I peered at The Boss’s office door. He’d blown off his ex, which meant he’d be MIA for the next two hours at least; he might not return at all. If he wasn’t back by four he’d be out for the rest of the day. I could leave early. I smiled. The Boss would never know.
Then I remembered Junior. I had to handle this now. He was up to something. Maybe he was trying to piss off his father. It wouldn’t be the first time, but it was the first time he involved me.
I took money from my purse. I’d stop by Junior’s office, hope to God I could convince him to leave me alone
,
then run down to the coffee shop on the corner for a latte. I might even drink it before I came back to the office. At the very least I wasn’t going to rush.
~ * ~
The Boss had more hellspawn than a dog had fleas. That was the colorful way Midge, the kindly old demon from HR, explained it during my orientation five years ago. Luckily, I had only met a few of them, and thank God, they weren’t all like Junior.
He was arrogant and conceited like the rest, which was bad enough, but he was also immortal. Not all the hellspawn were. Human mothers almost never produced one. A non-human mother’s offspring would be long lived—three or four hundred years, but true immortality was rare. At least, that was how Midge explained it. There weren’t many immortal hellspawn left. Junior was the oldest by more than a thousand years, which ratcheted his sense of entitlement up to an almost unbearable level.
According to Midge, Junior had survived over two thousand years climbing his way to the top on the backs of his dead siblings. This was one of the reasons his visit this morning concerned me. I rarely saw him. He was usually too busy avoiding his father to cross my path. He wasn’t the favorite, which appeared to piss him off. Midge called him the black sheep of the family, which was why—considering the family—I was freaked out by the sudden interest.
I knocked on his office door, but no one answered. Hoping it was locked, I twisted the knob. It wasn’t. I could leave, but that wouldn’t solve my problem. I’d have to deal with him at some point. Resolved to handle this now, I took a deep breath and pushed.
With a gasp, I stumbled to a halt. Junior sat at his desk with his head back against the chair. He was dressed in his best navy blue suit with black hair falling away from his face. He could have been sleeping
,
but wasn’t. The tiny hole in his forehead and the blood and brains on the wall behind him were a dead giveaway.
From Midge’s stories I’d known immortal wasn’t invincible, but I’d assumed it would take a beheading—at least that was how it worked in the movies. I examined the small bullet hole in the center of his forehead. How the hell did something that little kill an immortal?
I tried not to panic—Quaid would know what to do. He was the Head Cleaner and The Boss’s right-hand man. I took out my phone. This was exactly the kind of thing he handled. “Quaid, there’s a problem on three.”
“Call Maintenance.”
“It’s on three,” I repeated. Quaid would know Junior was the only one with an office on three. “I need you.”
Quaid chuckled. “What has Junior done this time?”
“I can’t really put it into words.” Not in words I wanted to say over the phone.
He sighed. He hated dealing with hellspawn bullshit as much as I did, but technically this was his job. “Fine, I’ll be right down.”
Quaid didn’t seem surprised when he walked in. He was impeccably dressed, as always. Today he wore his usual black-on-black suit tailored to fit his impressive six-foot-seven-inch frame perfectly. His short dark hair was cut close to his head. Even dead, he’d be intimidating.
I didn’t take his lack of emotion to mean anything. It wasn’t as if the Cleaners were known for their sensitive side. They were all demons, and one did one’s best not to cross them.
“Does the old man know about this?” he asked.
“Not yet.”
“Did you kill him?”
Speechless, I gawked at him. His merciless gaze was just as unreadable as The Boss’s. “No! Why would you think I had?”
Quaid remained silent, his eyes boring into me.
“It’s not
even
like I’d know how to kill him,” I hurried on. “That bullet had to be spelled, right? I mean you can’t just kill—”
His lip curled as if he might smile, or sneer.
I stopped talking before I dug myself in deeper.
“The rumors aren’t true then?” he asked.
My breath caught in my throat. “W-what rumors?”
Harsh maroon eyes pierced the space between us. He was serious. He actually wanted to know if I killed Junior.
“What rumors?” I asked again.
