Witness to Murder
“You coming in?” Stan shut off the engine.
Hallie shook her head. “Places to go and people to see.”
“Oh, yeah, that ‘quiet evening with friends.’” He snickered.
She punched his shoulder. “I’ll have you know I’ll be addressing wedding invitations. Wonderful, boring job, and that’s about all I can handle right now.”
Stan’s eyes widened. “You’re getting married?”
“Not me, goof. One of my best girlfriends, Samantha Reid, is tying the knot with a great guy in five weeks. I’m the maid of honor…well, one of them. You see, Sam couldn’t possibly pick between Jenna and me so—”
“Spare me.” Stan presented his hand, palm out. “Wedding stuff gives me the willies.”
“How come? You’ve never been married.”
“My point exactly.”
A tiny laugh seeped between Hallie’s lips. “Well, when the love bug bites, you’ll make a beeline for the altar.”
“Don’t count on it.”
“Uh-oh!” Hallie’s gaze narrowed on the dark head that had popped out the back door of the WDJN building. Brody was looking for something…or, more likely, someone.
“What?” Stan looked around.
“I so cannot handle a grilling by the champion of all things jock and jockette. See you tomorrow.” She slipped out of the van and hurried across the lot, keeping vehicles between her and the hunter sniffing her trail.
Every once in a while, Brody’s wry humor at a staff meeting surprised a laugh out of her, but most of the time he seemed to make a project out of establishing fresh roots as a nettle in the garden of her life. Female viewers might go gaga over those storm-gray eyes and the trademark one-sided dimple, but the charming facade didn’t work on her.
She never forgot what she overheard him say to the station manager about her the day she started at WDJN. Cheerleader type, indeed! He might as well have pasted a couple of pompoms to her hands, because she’d been doing mostly feature fluff ever since—such as the Minnesota model story she was working on today. She had become so well-known for that type of reporting that the modeling agent who had intrigued the station with the story idea had asked for her by name to do the coverage.
Scowling, she continued up the sidewalk toward the corner of the block, heels clickety-clacking against the cement. A year ago she’d landed a big story about labor union corruption, but she’d had to freelance that one on her own time. She got the scoop, all right. Then Brody had the gall to seem mad at her about it. Okay, so maybe he’d been a little right. She should have arranged backup for herself when she went undercover, but everything had turned out great anyway. She’d do it differently now if the station would give her more hard-hitting stories. Not likely if Brody kept using his influence against her with his buddy Wayne Billings, the station manager.
Hallie joined a group of people at the crosswalk. A few of them glanced at her and sidled away. She probably looked ready to take a bite out of someone. Smoothing out her expression, she nodded to several who lived in her building. The signal changed, and the group surged across the street in a tight little herd that dispersed as soon as their feet touched the sidewalk. Hallie trailed a pair of chatting women carrying briefcases and a man with an iPod in his hand up a set of stairs onto a wide, cement landing shaded by a canopy. They skirted a cast-iron sculpture of a boy and a girl playing leapfrog. The man pulled out his building key, opened the front door, and they all filtered inside, Hallie bringing up the rear.
The still coolness of the lobby welcomed her. The rent rate insured that she drove an economy car, but living across the street from work was priceless in her business when time often counted in getting the scoop. Right now, she’d just as soon close the blinds and take the phone off the hook for about the next decade. Maybe she should forget about addressing invitations tonight. Jenna and Sam would understand better than anyone why today’s tragedy turned her inside out. Then again, maybe she should be with close friends.
The elevator door whispered open in front of the little group just as Hallie’s cell phone vibrated inside her blazer pocket. She checked the caller ID and smiled. Letting the others board the elevator, she turned away and sat in a lobby chair.
“Hi, Jenna. No, I haven’t forgotten. It’s been a day like you wouldn’t believe.”
A laugh trilled from the other end of the connection. “What’s new in the life of Hallie Berglund?” The clatter of dishes in the background entered Hallie’s ear. Jenna must be calling from the kitchen of her restaurant.
“You haven’t seen the news tonight?”
“No way in this mad house. You’ll have to fill us in. But I wanted to let you know that we’re set up in the private dining room, and Sam’s here already, chomping at the bit.”
