Headlines & Deadlines (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 7)

by Amanda M. Lee

  I glared at him. “Nice.”

  “I’ll check on the life insurance policy for you if you finish your dinner,” Eliot said. “I’m not checking until tomorrow, though.”

  “But … .”

  “No.” He wagged his finger in my face. “We’re having a night with just the two of us. We’re putting the Grishams to bed – so to speak – until tomorrow. You owe me.”

  “Fine,” I grumbled. “I don’t like it when you get bossy, though.”

  “Welcome to my world, Trouble.”

  Twenty-Nine

  “I have to get to the sheriff’s department,” I said, hurriedly striding through the kitchen the next morning.

  Eliot looked up from the pan of eggs he was cooking. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just got a tip that Adam Grisham is being picked up,” I said. “I have to get to the sheriff’s department for his perp walk. The photographer is already on his way.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t repeat it,” I said. “I have to go.”

  “Go.”

  I rushed over and gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll call you when I know more.”

  “You’re getting better at this girlfriend stuff,” he teased, grabbing the back of my head and pulling me closer for another kiss. “Be good.”

  “I’m always good.”

  “You are … except when you’re awake,” Eliot said. “I’ll lock up when I go. I’ll be at the shop in the morning and the sheriff’s department in the afternoon if you need me.”

  “This is it,” I said, pausing by the door so I could gather my purse and mittens. “Whatever I think and feel doesn’t matter. Jake thinks he has Adam Grisham dead to rights.”

  “What you think and feel always matters,” Eliot said. “Just because Grisham is being arrested doesn’t necessarily mean he’s guilty.”

  “I know. I just … .” I shook my head to dislodge the heavy thoughts. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Be careful, Trouble.”

  BY THE time I got to the sheriff’s department, half of the southeastern Michigan media scene was already in position and the other half was gathering equipment from their vehicles.

  I found The Monitor’s photographer, Jared Jackson, in a prime spot by the door. “Hey.”

  “There’s the hero of the hour,” Jared said, smirking. “Do you want to take your bow before they show up with Grisham?”

  In the grand scheme of things I like Jared. He’s funny, snarky and always complaining. What’s not to love? He’s like the male version of me. On the flip side, he’s also one of those guys who talks graphically about female genitalia while checking out the rear ends on any fine male specimen within eyeshot. Essentially he’s odd but talented. “You’re so funny,” I said, hopping from one foot to the other to ward off the cold. “How far out do you think they are?”

  “I have no idea,” Jared replied. “I can’t believe how big this story has gotten.”

  “I can. Once you mix the death of a rich person with weird sex you can’t keep people from obsessing.”

  “I don’t think the sex is weird,” Jared said.

  I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t you dare say another word,” I admonished him. “I’m not in the mood to deal with any of your freaky fetishes.”

  “Only a prude would think they’re freaky,” Jared countered.

  I furrowed my brow. “Who told you to say that to me?”

  “What?”

  “That I was a prude. Who told you to mess with me?”

  “You are a prude,” Jared said, rolling his eyes. “You’re as vanilla as they come.”

  “I’m a badass.”

  “Listen, I’m not saying I want to get on your bad side,” Jared said. “You’re frightening when you’re pissed off. You hold a grudge like nobody’s business. You’re inventive when you decide to get revenge, too. You’re an unholy terror.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re also a prude,” Jared said. “I’m telling you right now that the freakiest thing going on in your bedroom is probably your hair the morning after.”

  He wasn’t far off. Still … . “Has anyone ever told you that you complain like a woman?”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you swear like a man?”

  “That’s not much of an insult,” I pointed out.

  “Fine. You dress like a man, too,” Jared said.

  “I can’t wait for this day to be over with and it has just started,” I muttered.

  “I heard that,” Jared said.

  “You were meant to.”

  We lapsed into a less than companionable silence. After a few minutes, something drew Jared’s attention to the auxiliary parking lot at the side of the building.

  “They’re not taking him in through the front door, are they?” We were all going to have to run if that was the case.

  “It’s not a marked unit,” Jared said. “Do you see that van over there? I think it’s from that news show on CNN.”

  I stared in the direction he pointed, my interest piqued when I saw the big letters on the side of the van. “That’s from The Alice Drew Show,” I said.

  “She’s the nag who asks people to be on her crime show and then lambasts them until they cry, right?”

  “That’s her.”

  “She kind of turns me on,” Jared said.

  “You should spend some time with Marvin,” I said. “You both get off on women degrading you.”

  “Prude.”

  “Butthead,” I shot back.

  “Hey, they’re coming this way,” Jared said, jumping up and down. “Do you think we’ll be on national television?”

  He was a lot more excited at the prospect than I was. “I hope not.”

  “Oh, come on, you’re prime-time material, baby,” Jared said. “You’re even wearing your dress Star Wars attire today.”

  I glanced down at the rhinestone Darth Vader shirt under my coat. It was one of my favorites. “The only way I want to be on that show is if I can talk about what a douche Tad Ludington is. I think he and Alice Drew would make a lovely couple.”

