Scoop

by Rene Gutteridge

  As sports came on, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Roarke, who immediately pulled him away. Ray followed him into the break room, and to his surprise, Roarke locked the door. Ray didn’t even know you could lock the break room door.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “They found the letters!”

  “What letters?”

  “The love letters! They found them!”

  “Who?”

  “The police, Ray! The police!”

  “Okay, calm down. Tell me what’s going on—”

  “What’s going on is that this will be a huge story! Channel 10 just reported it and said the police are focusing their attention on the writer of those letters.” Roarke’s face turned red. “This is your fault!”

  “My fault?”

  “You’re the one who had to know if Gilda was connected to Petey Green.”

  “I never asked you to go to Gilda’s house.”

  “You knew I would!”

  “I did not! It didn’t even cross my mind!”

  “You have no idea how bad this is. They’re going to figure out it’s me, and I’m going to get the chair!”

  “Roarke, calm down, man. Seriously, I think you’re overreacting. First of all, how are they going to link the letters to you?”

  “They’re all handwritten!”

  “But you didn’t sign your name.”

  “No.”

  “So why would they suspect you?”

  “I didn’t leave behind any fingerprints in her condo. I wore gloves when I was inside.”

  “See…”

  “But all those gifts I left her! They have my fingerprints all over them!”

  “Roarke, calm down. You’re getting yourself worked up over something that hasn’t even happened yet. This is reality, not one of those television crime dramas. And there’s no indication whatsoever that the police are looking for you. Or that they’ve called in forensics.” Ray paused, letting his friend catch his breath. “I suspect your conscience is bothering you, and you’re better off going to the police and explaining why you went to her condo.”

  “Are you crazy? Why would I do something like that? They’re going to take one look at this big, fat guy and make the assumption that I was desperate for her affections and decided to kidnap and kill her.”

  “Why would they assume that?”

  “People assume a lot of things about fat people, Ray. You should try walking in my shoes for a day.”

  “Look, first of all, I can back up everything you tell the police.”

  “Oh yeah? You want me to tell them I was breaking into her condo to gather evidence on your sewage plant story?”

  “I never asked you to do that.”

  “Well, that’s why I was there.”

  “I thought you were there to check on her.”

  “That too.”

  Ray sighed. “Okay, let’s just lay low about this, okay? Chances are nothing will happen and Gilda will turn up, and it will all be over.”

  “Since when did you become an optimist? That Hazard chick has done a number on you.”

  Beneath his remarks Ray knew Roarke was scared. “Let’s go to my apartment, watch the shows I TiVoed like we always do, and relax.”

  Roarke sighed. “Maybe you’re right. I’ve watched those cop shows for too long.”

  Ray smiled. “Maybe we should start watching reality TV shows.”

  “Dude, this is no time for jokes.” Roarke breathed in deeply and let it out. “I saw all those letters when I was in her condo, you know. They were in a drawer in her kitchen, bundled up with a rubber band around a paper weight I gave her. She’d kept all of them. That says something, right, Ray? That means she took them seriously, that they meant something to her.”

  “I think so, buddy. She could’ve just as easily trashed them.”

  Roarke grinned and slapped Ray on the back. “My place tonight. Supreme or sausage?”

  “You pick, my friend.”

  Roarke unlocked the door and walked out, stopping midstride. Ray ran right into his back, bounced off, and nearly fell to the ground.

  “Roarke, what are you—” Ray stepped to the side to see why Roarke had stopped in his tracks.

  Four uniformed police officers and two detectives were walking into the news station, followed by Heather Lewis and a Channel 10 camera.

  Chapter 30

  Hugo gathered up his belongings in his office. Things were such a mess that he hardly knew where to begin. But maybe that was a good thing, because he couldn’t do anything about it tonight. He turned off his cell phone. He knew Chad would be calling to complain, and Hugo thought there was a real possibility that he might get fired.

  But before that, he had to go home to see if he was getting divorced. He’d promised his wife he would be home after work, and lucky for her, the last place he wanted to be was work, so it was a no-brainer.

  Of course, he was starting to feel the same way about home.

  He’d searched his desk drawer one more time for his pills, but they were nowhere to be found. Well, why not just go with it? What did he have to lose, really?

  He put his coat on and snapped his briefcase closed. He stacked all his folders together and put his pencils away. A sadness engulfed him as he tidied up. He could remember a day, not long ago, when he loved work and work loved him. But it was also just work, and it brought home a paycheck to feed and diaper his daughter. Now it had become a part of him, like an extra organ or extremity. What if it was cut off? How would he survive?

  He flipped off the lights and closed the door, making mental notes about what he was going to have to do tomorrow. First, he’d have to talk to Trent, who made a complete fool of himself and the station due to apparent inexperience. Then he had to say something to Hayden, who in an enthusiastic attempt to end things upbeat, decided to tell everyone how happy she was that her sister was visiting. Tate still couldn’t master an appropriate expression for any kind of story that had an element of tragedy. Sam looked bored with his own weather predictions. Jill’s pathetic attempt to hijack Gilda’s animal disease story caused her to overdo her own commentary before and after the segment. Ray’s story was the only hope they had of salvaging the newscast. And these were the least of his concerns.