Hallie worked the high-heeled pump off her right foot and massaged her instep. A soft groan left her lips. “You’ll have to get started without me.”
“Pleeease don’t tell me you’re not coming. It’s so important to—”
“What? You want me to break tradition and be on time? I just need to change clothes and freshen up.”
“No problem. If it seals the deal, I made tomato and portabella quiche in pepper pots.”
“Woman, don’t bother to bar the door, I’m busting in.”
They broke the connection, laughing. Hallie pocketed her phone. Maybe getting out would do her good.
She rode the elevator up to the third floor. Her hallway was empty but the muted strings and woodwinds of classical music drifted out from her neighbor’s apartment. Stepping inside her unit, the scent from her blooming frangipani plant greeted her. The fluffy throw pillows on her tan-and-olive couch beckoned, but she breezed past into her small bedroom, where she changed into jeans and a blouse and comfy cross-trainers for her feet. In the bathroom, she took out the enameled pins that kept her dark hair away from her face for work and ran a comb through the thick strands. The shag cut feathered around her forehead, cheeks and jaw, before falling in tousled waves below her shoulders. Good enough. Teasing with the brush, curling iron and hair spray sounded like too much work. After all, it was just the girls tonight.
Twenty minutes later, she was on the interstate heading south toward Jenna’s restaurant in Lakeville. She turned up the CD player. Belting out a few praise songs with Point of Grace should keep images of death out of her head. The Highway 42 exit came up as the third song was finishing. She glided off the freeway with a deep green Impala in her wake.
Her gaze narrowed on the rearview mirror. Hadn’t that car been behind her when she left St. Paul? The temporary dealer plates were distinctive. It had to be the same car. Somebody was driving new wheels. Her heart rate quickened. She must have been in la-la land during the trip not to notice the green car had stuck with her. Of course, with several lanes of freeway traffic going in the same direction, the tail might not have been too noticeable until now.
The Impala hung back several car lengths, making it impossible to see the driver’s face. Could Damon Lange be hunting her? She swallowed a bitter taste. No, that was silly. The college ball player couldn’t afford a new car. He was squeaking through school on a sports scholarship. Her grip on the steering wheel eased, then tensed until her knuckles were white. If a man could commit murder, he could steal a car!
Ahead, a traffic light turned amber, and Hallie gunned through the intersection, heedless of a possible ticket. The green car was caught by the red light. Pulse washing in her ears, Hallie took the next turn, and then zigzagged around the area until she was sure the Impala hadn’t found her again. The dashboard clock told her she was very late, rather than just sort of late by the time she pulled into a space at The Meridian, but at least she wasn’t about to be accosted by a killer in a restaurant parking lot. She slumped and let out a breath.
Maybe she was making too much out of an innocent coincidence of two people from the same place headed for the same area at the same time, but better to be paranoid than sorry. She’d have to report this incident to the police tomorrow, and see if any green Impalas had been stolen recently. Maybe by then they’d have Lange in custody, and she could relax.
Scrounging up her last scrap of energy, Hallie got out of the car and trod into the stucco and half-timbered restaurant. Laughter, the hum of voices, the clink of silverware and a mingling of divine food odors greeted her senses. People sat around cloth-covered tables under the mellow light of chandeliers hanging from exposed roof beams. Some patrons wore jeans, others suits or dresses. At The Meridian, no one felt out of place and everyone was pampered. Jenna and her business partners had a great thing going here.
Carla, a hostess Hallie recognized, rustled toward her, dressed in a modest, yet form-fitting black dress. “They’re waiting for you in the back. Dr. Pepper, right?”
“Thanks, but no caffeine and sugar tonight. I’ve had enough stimulation for one day. Ice-water with lemon would be a life-saver.”
“I’ll send a tall glass your way.” Carla smiled and glided toward the server’s station.
Hallie threaded between full tables and busy wait staff on a circuitous route toward the private dining room. Peace and quiet in sympathetic company beckoned. She opened the door…and stepped into a carnival.
Balloons. Brightly colored banners. Flashing cameras.
“Surprise! Happy Birthday!”
The joyful din assaulted Hallie from dozens of grinning people. Her feet rooted to the spot, and her mouth fell open. A steel band wound around her chest, and pressure flooded behind her cheekbones. Tears burst their banks.
