The Demise

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  Front cover “watertower” photo: © aijohn784 | iStockphoto.com

  Front cover “accent3” illustration: © ggodby | iStockphoto.com

  Front cover “Sunset with silhouette of building” photo: © Thomas_Lauridsen | iStockphoto.com

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

  The Demise – A Mystery

  Copyright © 2014 by Diane Moody

  All rights reserved.

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  From Author Diane Moody

  Of Windmills and War

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  Blue Christmas

  Blue Like Elvis

  The Demise – A Mystery

  Confessions of a Prayer Slacker

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  Strike the Match

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  Home to Walnut Creek

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  At Legend’s End

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  Dedication

  To Ken

  my husband,

  my best friend,

  and the love of my life.

  Prologue

  He stepped out onto the ledge, his knuckles clenched tight on the smooth metal railing behind him. He took one last look—first to his right, then his left, then far down below, making certain he was all alone and no one near. The warm evening breeze whipped his hair in a wild dance across his damp forehead, urging him ever closer to his destination.

  Just one step more.

  Peter Lanham closed his eyes, drinking in the strange exhilaration of the moment. In his mind, he focused on the dive before him. He pictured the high perch on the majestic cliffs of Acapulco jutting out over the narrow finger of the brilliant blue Pacific. How many times had he sipped tropical drinks from the terrace of the Mirador Hotel, watching the brave La Quebradas make their fearless dives into the crashing waves below?

  Now it was his turn. He took a deep breath, ragged at first, then another. And then, at last, a long, slow calming breath . . .

  I can do this.

  With that, he straightened his back, opened his eyes, and sprung off the edge, executing a flawless swan dive.

  The rush of the wind sailing past him brought tears to his eyes. He blinked, finally clearing his vision just as the scene below came into focus.

  No blue Pacific waters waited to catch him.

  No wild applause from hotel spectators.

  No pounding surf to mask the roar of his scream.

  Only the harsh, gray pavement at the base of the water tower.

  Chapter 1

  Julie stared at her image in the bathroom mirror. She blinked, hoping the scary blonde looking back at her would morph into one of those airbrushed stars on the cover of People magazine. No such luck. She arched her brows, thinking the gesture would lift the bags that sagged beneath her eyes. Again, no such luck.

  “The cast party didn’t end until 2:00 this morning. What did you expect after four hours of sleep—Reese Witherspoon?”

  A lazy yawn unfurled her arms in a long stretch toward the ceiling. “Back to the real world, girlfriend,” she told the sad reflection. Moments later, the shower’s soothing stream of warm water awoke her senses and welcomed the heavenly lavender scent of her shampoo and body wash. With a final blast of cold water snapping her wide awake, she watched the remnants of her fatigue flow down the drain with the last of the fragrant suds.

  “Coffee’s ready, Jules.”

  Wrapping the pink cotton robe around her damp body, she answered. “Be right there, Gev. Pour me a cup, will you? Did the paper come yet?”

  “On the table as we speak.”

  Julie dashed a brush through her wet hair then threw open the bathroom door. “So? What did it say? Is it good? No—don’t tell me.”

  As she padded into the kitchen, her brother peeked over the sports page, his spiky brown hair still glistening from an early morning shower.

  “Say about what?” he asked.

  Julie adored her older brother. She loved his free spirit and wonky sense of humor, and knew him to be the only guy she’d ever known who was completely comfortable in his own skin. With Gevin Parker, it was take it or leave it. A couple of years ago when she graduated from community college, he’d invited her to share the spacious loft apartment above his photography studio. The decision was a no-brainer.

  Julie pinched his shoulder as she dashed around him to her place at the table. “You know what. The review for the play. Did you read it?” She licked her forefinger and flipped through the pages of the local paper.

  “Oh, that.”

  She squashed his paper to make eye contact. “Oh that? Gevin, you know how important this is to me.”

  “Calm down, sis. I was just teasing.” He popped the paper back to its original form. “I’m your biggest fan, remember?”

  Julie’s heart pounded against her chest. This isn’t just any day. This isn’t just any review. Today is different. Today holds all my tomorrow’s in the balance . . .

  “Where is it? Where are the pictures and the review?”

  The Braxton Community Theater’s weekend performance of The Sound of Music had been a huge success, attracting record audiences from the greater Nashville area. The right review could be the threshold to finally, finally opening doors for her career as an actor. In her heart of hearts, she knew her dreams were about to come true, which was why the review was important. No—vital!