  Another station had the scoop on Gilda’s disappearance. Channel 7 would have to spin it as a deliberate attempt to guard Gilda’s privacy, but at the end of the day, they’d lost out on information, and information gave power to the ratings engine.

  The bouncing rubber balls in his brain had now morphed into one gigantic bowling ball, rolling heavily from one side of his head to the other, sending sharp pain splintering through his skull. Something told him a couple of Advil wouldn’t help.

  A shadow crossed in front of him, and Hugo looked up. It was Captain Wynn.

  “What are you doing here?” Hugo asked.

  “I’m investigating a crime.”

  “What crime?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, you have an anchor missing.”

  “What makes you think it’s a crime? Your officer told our reporter today that besides a picked lock you didn’t find anything that indicated foul play.”

  “My officer was instructed to leave the divulging of details to me.”

  Hugo shook his head. “So you gave it to Channel 10. Terrific.”

  “I waited for your reporter, Hugo. Nobody showed up. Channel 10 was there. What can I say? Time wasn’t on your side.”

  “So why are you here?”

  “We have reason to believe that Ms. Braun had a stalker.”

  “A stalker?”

  “We found several notes from someone who seemed to have a great deal of interest in Ms. Braun. The content of the notes is highly disturbing.”

  Hugo set his briefcase down. “In what way?”

  “The man claims Gilda is the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He uses words like ‘lovely’ and ‘adoring.’ There are several referenc
es to a ‘soul connection’ that he believes they share.”

  Hugo frowned. If that was stalking, he wished someone would stalk him. Like his wife. “What else?”

  “I’m not going to give you the entire content of the letters, Hugo.”

  “Is there some reference to this person wanting to harm her?”

  “No.”

  “Any indication that she was frightened by them?”

  “We’re investigating that. Which leads us here. We believe the person who wrote these notes worked with Gilda.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it? Several letters contain information that could only be known by someone who works with her.”

  Hugo crossed his arms. “So you’re here because…?”

  “We have a warrant. We’re going to be asking some people some questions. And for those who would like to offer up their DNA and fingerprints, we’d be more than happy to take those.”

  “You’re going to do what?” Hugo couldn’t contain himself any longer. Captain Wynn looked happy to have provoked some emotion. And then Hugo saw her for the first time. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen her before.

  Heather Lewis stood a few feet away, clutching her microphone, with a cameraman standing nearby, taping the entire thing. “What are you doing here?” Hugo raged, stomping toward her.

  Heather’s eyes grew big, but she stood her ground. “Mr. Talley, we just wanted to ask you a few questions about Gilda Braun’s disappearance—”

  “Who let them in?” Hugo shouted. “Who let them in?”

  Captain Wynn stepped up. “You need to calm down.”

  “Turn off that camera!” Hugo pointed his finger directly at it. Captain Wynn stepped up and put his hand on Hugo’s chest. Hugo ripped it away.

  “You’re going to have to calm down,” Wynn said collectedly—and loudly, Hugo noticed. Loud enough for the microphone.

  Hugo stepped away from Wynn and glared at Heather. “You have crossed the line.”

  “We’re simply covering the news,” Heather said.

  Hugo was sure the camera was zoomed in close enough to see his pores. He took a deep breath and then said, “I want you out of our news station. Now.”

  “We just wanted to ask you a few questions,” Heather said, her voice dripping with innocence.

  “I would be happy to answer questions at a more appropriate time,” Hugo said. “For now, I’ve got more important things to deal with. Turn off the camera and leave.”

  Heather motioned to the cameraman, who lowered his camera. He heard her whisper, “I think we’ve got plenty.” They were escorted out by the station’s security guard, who must’ve been napping when they walked in. How could this have happened?

  Hugo would look like an idiot in the morning, if not earlier. He could just see Morty running this as late-breaking news.

  “This is voluntary,” Captain Wynn said. “Please let your employees know that. But we have a warrant to search Gilda’s computer and work area.”

  “Voluntary,” Hugo sneered. “So if they refuse, then they suddenly become suspects.”

  “There’s no reason for anyone who isn’t involved in this to be alarmed,” Captain Wynn said mildly.

  Then why was Hugo’s heart about to explode with distress? Probably because he’d just created Channel 10’s lead story for an entire week.

  Roarke shoved Ray back into the break room. He was hyperventilating and looked like he was going to pass out. “Ah! AHHH!”

  “Roarke, calm down. It’s going to be okay.”

  “This! This from a man who told me I was o…o…”

  “Overreacting.”

  “I have to get out of here,” he wheezed. But there was only one way out of the break room. “This is horrible. My face is going to be all over the news. I’m going to be disgraced, not to mention incarcerated.”

  “You need to sit down,” Ray said.

