"That's what Hackensack09 said," he told me with a noisy slurp. "Read the next one. Bukowski was accused of trying to bribe a court clerk about five years ago, right before his charges of bribery were suddenly dropped."
"The result of another bribe?"
"Ironic, right?" Shane grinned at me, showing off a couple of strawberry seeds stuck in his front teeth.
"Very," I mumbled, pointing to his incisors.
He grabbed a napkin and wiped.
"I'm guessing that's how he kept this all out of the press too. More bribes?"
Shane shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe it just didn't register on anyone's radar. I mean, most of what he's accused of is pretty low-level stuff. Five, ten years max sentences. And nothing ever stuck."
"Convenient, that, right?"
Shane nodded. "That's what Hackensak09 thought, too." He scrolled to the next document. "Check this out. He owned a recycling plant in New York around the same time he was accused of bribery. After the charges were dropped, he sold it and moved to L.A., where he started consulting for Sunshine Sanitation."
"Interesting timing, but maybe he just wanted a fresh start," I said, playing devil's advocate.
Shane shook his head. "Okay, but a year ago, right after Sal came on board at Sunshine, a union rep mysteriously disappeared after paying a visit to the plant." He flipped to another page, shoving the phone in my direction.
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Disappeared? How?"
"I don't know. No one does. He was last seen leaving the plant. He never made it home, and no one's seen him since. His wife filed a missing person's report, but there's been no sign of him since before he left the sanitation plant."
"That's quite a coincidence," I said quietly.
"If you believe in that sort of thing," Shane added, slurping again.
Thanks to Felix, I didn't.
"Okay, it seems pretty clear that this Bukowski character is as shady as it gets."
"Total shade," Shane agreed, nodding. "Do you think Bukowski killed Baxter?"
"I don't know." I shrugged. "He's obviously a rotten guy, but the only connection we have between the two is some emails we haven't read."
Shane looked sheepish. "Sorry. I wish I could have gotten into them for you."
I waved it off. "You've done more than enough," I told him, gesturing to the "borrowed" documents on his phone. "Speaking of which—no more hacking, okay?"
Shane's eyebrows drew together in a frown. "I thought all this was helpful."
I nodded. "It is. And I honestly appreciate it. But it's also dangerous and illegal, and I don't want you to get into trouble."
His frown slowly smoothed out into a smile. A really big one. "Awe, babe, you do care about me."
Oh brother. "I care about not contributing to the delinquency of a minor."
"A minor for only three more months." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at me.
"Okay, time to get you home, kiddo," I said, maybe a little too loudly.
If he noticed the dig at his age, he didn't comment. Instead he just stuck with the goofy grin the entire way back up to the Hollywood Hills.
By the time I got back to the office, the sun was setting, and the sky was a dusky purple, the smog layer creating a brilliant display of colors along the freeway-dotted horizon.
The office was empty with the exception of Max typing away in his cubicle, the sole sound kind of lonely in the big room. Everyone else seemed to have gone for the day, including Felix, whose office was dark and empty, sitting in the middle of the room like a glass-walled reminder that he hadn't said a single word to me all day. I shoved that thought down. I'd worry about that later. Right now, I was on a deadline.
I sat at my computer, eager to type up my notes on Shane's findings while they were fresh in my mind. At the very least, the fact that Bobby had been communicating with a guy like Sal right before his death was enough to wet the tabloid reading audience's appetites and fuel their gossip loving imaginations. Of course, I had no real conclusions or proof of anything, so I had no idea if the story would even make it through the legal department. After we'd been sued last year over a story one of the junior reporters had done with a less-than-reliable source, Felix now insisted we send everything through legal to scan for anything that could lose us money in a slander lawsuit. Since my source was an anonymous hacker in New Jersey, I wasn't 100 percent sure this would stand up.
I bit my lip, dying to know what story Tina was planning to hand in on Friday. Did she have solid sources? I glanced over at her empty desk.
Maybe if I just took one little peek…
I couldn't help myself. I quickly snuck over to her cubicle and powered up her computer. A few seconds later a screen requiring a password popped up. Dang it. I bit my lip, glancing around her desk for any clues. Pen holder covered in pink skulls, pad of neon colored Post-its, mouse pad with a retro Lucky Charms ad emblazed on it, her swear pig. My eyes lingered on the swear pig. If I knew Tina's rebellious streak…
I typed in Tina's favorite swear word, one that I'd heard her utter out of frustration more than once to the tune of twenty-five cents a pop. The screen changed, immediately granting me access to all of Tina's files.
This was almost too easy.
I glanced over my shoulder again, but all I saw was the empty office—Max's slow hunt-and-peck typing the only sound.
I quickly grabbed her mouse and began scanning for any files that looked like they related to the Baxter case. I had to admit, Tina's filing system was nothing like mine, and it took me a bit to get her naming system. She used a lot of initials and weird nicknames that had no meaning to me. I took a different approach and scanned for the most recently viewed files. I quickly opened the top one, labeled assgreenlightvariety—praying it wasn't anything like the name sounded.