  “Here it is, here it is! Okay, okay,” she muttered, scanning the piece, l
ooking for any mention of her name. Near the bottom of the page, next-to-last paragraph, she found it. Her eyes raced through the lines as she read.

  Julie Parker’s portrayal of Liesl von Trapp might best be described as Liesl von Flat. While the lovely Miss Parker— always a crowd pleaser with the locals—certainly looked the part of the attractive young teenage daughter, her rendition of ‘Sixteen Going on Seventeen’ was simply disappointing. Perhaps she should invest in more singing and dancing lessons instead of wasting her time strolling the fruit and vegetable aisles in all those Lanham’s commercials.

  Tears burned her eyes. She dropped the paper onto the table. “Dennis, how could you?!”

  Gevin set down his coffee mug. “Uh oh. Dennis wrote that?”

  “How could he do this to me?” She stood up, shoving the chair back against the hardwood floor as Gevin reached for the review. “Just because I wouldn’t marry him is no reason to crucify my career.” She paced the floor then planted herself facing him. “That was five years ago! Gevin, how could he be so cruel? How could he do this to me?!”

  “Sis, calm down. Nobody cares what he writes. Just calm down.” He took another sip of coffee, still reading the review.

  Julie fell back in her chair. “But I was counting on this review. This was my best performance ever. Don’t you get it? I needed a stellar review! If I’m ever going to audition in New York, I need a portfolio bursting at the seams with good reviews.”

  She rested her head face-first on the table. “Why did it have to be Dennis? Why?” She bounced her forehead gently against the table.

  “Good thing that placemat’s padded or you’d have quite a goose egg on that pretty head of yours.”

  She sat up with an exaggerated sigh of anguish, slumping her shoulders.

  Gevin reached for a dishtowel and tossed it at her. “C’mon, Jules. You know nobody listens to Dennis. He’s not even a legitimate critic. I mean, c’mon—the guy works at Joe’s Lube Shop.” He tilted his chair back, his thumb and forefinger hooked on the table’s edge. “He only writes these pieces when his mom’s out of town and can’t do it. He’s got no theatrical credentials—unless you count working backstage in all those high school plays. I’m telling you, nobody takes him seriously. You’re getting yourself all worked up for nothing.”

  Julie wiped her tears and took a deep breath. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. Besides, everybody in Braxton knows Dennis still has a thing for me, even though he’s married now. Most folks will see this for what it is, right? It’s not professional—it’s personal. Right?”

  “Right. Don’t give it a second thought.”

  She took another breath and blew it out, reaching for her coffee. Before she took a sip, she slammed the mug back on the table. “But Gevin, how will I ever get a break if my reviews are written by a jilted boyfriend from high school?”

  Gevin stood then carried his empty dishes to the sink. “Look, sis. Forget about it. Forget Dennis. He’s a loser. But it’s like I keep telling you, you’ve got to get out of this town. Braxton’s too small. It’s great having you live here and all, but if you’re ever going to get a break, you’ve got to go where the action is. Hey, wait—don’t you have an audition in Nashville next week?”

  “Yes,” she whimpered, wiping her nose against the sleeve of her robe. “For Romeo and Juliet with the Nashville Theater Company.

  “Well, there you go! There’s your ticket, Jules. You knock ’em dead at that audition, get the part, then watch and see—you’ll get a killer review from a legitimate critic, and all this will be forgotten. Mark my words.” He gave her a hug and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

  “You really think so?”

  “Of course, I do. You’re a brilliant actor, sis. I may be prejudiced, but I know talent when I see it. You’ll get your break.” He tugged at a wet tendril of her hair then headed down the hall to his room.

  Romeo and Juliet . . . She already knew the lines. She’d played Juliet years ago in high school. Everyone had said she was born for the part, what with her name being Julie and all. Maybe they were right. Maybe this was her divine appointment. She would practice every waking moment for the next week. She could do it! She would dazzle them, win the part of Juliet, and—

  Startled by the familiar ring of her cell phone, she sprinted to her room to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “Julie! Where are you? You have to get here. Now!”

  “Georgia, what’s wrong? Are you crying?” Even holding the phone away from her ear, she could still hear her coworker’s blubbering sobs. “Georgia, get a hold of yourself! Just calm down and tell me what’s wrong.” She envisioned Georgia’s ample bosom no doubt smashed against her desk as she grabbed tissues and sobbed into the headset.

