Free Killer Deal by Sheryl J. Anderson

jump?”
    Startled, I turned quickly as Ronnie Willis slid into the room. He was taller than I’d expected from his publicity photos. His thin face was very boyish, despite the deep creases at the corners of his eyes. A neatly trimmed beard and mustache obscured the lines around his mouth. A few bold strands of silver poked up in his thick black hair and his eyes were a warm, mossy green. He was one of those men who, feature by feature, are quite attractive but somehow the whole package doesn’t hold together the way it should, draping a sense of awkwardness over him.
    “Should I?”
    “Seems to cross most people’s minds,” he shrugged. He slid his hand across mine in greeting. “Ronnie Willis.”
    “Molly Forrester.”
    “Hope you don’t mind, my babysitter wants to horn in.” He gestured vaguely to the doorway, now filled by a severe young woman in a black MaxMara suit and a terrific pair of Jimmy Choo kidskin slingbacks.
    Meeting her halfway, I shook hands with her. “Paula
Wharton, communications director. We spoke on the phone,” she said in a tight, unhappy voice.
    “Nice to meet you in person.”
    Ronnie sighed. “I don’t have anything to hide about what Garth and Gwen mean to me, or about anything else in my frigging life for that matter, but Paula’s got to monitor me anyway. Thinks I don’t know how to behave, especially around women.” He winked at me with overblown zeal, then bugged his eyes at Paula, awaiting her reaction.
    She glanced at him without smiling and sat down at the far end of the conference table. Ronnie leaned his forehead against the window, looking straight down to the street. His jacket shifted oddly on him and, for a moment, he looked like a scarecrow peering down from his perch at the worms in the field. “Does make you kinda dizzy, doesn’t it.”
    “I was actually worried about falling, not thinking about jumping,” I said, not eager to return to the window.
    “Wind up on the sidewalk one way or the other,” he said, forehead still on the glass. “What’s the difference?”
    I couldn’t tell whether he was trying to provoke a reaction or was genuinely philosophizing. A glance at Paula didn’t help; she was keying something into her BlackBerry. I wanted Ronnie to be relaxed and speak freely, but wasn’t sure that could happen with Paula acting as watchdog. But maybe if I played his game a little, that would help. “Isn’t the difference control?”
    “Yeah, right,” he snorted. “Like that’s not the greatest illusion in life.”
    “Yet your profession is all about control. Controlling what we want, what we think we need. Which controls our spending, eating, socializing …”
    He swung back from the window. “Ohmigod. You’re on to us and now I have to kill you.” Paula’s head snapped up. As old a joke as it was, it was truly startling in this context. I couldn’t manage a laugh in response and Ronnie winced. “Sorry. That was stupid, wasn’t it. You’re here about Garth and I’m making … See, that’s why she’s here. I am an asshole sometimes. Please, have a seat.” Suddenly all knees
and elbows, he pulled a chair out from the conference table for me.
    I didn’t sit down right away. I’d heard tales of Ronnie’s goofy charm, but this seemed more like antic desperation, tap dancing before the music even started playing. Paula put away her BlackBerry. “I’m actually more interested in Gwen Lincoln,” I reminded him.
    Ronnie drummed his hands on the back of the chair as though he needed to bring it to my attention that the chair was available. “Yeah, but that still means you’re here about Garth. He was the link between Gwen and me. I’m gonna do everything I can to preserve the relationship now that he’s gone, but it’ll never be the same. Just gotta hope fortune’ll smile on the brave. Or at least not crap all over me.”
    “You’re not confident of the success of the new agency?”
    “Sit down and we’ll talk about