I woke up feeling like an extra from The Walking Dead. The red numbers on my bedside clock read six a.m.
My brain ached like I'd gone twelve rounds with Mike Tyson, and I fought against the urge to pull the blanket over my head and go back to sleep. Mr. Fluffykins made the decision for me. I blinked my eyes open against the pale sunlight streaming in through my bedroom window and groaned. Mr. Fluffykins was standing on my chest, staring at me.
"I supposed you're hungry?" I murmured. My mouth felt like I'd swallowed an entire field of cotton.
He meowed and started kneading my chest with his claws, and I jolted upright. He jumped off the bed and trotted toward the kitchen.
I slung my legs over the side of the bed. My head throbbed, and my calf ached. I reached up and felt the lump on the back of my head. It was smaller but still hurt like heck. Then I checked the bandage on my calf. The cut had stopped bleeding at least. I went into the bathroom and redressed the wound and brushed my teeth.
Afterward, I fed my kitty then dressed and put myself together for the day. Dressing up always made me feel better, so I chose one of my favorite black A-line skirts, a hot pink wrap top, and a pair of hot pink matching heels. My legs had always been my best asset, and I was damned if I was gonna cover them up just because some creep had attacked me.
I added a little flair with some silver bangles, matching hoop earrings, and an oversized pink bag. I went light on the makeup and piled my blonde hair on top of my head in a somewhat messy bun, then wrapped a hot pink silk wrap around the base of the bun and tied it in a cute little bow.
I checked out my reflection in the full-length mirror in the bedroom corner. The bandage on my leg stuck out like a sore thumb, but the rest of the outfit looked great, so I could ignore it. Plus, I was already feeling much better.
I wasn't particularly ready to face Felix, but I had a job to do, so I locked up the apartment and drove to the Informer.
As soon as I stepped off of the elevator, I spotted another bouquet of flowers sitting on the corner of my desk. They were hard to miss, as this time there was a bundle of at least a dozen balloons attached to them. I felt myself blush. They had to be from Shane.
I chanced a glance at Felix's office. He was on the phone, but he was staring right at me. His expression was dark and unreadable again. But I could tell for sure it wasn't a very cheery one.
I felt a little bit bad. Felix had interrupted his evening to come rescue me the night before. I took a step toward his office to explain. But before I got any farther, he quickly swiveled his chair so his back was turned on me. Ouch. Cold shoulder much?
Fine. Let him stew in his jealousy for a bit. Maybe a little jealousy would be good for him and in the long run, us…if there even still was an us.
I made my way to my desk and pulled the card out of the flowers. Sure enough, they were from Shane.
I stuck the card back into the bouquet, took a seat, and powered up my computer.
"Secret admirer?"
I looked up to see Tina leaning back in her chair to peek out of her cubicle, her feet on her desk, her black and purple hair hanging down her back, one eyebrow raised at me.
"Something like that," I answered cautiously.
"He's kinda cute. Your new boyfriend." She grinned, showing off a wide row of white teeth.
"Ha. Ha. Very funny, Bender. But I'm not dating a teenager."
"I heard about what happened last night at the studio." This time the grin disappeared, and she looked almost earnest. "Scary stuff. You okay?"
"Yeah. Thanks." Okay, so maybe Tina wasn't all bad all the time.
"Cal said the guy took Bobby's laptop?"
I nodded.
"Any idea what was on it?"
"Not really," I hedged.
"Bummer." She plopped her feet back on the floor. "Well, I'm glad you're okay," she said, ending the conversation as she scooted back into her own cube.
That made two of us. I had spent the night trying to block the attack out of my head as I'd tossed and turned, but now in the bright, safe space of the newsroom, I tried to focus on the details. Clearly whoever had attacked me was after something incriminating in Bobby's office. I couldn't be 100 percent sure it was Bobby's killer, but it was a good bet. I mentally went down my list of suspects.
The wife was immediately out. The person who had attacked me was definitely male. That much I had been able to make out in the dark. Henry maybe? I'd had the impression the guy was bigger than Henry's frame, but that could have been fear taking over. I tried to remember if I'd seen Henry in short sleeves.
I picked up my phone and dialed Henry's number. Straight to voicemail again. I left another one asking him to call me, but I was starting to think that was a lost cause.
I looked at the next name on my list. Someone at Sunshine Sanitation. And "someone" was about as vague as you could get. There had to be hundreds of people employed by the sanitation company.
If I went along with the idea that Bobby was going to expose the company in some big negative way, then he had to have had someone on the inside to feed him that information. A mole. Maybe the guy with the tattoo. Had he been feeding Bobby inside info? But then, why kill Bobby before he could expose it?
And then there was Ritchie Mullins. His size certainly fit the guy who'd attacked me. Had Ritchie had a tattoo? Hard to tell. He'd been wearing long sleeves when I'd seen him at the gym. I thought back to the video of the assault. He'd been in long sleeves then too. Considering the weather report was calling for the upper eighties today, I grabbed my purse and headed for the elevator.
