Blue McMahon sank back into the cushioned seat of the commuter train that travelled between Bloomington and Chicago and pulled a glossy new magazine out of her shoulder bag. The star of the new TV show, Younger, smiled sexily at her from the cover. Above his head, in bold pink letters, was the word FLASH.
Blue opened the magazine and skimmed articles about a sixteen year old ballet star in Atlanta, a fashion show fundraiser at glitzy Hollywood High School, and a college freshman in Nevada who'd discovered a cure for acne. Without a doubt, Blue told herself, Flash magazine is a winner. No wonder kids all over the country were snatching it up the second it was out on the news stands.
Blue had been meaning to pick up a copy for a few weeks, ever since one of her best friends, Amanda Eliot, had started raving about it. At the moment, though, Blue wasn't just trying to pass a boring ride from the suburb into the city. She was doing a research on a new mystery, a mystery that was bound to take her on a flashy adventure.
Urgent - that was how Flash magazine's publisher and co-owner had described the situation to Blue on the phone the other night. And it wasn't slipping sales figures that had Yvonne Verdi worried. Someone has been sending her threatening letters — ugly ones— and she was scared stiff.
Blue closed the magazine and stared out the train window as suburb melted into suburb. It would have been nicer to drive into the city, but she knew finding a parking space would be completely hopeless. If I decide to take the case, she told herself, I'd better get used to being a commuter. I'm going to have to make a trip every morning, and Dad is against the idea of my driving in all that city traffic.
Blue's mother had divorced her father when Blue was just a child. So for most of her eighteen years it had been just her and her father, Scott McMahon, a highly successful lawyer. Blue figured she and her father had to take care of each other. Blue hated to hassle with her father. She figured the best way to avoid that was to leaver her black Mustang at home for the time being.
Blue's thoughts returned to the new case. It made her heart pound with excitement. Even if the letters turned out to be just some creep's idea of a prank, she'd get a chance to see the inner workings of the number one teen magazine. Of course, there was always the chance that the threats were serious.
Either way, Blue felt sure she was prepared. With dozens of difficult and successfully solved mysteries behind her, she'd seen through the most carefully constructed criminal plots, and she was ready to do it all over again.
Blue crossed her slim shapely legs and ran her hand through her black shoulder length hair. Starting a case was like running a cross-country race. You knew that once a gun went off, you had to reach the finish line before the other guy, but weren't sure how you were going to get there. That meant you had to be especially alert and observant, or you'd end up following a lot of dead-end trails
Blue's keen blue eyes gazed resolutely at the sexy face of the star on the Flash cover. "Whatever secrets you're trying to hide," she said to the magazine. "they're not going to stay secret for long!"
As the train pulled into Chicago's main terminal, Blue stood up, straightened her yellow knee length dress, and grabbed her black jacket and shoulder bag from the seat. She hurried outside and found a taxi. Twenty minutes later, she was standing in front of the Flash offices on Michigan Avenue. Here goes, she thought. She took a deep breath and stepped into the building.
Blue waited for the elevator alone. When the doors opened, two casually dressed women walked out.
"Really, Yvonne is pushing me too far," one of the women was saying. "I don't care if she is the co-owner of the magazine. If she makes one more comment to me about 'proper office clothes' I'm going to . . . well, I don't know what, but I'm going to do something."
"She's definitely annoying," the other woman agreed. "But don't take it personally. She bugs everyone, not just you."
Blue listened with interest. Clearly, the women were discussing Flash's co-owner— and they weren't too fond of her.
Blue stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to the eighteenth floor. The doors opened onto Flash's reception area, a large, spacious room decorated with modernised furniture. Sparse but tasteful, and very, very expensive. Huge glass windows gave a perfect view of Lake Michigan, and a brightly coloured painting hung on one wall. Two long hallways, one pale pink, the other cream, led in opposite directions. Through the open door on the right, Blue noticed six or seven brand new and expensive looking computers. Obviously, Flash wasn't hurting for fancy new equipment.
Blue walked up to the young man behind the reception desk. He was playing a game of Clone Wars on the computer. "Hold on," he said without looking up. "I just have to get this last clone." He played intently for another thirty seconds. "Got him!" He half yelled in happiness. "Okay, who are you and what can I do for you?" he asked, finally paying attention to Blue.
"My name is Blue McMahon. I'm here to see Yvonne Verdi." She said with a smile.
"Ah, the queen clone herself. If only it were as easy as a game." The receptionist sighed. "She's expecting you. Her office is down that hall and on the left. He pointed to the cream-coloured hallway.
