Pulse Points - Mary Baxter Lynn

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However, he dressed with an impeccable flare that helped buffer his odd looks.

      On the right was Don Hornsby who was in charge of sales and marketing. In his mid-thirties, he was a brash, good-looking young man with a crew cut and well-preserved body. The only flaw that showed was a mole above his upper lip that he fingered constantly. Because of his charm, he was great at what he did.

      The remaining staff was made up of a writer, like herself, Dwight Cavanaugh, another artist, Angie Thigpen and the bookkeeper, Nelda Parrish.

      

      “What’s going on?” Red finally asked, his booming voice obliterating the silence.

      “Yeah, are we out on our ear?” Don chimed in.

      Veiled murmurs followed their outbursts.

      Feeling her confidence return, Kasey raised her hand. The room hushed. “No one is out of a job here unless they have a problem working with me.”

      Red spoke again. “How are you going to keep the agency afloat when Shirley couldn’t? We all know it’s in financial trouble.”

      His pointed questions were making her job much easier. “We have a new client.”

      For a moment, the group looked dumbfounded.

      “How can one client accomplish that?” Don asked, a suspicious note in his voice.

      “Must be one hellava client,” Dwight muttered.

      “It is,” Kasey said, her voice gaining added strength. “We’ve been hired by the developer and Texas senatorial candidate, Tanner Hart.”

      “Well, I’ll be damned,” Lance said, speaking for the first time.

      “What he’s paying us, plus the other smaller jobs we still have, will enable the agency to keep the doors open until we can prove our worth again.”

      Angie raised her hand, then said, “That may be a while, what with all the unfavorable publicity.”

      “And there will be more to come,” Kasey said. “Detective Richard Gallain will be here any time to question all of us about Shirley. They are looking for anything that will help them find her killer. I know each of you will do your part to help in the investigation.”

      Her words met with another silence. Kasey broke it. “Meanwhile, I’ll be briefing you on Hart’s campaign and asking each of you for your input into the layout. Put your thinking caps on and don’t let me down.”

      On that note of encouragement, the meeting ended. She was on her way back to her office when Monica stopped her. “It’s for you.”

      “What?” she asked.

      “The phone.”

      She hadn’t even heard it ring. “Who is it?”

      “Tanner Hart.”

      She panicked. After that forbidden trip into the past, she didn’t want to talk to him or see him. “Tell him I’m busy, that I’ll get back to him soon.” She needed more time.

      Nine

       K asey was both frustrated and excited. She had worked all day yesterday and most of this morning on Tanner’s campaign. While her head had been swarming with ideas based on his platform, nothing had gelled, no one theme that would make the man, Tanner Hart, stand out. With the help of the staff, she had come up with numerous sketches and slogans; they were strewn about the workroom on desks and tables. The place resembled a war zone.

      But again, nothing out of the ordinary had jumped out at her. At the moment, her frustration was winning over her excitement. Kasey rubbed her temples, trying to clear her dulled mind.

      “Want some more coffee?” Don Hornsby asked in a cheery tone, his smile targeting her.

      Kasey shook her head. “Absolutely not. But thanks. As it is, I’m already wired to the max.”

      “You’re not alone,” Don muttered, turning and pouring himself another big mug of coffee. “Still, I can’t stop hitting the high octane stuff. It’s keeping me going.”

      That was when Kasey noticed how tired he looked, how dark the circles were under his eyes. What was his problem? she wondered. The same as hers most likely—lack of sleep. She had been pushing hard since the staff meeting two days ago. They had worked long, intense hours, and the finish line was not yet in sight.

      And time was running out.

      “Maybe we should get Hart in here to give us his opinion,” Red said, shoving a hand through his thick red hair, causing it to stand on end.

      “Yeah, why not do that?” Lance chimed in. “I’m sure he could weed through some of this stuff which would give us a better perspective.”

      Kasey didn’t hesitate. “No. When he’s brought on-board, I want ideas in place that will wow him.”

      In fact, she hadn’t called Tanner back for fear he would want to know how things were progressing. More to the point, he’d probably want to have input. And while that was certainly his right, now was not the best time.

      “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Dwight said in his mild-mannered voice.

      It was the first time he’d spoken in a while, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. He was a strange little man, considered a geek by the others, maybe because he had zero personality and kept to himself. That aside, Kasey had learned that he was talented and valued his ability as a writer. In fact, several of her favorite slogans had been his idea.

      “I have to, Dwight,” she responded, her eyes touching on each one. “We all do. Remember time is not a luxury we have.”

      “Hart must’ve known that when he hired you.”

      “That he did, Don,” Kasey said on a testy tone. “But since I told him our agency was up to the task, we have to deliver.”

      Don merely shrugged before picking up one of the sketches and perusing it. Though his expertise was sales and marketing, Don also had an eye for design. Shirley had told her that from the get-go, and she had found that to be true. Yet she didn’t plan on tying him up too long. He was needed more on the outside to drum up new business.

      “So let’s get our backsides in the saddle, then,” Red said in his loud voice. “The fat lady obviously hasn’t sung yet.”

      Kasey gave the art director a grateful nod, picked up her sketchbook and thumbed through the pages. Not bad, she mused. Some of these ideas were actually damn good, and Tanner would probably be pleased.

      She mulled over each, then sighed. Something vital was missing on the pages. Kasey’s eyes narrowed, furrowing her brow. Suddenly she knew what it was. Her own brand of creative energy failed to leap off the pages.

      Shirley would probably have disagreed, telling her she was too anal, too much a perfectionist, for her own good. Perhaps. But until she pleased herself, she wouldn’t please her client.

      Especially this particular client.

      “If Shirley was here—” Angie Thigpen began, her gaze on Kasey.

      Kasey looked up and smiled at her.

      Angie flushed. “I’m sorry, Kasey, I didn’t mean to imply—”

      “It’s okay, Angie. I wish Shirley was here, too. We all do. She was the best.”

      “She was good, all right,” Don added, fingering that mole on his lip. “But from what I’ve seen of your work, you’re no slouch.”

      Kasey flashed him as much of a genuine smile as she could muster. The spoken and unspoken thoughts of Shirley suddenly forced the tragedy back to the fore-front of her mind. As if the others had picked up on that, a sad silence ensued.

      Red was the first

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