Mayhem & Mass

by Olivia Matthews

  Whoo-hoo!

  “Are you enjoying seeing your byline on the front page?” Perry’s voice interrupted the celebratory breakdancing she was doing in her head. “It will be your last front-page article.”

  Was that supposed to be ominous?

  Shari grabbed her Styrofoam cup of coffee. She squared her shoulders as she spun her desk chair to face the managing editor. Her defiant, gunmetal-gray pantsuit matched her mood. What could she read from Perry’s ill-fitting, carbon-gray jacket, black tie, white shirt, and blue pants?

  She downed a mouthful of coffee. If Perry was throwing out a challenge, she was going down fighting. “Why will this be my only front-page article? Because I disobeyed you?”

  Perry’s nostrils flared. Direct hit. “I’m not kidding. You won’t write another news story for this paper. I’m reassigning you to the calendar section.”

  The calendar section? That one hurt. “I thought you were going to fire me.”

  Perry’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I think the reassignment is punishment enough.”

  Being demoted felt worse than being fired. Perry probably knew that.

  Shari schooled her features, a talent she’d honed during her long years in the foster care system. But on the inside she was dying. She hadn’t revised press releases for the calendar section since she’d interned for her first newspaper after graduating from Illinois State University.

  She gave Perry a considering look. “Why are you so determined to keep information about Doctor Jordan’s murder out of the newspaper? Who’re you protecting?”

  “The mayor and I are protecting our community. People need to feel safe.”

  “You’re not keeping people safe.” Shari unclenched her teeth. “You’re keeping them ignorant. The only way to protect people is to make sure they’re informed.”

  Perry crossed his arms over his thin chest. “I’ve warned you repeatedly what would happen if you wrote that article. Did you think I was bluffing?”

  “No, but what you’re doing is wrong.”

  “Right or wrong, I’m the editor in chief. You and Diego should’ve known better than to disregard my orders. Now you’ll both pay the price.”

  A chill slid down Shari’s spine. “What have you done to Diego?”

  Perry’s smile was thin and smug. “You couldn’t have gotten that article past the copydesk without help. As soon as I saw the article this morning, I fired Diego.”

  That news shook Shari to the core. She’d been more afraid of being responsible for Diego losing his job than she’d been of losing her own. “Who’ll manage the news section now?”

  Perry arched a heavy brown eyebrow. “Why do you care? You’ll never have another article published without my permission.”

  At least not in this newspaper.

  Shari took a steadying breath. “I hope you’re happy with the decisions you’ve made.”

  “I’m very happy.” Perry stepped forward and dumped a stack of papers on her desk. “You can start reviewing these press releases for the calendar section.”

  Shari didn’t spare a glance for the releases. She kept her eyes on Perry. Once he was gone, she searched her files for Diego’s cell phone number, then punched it into her phone. She imagined each digit as a tooth falling from Perry’s mouth.

  Diego answered on the second ring.

  “Perry just told me. I’m so sorry.”

  “There’s no need to apologize. This isn’t your fault.” Diego was amazingly pleasant for someone who’d been fired at almost the moment he got out of bed.

  His good mood made Shari feel worse. “But I’m responsible.”

  “I pressured you to write the article.”

  “But, Diego—”

  “Please don’t worry. I’m working on a new job.”

  Working on a new job? “What do you mean?”

  “I’m waiting to hear about a job I’ve applied for.”

  “Did you have this other job lined up before you pushed me to write that article?”

  “I’d been thinking about applying for it. You gave me the nudge I needed.”

  Wow. “My career’s in shambles and you’re telling me I gave you the push you needed to make a positive career change?”

  “Shari, everything’s going to work out. Trust me.”

  “Diego?”

  “Yes?”

  “You suck.” Shari cradled her desk phone.

  Chapter 25

  Sister Lou fixated on her desk phone Tuesday morning. Her hands itched to pick up the beige receiver. Should she call the Briar Coast County Sheriff’s Office and share her suspicions about Kevin Appleby with the deputies? The only way Kevin would have an electronic copy of Maurice’s draft is if he took Maurice’s jump drive.

