Murder is Not a Girl's Best Friend by Rob Bates

Author:Rob Bates [Bates, Rob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-02-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

BRANDON FELT THIS NEW INFORMATION was so damning, it should be released immediately. He decreed they hold the press conference Monday, which was two days away.

The three of them worked all weekend organizing the event. Anita rented a conference room at a Midtown hotel and hired a publicist—paid for with Rafi’s money—while Mimi stayed up late meticulously editing Brandon’s presentation and compiling an information-packed press kit.

Anita asked Mimi to help check in the media. “If any reporter has a question about the press kit, who better to answer it?”

Mimi reluctantly said yes. It meant she’d have to take off time from her job Monday, but she didn’t want to deal with another Anita guilt trip. Her father would probably give her one for missing work, but she could handle that—she’d been getting those all her life.

When Mimi got to the hotel, she was impressed how professional everything looked, especially since it was pulled together so quickly. The room featured a podium in front; blown-up documents resting on easels; even plates of sandwiches. Free food always made reporters happy.

Mimi grabbed a sandwich and greeted Brandon, who was in a side room, reviewing the presentation on his laptop.

Anita was traversing the room with a handful of papers, barking orders to the hired hands. Finally, she stopped and said hello.

“How are things going?” Mimi asked.

“So far, so good,” she said, half talking to Mimi, half checking her phone. Her hair was copiously mussed, and her glasses sat a slight angle to the rest of her face. “I’m a little nervous no one will show up, but even if they don’t, I’ll get awesome footage for my documentary.”

Just then, a short pudgy man in a suit appeared. He had an owlish face, a beard, and round glasses, and tightly clutched a leather briefcase.

“This is Mr. Greenfeld, Brandon’s new lawyer,” Anita said. “Mimi here helped put the presentation together.”

The lawyer temporarily let go of his briefcase to offer a dead-fish handshake and a grunt.

Anita frowned. “He’s not happy Brandon is holding this press conference.”

“It’s rule number one,” Greenfeld griped. “Defendants should keep quiet.”

“Don’t worry,” Anita said. “Brandon’s not dumb. We just want this information out there.”

“Trust me, reporters will only come to gawk at the accused killer,” said Greenfeld. “They won’t care what he says about some obscure billionaire.”

Anita was far taller than Greenfeld and gazed down at him. “Brandon will make them care.”

Greenfeld groaned and walked away. Anita went back to crisscrossing the floor.

Mimi settled at the press table, and spent a few minutes stacking her media packets into tidy piles. But soon, she was busy. Many reporters did show up—maybe just to gawk, but they came. At one point, the line to get in stretched out the door. Mimi handed each reporter a copy of her meticulously assembled press kit.

The journalists were a familiar type to Mimi: they slouched, wore glasses, and couldn’t resist wisecracks even when doing a mundane task like checking in for a press conference. They were either chatty and hyper-aware, or quiet and lost in their thoughts, with little in-between.

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