A Gift for Murder

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

I reached the Center a little past seven, way earlier than needed, but what else was I going to do when I was awake, showered, hair dried, dressed, and in possession of a triple-shot, venti cappuccino?

I had a key to one of the service entrances but rarely used it since the main doors were generally open by the time I arrived. At seven-ten they were locked, gated and alarmed. Unfortunately, the entrance my key fit was on the far side of the building. Since the Market Center takes up an entire large city block, it was a long walk around.

An eerie quiet prevailed. The ever-present city traffic was beginning to increase, but the usual cacophony of motors and horns and sirens remained muted. A cool mist hung in the air, starting to dissipate as the sun brightened. Only one other person walked the sidewalk, and she was across the street.

The tap of my heels on concrete seemed to echo in the early morning emptiness.

I felt alone in the world, an odd sensation, and-given what the day promised to be like-a pleasant one. I was totally unprepared to round the corner and all but run into a man coming toward me from the other direction. I managed to swing my hand with the coffee out of harm's way, just in time.

We stopped just inches apart. He grunted in surprise, stepped back first, and said, "Heather... McNeil, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Scott? Craig said he'd hired you, but what are you doing here so early? Didn't he tell you we start work at eight? The building doesn't even open until seven-thirty."

He shrugged, drawing my attention to the broad shoulders encased in a battered leather jacket. Something about the guy set my hormones fizzing. Sexual charisma, I suppose, whatever that is. I glanced at his face. Definitely compelling. He had a sharp, narrow jaw. His nose's lack of symmetry suggested it had been broken, and his thin mouth appeared mean until he smiled. It added up to a man who looked hard, cold and tough. I hadn't thought that way yesterday, but maybe he'd tried to make a good impression. After all, he was applying for a job.

He held himself with a tense alertness. It gave him the air of someone always on guard against attack.

At first he didn't answer my question about being early, but I waited, and finally he said, "I like to check out places where I'm going to work. To figure the lay of the land."

"You've done security work before?"

He nodded.

"Good. We're going to need all the help we can get. Today may be a rough start for you. Did Craig tell you about-"

"The body in the trash can? I saw it on the news last night. Was that, by any chance, your missing executive?" He focused sharply on me. His eyes were neither green nor gray nor blue, but some of each. Nice eyes, but cool.

I couldn't handle that stare right now, so I turned and headed for the side door. "Come with me. I've got a key. Yes, it was our missing executive."

He walked beside me. "Any idea what happened?"

"The police haven't said much about it."

"The news report said it was being treated as a criminal investigation."

I stopped for a moment, surprised to hear that confirmed so soon. "I guessed it would be," I said, more to myself than to him.

"Why?"

We reached the door and I put the key in the lock. He pushed it open and followed me inside.

"If it were an accident," I said, "why would my missing executive end up with cardboard and stuff on top of him?"