The client seems happy with the response we’ve gotten so far.

Perfect. Good work.

Thank you, boss. She looked thoughtful. It must be nice being your own boss and not having to worry what anyone will say about one of your ideas.

It had taken me awhile to get used to the way Lily changed gears when talking. Having a conversation with her was like skiing moguls down a black diamond. It is, to a degree. Making money at it can be harder, especially when you’re starting out.

Is that why you still work for my uncle down at Drifter’s?

Yes, that and the fact that I dumped all my savings into opening my own shop. I wasn’t thrilled to still be working behind a bar, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I tilted the coffee mug sitting on my desk toward me. Empty. I looked back up at Lily, who was staring at me in earnest. But at least I won’t have to worry about suing myself for sexual harassment.

She gave me a strange look. I chuckled. Never mind. It’s not important. Are you finished for the day?

Yes. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to roll early. It’s really messy out. I looked out the windows. It was really messy out. Snow pelted the window, which was discouraging since we were thirty-four floors from ground.

After I bring you your coffee, of course, she added.

Now it was my turn to chuckle. Of course.

I put away the stacked loose files on my desk. I’d decided I wasn’t taking them home after all. Monday morning I’ll need you here early. I have a few things I’m working on and I could use your help. One of them is a music client.

Need help with the creative? she asked.

Something like that. I want to give you a shot at wowing me.

Awesome. I could feel her excitement across the room. It was refreshing to work with someone who hadn’t been jaded by the rejections of life yet. Now get out of here and drive safe.

She waved and walked out of my office. Minutes later she reappeared dressed to leave, with a cup of hot coffee. I walked over to her and took the hot mug. You weren’t kidding about the coffee.

Nope.

Thank you.

Welcome. Good night.

I closed the door part way and walked back to my desk. I peered out the window across Center Square, which had been decorated for the holiday season. A mixture of Chanukah and Christmas lights cut through the frost on the windows, painting obscene multicolored shadows on the surrounding buildings. It gave an oddly depressing effect. It was no surprise that December led the other calendar months in suicides. If the cold didn’t do you in, the sense of loneliness would. Something about the Christmas season seemed to make lonely depressed people even more lonely and depressed. I took a sip of steaming hot coffee from the mug.

Dylan Scarborough? A light knock made me jump.

I took two-seconds to regain myself. Good afternoon, Mr. Richardson.

I sat my coffee mug on the ledge of the windowsill and walked over to shake Joe Richardson’s hand. He was an attractive man, late forties, slightly graying hair, and deep-set chocolate brown eyes. He gave me a quick once-over. I wasn’t offended by his interest in my appearance. Most women won’t admit to it, but I’d be more offended if the day ever came where the staring stopped.

Won’t you please come in. I led Richardson over to the leather chair opposite my desk.

Thank you. Richardson settled into the uncomfortable chair. I stole a glance at the clock on the wall. It was exactly four-thirty.

Thank you for making time on your busy schedule to see me today. I’m eager to get started on my marketing campaign and you came highly recommended by Alex Forester. He crossed his leg over top of the other, in the way that only men can manage, and laced his fingers together in his lap.

I tried with all my might to recall who Alex Forester was. Richardson looked at me and said, He owns the bike shop in Liberty Square.

The bike shop job. Of course. For Alex’s campaign we had rented a flatbed and hired six models in bikini’s to cycle on stationary bikes in the back of the truck. It had been the talk of the town. Especially the wardrobe malfunction, where all six models lost their bikini tops. In sync. Honest mistake.

I had a moment to think that maybe my mother was right. I pandered my fair share of sex to sell products. Yes, of course, Alex. The press had a field day with the Stimulate Your Senses event. I walked to the office door that had been left open to close it. Mr. Richardson, what is it that you hope that Marathon Communications can do for you?

I want you to help launch my breakfast cafe. Richardson said in an easy-listening radio voice that could lull you to sleep.

I walked over to my desk and sat down on the matching uncomfortable leather chair. What are you thinking exactly? I tried to ignore the fact that there were over forty-five breakfast places in the city proper, and only a handful did well.

Richardson’s voice blended with the hum of the heater. I have a green dining concept I want to promote. Green, organic, local. I want to call it Green Eggs Cafe, he said.

Well, at least the name was clever. When are you looking to open?

