April 8, 2008
Dear Diary,
Yesterday I accompanied NYPD Detective Scotty Valens and his partner, Lilly Rush, down to the morgue to officially identify the body as Bradley Barton. I cried like a baby. They had a few questions regarding Bradley's habit of working that late and I said it was quite common. Scotty offered his condolences and said he might be back for more information at a more convenient time.
I tried to reach Katie Donovan, knowing I would need an attorney to help me regarding Bradley's will. He still hadn't changed the will which was a big relief to me. With his parents passed away, and no other relatives, he'd left everything to me. The five story brownstone at 100 East 78th St., the Barton Publishing business at 1800 Madison Ave., all his investments, and of course his bank accounts. He used Crane, Poole and Schmidt as his law firm and they will have a duplicate copy of his last will and testament on file, but I thought I might choose Katie to represent me in this case if she's willing..
That had been a close call. The last time Bradley spoke to me he said he'd decided against the divorce since it might cost him a fortune even though he was sure he could prove I was nothing but a slutty tramp. He planned to wait a bit until they could verify who was the father of my expected child. If it was his, he planned to hire a really tough lady to hound me day and night so I could no longer offer my body to the world. If the child was the result of my philandering around, he said I might suddenly have an accident and be found at the base of the stairs, dead.
I realized my run down cell phone was sitting there recharged and turned it on. It vibrated almost immediately and Carl was on the line all upset. He'd heard of Bradley's death and wondered how that could possibly happened that fast.
I told him that my Detroit guy, almost mentioning Cody's name twice, didn't kill Bradley, that in fact he arrived Saturday morning as planned and called me pissed off because he thought that I had hired somebody else to bump Bradley off. I told Carl that Cody didn't accept any of the money and agreed to just head back to Detroit.
Carl was still tense, because we weren't where we could be seen on Friday night. We did have a receipt from the Blue Angel but that was still earlier than when Bradley was mugged. We greed to be honest about everything, except about the plans I made to hire Cody to bump Bradley off.
All's well that ends well and I'll make sure Carl's book gets published.
*closing the new diary, locking it, and hiding it in my desk*
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April 6, 2008
Dear Diary,
I'm stunned, to say the least. Saturday on the noon news, Bridget Martin announced that Bradley was killed by a mugger in the parking garage on Friday night. Twenty minutes later Cody called me from the JFK airport saying he just heard the news that his target was dead and he was pissed, assuming I got somebody else to do the job. I told him no way, that I was as shocked as he was.
He said that he had picked up the ten grand, but if I met him for lunch somewhere, he would return the money. I said being seen with him right now might not be the wisest thing, so I took a taxi over to the small Marriott motel in Queens where he had booked a room under an alias until Monday night.
He had planned to do the hit on Monday evening, then catch a Tuesday morning flight back to Detroit. I hadn't seen Cody for over three years, but he was as handsome and sexy as ever. He ordered in a meal and I stayed out of sight until the delivery boy left.
Then while we ate, the negotiations began. I offered to let him keep several grand to pay his expenses, but he just smiled. He said since I was now a widow, and no longer married, he'd be satisfied if we just had a good time while he's in the Big Apple. I made him promise to leave on Sunday and never tell anybody he was even here in New York City.
I never mentioned I was already pregnant and I felt pretty safe, so what the hell, just lay back and enjoy it. The sex was just as terrific as I remembered it from that one night stand in Detroit. As long as Cody kept his mouth shut I was safe.
With Bradley dead, I could keep the nice mansion, take over the Barton Publishing business, eventually marry Carl and be a wealthy socialite. Carl would be the only person that knew about my wicked aborted plans.
*closing the new diary, locking it, and hiding it in my desk*
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April 5, 2008
Dear Diary,
Yesterday I purchased this lockable diary, something I haven't maintained since my marriage with Bradley three years ago. It's time to get started again.
First a little recent history. The first year was exciting, moving to New York City where Bradley owns Barton Publishing, a small firm that's been growing rapidly over the last three years. The problem is that Bradley works tons of hours, travels often, leaving me alone in the nice five story brownstone home at 100 East 78th St. in Manhattan.
Yes, I eventually got bored. I dressed up and stopped in an Italian restaurant named the Four Seasons Supper Club where I met some really interesting people; Gino the handsome bartender, Lindsay Davis who writes a gossip column in the Times, Rachel Taellio who writes and runs plays at the Off-Broadway Creative Arts Theatre, Katie Donovan a lawyer, Samantha Emeris the club singer, Mike Miller the Manhattan councilman, Jason Todd Brody the pilot, and his cute French girlfriend Yvette.
Last bit not least, I met two handsome aspiring writers, Seamus Clark and Carl Cameron. Now Seamus was fun, a one night stand where he quite nicely eased the tension in my body in the loft of his Upper West side flat. I read his draft romantic novel and finally talked Bradley into publishing it, "A New York City Bar". It's become a hit with Lindsay's help in her popular gossip column. Of course Bradley had no idea what went on between Seamus and me.