“You and Junior.”
“What about me and Junior?” Oh my god, what had he heard?
Must
be bad
.
“According to the grapevine, you two are an item.”
“An item,” I scoffed. Who the hell would start a rumor like that? Oh no, the love poem and the calendar appointment. Now there was a rumor. Quaid studied me as if I could have done it. Would The Boss think I killed Junior? My heart rate increased. This wasn’t funny. “Who—who said that?”
“Jenny in Finance said she saw the two of you at the Grand Hotel downtown on Fight Night. She said you were being
intimate
.”
Downtown on Fight Night? Intimate! “I think I’m going to be sick.” I remembered how Jenny and her friend ogled and whispered this morning on the elevator. The dark-haired girl had mouthed, “no way.” Was she talking about Junior? Did everyone think I’d been with him at the fight? “Is she the only one?”
“No. All the admins claim you were there, but Jenny’s the only one sure you two hooked up.”
Why was everyone so certain they were seeing me in places I’d never been? The mob basically accused me of screwing up all the bets. Hell, they probably blamed me for the canceled fight too. I was beginning to think I really did have an evil twin who was running around pissing off mobsters. Only now, she was also being intimate with hellspawn. And Junior was dead.
“Do you have an alibi?” Quaid asked.
Did I have an alibi
? I quickly thought back over my day so far. I was in the office early, where I saw Junior—and he left me a
love
poem. I was downtown most of the morning
, then
with The Boss in his office. Would The Boss know exactly when I came back? I had the taxi receipt. Would he believe that or question why I hadn’t used a company car?
Without considering that I might be contaminating evidence, I put two fingers against Junior’s neck. There was no pulse, but his body was still warm. Did that mean I could have killed him? The Boss was out of the office. He wouldn’t know when I’d come to see Junior after he left.
Oh god, I had no alibi
.
I jumped when Quaid clutched my shoulders. He was almost a foot taller than me and twice as wide. I wanted to look away, but his stare fixed my gaze.
Everything about this situation was wrong. The Boss was already angry with me. He’d never kept an assistant as long as he’d kept me. Would this be the way it ended? Early retirement? My head was spinning.
I snapped to attention when Quaid chuckled. “Are you scared, Claire?”
All the heat left my body. I was sure the bastard knew I was scared.
He pressed his right thumb to my neck.
My body stiffened. I could feel my pulse thumping.
“Did you kill him?”
I swallowed. His thumb pressed harder. Was this some sort of lie detector technique? “No.”
He raised an eyebrow. Did he think I was lying?
I panicked. “Give me until tomorrow to find out why Jenny started the rumor. It’s bullshit, and you know it.”
Quaid rubbed his thumb along my neck. He tightened his grip, snorting at my pathetic attempt to pull away.
“Please. The Boss isn’t even here.” My voice was weak.
His brows dropped into a flat line. He didn’t believe me.
I steadied my nerves and cleared my throat. “You can check if you want, but he hightailed it out of here when Number Four showed up.” I swallowed. “You know how he is with them, and he hates her the most.”
Snorting Quaid closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. He definitely knew The Boss’s habits with the ex-wives.
“I know you don’t care,” I said. “But I didn’t do this. Just give me until the morning. Give me a chance to prove the rumors are lies. I swear I’ll tell him first thing.”
He glanced at Junior. Quaid would never lie to The Boss, but since The Boss wasn’t here, Quaid could let it wait until tomorrow—
if
he wanted to.
He squeezed my shoulders. “Don’t make me regret this, Claire. You won’t enjoy the consequences.”
My mouth went slack.
He chuckled again. “I’ll seal the floor until tomorrow. No one in or out.” He scanned the room. “Don’t remove anything from the room. I’ll know.”
Quaid left me alone with Junior. I tried not to stare at his body. It freaked me out. I wasn’t squeamish about the blood, but I couldn’t get the picture of him and me at the Grand out of my head. My heart belonged to Jack. The idea of being intimate with Junior roiled my stomach.
