The Dark Proposal Part 1

THE DARK PROPOSAL.

Megan Cashman.

Thank you to...

My family - Mom, Dad, Jen and Liz - for always supporting me.

Alvina Drennan for believing in me early on.

Jennifer Belle for her writing tips and instruction.

The members of Staten Island Writers meet-up for their critiques.

CHAPTER ONE.

Claire McCormick sighed heavily when she saw the professor's name on the letter. "I can't believe he's gone," she mumbled.

"Who? Colin Willis?" came a voice from across the office.

Claire looked up at the other secretary and nodded. "Yeah, I just don't understand why would anyone would want to kill him." She set aside the letter and continued going through the papers she had to put away. "He was my favorite professor. He was so encouraging and fun, and I used to always look forward to his cla.s.ses."

The secretary, Nancy Giordano, shook her head sadly. "Yes, it was a big loss for all of us. Such a pleasant man. Even worse," she stood up to use the copy machine. "There hasn't been arrests or any leads. Nothing has happened!"

Claire could only nod. Two weeks had pa.s.sed since the death of Colin Willis, and the case seemed to have already run cold. The professor was found dead in his Brooklyn apartment after neighbors reported a foul odor coming from there. Willis was found on his bedroom floor, his throat slashed open. There was no evidence of forced entry, robbery or anything of the like. From what Claire had heard, it was as though someone calmly walked into Willis' apartment, killed him without a fight and calmly walked out.

She blinked a few times to clear her mind. She didn't want to spend too much time dwelling on how the professor died or sadness would weigh her down. Instead, she focused on getting her work done for the day. Claire worked part-time at the English department at Richmond College, a small private inst.i.tution on Staten Island in New York City. Although she had graduated a few months earlier, she kept her job as she struggled to find work.

Even Nancy seemed to want to change the mood of the office. She went back to her cheerful humming and even brought up a subject that always lit Claire up. "How's your niece doing?"

"She's doing very well!" She beamed. "Ava is learning to sit up by herself. She is getting so big! I should have new pictures to show you soon since my sister-in-law is always taking pictures!"

She finished going through the papers and went over to the filing cabinet to begin filing them. Looking at the clock above the cabinet, Claire almost smiled again as she saw it was fifteen minutes to five.

But it was who entered the office right then that prevented her from smiling altogether.

He strolled in calmly and casually, not making a grand entrance in hopes of being noticed. He politely said h.e.l.lo to Nancy, who was back at her desk and had tightened up by the mere sight of him, but he did not appear to notice. He then nodded at Claire, who mumbled "Hi" back to him, but was taking in his appearance. She could have glanced at this man and continued filing away the papers. But it was what he wore that made her almost stare.

It was eighty-five degrees outside, partly cloudy with the sun peeking out now and then, and the man was wearing a long sleeved red s.h.i.+rt b.u.t.toned up except for the top one at the collarbone. On his legs were slim khakis, brown socks and loafers. How could this person dress like that in the heat?

Upon examining this stranger's attire, she also noticed his skin, or what little was shown of it. Despite the three months of summer, the man was noticeably pale, almost sickly looking. Was there something wrong with him?

After acknowledging his odd appearance, Claire noted the rest of him. He looked to be in his mid twenties, a little under six feet of medium build with light brown hair and blue-green eyes. She also saw that he was handsome, with high cheekbones framing his face. However, his clothing overwhelmed his good looks.

"Laura Matthews will be available shortly, Daniel," Nancy was telling him, saying the chairwoman's name. "Have a seat and she will see you in a few."

"Thank you, Nancy," the man responded politely but distantly, with a cultured sounding accent. Claire couldn't tell whether it was British or not, but it certainly wasn't American.

He went to sit on the cus.h.i.+oned chairs against the wall, opposite the filing cabinets. That was when she saw he had a satchel over his shoulder, the type many professors carried around campus. If this Daniel was a professor, why hadn't she ever seen him during her four years at Richmond College?

Nancy was talking to the man, though in a more guarded tone than her usual perkiness. "Daniel, how was your summer in Australia? I understand you did some reporting Down Under?"

Over at the filing cabinet, Claire's ears perked.

"It was a great trip, as always. Spent time with friends and family, got a lot of work done. Can't complain," Daniel answered.

"You went to Australia for the summer?" Claire left the cabinet drawer open and walked over to the professor. "Do you go there often?"

