“He’s talking to you, Duncan,” I said pointedly.
“I was talking to both of you,” Fish corrected. “This election is a big deal. Ludington’s involvement alone makes it a potential circus. Now we have a murder thrown in for good measure … we can’t afford to make mistakes right out of the gate.”
“Which is exactly why I should be in charge of the coverage.” Duncan smoothed his shirt. “I am respectful and have a good rapport with all the candidates. Avery, on the other hand, has ticked off each and every one of them. Ask yourself this: Who is going to get the better story?”
Oh, he was just messing with me now. “You got banned from the Shelby Township Police Department because they thought you were too demanding and you refused to go through the metal detector.”
“How is that relevant?”
“They thought that stick shoved up your … you know … might’ve been dynamite and they were genuinely worried about their officers because you’re so unhinged.”
Duncan’s face filled with loathing. “I can’t stand you.”
“Right back at you.”
“That will be enough of that.” Fish was at his wit’s end. I’d managed to push him to the brink in five minutes flat. That had to be a new record. “Duncan, go over there while I discuss a few things with Avery.” Fish pointed toward the corner at the back of copy desk row.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Duncan obstinately folded his arms over his chest. “If I leave you with her, she’ll spout lies about me and you’ll give in because that’s what you always do.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as Fish’s eyes fired with fury. Oh, this would be good.
“Are you insinuating that I’m too stupid to think for myself when Avery is around?” Fish challenged.
Duncan realized his mistake too late to take it back. “No. Of course not.”
“Then exactly what are you insinuating?”
“That … um … Avery tends to get whatever she wants when she pushes, and she’s clearly in the mood to push you until you break.”
“Well, that’s all well and good,” Fish intoned. “The thing is, Avery can’t push me unless I want to be pushed.”
I didn’t believe that for a second. Fish’s argument limited my power … and I believed there was no limit to my power. I was like a supervillain, after all. No one could stop me, not even a guy in tights … or a super lame war reenactment outfit.
“You seem to think that you can push me into doing what you want, Duncan,” Fish continued. “Your argument is that Avery pushes me around, but you’re clearly the one who wants to push me around.”
Duncan balked. “That is not true.”
“Good. Then go over there and wait while I talk to Avery.”
Duncan glanced between us for a moment, unconvinced. “But … .”
“Go.” Fish was firm. “You don’t want me to make my decision now, Duncan. I can promise you that.”
“Yeah, Duncan,” I sneered. “Go sit in the corner while the grown-ups talk.”
“Don’t make things worse, Avery,” Fish snapped.
I kept my eyes on Duncan as he slunk toward the corner, his eyes glittering with hatred when he glanced over his shoulder. I waited until I was sure he was out of earshot before continuing. “I don’t want that moron fouling up my election coverage.”
“That moron is another body, and we might need another body,” Fish argued. “Bill is going to be handling the rallies and social events from a straight coverage perspective.”
I didn’t bother to hide my eye roll. Bill Crowder was The Monitor’s political reporter. He was of an age where he believed covering an event meant drinking with the politicians running for office. Heck, Fish was of that age, too, so he often took Crowder’s side during arguments. The biggest problem with Crowder was that political coverage had changed over the past thirty years and he was willing to gloss over things as long as it meant he could rub elbows with Michigan’s political powerhouses.
I could not be bought off that easy. “He won’t get the good stuff,” I pointed out. “That’s not what he does. He focuses on policy. No one cares about policy.”
Fish fixed me with a withering look. “Everyone cares about policy. That’s more important than anything else.”
“Oh, don’t delude yourself. People care about the dirt, and a dead aide is bound to bring up a lot of dirt. I’ve managed to uncover at least three stories this morning alone … although I’m not sure how I’m going to write them up.”
Fish cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. “What three stories?”
I told him about my meeting with Tad’s aide. “He’s sexually harassing her, keeping her low on the totem pole simply because she’s a woman. And he has no working toilet.”
Fish’s face remained blank. “How is that a story?”
“You can’t force college kids to sit in that room all day with no working toilet. It’s inhumane.”
“While I admit it’s interesting, it’s hardly the end of the world,” Fish shot back. “You said there’s a Porta Potty in the parking lot.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“It also doesn’t whip me into a frenzy to rip apart the front page and give you good placement tomorrow,” Fish said. “You need more than that if you expect to hit above the fold.”
“I have a murder.”
“No, you have rumors of a murder,” Fish corrected. “You need to do better than that.”