  But how do I explain knowing that Maurice’s file was on the Spreading the Word Productions’ iCloud account when it’s not supposed to be?

  She’d been asking herself that question all night. Maurice’s research paper was the strongest evidence they had that linked Kevin to her friend’s murder. Sister Lou was certain of this. She just had to find a way to make the connection for the deputies without implicating Wanda.

  Perhaps she’d ask Fran whether they’d found Maurice’s jump drive among his belongings.

  Sister Lou glanced at her empty porcelain mug with its blue, white, and gold Hermionean cross screened on the front. She needed more coffee. But first, she’d call the sheriff’s office before she second-guessed herself again. Sister Lou took a deep breath and reached for her phone.

  “What is this?” Sister Marianna marched into Sister Lou’s office, waving a copy of The Briar Coast Telegraph.

  Sister Lou cradled her phone, keeping her hand wrapped around the receiver. She gave her unwanted guest a brilliant smile. “Good morning, Marianna. That’s a newspaper. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  Sister Marianna’s silver coatdress enhanced her gray glare. “This is not a laughing matter, Louise. The front page article of today’s newspaper is about Maurice Jordan’s murder.”

  Sister Lou’s grip tightened on the smooth casing of her telephone receiver. “I read it, and I agree. It’s not a laughing matter.”

  “I’m sorry.” Sister Marianna looked stricken. “I put that poorly. Forgive me, but the article states that the sheriff’s office has cleared our congregation of all suspicion—”

  “Which is a good thing.”

  “Yes, but it credits Doctor Jordan’s friends for their efforts toward the investigation. I assume you’re one of the ‘friends’ the story references.”

  Chris, Shari, and me. I can’t ask for better friends for this journey.

  “You’d have to ask the reporter. I wasn’t in her mind when she wrote the article.” Sister Lou gave Sister Marianna a sweet smile.

  Sister Marianna gave a long-suffering sigh. “I can’t imagine that the deputies will be pleased that you’re taking credit for the investigation.”

  “I’m not worried about the deputies, Marianna. I’ve tried to share information with them. They haven’t been interested.”

  “Perhaps that’s because investigating a murder isn’t your job. It’s theirs.” Sister Marianna advanced into Sister Lou’s office. She took a position behind one of the powder-blue guest chairs.

  “There’s no reason that I can’t help.”

  “There’s at least one very good reason.” Sister Marianna planted her fists on her hips. “You’ve been away from your office quite a bit.”

  Why am I not surprised that she’s monitoring my movements?

  “There’s no need for concern. I’m keeping up with my projects.”

  “No, Carmen is.” Sister Marianna frowned at Sister Lou’s surprise. “I’ve also noticed that you’ve been meeting with her a lot. Is that going to be your leadership style, Louise, to delegate your responsibilities while you travel around Briar Coast, pretending to be a crime fighter?”

  Pretending to be a crime fighter? Really?

&nbs
p; Sister Lou thought her head would explode. She took a calming breath, then another, and then a third. “Marianna, as you’ve pointed out quite astutely, I’ve got a lot of work to do. I should get back to it.”

  “Louise, I understand that you want to find the person who killed your friend. I truly do, and I find your devotion to him very commendable.”

  “But?” The “but” in Sister Marianna’s tone was deafening.

  “If you want to serve on the leadership team, you’ll have to accept that it will be a full-time commitment. Can you promise that?”

  Why is Marianna speaking to me as though I’m unfamiliar with the roles and responsibilities of the congregation’s leadership?

  Sister Lou managed to extinguish a small spark of irritation. Her words were slow to ensure the other woman understood. “Marianna, you do realize that I serve on our current leadership team, don’t you? In fact, during my four-year term, you’re the only person who’s ever questioned my commitment.”