THREE
Whoa! The birthday girl was about to fly apart. Brody shot up from his chair while everyone else still cheered and laughed. He put his wide shoulders between Hallie and her well-wishers. “Hang in there, trooper. You can handle this.” He dabbed at her cheeks with a linen napkin.
She sniffed a long breath, gazing at him with teary sable eyes. The air stalled in his lungs. She curled her fingers around his. He took in the contrast between their skin—his lightly tanned, her deeper tone natural and exotic. She slipped the napkin from his hand and finished wiping her eyes. Then she stuffed the piece of cloth into his suit coat pocket and stepped around him, a brilliant smile on her face.
“I’m—” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I’m overwhelmed.”
Hallie’s friends who were throwing the party, slender Samantha and full-figured Jenna, hustled forward and gathered her in hugs then whisked her into the crowd, chattering away. So much for “Thanks for the quick thinking, Brody.”
A chuckle next to him drew his attention. It was Ryan Davidson, the tall guy who had introduced himself as Samantha’s fiancé when Brody arrived.
“Quite the trio, eh?” Ryan jerked his chin toward the three women who stood practically joined at the hip as guests greeted the birthday girl. “I never know what they’re going to come up with next. Hallie thought this was going to be a work night, stuffing and addressing wedding invitations. It’s not really her birthday until tomorrow.” He tucked a hand in a jeans pocket. “Sam and Jenna did the invites yesterday, but saved a couple for Hallie to do tonight so they can claim they didn’t lie to her.”
Brody laughed. “Clever. I take it the ladies have known each other for a while.”
“Since forever. They went to high school together and belonged to the same youth group in Hallie’s uncle’s church.”
Brody stared at Samantha’s fiancé. “I didn’t know Hallie was a Christian.”
“I don’t suppose faith is a common topic of conversation where you work.”
“You mean amongst the liberal media?”
The man opened his mouth, shut it, and then shook his head. “I guess that’s what I was thinking when I said it. Sorry if I was out of line.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Brody let Ryan off the hook with a grin. “I’m a believer myself.”
“No kidding! There’s at least two at Channel Six then. Must be why WDJN is my preferred station for the news.”
Brody studied his loafers to hide his frown. If he and Hallie were on the same page spiritually, how come they’d never sensed the connection? Maybe because they went out of their way to avoid one another. He needed to alter that habit if he expected her to be open to a discussion with him about what happened today. “Come to think of it, I don’t know much about Hallie. What do her folks do?”
Ryan’s brows lifted. “I guess you are in the dark. Her parents were killed on the mission field a long time ago.”
“Oh, man, that’s tough.”
“Sam says Hallie was a little girl when she came to the States to live with her father’s brother’s family. I don’t suppose she remembers much about Nigeria. Sam and I are having our wedding ceremony in Hallie’s uncle’s church.” The blond man rocked back and forth on his heels, grinning like his face would split.
Brody looked away. Here was one guy charging gleefully into matrimony. He’d been a starry-eyed groom himself once. Hopefully, Samantha and Ryan would make a better job of it than he and Deborah had. They could hardly do worse.
Ryan slapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s grab some of that awesome buffet spread before the rest of this bunch gobbles it up.”
“I’m right on your heels, buddy.” Brody smiled. He could sure like Hallie’s friends. Too bad she was such a prickly rose.
As he piled fresh fruit and veggies, cold canapés and steaming gourmet concoctions onto his plate, he studied her. She stood flushed and laughing amidst faces he knew from work and many he’d never seen before. Hallie stood half a head taller than most of the women and at least as tall as some of the men. Brody only topped her by a couple of inches himself. With her brand of class, she could walk the runway as easily as Alicia had done.
By the unclouded expressions on everyone’s faces, she was keeping mum about her experience this afternoon. A movement by the door caught his eye. Uh-oh, peaceful ignorance wasn’t going to last long now. Stan sauntered into the festivities. The lanky cameraman was never one to hang onto juicy information, at least not after it had already been reported.