  “They both do have that ‘jackass’ quality going for them,” Jared agreed. “Here they come. How do I look?”

  “Like men will be salivating after you in fifty different states tonight,” I replied.

  “Stop saying things like that,” Jared sniped. “I’m not gay.”

  “Then stop checking out other dudes’ rear ends.”

  “I hate you sometimes.”

  “You’ll live,” I said.

  Janet Lask was a producer for The Alice Drew Show and as much as I wanted to dislike her she was humble and friendly from the start.

  “Are you Avery Shaw?”

  “You’ve heard of me?” I asked, surprised.

  “I had to do research on this case during the flight,” Janet said. “All of your stuff was leaps and bounds ahead of everyone else. I’m really impressed with what you’ve done here.”

  “Oh … um … thank you.”

  “The only reason she was ahead on this story is because she’s sleeping with the sheriff,” Roger Woodbury said, sneering in my direction. “I see you got to the daughter yesterday. Did Sheriff Farrell set that up for you, too?”

  “Celeste came to me,” I snapped. “She said she thought all the local television personalities were too douchey for words and she wanted a real reporter to tell her story.”

  “Since when does being a real reporter constitute screwing the sheriff?” Roger asked.

  I opened my mouth, a hateful retort on my tongue, but thought better of it. Going off on Roger was only going to convince him he’d struck a nerve. I was above that. What? Oh, fine. I’m not. “How did your interview with Tad go on Saturday? I was looking for it and … it’s so funny … but I couldn’t find it on the Sunday broadcast. Did something happen to bump your coverage?”

  “Yeah, you gave Farrell a blow job for a tip on the mistress.”

  That did it. “I’m going to
torch your hair if you don’t stop saying that,” I said. “You’re wearing enough hairspray to make it easy.”

  “The truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

  “What’s going to hurt is my foot in your ass,” I said.

  “Wow,” Janet said. “You guys take your jobs really seriously, don’t you?”

  “Not really,” Jared said, winking at her. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

  “You’re also into dudes,” I said.

  “I’m going to put my foot in your ass,” Jared warned. “I … heads up. Here they come.”

  The sheriff’s department cruiser moved in front of the media line, the driver purposely slowed so everyone could get establishing shots. We were all used to this. The cops wanted us to cover the big finale because it suggested a job well done. Unfortunately for me, I was still dealing with a few nagging doubts.

  Adam Grisham, in cuffs, was ashen when the deputy pulled him from the rear of the car. Jared jumped into action and started snapping away furiously while everyone else started shouting questions.

  “Why did you kill your wife?”

  “Did you do it for money?”

  “Do your kids know you killed your wife?”

  “Do you think your kids will forgive you?”

  “Did you kill your wife because she didn’t want to be your submissive any longer?”

  Grisham remained silent. His face was stoic, although his red-rimmed eyes belied some hard-shed tears. I had no idea whether they were over his arrest or this public display, and it really didn’t matter.

  Grisham ignored the assembled masses, his eyes focusing on me as deputies moved in on either side. We locked eyes for a few moments and I refused to back down despite the hateful glare he shot in my direction. “You did this,” he said.

  “Do you blame Avery Shaw for your arrest?” Roger Woodbury asked.

  Grisham regained his composure and closed his mouth, his jaw set in a grim line as he was escorted into the building. While we were invited to the perp walk the processing was off limits. Grisham was out of our reach now. He was out of everybody’s reach.

  I caught sight of Jake as he moved toward the door. I wasn’t sure when he had arrived, and I was surprised he wasn’t going to say anything. That changed when Tad moved to the spot in front of the door and clapped his hands to draw the media scrum’s interest.

  “If I could have your attention, ladies and gentlemen. I have a brief statement to make.”

  Jake turned back swiftly, his face reddening when he saw Tad in action. Uh-oh. This wasn’t going to end well. “What do you think you’re doing?” Jake asked.

  “I’m holding a news conference,” Tad said. “We just took a violent murderer off the street. I think that deserves comment.”

  “We?” Jake was incredulous. “Exactly what did you do to solve this case?”

  “I led by example.”

  “What example?”

  “Do you mind, sheriff?” Tad said, furrowing his brow. “I need to make a statement.”

  Jake looked frustrated. The last thing he wanted was Tad to take credit for his work. Well, to be fair, that was actually the second to last thing he wanted. The last thing he wanted was another argument with Tad – especially one that could make it on a national news show. “You’re unbelievable,” Jake said. “Go ahead. Hold your conference. We both know you have no idea what evidence has been collected. Go nuts. I can’t wait to watch this.”

  Jake took two steps from Tad and leaned against the brick building, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing at me. That’s when I realized it was my turn.

  “I’m going to read a brief statement and then take a few questions,” Tad said. “On behalf of Technical Operations and Options League … .”

  “TOOL!” I probably shouldn’t have screeched the words that way, but I was out of patience.

  Tad scorched me with a look. “As I was saying … .”

  There was no way I was going to let him establish a rhythm. Enough was enough. “Why are you giving the statement?” I asked. “Shouldn’t someone with knowledge of the case be the one to answer questions?”

  “I have knowledge, Ms. Shaw,” Tad snapped.

