“No, not yet.” Kayla pulled up the internet. “He’s wealthy, has that bit of mystery to him, intelligent, and seems to know what he wants in life. Though, I don’t talk to him much. He tends to steer clear of the rest of us lowly bartenders.” She winked.
"You’re suggesting I keep him on the backburner? Play with two guys?” Mackenzie asked incredulously.
Kayla shrugged negligently. “You wouldn’t be the first woman to do so. And let’s face it, men play that game all the time. Why is it fair for them but not for us ladies? Hello, double standard.”
Mackenzie was shocked by her girlfriend. Maybe it was Kayla’s young age that had her believing it was all right to toy with men like she suggested. Maybe it was a sliver of her family upbringing seeping into that thought process. Those people were less than honorable when it came to using people around them for personal gain. Anyone was free game. A quick memory scan, she realized Kayla always had a couple men available to her at a moment’s notice. Men flocked to Kayla because of her vibrant personality and Jane Mansfield looks. But Mackenzie couldn’t run her life that way. She didn’t have it in her to become a female player. She wanted stability, love, and commitment. Wealth and power meant nothing to her. She’d lived her entire life poor. She’d manage. It was the core values she sought.
“Oh,” Kayla said, her eyes going wide. “Newspaper articles. Tons.”
Mackenzie grabbed the pad off her best friend and started to click on links. Kayla scooted closer to read over her shoulder. Articles upon articles of Derk being arrested and questioned in possible links to murders popped up. Though all reports stated he’d never been charged in any crime.
“What’s that one?” Kayla asked, pointing to another article.
She opened the link and gasped as she started to read the report. Seventeen years ago, Derk had been a witness to his father killing his mother and then himself in a murder/suicide. According to the report, there had been a public squabble between the couple at a bar at two in the morning, when Mr. Forester found his wife huddled in a corner with two men. Witnesses stated they’d watched him physically drag his wife out of the place. Police reports then stated that when Derk Forester arrived home at three in the morning, he’d walked into the house just as his father shot his mother in the head while she slept in their bed. He then turned the gun on himself. No more information was provided.
“Oh my God,” Mackenzie whispered.
“And I thought my family was fucked up,” Kayla said.
“Kayla,” she scolded.
“I’m serious. I mean, that is fucked up, Mackenz.”
It was messed up. What effect did witnessing his parents’ deaths have on him? What indelible mark did that leave upon him?
“You said he said he worked for a Mr. Murphy. Search for him because those articles aren’t telling us much except that he’s always around when people are murdered,” Kayla said, her voice light, as if she thought it was a joke.
“I don’t think this is funny.”
“Didn’t say it was, but it’s no coincidence.”
Personally she didn’t believe in coincidences. She believed that decisions and choices create the events that occurred around you. She was a firsthand walking, talking, breathing example.
She typed in Derrick Murphy and they both gasped when a picture of the man loaded onto the pad.
“Holy hell, talk about gorgeous.” Kayla gaped.
Mackenzie clicked on the first link. It was a newspaper article on organized crime in the Northeast, and Mr. Murphy’s named frequented as a known leader in the world. But there was nothing actually linking the man to any crimes. Only speculation and educated guesses at best, over drugs, gambling, missing people, deaths of potential rivals or men who’d crossed him, and selling and distribution of weapons.
When she clicked on another link, both women inhaled again.
“She’s gorgeous,” Kayla whispered.
Courtney Murphy stood, wearing all black and very pregnant, next to Derrick Murphy outside of a line of black SUVs and sedans. Next to her, the picture stated her cousin, Sean Millen, held a large black umbrella over her head to protect her from the rain. The picture went along with an article about Darren Murphy killed in a car bomb in the city. She was his widow.
“Wait,” Kayla said, reading along with her. “Does that mean Courtney married his brother, Derrick?”
“It has to,” Mackenzie answered, stunned. “Derk said that Mr. Murphy was having a get together to help take his wife’s mind off the death of her father.”
Kayla whistled. “Wow. That’s…odd. I wonder if they were having an affair beforehand.”