Oh, well, fine. If he was going to be that way I’d simply have to push harder. “Stay right there. I’ll be back with confirmation in five minutes.”
“I can’t wait.”
I stalked to my desk and dramatically threw myself into my chair before digging in my pocket and retrieving my cell phone. I debated who to call – I had several options – and ultimately landed on my cousin Derrick, a deputy with the sheriff’s department. He answered on the second ring.
“This had better be good.”
“That’s no way to greet your favorite cousin,” I chided.
“Were you expecting something else?”
He sounded as if he was in a bad mood. That wouldn’t bode well for me. “I can live with it. You’re a busy man, after all. I can’t expect you to go through the day as if you have nothing on your mind. I mean … you’re going to be a father. That has to be hard to deal with.”
Derrick’s baby mama Devon, who happened to be a reporter for Channel 4 as well as a righteous whiner, was coasting into her second trimester and their inclination to reproduce was the talk of the family these days. I was fine with that. I was often the talk of the family – and not for good reasons – so I was happy to cede the title if it meant no one was focusing on me.
“I’m excited about being a father,” Derrick shot back.
I didn’t believe that for a second. He was terrified to be a father. He’d even admitted it under duress a few times – and by “duress” I mean whiskey – and he was struggling to become an adult when he still wanted to remain a child. I was actually sympathetic to his plight on that one.
“I think you’re handling it very well,” I lied. “In fact, you’re a hero. That’s what I think whenever I look at you.”
I could practically see Derrick rolling his eyes. “What do you want?”
“Can’t a cousin simply want to get in touch with a hero?”
“You have five seconds to tell me what you want before I hang up. I have a full day ahead of me.”
“Fine.” I blew out a sigh. “I need confirmation on the murder of Terry Brucker. My sources say he was shot in the back.”
There was absolute silence on the other end of the call.
“Are you still there?”
Derrick recovered, although he sounded wary when he spoke. “Who told you that?”
Hmm. That wasn’t a denial. “I know people.”
“You do,” Derrick agreed. “That doesn’t mean we’re confirming anything regarding Mr. B
rucker’s death at the present time.”
That sounded ominous. “If you’re not denying it that serves as confirmation.”
“Only in your world.”
Son of a … ! He knew exactly what buttons to push to send me over the edge. In this instance, simply refusing to give me what I needed was more than enough to set me off. “I need confirmation, Derrick.”
“And I don’t know what to tell you because I have no information on that case.” Derrick’s tone was breezy. “I’m sorry, Ms. Shaw, but I can’t be of help on this particular matter.”
I had one more card to play. “Fine. If you want to bribe me, I’m willing to listen to offers.”
“You have nothing I want.” Derrick was firm. “Although … there is something we need to talk about.”
Oh, I was going to hate this. I just knew it. “Does it have to do with the murder of Tad Ludington’s aide?”
“No, it has to do with Devon’s baby shower,” Derrick replied. “You and Lexie haven’t RSVP’d to the event yet and it’s right around the corner. She’s been on me to get answers from you.”
Oh, well, that just figured. Derrick had no intention of confirming Brucker’s death, and yet he was trying to force me into attending a baby shower … as if that were something I would ever do.
“I really have to get going,” I said. “Fish is waiting for confirmation. If you’re not going to give it, I have to go elsewhere.”
“I don’t care about that,” Derrick snapped. “I need to know if you’re going to the baby shower. In fact, I need to know that you’re going to the baby shower. If you don’t attend, Devon will be furious, and I can only take so much.”
“That sounds terrible for you.”
“Avery, I’m not kidding. You have to go to that baby shower and you have to make sure my sister goes with you. And you have to buy a gift and you have to be pleasant to all of Devon’s guests. This is non-negotiable.”
“Are you going to confirm Brucker’s murder in exchange for my compliance?”
Derrick hesitated. “I can’t do that.”
“Then I can’t continue this conversation.” I disconnected the call while Derrick was still talking and scuffed my feet against the carpet as I trudged to Fish’s desk.
“What’s the verdict?” he asked, not looking up.
“Derrick won’t confirm.”
“So you technically don’t have a murder yet. You have a suspicious death. That is not lead story material.”
Oh, who asked him? “I’ll get confirmation. Don’t worry about that.” I rolled my neck and glanced at Duncan, who remained in the corner. “You told him he’s not helping with the election, right?”
“Not yet.”
Yet? That was a gray area I could work with. “I can tell him for you.”