  “If you’re re-elected, take the opportunity to do a better job. We should always strive to do better.” Sister Marianna again glanced at The Briar Coast Telegraph. “You have a choice, Louise: the Congregation or your investigation.”

  Sister Marianna strode from the office, taking the newspaper with her.

  Did Marianna just give me an ultimatum?

  * * *

  Chris paid for their lunches this time, just as Shari had promised he could. He’d invited her to lunch to bring her up to speed on their investigation.

  Chris followed her to a table near the front of the Briar Coast Café. Her orange pantsuit was striking against the eatery’s blond-wood and peach-accented décor. Her matching stilettos tapped across the honey-wood flooring. Where had she found orange shoes?

  It was late Tuesday morning. The lunch crowd was just beginning to swell along with the savory aromas floating around the café. He breathed in the steam rising from his bowl of New England clam chowder. He’d also ordered a turkey and provolone sandwich on multi-grain bread. He was keeping his options open regarding the hot apple pie that had called to him from the bakery display.

  Chris set his tray on the small blond-wood table Shari had chosen beside the picture window, then sat opposite her. He paused when he caught her watching him.

  “Can you say the grace?” Her voice was hesitant.

  Chris masked his surprise. He bowed his head and said the short prayer over their meal. It further surprised him when Shari echoed his “Amen.”

  “I enjoyed your article in today’s Telegraph.” Chris spread his napkin over his lap, then scooped his spoon through his chowder.

  “Thank you. Your aunt called this morning and left a message on my voicemail. It meant a lot.” Shari gave him a slight smile before she swallowed a spoonful of her chicken noodle soup. The smile didn’t quite reach her cocoa-brown eyes. A blush accented her high cheekbones.

  Chris sensed her agitation. Her mass of raven curls seemed more unruly than usual, as though she’d been running her fingers through her hair. Her delicate pointed chin was tilted at an even more obstinate angle. Her movements were stiff with barely suppressed anger.

  “How upset was your boss?”

  “You’re looking at the new calendar section reporter.” Shari spoke without inflection. “He fired the news editor.”

  “I’m so sorry, Shari.” Chris winced. “I’ve met Perry O’Toole a couple of times. He’s always been friendly, but I’ve heard he can be arrogant and unreasonable.”

  “His surname was earned, not inherited.” She offered her verdict without heat. “He’s a tool.”

  “Don’t blame yourself for the news editor being fired. Diego DeVarona’s smart. He has a good reputation. He’ll be fine.”

  This time, Shari’s smile was more genuine. “Do you know everyone in this town?”

  Chris returned her smile. “It’s a small town.”

  Shari chuckled as she finished her soup. “Don’t worry. I don’t feel guilty about Diego anymore.”

  “Good. He knew the risk, and he made his choice. He must feel as strongly as you do about covering the story.”

  “He also has another job opportunity lined up already.” Shari took a sip of her iced tea. “Good luck to him.”

  “I suppose that’s fortunate.” Chris couldn’t tell whether Shari’s well wishes for the former Telegraph editor were sincere. She sounded fine, but he could imagine she’d be upset to have been demoted while Diego was in line for a new job.

  “I guess you can call it that. I wish I’d known, though.” Shari shrugged a shoulder. “I would’ve written the article sooner.”

  “Did you hold off on writing the story because you didn’t want Diego to lose his job?” Chris was surprised—and impressed. A newspaper reporter who put a person’s well-being ahead of getting the story; he’d thought they were as mythical as unicorns.

  Shari arched a winged eyebrow. Humor sparkled in her reckless eyes. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’ll disappear if you close your eyes.”

  “I’m impressed that you were concerned enough about Diego’s welfare that you hesitated to write your article.”

  “Don’t get it twisted. If Diego walked into this café right now, I’d punch out his teeth.” Shari glanced toward the front door as though hoping the former news editor would materialize. “Yeah, it’s nice that I was his motivation to look for a new job and all, but my career’s a mess.”

  Chris watched her stir her spoon around what remained of her soup. Her other hand lay beside the bowl. Her fingers were long, the nails unpainted. Her hands were elegant, a pianist’s hands.

