Picking up the Pieces

I had a restless night before making it to the office the next morning. I tossed and turned, thinking about Ivy. I thought about Bentley and his invite. The gold trimmed flyer he gave me had an address to a large mansion and pictures of high fashion celebrities that I didn’t think I would fit in with.

I planned to go shopping after I left the office. Because if I wanted to get close to him, I had to look like I belonged with him. At least, that was the way he made me feel.

“The office is buzzing this morning. What’s going on?”

Rodger entered my office without knocking. As he always did. For some reason, he thought he and I were a lot closer than we were. I knew he held out hope that I would give him a chance to be my man, but Rodger wasn’t the kind of guy I looked for. After having my heart broken and my trust betrayed, I was convinced that I would never date again.

“Ivy Smith’s body was found outside of club Lure last night. Everyone’s trying to get a headstart on the story since that anchor position at Westlake opened up.”

“No bullshit?” Rodger’s eyebrows raised as if he were in shock. “Do they know who did it?”

“Nope. No leads as of yet,” I sighed. “I plan on hitting the streets to do some footwork. I knew Ivy growing up, and I know she wouldn’t have done anything to put herself in this position. So whoever did this, they must have known her or wanted something, you know?”

I couldn't imagine Ivy doing anything to piss someone off so much that they would want to hurt her. We grew apart after high school and only spoke to each other in passing, but she was never a bad person. She barely partied or drank, as far as I know.

“Club Lure, that’s Bentley Thomas’ place, isn't it?” Rodger asked suspiciously.

“Yep.” I nodded intently. “I bet you any amount of money he or someone he knows is involved. It’s only a matter of time before the streets start talking.”

We stared at each other briefly. Rodger was silent and expressed sorrow for what happened, but during my career as a journalist, I learned not to trust anyone too soon. So even though Bentley was sexy and easy to talk to, and Rodger was someone I had worked with for a few years, I had my guard up.

“Bentley’s company asked if she would sell her plant shop a few weeks ago,” he said. “Do you think she turned down the offer?”

“Maybe so. That’s definitely something I wanna look into,” I said. “He didn’t mention that last night when he talked to the detective. Maybe I’ll ask him about it when I go to this get-together he invited me to.”

“Get together?”

Rodger scooted to the edge of his seat with concern on his mug. I already knew what those concerns were—me getting too close to a ruthless billionaire who could make me disappear with ease. I wasn’t afraid, though. If anything, I was eager to get a taste of Bentley’s nightlife.

“I was at the scene last night.” I got up and closed my door so no one would overhear. “After he talked to the detective, I swooped in and talked to him myself. He took me to his office and let me watch his security cameras, but one of his security guards pulled him away before I saw anything.”

“And what about this get-together?” Rodger asked.

“He said he’d d******d the footage to an SD card for me, and if I wanted it, I had to get it from him at his get-together this weekend. I think he was flirting with me.”

Rodger huffed as he jumped to his feet and slammed his hands on his hips. I wasn’t sure why he was so frustrated about me going to see Bentley, but I had an idea.

“You’re not going there by yourself, are you? You know what they say about that guy.”

“Yes,” I sighed. “I know what they say. But I also know how to protect myself. Besides, there’s gonna be a lot of people there. I’m sure if he is a killer, he wants to keep it low-key.”

Rodger’s reaction put me on the fence. But when I thought about how nice Bentley was the night before, I didn't see any harm in going.

“Justine, you can’t go there alone. Let me go with you. I can be your plus one or something.”

“My plus one?” I laughed. “He didn't extend an invite to a plus one. Just relax. I’ll be fine. I have a friend at the police department on standby, and you know where I’ll be in case anything happens.”

In the back of my mind, I wanted something to happen. Nothing dangerous unless it was seductive and happened in Bentley’s bedroom. I felt guilty for thinking of him in such a way and during such a troubling time, but the traces of his cologne that lingered on my favorite jean jacket turned me on.

“Alright. If you say so.” Rodger said. “Just make sure you keep your head on a swivel and don’t accept any drinks from anyone but the bartender. Men like Bentley, you have to keep your eye on at all times. They’ll do anything to get what they want. Even if it means getting their hands dirty.”

I laughed at how cautious Rodger was. He sounded like my father at the start of my career. My dad always reminded me not to take any interviews alone or meet anyone outside of a public place. Since Bentley’s Glam Party seemed public enough for me, I was actually excited about going.

“I’m heading over to Ivy’s parents. You wanna tag along?” I asked.

