Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [89]
She lifted the coffeepot from the warmer and poured her third cup into the decorative mug. “Want more coffee?” she asked Shelley.
Her bodyguard shook her head as she munched on cornflakes liberally sprinkled with banana slices and chopped walnuts.
Holding her mug in both hands, Lorie sat down at the kitchen table and glanced at the TV. Gasping when she saw Special Agent Wainwright apparently holding a press conference, she searched for the remote, found it in the middle of the table where she had tossed it earlier, and restored the sound.
The tickertape running across the bottom of the screen read: Fourth Midnight Killer victim murdered at fiancé’s downtown Atlanta nightclub.
Shelley dropped her spoon into the almost empty bowl. Metal against ceramic clanged loudly in the quiet room.
“Was Shontee Thomas one of the actors in the porno movie Midnight Masquerade?” a TV reporter asked the special agent in charge.
Wainwright looked downright uncomfortable, as if trying to decide just how truthful he should be in answering the question. Apparently deciding that the info was easily accessible to anyone with an Internet connection, he replied, “Yes, Ms. Thomas did have a small part in the movie.”
“Then isn’t it obvious that she’s the Midnight Killer’s fourth victim?” another reporter asked while others clamored to be recognized.
“After we receive the medical examiner’s report, I’ll make an official announcement.”
Wainwright was bombarded by a barrage of questions as he ended the brief interview and walked away from the microphone. “Do you believe all the actors from that particular movie are in danger?” “Do you have any suspects at this time?” “What can you tell us about the killer’s MO?” “Is there anything, other than the fact the four victims were former porno actors, that link these murders?” “Is it true that Ms. Thomas had a personal bodyguard and that he was also killed?”
The camera swept over the slew of reporters outside the Rough Diamond nightclub and then panned out to show the crowd of curiosity seekers already congregated, even at this early hour.
Lorie set her coffee mug on the table and laid the remote down alongside the mug. “Shontee had a bodyguard.”
Shelley’s confident gaze collided with Lorie’s nervous stare. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t. Just because the killer got past Shontee Thomas’s bodyguard does not mean that he’ll get past me.”
“I don’t doubt your ability to protect me,” Lorie said. “But you’re only human, as was Shontee’s highly trained bodyguard. They just said that the killer murdered her bodyguard, too.”
“You not only have me, but you have the sheriff’s department keeping a close watch and you have yourself, too. You own a gun and know how to use it. But if you’ll feel safer with more protection, I’m sure we can arrange to add a second bodyguard to this detail.”
“A second bodyguard?” For half a minute, Lorie actually considered the suggestion. “No. I feel like a charity case as it is. I can’t ask the Powell Agency to provide two bodyguards when I can’t afford one.”
A lull in their conversation allowed them to hear the morning show anchorman’s next statement. “And now to Joelle Piette, a reporter from our local affiliate in Atlanta. Joelle is speaking to Calvin James, the head of security at the nightclub where Shontee Thomas and her bodyguard, Tyrell Fuqua, were murdered last night.”
The camera zoomed in on a young, attractive black woman with striking green eyes, her expression serious and concerned as she turned to the man at her side. The six-foot-plus black man with linebacker shoulders and neck stood at rigid attention, his dark suit jacket open to reveal a bloodstained white shirt.
“What can you tell us about the murders that took place inside the Rough Diamond last night?” Joelle asked.
“It came down around midnight,” Calvin told her, his gaze riveted to hers and not the camera. “We’ve got surveillance throughout the building. An unknown man was seen with Ms. Thomas shortly before midnight, upstairs in the hallway leading to Mr. Johnson