  It was odd that Diego hadn’t told Shari he was interested in another job. The same sources that had branded Perry an arrogant jerk had assured him that Diego was a caring person who was committed to the community. Why would he encourage a coworker to jeopardize her career while he applied for another job? What was really going on?

  “What are you going to do now?” Chris sipped his iced tea. Shari seemed to have lost her appetite; her ham and Swiss on wheat sandwich was still untouched.

  She released her spoon and took a drink of her iced tea. “As Diego pointed out, I finally have a solid hard news piece for my portfolio. I’m going to look for a new job, too.”

  Chris felt a spurt of panic. “You’ll leave Briar Coast?”

  “The Telegraph is the only game in town, and I can’t work for Perry. He doesn’t understand the value of journalism.”

  Chris understood her point. Still... “It would be a shame for you to leave so soon after moving here.”

  She gave him a strange look. “Yes, it would.”

  * * *

  Sister Lou was surprised to see Briar Coast’s mayor, Heather Stanley, and her entourage leaving the sheriff’s office as she pulled into the parking lot. Was it possible that, after two weeks, the mayor was taking an interest in the first homicide Briar Coast had experienced in more than eight years?

  Sister Lou climbed from her orange compact and hurried straight into the bullpen.

  “Hey, were you behind the Telegraph’s article on Doctor Jordan?” Deputy Ted Tate’s greeting to Sister Lou as she approached his desk late Tuesday morning wasn’t unexpected. “The mayor just chewed our as . . . butts about it.”

  The big, burly, and obviously angry man was slouched on the gray swivel chair behind his desk, which faced his partner’s work station. Deputy Fran Cole was seated at her desk, apparently working on a report.

  Sister Lou stopped beside Ted. The chill in the air wasn’t just from the overactive air conditioning.

  Sister Lou channeled her inner Shari. “That article carried Sharelle Henson’s byline. She’s a real reporter, not my alter ego.”

  Surprise widened Ted’s gray eyes. The poor soul hadn’t expected her to snap back at him.

  He straightened in his chair. “You didn’t write it, but you fed Henson the information for i
t.”

  Sister Lou didn’t back down. “You mean I answered her questions, whereas the sheriff’s office ‘declined comment.’”

  Ted snorted. “We’re not the media’s puppets.”

  It was more likely that the deputies didn’t have anything to report.

  “That was your choice.” Sister Lou tightened her grip on her purse strap. “What did the mayor say about it?”

  Ted grunted. “She doesn’t want us giving you or the paper any more information. She says you’re going to cause a panic.”

  Sister Lou’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

  Ted gave her a sideways look. “You can call and ask her yourself.”

  Well, no help there. Sister Lou was sorry she’d voted for Heather Stanley. She turned her attention to the roomful of men and women wearing identical tan shirts, black ties, and spruce-green gabardine pants.

  She caught the now familiar scents of the sheriff’s office: coffee and baked goods. Her stomach growled, reminding her how close it was to noon. The office was clearing out as the first shift of deputies left for lunch. Some were eating at their desks.

  Sister Lou settled onto the chair beside Ted’s workstation. The deputy hadn’t invited her to make herself comfortable. That wouldn’t have stopped Shari. Why should it stop her? “I’d like an update on your investigation, please.”

  Ted’s eyes stretched in stunned surprise. “Just like that? You come here, sit down, and expect us to tell you everything we know?”

  Sister Lou gave him a kind smile. “And in return, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  Ted gave her a suspicious look. “Like what?”

  “I know your investigation is focusing on Jessica Jordan, but she didn’t kill her husband.” Sister Lou watched for Ted’s reaction.

  “How do you know this, Sister?” Fran’s voice came from behind Sister Lou.

  She shifted the chair so that she could see both deputies at the same time. “Jessica doesn’t have a motive.”

  Fran glanced toward Ted before returning her attention to Sister Lou. “Her son told us she’s having an affair.”