Half an hour later I parked across the street from the Oceanside Gym. I made my way inside with a longing glance at the coffeehouse, and found a different person on duty at the desk, this time a petite brunette.
"Can I help you?" she asked
"I was wondering if Ritchie is working today?" I asked, glancing past her at the already busy gym full of ellipticals and weight machines.
"He is, but he's not in yet." She glanced at the clock. "His first client isn't until 10:30, so he probably won't be in for another twenty minutes. Did you want to wait?"
"Uh, maybe I'll grab a coffee and come back," I told her, my internal caffeine addict not minding a short wait.
I thanked her and left, heading back across the street to the café. The air from the ceiling fans blew down on me and cooled my sun-heated skin as soon as I entered. I ordered an iced caramel macchiato and took a seat by the window.
I sipped and played a couple rounds of Candy Crush on my phone before I finally spotted Ritchie Mullins. He parked a shiny new mustang a few doors down from the gym, then exited…wearing a tank top.
Bingo.
I quickly tossed my cup in the trash and jogged across the street, entering the gym just a few paces behind Ritchie.
"Ritchie Mullins," I said, catching up to him at the reception desk.
He turned from flirting with the brunette, and his smile faded immediately at the sight of me. "You again. The reporter."
I grinned at him, trying to ignore the hostility as I quickly scanned his body for the telltale tattoo. "Yep, it's me. I, uh, just had a couple of follow-up questions." His left arm was clean. He was leaning on the counter with his right, so I couldn't see his forearm.
He shook his head. "I've got no comment." He moved to turn his back to me, further obscuring my view.
"Wait! Uh, I was just, um, wondering how to spell your name."
He turned back around. "What?"
"You know, for my article on how Bobby wronged you by punching an innocent man. I'd, uh, hate to spell your last name wrong. I'm a stickler for details." I shot him a big toothy grin, hoping he didn't notice my gaze flicking to his arm every two seconds. Why wouldn't he quit leaning on the counter?
He paused, seeming to mull this over for a moment, then finally said, "It's Mullins. M-U-L-L-I-N-S."
"You know what? I've got a terrible memory. Could you write that down for me?"
He blinked at me as if not sure he should buy my stupid act. Luckily, in my cute little skirt and heels with my cute little bow in my hair, it wasn't all that hard for me to "play blonde." And Ritchie was no brain surgeon himself.
"Fine," he muttered, reaching across the counter for a pen and Post-it.
With his right arm.
I took a step closer to him, trying to get a good look…and easily saw he was tattoo free.
Crap cakes.
"Here. Now if you'll excuse me, I got a client," Ritchie said, handing me the paper with his name and heading onto the main floor of the gym.
"Thanks," I called after his retreating back.
Thanks for nothing, I amended silently as I shoved the Post-it into my purse and trudged back to my car. Unfortunately, my tattooed assailment was still an unknown.
I got into my car, cranked on the AC, and was just contemplating my next move when my phone rang. I looked down to see Cam's number.
"Hey, Cam, what's up?" I asked.
"Hi, Allie. There's, um, there's someone here at the office to see you."
"Who is it?"
She was fighting to hold in her laughter. "Just get here," she said and hung up.
What on earth? I tossed my phone on the passenger seat, pulled into traffic, and hurried back to the Informer.
I stepped off of the elevator. And immediately wanted to turn around and get right back on. What was waiting for me at my desk was not cool.
I peeked over at Cam, who was giggling quietly. I glared at her, and she laughed harder, covering her mouth and turning to face her computer.
Thankfully, as I passed Felix's office, I saw he was absent.
I hurried to my desk and stopped.
"What in the world are you doing here, Shane?"
The kid was standing behind a giant stuffed teddy bear. The thing was as tall as he was, which meant that it was about a foot taller than I, and it was neon pink. It looked like it belonged backstage at a strip club. He poked his head over the big pink bear's shoulder and grinned.
"Do you love it?"
Despite its wild neon color, I hated to admit, I kinda didn't hate it. But I wasn't about to tell him that.
"Shane, I told you already that you have to stop sending these gifts and find a girl your own age," I said as gently as I could.
"You keep playing hard to get, but you'll cave." He smiled.
I shook my head. "I'm a lot older than you are, Shane."
"Says you, babe. That age business is old news nowadays. You'll come around," he said, undeterred.
"Shane—
"I got to get going. I got an appointment with my tutor in about fifteen minutes. Call me if you need any more help." He leaned the bear back against my desk, grinned at me, then hurried out of the office.
"You sure he's not your boyfriend?" Tina peeked around her cubicle wall, laughing.
"Welcome to my world," I grumped and reached out and patted the bear.
"No thanks. I like my men a little…older." Tina laughed and turned back to her computer.
I glanced to Felix's empty office and frowned.
"So do I."