Ready to look away lest I see pale green derrieres, I did a quick scan of the screen. It was not, in fact, some weird alien porno, but that day's copy of Variety magazine. Wondering what it had to do with Bobby, I scanned over the first few articles. Something about the Oscar nominations, some top grossing films, a prominent agent who passed away from a stroke. Nothing seemed relevant.
Until I got to the third page.
My eyes honed in on the name Henry Klein. I suddenly understood the first part of her labeling…"ass" as in assistant. A small blurb indicated that his new show History Untold had just gotten the green light from the network and would begin filming the first eight episodes next month.
I raised an eyebrow at the screen. Henry had told me he was worse off with Bobby dead—not only unemployed but also out the money he'd stand to make suing him. He'd failed to mention that with Bobby gone, the network was once again interested in his show. Had that been the meeting he'd been rushing off to the other day? Henry had moved up in the world at an astronomical pace since Bobby had died. Which made me wonder once again—had Henry had anything to do with his employer's death? If anyone knew where and how to find Bobby—and where he might keep his gun—and was trusted enough not to arouse the star's suspicions, it was his meek personal assistant. Maybe the whole Sunshine Sanitation thing was just a coincidence.
"Well, I'm going to call it a day."
I jumped about a mile at the sound of Max's voice behind me. I quickly spun around, covering the screen of Tina's computer with my body.
"I'm right behind you!" I said, with maybe a little more faux-innocent perk than the situation called for.
Max shot me a funny look. "You lose something at Tina's desk?"
"What? Oh, uh, right." I racked my brain, trying to think fast. "Yeah, Tina asked me to, uh, print something out for her."
"She did." Only it didn't sound like a question. It sounded like he didn't believe me. Smart man.
"Yep! That's right!" Wow, I needed to dial down the perk about a hundred notches. I took a deep breath, hoping he couldn't read my guilt.
"Huh." He gave me a hard look but then finally shrugged. "Okay, well, have a good night."
>
"You too!" I gave him a big toothy grin and a wave.
I didn't stop holding my breath until he was in the elevators, rattling as they made their way back down to the ground level.
I quickly powered down Tina's computer and did the same to my own.
The office was eerily quiet. It was actually the first time I'd ever been completely alone at the Informer, and it was a bit creepy. Nothing but silence surrounded me in the one place that was usually chaotic.
The wheels on my desk chair squeaked as I spun around and grabbed my purse and fished out my keys. I flicked off the lights on the panel beside the door to Felix's office and then rode the elevator down to the lobby. Once outside I locked the building's main doors.
My keys jangled as I pulled out my car fob and beeped my door unlocked. I was just about to open the door when I heard a muffled sound behind me.
I whipped my head around to see what it was…
Too late. Something hard slammed into me from behind.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I hit the side of my car, and the air in my lungs left me in a painful whoosh. I flipped around to see who or what had rammed into me, but as soon as I did, a black leather gloved fist plowed into the side of my face. Stars danced before my eyes as I slammed onto the ground, fighting the darkness that was trying to overtake me.
I blinked, trying to make out the figure looming menacingly over me, but all I saw was head-to-toe black. My vision was blurry, like I had opened my eyes underwater.
"Hey! What's going on? Get away from her!"
I heard the words being shouted from a distance but couldn't quite latch on to them. Everything sounded fuzzy. The black figure paused, and I caught a glimpse of flesh between all the black clothing…just enough to see a familiar snake tattoo.
Then he vanished, and footsteps—at least I thought I heard footsteps—pounded toward me.
A split second later someone knelt down beside me.
"Hey, are you alright?" I felt someone lifting my head, checking for a pulse. "Call 9-1-1."
I tried to open my mouth to tell him I was okay, but the darkness I'd been fighting finally won, and I closed my eyes.
* * *
There were few things in the world that I hated. Hospitals was one of them. Answering the same question more than once was another.
"And you didn't see your attacker's face?" a uniformed police officer asked again for the third time. He was tall, bald, and looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"No. It was all dark. I think he was wearing a mask," I answered again and did my best not to roll my eyes. I knew the cop was only trying to do his job, but I wanted nothing more than to get out of there, go home, and crash in my soft bed. I was so over this day.
"And he didn't take your purse?"
I shook my head, instantly regretting it as pounding erupted.
"Or anything else?"
"I told you. Those kids scared him away." Once I'd come to, I'd been informed that two teenagers practicing their skateboarding kicks in the parking lot next door had seen the attack take place and come to my rescue, calling the police. I'd made a mental note to find out their names and send them a big thank-you gift basket for possibly saving my life.
I shivered at that thought. Like I'd told Officer Asks-a-Lot several times, I had no idea what the guy in black had been after. I also had no idea how far he might have gone if those kids hadn't interrupted him. Had he meant to mug me? Carjack me? Or worse. My mind immediately went to the snake tattoo. I had a bad feeling this attack hadn't been completely random. Was someone afraid I was getting close to the truth? I sincerely wished they'd clue me in, because I felt like I was still miles away from knowing who'd killed Bobby.
"Anything else you can tell me about the attack?" the officer asked, clearly out of official questions.