“Oh, no, thanks.” Rodger moved toward the door without making eye contact with me. “I’ve got a story of my own to tend to. My condolences to you and her family, though. It’s never easy losing someone.”

I paid little attention to him as I gathered my things for the road. The trip wasn’t a long one, but I knew it would be an emotional one. I hadn’t seen Ivy’s parents in a long time. I remembered them to be the sweetest couple you could ever meet. I was sure they had already gotten the news about their daughter, but I wanted to give my condolences before asking questions.

On my drive to their place, I got a call. The number was fresh to me—one I had never seen before. I figured it was a lead coming in or someone who wanted to give me a statement about Ivy, but I was surprised to hear a familiar voice on the other end.

“Mr. Thomas. How did you get my number?”

“I’m a well connected man,” he said. “I can get anything I want. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors.”

I was intrigued but also worried. I thought that if he knew I was investigating Ivy’s case, he would cut all ties with me or, worse, have what was done to her done to me.

“I hear a lot of things in this town,” I said. “Nothing surprises me anymore. Is there something I can help you with, or are you calling to help me?”

“I was calling to invite you to lunch,” he chuckled. “I already told you, I won’t be much help with your friend.”

Butterflies rose in my belly as a large smile slid across my face. I was sure he could hear the smile in my voice because my cheeks rocketed so high I could barely see the road. However, I didn’t let myself seem too desperate. Besides, Ivy’s parents were first on my list.

“Unfortunately, us little people have to work every day to keep the lights on,” I blushed. “Lunch is a no-go today.”

“Today, huh?” His tone shifted into something more melodramatic. “How about tomorrow? Or the next day?”

"Aren't I gonna see you this weekend?” I cut in.

“You never gave me a straight answer for that.”

The longer the call, the more I blushed and felt nervous. A good nervous. As if I were going on a first date with a guy I really liked. Surprise settled in because I didn’t even know Bentley Thomas. Outside of what I’d heard about him, he was a complete stranger to me. But he made me feel like we already knew each other.

“What are you doing after work?” he asked. “Maybe we can have dinner instead.”

“I’m going shopping for something to wear to your party. I don’t wanna be the only one there who isn’t dressed to impress.”

“Ahh, so you are coming?” That time, it was him who was smiling. “Where do you shop? I’ll meet you there.”

I told him I’d text him where I was going if I felt up to it. I was at the end of my drive, and all of my focus had to stick with Ivy. Even though I would have loved to sit on the phone and pick his brain more than anything, I still had a job to do.

Pulling into Mr. and Mrs. Smith’s driveway felt surreal. It was like a dark cloud hovered over me from the time I got out of my car until I reached their door. When I rang the doorbell, the cloud started to pour with anxiety and sadness. The thunder roared when her father opened the door, looking disoriented and confused. He was only fifty years old, but his grief made him look one hundred.

“Mr. Smith, it’s me. Justine.”

“Justine.” He repeated my name with a blank stare. “Ivy’s old friend.”

“Yes. Justine Sky,” I smiled remorsefully. “I was wondering if I could speak with you and your wife. About Ivy. If you’re not feeling up to it right now, I can always come back.”

Mrs. Smith shuffled her way to the door and took a peek. There was sadness in her eyes, but a soft smile broke the mold when she saw me.

“Justine, come in,” she said. “We’ve been trying to answer as many questions as we can so that we can figure out what happened to my daughter. The police don’t seem to know a thing. You might be able to help us more than they can, since you and Ivy were friends.”

A load of guilt crept into my heart as I walked into their home. It had been years since I’d seen their wallpapered walls. Ivy and I were distant friends, and my investigation was more for myself than it was for her. Although it sounds terrible to say, my intentions were still genuine.

“If you don’t mind, I’m gonna record our conversation for my notes. The more information I can collect, the better our chances of figuring out what happened.”

“Whatever you need to do, you do it,” Mrs. Smith said. “For Ivy.”

I placed my recorder on the coffee table in front of us and prepared for the details of Ivy’s night. Her parents started from the time she got home from work until she left their front door. It seemed like any regular night. Until Mrs. Smith said that Ivy was in a funk because of a bad breakup.

“She was seeing someone?” I questioned intently. “Have either you met him?”

“I saw him once,” Mr. Smith chimed in. “It was late. He was dropping her off after work, and I could tell that they had been arguing. I didn’t get a good look at his face, but he was driving some kind of sports car with loud tailpipes. I remember that car because I hated how loud it was.”