Daniel looked over at Claire, sized her up and replied, "Yes, I have relatives and friends in Sydney. The summer is my one chance to see them."

"And you're a reporter? For what publication?"

"Many. I'm a freelancer."

Nancy put on one of her broad smiles. "Claire graduated from our English Writing program this past May. She's been doing some freelancing ever since, but it is difficult out there."

Claire felt a bit embarra.s.sed that the secretary introduced her to Daniel in this way, but he didn't seem too fazed. Instead, he raised his eyebrows, slightly intrigued "A freelance writer? And what was your name again?"

"Claire. Claire McCormick. I work here part-time." Why did she say the last part?

"Where have you been published?"

"A few places online and local newspapers, nothing too spectacular. And I interned for a bi-weekly Brooklyn magazine."

"So, I take it writing is really something you want to do?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I mean, I like to write. I like to tell stories and inform people. Writing is how I communicate to the world."

Daniel smiled. "That's always good to hear. You can tell when someone is serious about the written word."

"Are you an international journalist?" Claire knew she looked stupid standing before this person in the middle of the office, gus.h.i.+ng about writing and traveling like a wide-eyed young girl. But she too eager to learn about what seemed like an exciting life.

Daniel smiled again, though this time he seemed to hold back a laugh. "Yes, in some degree. I am not world famous or else I wouldn't be here."

"Where have you've been published?"

Daniel named off some magazines and websites for men, traveling, lifestyle and even one major news outlet. "I've been freelancing for six years and I still have to fight my way to get published. As I said, I am not world famous, so I still feel the compet.i.tion."

Before she could ask anymore questions, Laura Matthews appeared in the doorway to her office. She gave Claire a stern look, which sent her back to filing the papers, and called in Daniel. He walked in without speaking, and closed the door behind him. Once that happened, Claire immediately shut the cabinet she was working on and rushed over to Nancy's desk.

"Who is he? How come I've never seen him before?"

"That's Daniel Bertrand, he's an adjunct professor here. He only started last year and only works nights. Since he's new, he gets stuck with the 101 cla.s.ses," Nancy answered as she shut down her computer.

"Really? No wonder why I've never seen him before." She thought back on the conversation. "He said he's been freelancing for six years. Is he working on his PhD?"

"No, I understand he got his two years ago."

"Two years ago? Nancy, he doesn't even look old enough to have one."

"Yes, I know. I always a.s.sumed he just looks young for his age. I've heard he's about thirty years old."

"And what about his accent? Is he Australian?"

"No, I heard his father was English and he went for his undergraduate and graduate degrees in England. I guess he has family in Australia as well."

"But why Australia during the summer? Isn't it winter down there?"

Nancy shrugged. "Maybe he just likes the cold weather." Glancing back at the closed door, Nancy then leaned in close. "I honestly don't know much about him, but I've heard he's arrogant and difficult. I know you didn't see that when he spoke to you. But that's what I've heard. I think that's why Linda is meeting with him."

"But the semester just started. What could he have done wrong already?"

"He wants to teach the 200-level courses and not the intro cla.s.ses. But Laura won't allow it because he's new and insists on working only nights. He's not flexible with his schedule."

She frowned. "He's a writer. He probably writes during the day and nights are easier for him. I don't see why that's a problem."

"Yes, but he doesn't handle the rejection well. That's why they say he's got an arrogant streak in him, as if he deserves the other cla.s.ses."

Claire shook her head. "I see nothing wrong with wanting to teach the upper cla.s.ses. He seems cool. Maybe he could help me get somewhere in my freelancing."

"That would be nice. It's just that I heard that he isn't the nicest guy. Some students have even complained about him being too tough." Putting her shoulder bag on, Nancy smiled. "I'll see you later in the week, dear." With that, she left the office.

Alone, Claire felt tempted to put her ear against the door of Laura's office. But if she did and her boss opened the door, she knew she could instantly be fired. Besides, there was no yelling or arguing going on behind the closed door. Instead, it was just calm murmuring echoing from the other side. All seemed well.

She continued filing away the remaining papers while glancing at the clock. This time, it wasn't to see when she could leave, but how long Daniel was meeting with Laura. Usually she met with professors for about fifteen minutes. If this professor was like the others, he would be out shortly.