I could have told him I'd seen the same guy before, breaking into Bobby Baxter's trailer, but then I'd have to tell him how I'd come to be there myself…which was a little more self-incriminating than I felt like being in the presence of a police officer. "No. Sorry."
He sighed. "Alright. Call me if you think of anything. And, uh, we'll be in touch if anything new comes up," he added lamely. Though I was pretty sure we both knew this interview was the extent of the investigating he'd be doing. Random attack, nothing taken, late at night, no description. I hadn't given him a whole lot to go on.
He handed me his card and left.
Half an hour later, a harried looking doctor gave me the okay to leave, though he suggested taking it easy for a couple of days. I agreed. A couple days on my couch binge watching some Real Housewives sounded like heaven right now. I was just slipping my shoes back on when a familiar face appeared in the doorway.
"Good God, Allie, what happened?" Felix frowned at me, his eyes doing the same sort of clinical scan of my body that the admitting nurse had done. I hadn't yet seen a mirror, but it must not be pretty, because his frown deepened when he got to my face.
"I had a run-in with someone who obviously isn't a fan." I was doing my best to make light of the situation, but I wasn't sure Felix was buying it.
He took a step toward me, brushing the hair out of my face. The gesture was so gentle and caring I almost lost my composure, wanting to sob my fears away into his adorably misbuttoned shirt. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. Ouch. Moving my head still hurt.
"What happened?"
I took a shaky breath and told him about the attack, doing my best to skim over the parts that made my heart race with the feelings of helplessness again. He listened silently, but the frown was looking like a canyon between his eyebrows by the time I was done.
"I don't like this," he said.
"That makes two of us."
"No, I mean I don't like that it happened in our parking lot. That the Informer was targeted." He paused. "That you were targeted."
I grabbed my purse from the bedside table and hoisted it onto my shoulder. "We don't know that I was," I hedged. "It could have been a random attack. Maybe he wanted my car."
Felix raised one eyebrow at me.
"What? My car is awesome." But he had a point. A hardened criminal probably wasn't in the market for a cute little Bug with daisy decals on it. "How did you know I was here?" I asked, changing the subject as I slid off the bed.
"The police called me to inform me there was an attack on the premises." He frowned. "You sure you're okay?"
I steadied myself with a hand on the side of the bed. I had to admit, the headache was making the room sway a little. "I'm fine. Nothing an ice pack and some Real Housewives can't fix."
Felix gave me a funny look, like he only understood part of that sentence, but he didn't ask as he put a hand at my elbow to steady me. "I'll take you home."
I might have protested, but at that moment I didn't think I had it in me to call a cab, let alone drive myself home. Plus, my car was still at the Informer. Instead, I just nodded and let him lead me through the hospital corridors and out to his junker, parked haphazardly in a spot near the emergency room entrance.
The ride back to my place was quiet but went by quickly. Felix helped me up the stairs and into the apartment. As soon as we stepped inside, Mr. Fluffykins wound his way around Felix's legs and meowed up at him.
"He's hungry," I said and started toward the kitchen.
"I got it." Felix gently grabbed my arm. "You just sit down."
I didn't argue. I sank onto the sofa, closing my eyes and leaning my head back against the soft cushions while Felix took care of my cat.
A few minutes later I felt Felix sit beside me on the sofa.
"So maybe now you want to tell me what really happened."
I peeked an eye open and looked at him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, tell me the attack on you has nothing to do with the Baxter story."
"The attack has nothing to do with the Baxter story." I repeated what he wanted to hear.
"Bloody—Allie. I'm serious." He shoved his hand through his shaggy blond hair. "This is the second time I've found you bruised and battered this week. It's not a habit I'm enjoying."
"And you think I am?" I asked, feeling just a bit attacked for the second time at his tone of voice. "It's not like I'm inviting bad guys to use me as a sparring partner, you know."
"Aren't you?"
I narrowed my eyes at him. Which hurt a lot more than it should have. I think my left eye was swelling. I really needed a mirror to assess the damage. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're doing a really great job of upsetting all the wrong people."
"I'm a reporter. That's kinda my job."
"Your job is to write an enticing piece that makes busy moms stop and buy our rag while in line at the supermarket. It is not to go prodding thugs and murderers into attacking you."
I rolled my eyes. "I've been asking questions. That's it." And maybe a little B&E. And impersonating an EPA agent. And illegal hacking. But he didn't need to know all that right now.
Felix shook his head. "I want you to drop this story."
"What?!" I sat up straight, ignoring the shooting pain behind my eyes.
"Tina will have something by Friday. We'll print her story, and that's it."
"No way. You cannot do this to me. I've worked too hard on this." I paused. "Besides, I'm almost sure I know the truth about what happened," I added, fibbing just a little.
Felix paused. "You are?"
I mentally crossed my fingers behind my back and nodded.
Felix let out a loud sigh. "And what am I supposed to do, just overlook the fact that you could have been killed tonight if those boys hadn't shown up?"
"I don't know why not. You've been overlooking me all week." I hadn't meant to say it, but the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
Hollywood Deception Page 16
