36 Exposures
Authors: Linda Mooney
Red Rose Publishing
www.redrosepublishing.com
Copyright ©2009 by Linda Mooney
First published in 2009, 2009
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Copyright(C) 2009 Eryn Grace
ISBN: 978-1-60435-491-1
Cover Artist: Ash Arceneaux
Editor: Lea Schizas
Line Editor: Michelle Ellis
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A familiar jangle interrupted their conversation. Jolee fumbled in her skirt pocket, looking for the cell phone while Ferra waved a fork in her direction. “Sixty gajillion ring tones and songs you could put on that thing, and you have it ring like a regular old phone. And you call yourself a marketing director?"
"Oh, hush. Ah, here it is.” Jolee pulled out the phone, but at the same time the forgotten canister came out with it. A glance at the window told her the number was unknown. What the hell, she shrugged and decided to answer it anyway. “Hello?"
"Miss Wiley? Stu Dovinsky. I witnessed your presentation today.” The voice was as polished as a freshly waxed car.
Bet those two hundred dollar elocution lessons really paid off, didn't they?
"Yes, Mr. Dovinsky. I remember you. Was there something you needed to ask me about the promo?” Jolee turned sideways in her seat to avoid Ferra's inquisitive stare.
"Actually, yes, I do,” Dovinsky answered. “But I would prefer to ask over dinner tomorrow. Would that be a problem?"
Her breath caught in her throat. Images of the man with the light brown hair and Jonas Babbino suit rolled around in her mind. How the hell did he get her number? For that matter, why was he even wasting his time asking her out?
"Miss Wiley?"
"Uhh, fine! Yes! It's not a problem!"
"Excellent! Shall I pick you up around seven-ish?"
Already she could feel the hairs on her neck starting to rise. The man used terms like “seven-ish"? Not a good sign. Nuh-uh, not good at all. Put a tally mark in his negative column. “Works for me,” she somehow replied. “Seven, it is."
"Excellent!” the man echoed. “Where shall I pick you up?"
She gave him the address of the little corner grocery at the end of her block. For some reason her instincts had begun flashing little warning lights, telling her not to give him her real address. The store was a five minute walk from her apartment and a safe place to rendezvous. Mr. Dovinsky hung up first, leaving Jolee to stare at the CALL ENDED.
"Well? Who?"
Jolee stuffed the phone back into her pocket but the canister remained in her other hand. “Uhh, it was one of the guys from the presentation.” Curiosity was getting the better of her again. She ignored Ferra's squeal of delight and demand for more information, and shook the can next to her ear again. Yep. It definitely rattled.
Her friend's attention was momentarily distracted. “What's that? Film?"
"The can, at least. Wonder what's in it?” She reached for the lid when another hand slapped hers down.
"You mean it's not yours?” Brown eyes stared her down. “What are you doing with a can of film that isn't yours?"
Jolee threw her a smile. “I found it on the street. I nearly broke my neck trying to avoid stepping on it.” She started to open it again, but Ferra stopped her a second time.
"You don't know what's inside, and you're going to open it? What, are you? Senile?"
"What could be inside that's so dangerous?"
"It could have drugs in it!” Ferra protested.
"Maybe. It rattles."
"That's what I meant! Pills!"
"Ferra! Pills can only hurt me if I swallow them. And if it's drugs, I'll just flush them down the toilet."
Okay, but what if it's a bomb?"
"In this itty bitty thing? You've been reading too much Ian Fleming,” Jolee protested, laughing, and quickly popped the lid. Inside was a metal roll of film, just as she'd suspected. Sliding it into her palm, she noticed one important thing. “It's been used."
Ferra leaned over the table so far that the blouse stretched across her breasts almost found the ranch dressing. “How can you tell?"
"A fresh roll has a tab sticking out so it hooks into the loader. This one doesn't have a tab."
"Where do you think it came from?"
Sliding the roll back into its container, Jolee shook her head. “Oh, anyone could have accidentally dropped it. Some tourist is probably looking for it right now."
"What are you going to do with it? Put out an ad in the paper's lost and found? Put one of the pictures on a milk carton?” Ferra smirked at her own joke.
"Nope. I'm going right over there to the drugstore and have them develop the photos. Maybe there's something on them that'll give me a clue as to who lost the roll."
"Yeah, and you'll probably end up paying a pretty penny for someone's bad shots of every tourist trap in town."
