Page 10 of Jane's Story
“Okay, I’ll keep my camera handy. But please don’t think you have to entertain me.” The hostess led us toward a long table where several people sat. I snapped a few candid photos of the group. A few people looked up as we approached. Across the room, Eva, her mother, and a man in a suit dined. Eva gave me a shy wave, and I waved back, silently cheering at her bright smile contrasting with her earlier tears.
Charles paused at the head of the table, which caught everyone’s attention. “Hey guys, this is Jane. She’s my guest from Austen Heights. She might take some photos, but just carry on as usual.”
All of their emotions hit me at once: exhaustion, anxiety, disappointment, hope, interest, affection, boredom, and curiosity. Sorting out which emotion belonged to each person would take more energy than I wanted to spend at the moment.
“Oh, dear.” A woman with fiery red hair and a name tag that saidAshleyresponded by straightening her posture and running her fingers through her tousled mane. “Maybe I should fix my makeup.”
“Don’t worry, we don’t have to use anything you don’t like,” I capped my camera’s lens.
“Thank goodness,” Armond muttered, running a hand through his hair and glancing sideways at Catalina, who sat next to him.
Charles cleared his throat and rested a hand on the small of my back. He gestured to the red-haired woman. “Jane. This is Ashley. She takes care of our public relations, and you’ve met Catalina, our events manager… and Armond.”
I nodded to them both. Catalina smiled at me. “Thanks for your work during the launch. It looks like you took a lot of photos.”
Charles pulled out a chair for me between himself and Armond.
“Armond, have you heard any more about the photographer?” I asked as I sat down. It might not have been my business, but considering someone murdered the last person in my position three days ago, I had to know. For all we knew, there could be a crazed photographer-killing maniac on the loose.
“You mean Margery?” Ashley gaped at me, then turned to Charles. “Did they figure out whathappened to her?”
Armond rolled his eyes to the side toward me. “We got a report this morning. The police reported that someone had nearly cut through her brakes. It explains why her brakes functioned in the slower city traffic, but once she was on the freeway going eighty miles an hour, the brake line snapped under the pressure, and the result was an explosive collision. Fortunately, she veered onto a median rather than hitting another car. So she was the only casualty.”
“Wow, how awful.” Catalina’s eyes widened. “Poor Margery. It’s impressive the police even knew to look for something like that.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up,” I murmured to Armond.
He shrugged. “Well, it’s no secret. We need to keep this from becoming a big deal to the general public, though. It could look bad.”
A cheerful server arrived to take our orders and left us with a basket of fresh bread.
“I’m getting a migraine thinking about the PR nightmare this could turn into.” Ashley grumbled as she reached for a breadstick.
“Agreed.” Armond sat perfectly upright and scanned the area, moving only his eyes.
Ashley broke her breadstick in half and spread butter over it. “Hopefully, word doesn’t get out.”
My abilities as an empath confused me at times. I usually knew how people were feeling, but I couldn’t say why I knew it. This group was an enigma. Their faces showed their distress at the news. But they must not have been close friends of Margery’s, because they weren’t very sad.
Two men in khakis and short-sleeve button-up shirts approached the table. They both had receding hairlines and were a bit soft around the middle.
“Oh, hi guys,” Charles greeted them. “There’s plenty of room. Have a seat.”
They sat down next to each other, across from me and Charles. Something about them made me think of a pair of salt and pepper shakers, or maybe Tweedledee and Tweedledum. The two were almost indistinguishable in body size, shape, hairline, and clothing. But the one with Owen on his nametag was clean-shaven, blond, with light eyes. The other, Kyle, had dark hair and eyes, round glasses, and an elaborateblack mustache.
I smiled at them. “I’m the new photographer. My name is Jane.”
“What’s up?” The lighter-haired man answered. “My name is Owen, and this is Kyle. We’re on the engineering team with Charles.”
“Hi.” Kyle gave me a quick nod, then turned to say something to Ashley. Thankfully, they all had name tags, or I’d have already forgotten.
Ashley kept her voice low, but I caught something about, “They verified someone murdered Margery Blake… it definitely wasn’t an accident.”
Whatever she said caught Owen’s attention as well. But their hushed voices were too quiet to hear over the busy restaurant’s hum of voices, silverware, and servers.
“You worked with Margery a little bit, didn’t you?” Catalina, whose red lipstick left a mark on her water glass, asked in Armond and Charles’s direction.
“I helped negotiate her contract when we first hired her, and I gave her a few assignments. She was almost as pretty as Jane here.” Armond tipped his head toward me. “It’s sad she’s gone.”