  “I need to get out of here.” He looked at Ray. “You’re going to have to distract them while I slip out the back.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Home, I guess.”

  “Roarke, my guess is that they’re just here to see if they can find any clues to Gilda’s disappearance. So they have a few notes. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Don’t you watch Dateline, dude?” Roarke said loudly. “That’s how they tell it too. At first it’s just a few innocent notes, but forty-five minutes into the program, you learn they weren’t so innocent after all.”

  “This isn’t Dateline. If you would just go out there and tell them the truth, I think you would feel more at ease.”

  “I’m getting out of here. Do something to distract them.” Roarke cracked open the door and peered out. “They’re at her desk now. And one detective is questioning a couple of people.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Think of something.” Roarke pushed Ray in front of him and out the break-room door. Roarke slipped out behind him and down the hall toward the back door. Ray kept his eyes attentive but tried to act as casual as possible as he made his way to his desk. He glanced back just as Roarke was rounding the corner. He had about fifteen feet to walk, and then he would be out the back door. A detective noticed Ray and started walking toward him. “You’re Ray Duffey?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mind if we ask you a few questions about Gilda Braun’s disappearance?

  “I don’t know much.”

  “Any detail you can give us might lead to something.”

  “Sure.”

  “Did you speak to Gilda after the last broadcast she made on Thursday?”

  “No.”

  “Did she give you any indication that she was planning on leaving or taking a vacation?”

  “Vacations are prohibited during sweeps week. Nobody gets to go.”

  “Do you know of anyone here at work who had a problem with Gilda, who would want to harm her?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “What about a crush?”

  Ray could feel the color drain from his face. “Um…”

  “Yes?”

  Suddenly, from a few feet away, Ray could hear his phone ring. There would be a lot of buzz about the sewage plant story. But it could also be the Electric Horseman, who he suspected was also watching tonight.

  “I need to get that,” Ray said, and hurried toward his desk. He snatched up the phone. “Duffey here.”

  “I’m disappointed,” said the voice. It was the Electric Horseman. He would’ve recognized that scrambled voice anywhere. Ray glanced up to see that the detective had decided to stand by and wait. Ray put his focus back on the phone conversation.

  “Why?”

  “Why? You hardly did any investigating. I gave you great information, and you turned up nothing more than empty facts.”

  “That’s not true. I…” Ray looked at the detective, who made no effort to hide his eavesdropping. “I reported on the fact that—”

  “I watched it, I know. But you didn’t dig deep, Ray. I was counting on you to dig deep.”

  “How deep?”

  “There are two more Greens out there.”

  Ray paused, trying to process what was being said. “You mean, two more people who knew what Green knew.”

  “And who lost their jobs for it.”

  “Okay. What else?”

  “I’m not going to spoon-feed you the story, Ray. A real reporter goes out and finds the cold, hard facts. That’s what you need. Not a bunch of speculation. You’re working against the clock. The other stations are on to the story now too. This is information you needed to get this morning, not tomorrow.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Ray said.

  “Do better than that. You’re not going to let Channel 10 get the best of you, are you? Let this Gilda Braun story take over? Your own news station is being exploited for headlines, Ray. They’re playing up theories as fact. You’ve got to get the bigger story. The real story. Don’t miss the opportu
nity.”

  “I don’t have much time,” Ray said. “Give me a tip, tell me where to start looking.”

  “Someone you work with knows more than they’re saying.” The line went dead.

  Ray hung up, and the detective pulled out his pad again. Ray didn’t have time for this. And he also didn’t want to have to lie to the police about Roarke. He was in a bit of a pickle, as his grandfather used to say.

  Think fast.

  “You know,” Ray said, before the detective could ask any more questions, “I remember seeing a suspicious e-mail on Gilda’s computer one day when I borrowed hers because mine was down.”

  “Suspicious how?”

  “I don’t really remember much about it, except it had a—” Dont overplay it. “—strange tone to it.”

  “Who was it from?”

  “I can’t remember, but if I got on her computer, I could probably find it.”

  The detective glanced at Gilda’s desk, where another detective was sitting. “What makes you think you can find it?”

  “Gilda’s a meticulous filer. She taught me everything I know about clearing out my in-box. Give me ten minutes, and I bet I can locate it.”

  “You don’t remember anything else about this e-mail?”

  “I just remember thinking that Gilda should be careful.”

  The detective didn’t look like he was completely buying it, but he called the other detective over. After they quietly discussed it, Ray was given access to Gilda’s computer. He couldn’t believe it! Going by what the Electric Horseman told him, someone at the station knew more about this case. Roarke hadn’t found anything suspicious, but maybe Ray could find something.

  The two detectives were breathing down his neck. “Fellas, can you give me some space?” Ray asked, and they took a few steps back and began talking. Ray plowed through the various e-mail folders, trying to find something, anything, that would give him a clue about the Electric Horseman’s hints.

  Minutes ticked by, and Ray felt like he was looking for a diamond in the ocean. There were thousands of e-mails. How would he find anything significant?