A couple of months, March, April, maybe, he answered.

I pulled up a mental picture of the calendar. Perfect. Why don’t we coordinate opening with Earth Day? That way we can sponsor various Earth Day Events throughout Philadelphia. And I’m thinking we obtain licenses from the city to turn the water at Swan Fountain green. They make the water pink for Breast Cancer Awareness, so it shouldn’t be a problem.

He gave a hearty laugh that filled the dark spaces of the office. That’s why I came to you. I was told you were fast on your feet.

I felt the heat touch my cheeks. Compliments were always something I’d had a tough time managing. Well, it’s just a start but give me some more time and I’ll knock your socks off.

A half-hour later, Joe Richardson walked out of my office all smiles and I was one account closer to developing a decent client list. It was a good day.

I gathered my belongings including the client files I’d decided to leave behind earlier into my crocodile-skin briefcase. The briefcase had been a gift from my best friend, Jack Hunter, when I’d first launched Marathon Communications. It was his way of showing support. Said it was elegant but edgy, like me. I sighed. I missed him. Especially now that the holidays were here. But he was clear across country in L.A. The travel time made it impossible to pick up and see each other on a whim. I hated the holiday season. I’ve lost too many people I loved during this time of year.

I shoved the thoughts aside and grabbed my jacket to leave. Just as I turned the lock, I heard my phone ringing. I’d forgotten to turn on the answering service.

Damn, I mumbled. Starting your own business meant you answered the phone every time it rang. It was still dark in the office, only the lights from the surrounding buildings peeked through the glass widows. I fumbled for the phone and put the caller on speaker. Dylan Scarborough.

Ms. Scarborough? I didn’t recognize the voice on the other end of the line. I walked over to the door and switched the office lights back on.

Yes?

This is Mitch Rosedale from Pulsar Motors. Is this a bad time? My heart beat furiously in my chest. Pulsar Motors was the client that could put me on the map professionally. I prayed that the freelance gods had finally smiled down on me. Of course not. I said.

Great. After carefully considering you and another firm, we have decided that your services best match our current business objectives.

I gave a victory punch in the air. Mr. Rosedale, you will be delighted with our services. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure your marketing campaign is successful.

Please call me Mitch, Dylan. And I have no doubt you will provide us with excellent service.

Thank you. I leaned against my desk and took a deep breath. I once read that if you sit down you lose your center of energy. I wanted to sound as confident as I felt. When would you like to discuss details of the proposal and your company’s current communication needs? I have a conference line set-up for Saturday morning if that is convenient for you.

That gave me a day and a half to prep. Perfect. No sleep for the wicked?

He gave a throaty laugh. No, unfortunately, I don’t have the luxury of downtime. I know you understand. I gave a smile he couldn’t see. Sometimes I forget the rest of the world doesn’t operate on my schedule. Will Saturday morning be a problem for you?

No, that won’t be a problem at all. I did have to work Drifter’s Friday night, meaning I wouldn’t even get home until three or four in the morning on Saturday, but maybe he’d want a midmorning conference call.

Great. The call is set for seven a.m. Eastern. I’l be joining the call from Las Vegas. I’ll email you the details tonight along with our portfolio.

I held my breath so I didn’t say something stupid about the call time. I’d have to wake up at five in the morning just to get my blood flowing. Sounds good. I look forward to working with you.

As do I. Thank you, Dylan. Goodbye.

Goodbye. I pressed the off button for the speaker and let out the breath I was holding. All my hard work on this account had paid off. Though some of the credit belonged to Janet Jacobs, my former business associate at Sterling Advertising. She occasionally tipped me off to business leads, things that the Sterling Agency wouldn’t necessarily take. Until today, nothing had panned out. I grabbed the receiver and dialed her number. She picked up after the first ring.

Hi Dylan.

Hey Janet, how are things?

Busy. But good. I’m about to leave the office now.

Staying a little late?

Yeah, I had a request for proposal to work on. The lazy sonofabitch had me stay late to finish the RFP instead of working on it himself. Said he had a racquetball tournament tonight.

Figures. Look, I know this is last minute, but do you want to meet at Bella de Luna’s for dinner tonight on your way home? The restaurant was fifteen minutes from my office and about halfway home for her.

Bella de Luna’s? Wow. What’s the occasion?