Once done with the papers, she shut down her computer, sat at her desk and waited. She glanced at the clock again. Twelve minutes after five. There was still time left for Laura's meeting. There still was no sign of disagreements coming from the inner office, which had to be a good sign. But she kept hearing what Nancy said to her: that Daniel was arrogant and difficult. When they spoke, she didn't feel as though he was a nasty person. Instead, he was polite and most of all, willing to talk. He seemed interested in her freelancing and sharing his background. If he were arrogant, he probably would have bragged about his successes or brushed Claire off. But that was then; what would happen when his meeting with the chairwoman ended? Would Daniel be as willing to share his experiences with her once he left?

As if to answer her question, the door to Laura's office opened with the sound of the two sharing a laugh and Daniel explaining something about the Staten Island Ferry. They seemed to be on good terms. No sign of arrogance or difficulty there.

"Have a good semester, Daniel. Stay firm with those students so they'll know what to expect from college life," Laura said at the doorway.

"I intend to, Laura. Have a good night." Daniel gave her a deep nod and began to exit but stopped when he saw Claire, who was still sitting at her desk. Laura saw her too and did not look pleased. Claire realized it looked obvious that she was waiting for Daniel and it embarra.s.sed her.

"Still here? Or are you working overtime?" Daniel asked.

"No, I uh, wanted to ask you a few questions," Claire fumbled. She glanced at her boss who raised an eyebrow before disappearing out of sight into her office.

"A few questions? Such as?" he said.

"About freelancing. I was wondering if you could help me." She stood up and put her bag on her shoulder.

He paused, eyes averted. Then he said, "I have a cla.s.s to teach. Maybe another time?"

"Can I follow you out?"

"All right," He nodded slowly. "Come along."

She followed him out of the office and out of the building. As they walked, he had his hands in his pockets and made little eye contact. While speaking to her, he was as distant as before, but now seemed deep in thought.

"First off, what do you want to write about?" he asked.

"Social issues, art, music, culture, lifestyle, things like that."

"Do you have any long term goals?"

"I'd like to be an editor of a magazine or website."

"You say you've been published. How many times since you graduated?"

"Six times."

"Were you published in that Brooklyn magazine you interned for?"

"Yes, but only once. They told me they're having cutbacks."

He shook his head. "If you want to be an editor someday, then you need to hustle more and not let anything hold you back. The compet.i.tion amongst freelancers is fierce, especially these days. What outlets were your works published in?"

Claire named them, with her voice growing weak because the news websites and local newspapers now seemed unimpressive.

"How about this: send me your work. I'll look them over and see where you need to improve, if you do." He stopped in front of one of the buildings and began digging into one of his pockets. "This is where my cla.s.s is. Here's my card with my email on it." Daniel produced a business card and handed it to her. "Have a good night. I'll speak to you some other time." He turned and entered the building.

She watched him disappear inside before examining the business card. Colored black with white writing, it had his name, the words "Freelance Journalist" underneath, his home and cell phone number, email address, and personal website. Sliding the card into her jeans' pocket, Claire hurried along to catch the bus to go home.

"Where were you?" came the stern greeting Claire got when she stepped into the apartment she shared with her two friends.

Closing the door behind her and locking up, she responded, "Sorry! I got caught up with something."

"You should've at least called," said Samantha DiCarlo, her bright brown eyes flas.h.i.+ng. "I always call you or Monica when I'm running late, especially for dinner."

"Jeez, I'm sorry. It's not like I always do that."

"Okay, she's sorry, Sam. Let it go," said Monica Alejandrez, who was dis.h.i.+ng out some sloppy joes.

The three girls had been friends since their first semester at Richmond. Claire and Samantha took a required U.S. government cla.s.s together, and they met Monica at a dorm party. They quickly bonded despite having different majors and being from different parts of the country: Claire from a small town in central New Jersey, Monica from Corpus Christi, Texas and Samantha came from Long Island. Even the three did not understand how they easily became like sisters. Maybe it was their similar sense of humor. Maybe it was that they all looked alike; all three were slim, of medium height, and had dark brown hair, though Claire was the only one with blue eyes. Or maybe it was their personalities that blended so well together.

As the roommates sat around their kitchen table and began eating dinner, Claire told them about Daniel and how he could help her with getting work. "He seemed a bit distant when we walked to the building he teaches at, but he did seem interested in helping me."

"How old is he? He's not some old geezer, I take it?" Samantha asked.