Blue smiled and headed in the direction he had pointed, filing away another bit of information. Already she had the feeling that Yvonne wasn't too well liked around Flash.
Blue found Yvonne's office and knocked. "Come in," called a voice. "Blue McMahon," the woman behind the desk said as she got to her feet. "Welcome to Flash!" She extended her hand to Blue.
At five feet eight inches, Yvonne Verdi was only slightly taller than Blue, but her imposing presence made Blue feel almost small. She was one of those hot young business people who obviously had it all. Blue decided she couldn't be more than twenty seven years old. In her stylish skirt and blazer, with her brown hair swept into a French knot and her dark eyes flashing, she didn't seem like a woman anyone would want to mess around with. The writer of the letters was either very tough or very crazy to be threatening Yvonne Verdi.
"Glad to meet you, Ms.Verdi," Blue said, shaking the publisher's hand.
"Call me Yvonne," the publisher replied. "We go by first names here. Please, have a seat." She gestured to cushy black leather couch, and Blue sank comfortably into it. "Okay, let's get down to business," Yvonne pulled two envelopes out of the desk drawer and sat down herself. "These are the reasons I called you today."
Blue smiled sympathetically. "Threatening letters can be very disturbing," she said,"but they're not always serious. Sometimes the writer's only mean to scare their—"
"Oh, but these particular letters are serious," Yvonne cut in. "Blue, someone's trying to kill me!"
Blue studied Yvonne's face. It was hard to tell what she was feeling. "Why are you so sure of that?" She asked.
"Because I know who is trying to do it!" Yvonne threw her envelopes down for emphasis. "It's Brian. Brian Vorderman. He's the other owner of Flash— our art director and main photographer."
"Your partner?!" Blue exclaimed, surprised.
"Yes." Yvonne patted a stray brown hair calmly into place. "But," she hastened to add,"it's not his fault. He can't help himself. You see, I think Brian is cracking up. He's never been very stable, and right now, the pressure of Flash's success is getting to him."
"How do you know that he's going over the edge?" Blue asked.
"Brian and I are old friends," Yvonne explained. "I can tell when he's starting to flip out. In fact, our friendship is the very reason I called you instead of the police. I care about Brian a lot, and I want this thing handled delicately. I don't want any embarrassments- not for Brian and not for Flash."
"But, why is he threatening you?" Blue asked.
Yvonne sighed. "To tell you the truth, Brian and I have been . . . disagreeing a lot lately. Actually, we've been fighting,"she admitted. "It hasn't quite come to out-and-out-punching, but almost."
"I see," Blue said. "Well then, why now? I mean, why is Brian getting vicious all of a sudden? Has something changed for him recently?"
"Yes!" Yvonne answered, her dark eyes gleaming. "Not just for Brian but for all of here at Flash. Our sales figures are rocketing, and that's attracted quite a bit of attention, primarily from MediaCorp, the international news syndicate."
"They want to buy you out?" Blue asked.
"They've offered us ten million dollars."
"Are you going to accept it?" Blue leaned forward in her seat, waiting for the answer.
Yvonne's expression remained impassive."No way!" she said. "Flash is my baby. I gave up a writing career for this magazine. I'm not ready to get rid of it yet, not even for a whole lot of money."
Blue was surprised. This was an emotional side of Yvonne she hadn't figured on. "Then it's Brian who wants to sell it," Blue surmised. "That's why he's threatening you."
"Not threatening, trying to kill me," Yvonne insisted. "But no, Detective McMahon," she said with a smile. "I'm afraid you've deduced wrong this time. Brian doesn't want to sell either. But somehow he's gotten the idea that I do! That's the crazy part. Now he's willing to do anything to stop me from selling- though I don't intend to!"
Blue felt uncomfortable. She didn't like the way Yvonne seemed to be getting a kick out of her wrong deduction. But good detectives never let emotions distract them when they were looking for clues. keeping her feelings to herself, Blue said simply,"That's pretty complicated." She reached across Yvonne's desk to take the letters. "May I-"
"Oh, please, go ahead," Yvonne said, interrupting Blue.
Blue picked up the two envelopes. She slipped the first letter out and looked it over carefully. there was no doubt about it- it was frightening.
The letter included a photo. The picture was a still from a horror movie. It showed a brutal looking man with an axe about to attack some poor woman. But the sender of the letter had replaced the face of the movie actress with Yvonne's own picture. There was a note too.
Yvonne,
You're mistaken if you think I'm joking. Unless you change your mind about the deal, you're not going to have one to change. There won't be anything you can do to stop me. So just sit back and wait for the pain. It's only a matter of time . . .
The Grim Reaper
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