Then I met Carl and he sort of swept me off my feet. I started pushing Bradley to publish one of Carl's romance novels. Bradley finally acquiesced and I helped one of his editors get the book ready for publishing. Of course, Carl and I were doing a lot more than review his next book, he was keeping me very sexually satisfied.
Then Bradley began getting irritated about my late hours where he was no longer always that last one home at night. He became more and more suspicious about what I was doing with Carl, even though I kept telling him I was merely helping Carl with his next novel.
The disaster was the weekend Bradley was in Boston at a publisher's convention and I took Carl home with me instead of spending the night in his apartment. Things got out of hand when he laid me in the bed I share with Bradley. It was as much my fault as Carl's when he failed to use the normal protection. Yes, we learned a few weeks later that I was pregnant, obviously carrying Carl's child.
Panic stricken, I seduced Bradley into skipping the normal condoms, hoping I could convince him the forthcoming child was his. Carl wasn't pleased with that and said so, suggesting I just leave Bradley and marry Carl.
Before I could even rationalize where I stood, Bradley suddenly confronted me when I returned home late one night. He was furious and accused me of hanging around with first Seamus and now Carl. I was arguing with him when I tossed my purse for the coffee table and it slid off on the floor, spilling the contents everywhere. Out flew a Kimono condom, certainly not the brand we used at home.
I tried saying a lady friend gave it to me to try, but he wasn't believing that one iota. He was screaming, " What the HELL is that?... Are you screwing that Cameron hack like you screwed the last novelist... what the hell was his name?... Clark?"
My attempts to defuse it were useless as he ranted on, "I know you slept with that Clark ... and if his book wasn't doing so well I'd can it... but I can tell you this Missy... that Cameron's book is finished!... You hear me?... FINISHED!
Kneeling down to pick up my scattered things I yelled back, "That would be cutting off your nose to spite your face.... Carl's book is even better than Seamus' high selling novel!"
Bradley kept ranting, "I don't care if it's gold... no God Damned two-bit writer is going to screw his way into my company."
He stormed off to bed saying I could sleep in the guest room and that he'd be finding a lawyer to file for divorce.
I slunk off to call Carl on my cell phone and advise him of what was going on. We agreed to meet the next day for lunch at a place he called the Blue Angel.
While we sat there sipping green tea, I told Carl what happened. "I slept in the guest bedroom last night....... he really shut me out.... I think he might be either planning to ask for a divorce......... or kill me
Carl was shocked, "He can't ... I mean... you think he'd hurt you?... If you think that I don't want you going back there."
"We can go back there after lunch if you like.... I can pack my stuff..... if you want me to move in with you..... but of course that would give him, all the evidence he needs to garner a divorce.
That staggered Carl, "If he divorces you... you won't inherit the business"
I just smiled, "I know....... time to plan his demise...... I'm game if you are...... but we HAVE to have alibis.
Carl hesitated, but I reminded him it would mean the end of his precious romance novel being published. He even suggested that we try and run Bradley down on the street as he left his office.
"We wouldn't have an alibi that way...... or be sure he's dead.... we need a professional.
Carl growled, "You're right.... shit this is harder than writing fiction."
"If you're game..... I'll call a fellow I know in Detroit."
"What do you mean "a fellow I know in Detroit"?
"The less you know that better......" *blushing a little* ....." that way they can grill you and you won't know anything at all...... I can give him ten grand up front......... and promise him another ten if he succeeds."
He looked a bit shocked by my answer... "Where did you come across someone like that?"
"Before I married Bradley...... I met this guy while visiting a college girlfriend...... he was a pretty dangerous guy..... and obviously belonged to the mob up there..... it was just a one night fling...... but he said if I ever wanted more.... to just call him."
I told him to order something I could share for lunch and went off to the lady's restroom. I used one of those temporary cell phones to call the guy in Detroit. He answered and took up my offer.
"Fly into JFK on Saturday........ go to the rental lockers in the American Airlines section..... locker 301 has a combo lock on it..... 6 right.... 9 left... 6 right..... In there you'll find half of the money.... and a photo of the man I want rid of and instructions in an envelope..... I need this done ASAP when he goes to get his car in the parking garage...... then you get the other ten delivered in a plain brown wrapper back in Detroit......... got it?"
He laughed, asking if he might get a little of what I gave him a few years ago as a bonus.
I told him maybe, but that had nothing to do with this little transaction. I told him I'd be watching the news to make sure he succeeds. He simply said I should consider it done and hung up. I pitched the cell phone in the rubbish container and left with a smile.
I'm waiting impatiently now.
*closing the new diary, locking it, and hiding it*