  “Oh Julie! It’s just so horrible!”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  A burst of phlegmy coughs spilled through the airwaves as Georgia Schwimmer tried to regain her composure. “Julie, the police are here,” she continued in an urgent whisper. “You have to come now. They want everyone here. NOW.”

  “The police?”

  “Just hurry!” Georgia croaked then broke the connection.

  Julie tossed the phone on her bed and rushed into her closet. For all she knew, Georgia probably blew up her Ding Dongs in the microwave again and called 911.

  “And they call me the drama queen . . .”

  Chapter 2

  On her drive to the office, Julie tried to imagine what could have upset Georgia so much. She chuckled, thinking about the caricature woman who kept things lively in the corporate offices of Lanham’s Fine Foods. Julie had learned to love the rotund lady whose melodic voice couldn’t help but make her laugh. And a place like Lanham’s could certainly use a smile now and then. The national grocery chain, founded eighty years ago by Braxton’s wealthiest and most prominent family, was the small town’s lifeline and biggest employer. But to Julie, it was nothing more than a day job to help pay the bills while she studied drama in night classes and expanded her portfolio.

  Still, she couldn’t begrudge the doors that had swung her way thanks to Lanham’s. Taking advantage of what Dad called her “hundred-watt” smile, Julie had charmed Peter Lanham into making her “the Lanham’s Girl” on all the company commercials. Once a week she would spend an afternoon filming the weekly television ads with a team of cameramen from nearby Nashville. Sure, it was just a commercial, but every moment in front of those bright lights reinvigorated her passion to follow her dream. And the residual recognition wasn’t bad either.

  “Hey, aren’t you that girl on the Lanham’s commercials?”

  Turning onto Lanham’s Boulevard, her thoughts vanished at the spectacle of so many blue and red lights bouncing off the windows of corporate headquarters’ massive four-story building. Two more police cruisers passed her as she pulled into the parking lot. The vehicles stopped in front of the main entrance, joining a cluster of others. The barrage of flashing lights sparked a wave of adrenaline through her, so she quickly parked her car and hurried toward the employee entrance. Inside, she found the lobby packed as uniformed policemen herded anxious office workers, telling them to stay put for now.

  “Julie!”

  She turned to find the familiar face of a coworker. “Brad, what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. I just got here. What’s with all the cops?”

  Someone bumped them, pressing Julie against Brad Sampson’s slim, six-foot frame. He put his arm around her protectively. “Are you okay?”

  Stiffening, she pulled back, avoiding eye contact. “I’m fine.” She’d lost count of his relentless invitations to go out for dinner or a movie. Nice enough guy, but the whole nerdy vibe gave her the willies.

  As they pushed their way toward the bank of elevators, an officer Julie didn’t recognize stopped them, asking to see their IDs. Comparing their photos to their faces, he asked, “What office do you work in?”

  “We both
work in the executive office on the fourth floor,” Julie answered. “I’m the receptionist, and he’s in graphic design. Can you tell us what’s going on?”

  “You both need to come with me.”

  Brad shrugged as he pushed the wire-frame glasses up the bridge of his nose. They followed the officer to the last elevator, the only one in use at the time.

  As they stepped into the elevator, Julie asked again, “Can you tell us what’s going on?”

  The officer’s eyes followed the numbers lighting in progression across the top of the elevator door. “Yes, ma’am, as soon as we join your other coworkers.”

  She glanced at Brad who shrugged again and gave her one of his broad, adoring grins.

  She ignored him, relieved when the elevator chimed as it stopped then opened on the top floor. The officer led the way as they entered the elegant outer office. Julie started toward her desk, but the officer blocked her path. “Sorry. We need you in the boardroom, please. Both of you.”

  They followed him through the double doors of the large glass-walled meeting room. Inside, clusters of her coworkers spotted the room, some already seated at the long mahogany desk stretching down the center of the room. Four more policemen stood with their backs against the wall of outside windows, each standing with hands clasped behind them. Julie knew most of the law enforcement officers in town, but not one of them would make eye contact with her.

  “Ohhhh, Julie!” Georgia rushed toward her and threw her arms around Julie. “I’m so glad you’re finally here!” She buried her head on Julie’s shoulder, still wailing.