Well, thanks to your lead, I landed the Pulsar Motors account today.

No shit. That’s great, Dylan I’m so happy for you. You’ll kick ass, I’m sure.

I couldn’t have gotten it without your help. So, do you want to meet me?

Well, I can’t do dinner but I will meet you for a quick drink. I have other commitments tonight. I’m getting out of here in about ten.

Sounds fair. I’ll see you in about forty-five.

See you there.

We hung up. I ran a critical eye over the office space to be sure I left it in the same condition my office share partner left for me. Clean but sightly sterile with a hint of femininity. Like a girlfriend coming by to freshen up her boyfriend’s apartment, I thought to myself. Satisfied by what I saw, I turned out the office lights for the second time.

Forty-five minutes later I was sitting at the bar of Bella de Luna, one of the city’s oldest and best known Italian restaurants, eating bits of the snack mix out of the bar bowl. I had no sooner ordered a glass of wine, when Janet stood behind the vacant seat beside me.

Hi, sorry I’m late. Traffic on the expressway was a nightmare. I completely understand why people shoot other drivers. What are you drinking?

I just ordered a glass of wine. I replied.

Perfect.

I looked down the bar and signaled the bartender for two glasses. She brought both glasses over and set them on the cocktail napkins in front of us. I paid the bill and turned my attention back to Janet who still looked every bit as flustered as she did when she first arrived. She picked up her glass and gave me a toast. Thanks for the wine.

Thanks for meeting me, I know its last minute but I wanted to celebrate. If it weren’t for you I’d never have gotten this account.

You would have. You just needed the right connections. Besides, it serves Sterling right. The bastard. Janet wiggled out of her grey wool three-quarters length jacket and finally sat down.

Amen. I pushed the half-empty snack bowl over to her.

She picked out a couple of peanuts. Do you know he had the audacity to pat my ass today?

What? I almost choked on what I was chewing.

Yeah. We were talking in my office about the RFP he wanted me to work on. I leaned over my desk to get some of the files together, when he reached over and patted my ass before he left. Can you believe that?

No wonder your frazzled tonight. What a prick. You should report him to Human Resources. I took a long sip of my wine.

I know, I know. I just can’t afford to leave right now. She ran one thin, delicate hand through her hair and finally took a drink from her glass. You understand.

I do.

You know, I never asked what happened with you and Sterling. I know you have the lawsuit against him, but I never wanted to pry.

The bartender came over and refilled the empty snack bowl. I thanked her and rolled the pinot noir around my tongue. It was smoky with a hint of a spicy berry bouquet. I hadn’t talked about the details of the lawsuit with anyone except my lawyer. I shrugged. He tried to force a kiss on me. He’d tried to do more than that but it was all I was willing to share. Janet and I weren’t close like that.

Bastard. Someone should stop him.

Well, I’d hoped the lawsuit would.

Me too. She looked away, lost in some thought. I laid my hand gently on her arm. Hey, enough about Sterling, we’re celebrating here, remember?

She slapped her hand on the wooden bartop. You’re right. We are. Congratulations. Have you thought of any publicity stunts yet?

Well, it’s a luxury high-end performance electric car, so I was thinking of doing something with racing. Maybe get Charles Hamilton to race it against M. J. Hoyt in his car on a closed course. Or the Audubon. After all, Pulsar Motors is an international company.

Yes, it is. Go get ‘em girl. She finished her wine. I like the Audubon idea better. She looked at her watch. I hate to cut this short, but I really do need to go. I have to meet somebody in half an hour.

Okay, but the next time I owe you dinner. You aren’t getting out of it no matter how much you want to kill the other drivers on the road.

Deal.

I stood up with her and put my jacket on. It was then that I realized I had left my briefcase at the office. Damn it.

Janet looked up from buttoning her jacket. What’s wrong?

Nothing, I have to go back to my office and get my briefcase. I must have forgotten to grab it after I hung up the phone with you.

Oh, sure, blame me.

Well, you were the last person I spoke with.

Fine, I’ll take the blame. She made a move to leave a tip and I waved her away. Well, thanks again for the drink. I’m sorry I can’t stay.

No problem. Thanks for everything you do for me. I appreciate it.

We’re a sisterhood, you and I. Remember that. I’ll talk with you soon. She waved goodbye and walked