Brody looked around. Vince Graham wasn’t here at all. Probably wouldn’t make it since he’d be haunting the police for breaking developments on the Drayton case. And none of the other evening news staff was present. Since the rest of the guests seemed to be ignorant of events, there was no reason for Hallie’s party to be darkened by murder talk, unless…Stan’s gaze stopped on Hallie’s group, and he headed that direction like a man on a mission.
Brody intercepted him. “Here you go, Stan the Man.” He held his brimming plate toward his coworker. “Chow down.”
“Helloooo delicious sustenance.” The cameraman took the plate. “Thanks. How did you know the smells were already driving me crazy? I haven’t eaten in at least…” He glanced at the wall clock…“four hours.”
Brody chuckled. “That’s forever to you.”
“I’m hypoglycemic.” He bit into a seafood and veggie wrap. His freckled face went slack and he moaned. “Whoever made this must be a five-star chef. Believe me, I know good eats.”
“Around here, a food aficionado should have no problem satisfying the beast. Though the way you eat, you should be a heavyweight not a welterweight.”
“Don’t begrudge me my great metabolism.” Stan looked up from the plate. “Maybe I’d better say happy birthday to Hallie before I get lost in gourmet-land. It practically killed me to keep quiet about the party when I was working with her today.”
“Between you and me, I think she’s more than a little shook up about her experience this afternoon. We’d probably be doing her a favor to let her enjoy the party without any nasty reminders.”
Stan bobbed his head. “Gotcha! You can count on me to zip my lips—especially when I’m filling them with stuff like this.”
“Hi, guys.” Jenna wandered up to them. “Are you finding everything to your satisfaction?”
“Stan here fell in love at first bite,” Brody said. He performed introductions between the cameraman and one of Hallie’s best friends. “I’m told that Jenna’s the lead chef and part owner of The Meridian.”
“You made this ambrosia?” Stan gestured with the piece of seafood wrap between his fingers. “The touch of cumin draws out the natural sweetness of the crab meat. Perfecto!”
“Spot on.” Color tinted the woman’s cheeks. “What an amazing palate you have.”
Stan’s face lit like she’d handed him an award. She gazed back, a tiny, bemused smile playing around her mouth.
Okay, third wheel here. Brody turned away, shaking his head. Did Hallie notice how he ran interference for her? He looked her direction and found her staring at him, the corners of her lips turned down. She might as well have shouted at him—what are you up to? Brody sighed. He’d known thawing the Queen of Sheba would be a tough task.
He kept his distance through the birthday song, the cake and the cards, but as people began to leave, he edged closer to his target. At last, with only a couple of die-hard guests left, he noticed Hallie stifling a yawn.
Nearby, Jenna laughed, Stan at her elbow, where he’d hovered most of the evening.
“Tough day?” Jenna asked.
“And then some.” Hallie’s gaze met Brody’s then darted away.
That determined smile materialized. Was he the only one who picked up on the shadows in her eyes? Or maybe he only imagined the hovering hurt because of his own concerns. He should wait until another time to ask his questions…No, he couldn’t. Damon was out there, a fugitive, and this woman’s testimony could end his freedom and his career.
“This was great.” Hallie swept a hand around the room. “I can’t believe you guys went to all this trouble.”
Samantha walked up, and threaded her arm through Ryan’s. “Just wait and see what we do for the big three-oh.”
Hallie planted a hand on her hip. “You have a death wish?” Everyone laughed, but Hallie’s chuckle cut off short. “Methinks it’s this old woman’s bedtime.”
“That statement coming from the night owl?” Samantha shook her head, grinning.
“We’ll walk you to your car,” Ryan said. “It’s dark now.”
“No need.” Brody stepped forward. “I’m heading out anyway.”
Hallie blinked like he’d snapped his fingers in front of her face, but didn’t object when he took her elbow and guided her to the door amidst a chorus of goodbyes. Outside the private room, she disengaged herself from his grasp and walked ahead of him through the restaurant. Male heads turned as she went past. Brody drew himself up taller and stayed close on her heels.
They exited into the halogen-lit parking lot, and Hallie glanced over her shoulder at him. “Thank you.” The words came out pinched, but at least she said them.
Questions pooled behind his lips as they crossed the asphalt, but he held them in. The darkness smelled of car exhaust, cooking fumes and cooling tar.