Jolee shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But in case there's more here than I think, I might email one of the pictures to the newspaper. Somebody's bound to recognize their work."
"Ooo! What if they're dirty pictures? You know... porn shots?"
Jolee rolled her eyes. “Girl, you need to get laid. You've been lonely too long.” Getting to her feet, the ghost of a twinge reminded Jolee of her earlier misstep. She winced. “Look, I'm heading back to the office. Same place, same time tomorrow?"
"Are you seeing that guy tonight?"
Oh, yeah. She had a date. “No, tomorrow night. Don't’ worry. I'll give you all the juicy details over lunch Monday,” Jolee promised before her friend had the chance to beg.
They exchanged quick hugs, and then Jolee crossed the street to drop off the mysterious roll at the nearby drugstore. The technician promised to have the pictures ready by the time Jolee got off work, which suited her just fine. A not-half-bad presentation, a mysterious roll of film, and a bonus date all in one day. She found an extra spring in her step as she started back to work.
Jolee Wiley winced against a growing headache, knowing she had little chance of it going away any time soon.
Pissed, tired, and pained, the original three stooges of marketing and research. You're definitely heading for a full meltdown if you're not careful, old girl!
She stopped at the light along with sixteen other assorted characters and waited for the green.
Okay, I can add sweating like a pig.
She grimaced and wiped away the beads of sweat popping out on her face. Underneath the blazer, her white silk blouse clung to her skin. She felt clammy and dirty on top of everything else, not to mention the fact she probably smelled to high heaven.
The light changed. The crowd of over-heated bodies surged forward. Jolee started to go with them when her knee inexplicably popped. The hard twinge made her gasp. She grabbed the light pole to keep from falling. Humanity flowed past her while she stood on one foot and fought the pain.
Damn shoes.
She mentally kicked herself for wearing heels. If she'd worn her nice brown slings, something like this wouldn't have happened.
But the browns didn't go with her navy suit
, a little voice chided her.
Well, hell
.
The light turned. She'd missed the change. Gingerly, Jolee tried to place her weight back on the leg. It held without giving her any further trouble. A glance at her watch told her she was cutting it close—too close to suit her. Once she got to the office she would have to go straight into the meeting without a quick stop in the ladies’ room to freshen up. If there was any justice in the world, the building would be crisp-apple cold, eliminating any signs of perspiration before she entered the boardroom
. Just remember to stay far enough away to keep people from smelling you
, she reminded herself.
The red turned green. Jolee started to step off the curb when she nearly placed her foot directly on top of a small object lying in the street. A quick hop over it saved her from twisting her ankle, but feminine curiosity made her stop and look at what it was.
A film canister.
Immediately, a little voice inside her head started yelling at her.
Don't touch it! Don't pick it up! Don't..
She bent to retrieve it in spite of the warning. Palming it, she hurried across the road, not slowing down until she was safely on the other side. As she continued on toward the Felter Building, she studied the canister, then gave it a shake. Something inside rattled.
Now she was definitely piqued. Unfortunately, she didn't have time to open it and see what was inside, but that didn't matter. The little black canister with its gray lid slid easily into her skirt pocket seconds before she reached her destination.
She was seven minutes late. By her standards that wasn't bad. However, Bristol Ackerman was not so lenient. “Christ, Wiley! What am I going to have to do to get you to our meetings on time? Tie a skateboard to your ass? Crain just sent me out to look for you!"
She ignored his tirade as she breezed past him and shoved open the huge double doors to the boardroom. The CEO was already present, as she expected, as well as the two representatives from Block, Daye, and Tripp. Pasting a smile on her face, Jolee took the first seat she came to. Bristol opted to take a chair closer to their CEO.
Mac Crain, CEO of Veldt, Inc., gave her one of those looks she'd only heard about, but had yet to experience for herself...until now. Jolee swallowed her fear and tried to appear more competent than she felt.
"Glad you decided to grace us with your presence,” Crain drawled, waving a hand in her direction. “Miss Wiley, this is Stuart Dovinsky and Ches Gorman of Block, Daye, and Tripp. Gentlemen, Miss Wiley."
She eyed the pair, noting their impeccable clothes and three-figure haircuts. A hard sell? Nah. An impossible sell.
The introductions over, Crain gave her a nod. That was her signal. Taking a deep breath, Jolee stood and went over to where her presentation was already set up. As soon as the lights were dimmed, she opened the laptop and launched into her spiel.
