Shadows in the Garage

I spent most of my day cold-calling people who were at Club Lure the night Ivy’s body was found. Each person I talked to gave a statement of what they remembered, then pointed me in the direction of someone else—Ivy’s friend. I hadn’t been able to contact her at all since the incident. She was like a ghost. A no-name. A drifter. Or someone who only came out at night. To me, that was suspicious, but I didn’t jump the gun.

It was after midnight when I decided to call it a night. Late nights at the office were pretty standard for me. I got my best work done when there was no one there to bother me or get in my ear with their jealous nonsense. After packing my bag and disconnecting my laptop, I grabbed my keys and headed for the elevator.

When I got to the parking garage, there was an eerie feeling in the air. I took precaution before exiting the elevator, making sure there was no one waiting for me in the shadows. When I felt like the coast was clear, I quickly headed for my car. Everything was in tact; windows, door handles, and tires still had air in them. I didn’t know why I felt so anxious that night until I saw a slip of paper tucked underneath my windshield wiper.

I looked around once more before removing the note. The chicken scratch handwriting didn’t spark any relevance. I thought it was a note from someone telling me they accidentally hit my car, and here was their insurance information. But I got the shock of my life when I started to read.

To one of the best journalists in town,

This may be a strange request, but I think it would be wise on your part to let all of this go. If anything, let the police handle it. If you’re a fan of horror films, you’d know nothing good ever comes from a snooper getting too close.

Beware.

My chest tightened with anxiety as I quickly unlocked my car and got inside. Just as I made it inside, I saw a shadow trailing the wall near the exit. I grabbed my phone to call the police, but stopped myself when I saw the shadow disappear.

It could have been anyone leaving the building. I wasn’t hurt, and neither was my car, so I knew the police wouldn’t do much for me other than tell me to keep my eyes open. Besides, that wasn’t my first time receiving a threatening message, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

I read the note again to see if anything would resonate, but nothing stood out right away. I had no idea who or where it could have come from, but my spidey-senses wanted to blame Bentley.

I felt like he was charming me to keep my focus away from Ivy. There was some genuine lust between us, sure enough, but he’s a smart man. And as the son of a Mafia King, anyone would automatically assume that Bentley knew how to play his cards.

“You think you can threaten me into not asking questions?”

I called him out of frustration, but my tone was as cool as ice.

“Excuse me?” He sounded confused.

“I got your note tonight,” I said. “The one you left on my car. It’s a nice touch, I must say, but I won’t stop looking for the truth.”

The awkward silence between us made me feel embarrassed. I wanted to be right about him so badly, but he always seemed to be a step ahead of me. He always had an excuse, an alibi, or he was simply too charming for me to be angry at him.

"Justine, I didn’t leave you any note. I’ve been home all night. Surprisingly.”

“Yeah,” I scoffed. “That’s what they all say. No one can say you weren’t, but no one can say you were either.”

Bentley chuckled. He sounded completely unphased by my accusations. My father always said that if you were telling the truth, there was no reason to react to foolishness. The problem was, I couldn’t tell if Bentley was an honest man or just very good at playing one.

“Where are you?” he asked. “If you’re close, you can come over to my place and check the cameras. You’ll see. I’m staying at my penthouse this week. There’s cameras all the way from the outside, through the lobby, all the way up to the top floor. I’ve been home. And I haven’t left.”

“How do I know you didn’t have someone else leave the note?” I folded my arms across my chest, fighting the urge to give in to his flirting. “I think you told me once that you’re a very important man. You can have anything you want. Or something like that.”

He laughed again. That time, from his diaphragm. Bentley got a kick out of my theories and scenarios to tie him to Ivy, but he never wavered from his innocence. He never even gave me a hint or clue that he had a temper. I was sure he had one, but he never showed me.

“I had a talk with Isaiah the other night.” His statement silenced me. I knew what was coming. “He told me who you are. And you’re more than just some fashion police. You’re one of the greatest journalists in Westlake. I knew you had to be somebody,” he chuckled. “The way you ask questions like a pro.”

I feared our interaction would come to an end that very night. No gangster wanted to be friends with the police or anyone who had anything in common with the police. I knew Bentley couldn’t have me around if he knew what I did for a living. Yet and still, he requested me.

“Well,” I shrugged. “Now that the cat’s out of the bag, I just wanna find out what happened. I don’t care about anything else you have going on.”

“I don’t have anything else going on. I’m just a regular CEO who comes from a wealthy family.”

He sounded unamused. Like coming from a rich family and having the CEO title thrown at you was an everyday occurrence. I wondered what family drama he endured to make him sound so uninterested in his wealth.