She walked around to the driver’s side of her coupe and gazed over the car roof at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Cruise me around to my car. It’s on the other side of the lot.”
She grimaced, but the sound of electronic locks releasing met his ears. He hopped in on the passenger side before she could change her mind.
“Don’t start it,” he said as she inserted the key into the ignition. “We need to talk. Damon didn’t kill Alicia.”
“So that’s what this was about. Attending the party. The emergency napkin. Walking me to the car. You want a private interview with the witness to a crime involving a sports figure.”
Her cynical snort sent his nostrils flaring. The woman could rile a sleeping turtle. “Sure, I came to the party to talk to you, but I don’t care about an interview. Vince is handling the story.”
Her brows disappeared beneath groomed bangs. “Then what’s your interest?”
“The police are looking for the wrong man. Damon’s no murderer. I need to know exactly what you saw in that house.” Did he sound as frustrated as he felt? Why had he thought Hallie might spill her guts to him, of all people?
Hallie’s shoulders slumped. “I keep replaying that scene in my head.” Her gaze was fixed straight ahead. Weariness hung on her like an old coat.
Brody’s conscience stirred, but now was not a good time to go soft.
She turned her face in his direction, chin jutting out. “I walked in on Damon crouched over Alicia’s sprawled body. He was moaning and carrying on like someone who’s done something terrible and can never take it back. When he heard me, he leaped up with a braided cord in his hand. Alicia was strangled, so don’t tell me Damon didn’t kill her.”
“You didn’t actually see him put that cord around her throat and pull it tight.”
She shuddered visibly. “If I had, I would have clobbered him.”
“I can believe that.” Brody let out a dry chuckle. “But I still don’t believe Damon killed Alicia. Did you notice anything about the scene that didn’t add up?”
“We-e-ell.” Hallie frowned and looked way. “I don’t suppose these things are ever neat little slam dunks, but there were a couple of things.”
Silence fell for several heartbeats. “What things?” Brody prompted.
She met his gaze. “I did wonder why bits of glass were scattered on top of the body. If there was a struggle before the murder, why wasn’t all the debris under the body? And why didn’t she have defensive bruises on her hands, which she would have used to shield her face? I think somebody stronger than she was sat on her, beat her and strangled her, and then they trashed the room in an excess of fury. Anger followed by regret is Damon’s modus operandi, considering the numerous times he’s blown up and apologized later on the basketball court.”
“Impressive. Even the assumptions about Damon are detective level observations.”
“More than you expected out of someone like me?” Her tone had an edge he couldn’t define.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean by that question, but Vince would probably tell you it’s amazing for anyone unused to dealing with crime scenes to keep so much presence of mind.”
Her eyes widened. “Thank you.”
Brody’s insides warmed. Mark this one down in the history books. Hallie Berglund expressed sincere gratitude to Brody Jordan. He opened his mouth to ask what more she’d noticed, but his cell phone began to play. He popped the phone open and answered. Heavy breathing came over the line, and his belly muscles tensed.
“You’ve got to help me,” a familiar voice whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Damon?”
Hallie gasped and her huge, dark eyes riveted on him.
FOUR
How could Brody sit and talk so calmly to a brutal murderer? Oh, that’s right. Hallie curled a lip. He didn’t think a talented basketball star could also be a supreme creep.
“That’s not an option, Damon.” Brody’s fingers drummed against the console between the driver’s and passenger seat. “You can’t run from this. You’ve got to—” Paused. “I know it, and you know it, but now we need to convince the police.”
Shouted curses from the opposite end of the connection carried to Hallie. She winced. Creep, all right. Kills a woman and then only cares about saving his own skin.
“Get a grip!” Brody’s icy tone sliced through the heated explosion. “There’s only one right alternative at this moment, and you’d better take it.” Pause. “When and where?” Pause. “I’ll be there.” Brody snapped his phone shut then turned toward Hallie. “I’ve got to go. We’ll have to finish our chat later. Can you swing around to my car?”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to meet with a wanted fugitive. You could get in big-time trouble. Not to mention, since he’s capable of murder, you’re risking your life.”
One side of his mouth lifted, and the trademark dimple flickered. “Thanks for your concern. I appreciate it, but this is something I have to do.”