If I could prove the rumors were lies, The Boss wouldn’t seriously consider me a candidate. I wasn’t sure how Junior’s love poem fit into this. Was he under a spell? Had Jenny seen him with someone else—someone who looked like me? Jenny would be my next stop, but first I wanted to check Junior’s office for clues. Quaid said not to remove anything. He didn’t say I couldn’t snoop around.
Junior’s desk was a mess. I lifted a few of the papers but found nothing. I moved the mouse, and his computer hummed to life. There was a video application running. At first I thought he’d been watching something. The webcam activated, and a video of me filled the window. My bruised eye stared back at me from the live feed. Had Junior been using it before he died? I clicked the Play button.
Junior’s image replaced mine on the screen. He wore the same suit and tie—the video was definitely from today. “Claire, baby.”
Claire, baby
?
“I’m sorry about the fight. I knew you didn’t want to go. We should have done something else.”
He
thought it was
me
downtown too?
“I know you’re still pissed because you’ve been avoiding me, but please let me make it up to you. Please.” He smiled. “Did you like the roses?”
My vision blurred, and I felt light-headed. The roses were from Junior! Had Jack seen the card from the flowers? Was that why the crane was in the trash? The roses couldn’t have been there or he wouldn’t have made the crane, but the card was definitely there. I took out my phone—still no text from Jack.
Junior was smiling back at me from the screen. I’d never seen him like this. He seemed so human—so in love. What had gotten into him—or better yet, who had gotten to him?
He reached forward to stop the recording then glanced up. He smiled at someone in front of him. “Claire—”
A bullet hit him between the eyes. He fell back into his current position, and the video froze on Junior’s lifeless body.
I leaned over and threw up into his trashcan.
Four
He’d said my name—right before someone shot him. I fell to my knees.
My eyes shot to the screen as Junior’s voice said again, “Claire, baby...”
The video had started to replay. I lunged for the mouse and quickly closed the application. The file save box flashed on the screen. “No, I don’t want to save,” I muttered.
I clicked the no button. The video of Junior disappeared from the screen.
My heart was pounding. I opened his mini fridge and snagged a bottled water. I took a drink and swished out my mouth, spitting the liquid into the trashcan.
Junior hadn’t created that video because of a rumor. He spoke as if
we
had been together, which I knew was impossible.
I opened his mail program and scanned through his past appointments. The appointment with me for today was color-coded pink. There were other pink meetings, but the one for Fight Night was green. Its location was Grand Hotel-Penthouse—the origin of the rumors—at least the one I knew about. I ignored it and opened one of the first pink meetings from two weeks ago. The subject was just FC. The location was Home. The message body was empty. The other pink messages weren’t that much different. No real detail, just a time and a place.
I opened the one for today. The subject was colon and right parentheses—the electronic smiley face. The location said ‘My Office’. I caught sight of the body. For a moment I thought it was swaying before I realized the movement wasn’t his body. I clutched the desk to steady myself. I hadn’t opened the meeting request upstairs or I would have seen it then.
The body of the email message said Fun Claire in the Office.
FC was Fun Claire. It was me—someone Junior thought was me. I checked all the pink messages. How the hell was he fooled? Was someone really walking around pretending to be me?
I gazed at Junior’s body and had my answer. The double wanted him dead—or me framed for the murder—or both, but why?
I took out my phone and called Jack. It went straight to voicemail. “Jack, I love you. I’m sorry about before. I can explain—tonight
,
we’ll talk. Please don’t be mad.”
I wiped away a tear. Home with Jack, that’s where I wanted to be
. Not
standing in Junior’s office worrying about a dead hellspawn and a rumor that was going to ruin my life. I wanted Jack to wrap his strong arms around me and tell me everything was going to be okay. The morning had started out so perfect. Now I wasn’t sure I’d be alive tomorrow.
I wasn’t Fun Claire. Now I needed a way to prove it. Getting Jenny to recant the rumor wouldn’t help. Now I was sure she’d seen someone who resembled me enough to fool Junior. She wasn’t lying. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t been downtown. My only alibi for Saturday was Jack, but I would die before I involved him in this mess.