  “Really? I thought Sheriff Farrell uncovered the name of the individual who was identified by witnesses the night Julia Grisham’s body was dumped in Warren.”

  “Sheriff Farrell has done some of the legwork,” Tad conceded. “All of the mental work was done by me, however.”

  Oh, he was mental all right. “Did you discover the mistress? Oh, no, I did that. Did you discover the sex club? Nope. I did that, too. Did you arrest Mr. Grisham? I think that honor went to the sheriff. So, given all that, tell us exactly what you did, Mr. Ludington.”

  A murmur went through the crowd. Everyone had been waiting for Tad and me to throw down for months. They thought they were going to finally get their wish.

  “Ms. Shaw, unless you want to go in front of a judge again, I would advise you to shut your mouth,” Tad ordered.

  “Don’t threaten me,” I said. “You don’t have the authority to arrest me. In fact, you don’t have the authority to do anything. You can’t assemble a law enforcement entity that’s funded by taxpayer money without a vote of the people.” I was totally making that up. I had no idea whether that was true.

  “In fact, you can’t assemble a law enforcement entity without the proper credentials,” I continued. I was on a roll. I figured I might as well lie my ass off and see what stuck. “I got my FOIA documents on TOOL back yesterday. It seems you exerted undue pressure on certain county board members – threatening to reveal unsavory personal tidbits if they didn’t agree to form this position for you – in the hopes of bolstering your status in the county until you could find another government position to keep you in the public eye.”

  “Who told you that?” Tad hissed. “I … who would dare put that in a report?”

  I knew it! I’d been considering Tad’s ascension for almost two weeks now. There was only one way he managed to convince people who hated him to give him what he wanted. “It seems I’m going to have another huge story to file this week.”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  “Is that true, Mr. Ludington? Did you blackmail county officials to create TOOL?”

  I had no idea who asked the question but I was happy because that meant Tad’s conference was officially derailed. My work here was done.

  “Stop calling it TOOL!”

  Oh, yeah. I was definitely done here.

  Thirty

  “What are you doing here?” I asked Eliot in the lobby of The Monitor a half hour later. “Did I forget something?”

  “I’m not your little house husband and I don’t bring you forgotten items,” Eliot said. “You did forget your hat, though.” He shoved my The Goonies knit hat into my hand. “You probably should’ve been wearing that at the conference.”

  “Oh … you saw that, didn’t you?”

  “Did I see you completely dismantle Tad Ludington in front of twenty other media outlets? Yeah, I saw that.”

  “You’re ticked off,” I said.

  The secretary, Anne Fleming, used her hand to cover her eyes when I glanced at her. I didn’t blame her for wanting to lay low. Eliot was clearly ready to blow.

  “I’m not ticked off,” Eliot countered. “I’m … confused.”

  “What are you confused about?”

  “Where did you get that information on Ludington?” Eliot asked. “Why didn’t you tell me you uncovered all of that?”

  “Is that why you’re angry? Don’t worry about that. I made it all up. I thought you were ticked off because I was baiting him and you were afraid he was going to come after me again.”

  Eliot’s mouth dropped open but no sound came out. His eyes were wide and the look on his face was incredulous.

  “You made all that up?” Anne interjected. “Isn’t that against the rules or something?”

  “No,” I scoffed. “I didn’t technically
accuse him of anything.”

  “I heard you accuse him,” Anne said.

  “No, you heard me ask really long questions that might have contained some fabricated parts,” I clarified. “The good news is that they turned out to be true.”

  “When did you figure that out?” Eliot asked, dumbfounded. “I can’t believe you just did that, by the way. I don’t know whether I should be proud or terrified by how manipulative that was.”

  “Oh, he deserved it,” I said.

  “I didn’t say he didn’t deserve it. When did you figure it out?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it since he made the big announcement about his little tool,” I said.

  “You mean the group TOOL, right?” Eliot pressed.

  “They’re the same thing.”

  Eliot rolled his eyes. “Continue, oh wise one.”

  “He was hated on that board,” I said. “He had a bad attitude and he never wanted to do any work. He only cared about looking good for his constituents. He couldn’t even do that right and he lost his reelection bid in a landslide to the other guy.”

  “I remember,” Eliot said. “You did a little dance when he lost. Thankfully you were naked so I didn’t have a problem watching it.”

  “Oh, my.” Anne fanned herself as her cheeks reddened.

  “I knew he had to do something underhanded to get that stupid group pushed through,” I said. “I played a hunch.”

  “That could’ve blown up in your face,” Eliot said.

  “It didn’t.”

  “How are you going to write a story on that without the documents to back it up?”

  That was a very good question. “I’m going to go to the clerk’s office and demand the documents.”

  “Do you think that will work?”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “Either way, I can write up his meltdown at the conference. Don’t worry, honey bunny, I have everything under control.”

  “It’s cute that you think that.” Eliot rolled his eyes.

  “I want to see Jim MacDonald right now!” Tad stormed through the front door, his face an impressive shade of crimson. I had no idea whether it was from the cold or anger, but I voted for anger because that was a funnier option.