LITMIR.BIZ

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her. She’s scandal averse.”

      “Wouldn’t it be something if all this was some stupid lovers’-knot crap? Flowers, pissy letters, and us two sitting here like a couple of hammers ready to clobber the world’s smallest nail.”

      “Yeah, about that . . . There’s also a theory going around the office that Allen and Hewitt are a thing, and that whole push-and-pull thing we witnessed between them is an act.”

      Ben grimaced, shook his head. “I don’t buy it. The guy hates her guts, and for good reason. She treats him like he’s got one brain cell working.”

      “I don’t buy it, either. I don’t see Vonda Allen climbing off her high horse for Philip Hewitt. She goes after senators and CEOs. What’d be in it for her?”

      Ben sat upright, winked. “Besides the obvious?”

      “She doesn’t have to fish around her own office for that.”

      Ben slid back down in his seat, closed his eyes again. “If you say so.”

      “Kendrick had a bunch of personal letters,” I said. “I caught him feeding them into the stamp machine.”

      “You get a look at them?”

      “I couldn’t very well wrestle them out of his hands, could I?” I slid my hands into my pockets and watched Ben lounge. “He’s no fan of Allen’s desk buzzer.” He made a noise, something between a grunt and a growl, confirmation he’d heard me. “So, we’re just going to stand here?”

      He twiddled his thumbs, grinned. “I’m sitting and choosing to think optimistically, which you refuse to do. I’m the bodyguard. My body’s out here watching out for the body in there.” He jabbed a thumb at Allen’s door.

      I waited, thinking there was a but coming. A “But I see your point, Cass,” or a “But I think we should dig deeper,” but it didn’t look like Ben was going to make a move. I gave his foot a light kick. “Ben? One of us should check out Hewitt.”

      He opened one eye. “What?”

      “Hewitt. Are you going to take him, or am I?”

      He reached into his pocket, pulled out a quarter, and flipped it into the air. “Call it.”

      * * *

      I rapped on Hewitt’s glass and entered his office. He looked up, and then sneered at me. “I was wondering how long it’d take one of you to make it down here. Call your boss a psychopathic witch, and suddenly you’re the new ‘it’ man.”

      “I’m—”

      “Yeah, skip it,” he said, cutting off my introduction. “Bad news travels fast.”

      Hewitt looked to be about my age, midthirties. He was of average height, thin, dressed neatly in a shirt and tie, the cuffs rolled up to his forearms. Brown eyes peered out of a brown face. Nothing notable about him. I sat down across from his desk.

      “Why bad news?” I asked. “Security is a good thing, isn’t it?”

      “For Allen, unless you two are following me home tonight, too? No? Didn’t think so. Look, I’m going to make this easy for you. I didn’t write that viper any hate letters. If I had, I’d have signed them. And there’s absolutely no way I would lift one nickel out of my pocket to buy her anything, let alone flowers. We done?”

      I perked up. “Who told you they were hate letters?”

      Hewitt offered up a wicked little grin. “Good news travels fast, too.”

      “I asked who, not how.”

      “Don’t remember, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell anyone connected to her.”

      “You two aren’t close, then?”

      The smile he gave me was slow to form, like he took time to think about it first before he went for it, but he said nothing.

      “And by close, I mean on an intimate, personal level,” I added.

      He let a moment go by, then burst out laughing so loud, so deep, I thought he might strain himself. I waited for him to reel himself in. On the bright side, the sneer was gone. “Unbelievable. That’s your angle? Oh, man. I wouldn’t touch Vonda Allen even on a bet. I’m too good for her. Honestly, if it weren’t for me, this whole place would have gone belly up already. But does she appreciate it, even acknowledge it?” He snorted. “And that show she’s getting ready to launch? My pitch. My idea. But do I get a slice of the pie?” He stopped, stared at me. He expected an actual answer.

      “No?” I said.

      “Right. We work for her, so our ideas are automatically her ideas. She gets rich, and we get the privilege of working at the pleasure of the queen.”

      “Why not quit, then?”

      He reached down and came up with a briefcase, which he slammed on the desk. He then pulled a drawer open and started tossing files and paper into the case. “I have my reasons. You want to go after someone, go after the guy who called her, like, a million times. Some jilted half-wit, no doubt. But if you’re looking for enemies in general? Lady, you’ve got your work cut out.”

      “I would think she’d rub a lot of people the wrong way.”

      The grin he gave me was dark, sly. “Ask around. You’ll see.” Hewitt dipped into the drawers, then tossed pens, pencils, a tape dispenser, scissors, legal pads and, finally, a silver letter opener with the magazine’s logo on it right into the case. Like he was packing up for good and leaving town, or something. I had to make sure to mention the letter opener to Ben.

      I raised my eyebrows. “Clearing out?”

      “For the day, yeah, and taking my fair share.” He rolled his shirt cuffs down and buttoned them. “But if the shrew wants to prosecute me for the paper clips, she knows where I live, as if I have to worry. Vonda Allen doesn’t go slumming.”

      He slammed his briefcase shut, picked up the phone, and dialed an extension. “Kendrick, I’m out.” He listened for a bit but didn’t appear to like what he heard. “Man, you can mark it down however you want to. I’m taking the rest of the day.” He slammed the receiver down, then slid me a look. “Wait for it.”

      I was about to ask what I was waiting for when the phone rang. He smiled and picked up. “What took you so long, Chandler?” He listened. “She’ll get the story when I’ve finished with it.” He slammed the phone down again, grabbed up his case. “Nothing goes down around here that she doesn’t know about. Remember that.” He straightened his tie, glared at me. “If someone caps her before the morning, have Chandler call me. I’ll wear my red tie tomorrow.”

      I watched him storm out and head toward the exit, gone for the day with all Allen’s stuff. That would be a no on the love-connection idea. That was no act. I stood, eyed Hewitt’s near-empty office. Between Kendrick pilfering stamps and Hewitt pinching practically everything else, how did Allen keep her office operating? Was Strive operating in the red or in the black?

      I glanced out toward the hall and didn’t see anyone, so I checked Hewitt’s file cabinets and drawers, one eye on my task, the other peeled for Chandler. Nothing in either place jumped out at me as being suspicious. Of course, it would help if I knew what to look for, which I didn’t. I was flying blind, and I didn’t like the feeling. My body’s out here watching out for the body in there. That was what Ben had said. I blamed myself. I knew this job was going to be a dog the minute he proposed it to me. I was too nice. That was what it was. I was a sucker.

      Just sit in the chair, Cass. Sit and watch, and that’s it. If Ben could do it, I could do it. That’s it. I’ll just sit. Cash the check and sit. I gave Hewitt’s office one last look, then headed out.

      “He does that at least twice a week. Did he take the tape dispenser again?” I nearly bumped into the woman standing in the hall. She gave me a world-weary half smile.

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