“Sure. While you’re at it, tell him he’s not covering the election but he is covering the festival. We need more eyes down there and he has eyes.”
Ugh. “I think you should reconsider.”
“And I think this is the best way to get you both out of my hair,” Fish countered. “I’m thinking it’s an inspired decision.”
I ran my tongue over my lips. “You don’t have any hair.”
“That’s because it fell out from having to deal with you.” Fish was clearly done entertaining my whims. “Tell Duncan to cover the festival and get back to work. I believe you have a murder to confirm, right?”
This day, which had started out so promising, was quickly going down the toilet. “I’m going to confirm it.”
“I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”
And just like that I was dismissed. Where was I supposed to look now?
8 Eight
“I’ve had it up to here with women.”
Marvin extended his hand a good foot above his head as he stopped in front of my desk shortly before the end of my shift. I was in no mood for a diatribe, so I decided to take control of the conversation.
“Where have you been? I’ve had a crappy day and I needed someone to vent to. You’re four hours late for work.”
Instead of being apologetic, which was what I was going for, Marvin rolled his eyes. “I’m off today, Brainiac.”
I wrinkled my forehead. “No, you’re not.”
“I think I know my schedule better than you.”
“You don’t know anything better than me.”
“I do, too.”
“Whatever.” I heaved a long-suffering sigh. “You still should’ve come in so I could complain. In fact … what are you doing here if you’re off?”
“I needed someone to complain to, and you’re the only person I know who will listen without making fun of me.”
Yeah, that sounded absolutely nothing like me. “You expect me to listen to you complain and not make fun of you?”
“That’s what friends do.”
“Not in my world.”
“Oh, whatever.” Marvin grabbed the chair from the desk across the aisle and dramatically threw himself into it. He was so overzealous that he almost tipped the chair backward. Thankfully he managed to catch himself, because otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from laughing. “Do you want to hear about my problems or not?”
That had to be a trick question. “I think you should listen to my problems first. The sheriff’s department has a murder and yet they won’t confirm it as a murder.”
Marvin made an incredulous face. “So what? I’m having real life issues. No one cares about your work issues. Fish is the boss, and even he doesn’t care.”
That was true. When I filed my piece regarding Terry Brucker’s suspicious death, Fish merely grunted and then shooed me away with an annoying hand wave that grated every nerve in my body. “I care.”
“That’s because you have issues.”
He wasn’t wrong. “Fine. Tell me about your problems.”
“The woman next door is trying to trap me.”
“Trap you?”
Marvin nodded. “She’s trying to seduce me.”
“I don’t see the downside. You’re always looking for ways to get women to have sex with you. You don’t make enough money for regular prostitutes. What’s the problem?”
“I did the prostitute thing once and it was totally a mistake,” Marvin snapped. “She didn’t tell me she was a prostitute until I was already naked. Then, all of a sudden, she wanted money.”
I smirked. “Have you ever considered she wasn’t really a prostitute and merely didn’t want to sleep with you once she got a gander at the goods?”
“No.”
Somehow that didn’t surprise me. “Go back to the neighbor. Why do you think she’s trying to trap you?”
“Because she keeps mentioning having dinner. You know what that’s code for.”
“Mashed potatoes and meatloaf?”
“No, you jerk, it’s code for getting me naked and stealing my boys so she can get pregnant with another ankle biter. Do you know I found out that all three of her kids have different fathers? That’s a sure sign of someone trying to live off child support rather than working.”
Sadly, I couldn’t find much to argue with in his statement. “That does sound fishy … mostly because I can’t see anyone wanting to procreate with you.”
“Hey, I’m a catch.”
“You’re … something.” I rolled my neck as I regarded him. “So you think she’s trying to seduce you, get pregnant and then trap you into paying child support? Does she know you spend all of your money on strippers and pizza?”
“I buy beer, too.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave out the beer. Still, does she know?”
“Of course not,” Marvin scoffed. “Why would I tell her that? She’ll never sleep with me if I admit to spending money on strippers. Women are weird about that.”
“If you don’t want to sleep with her, that’s a good way to get rid of her.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to sleep with her. I simply sai
d that I didn’t want to make a baby with her. Speaking of that … do you think you can get a vasectomy for a day or something? I don’t want to deprive the world of my future offspring, but I don’t want to risk having to remember a condom in case she gets me drunk.”
“I don’t think that’s a thing, but some voodoo doctor should totally come up with a pill that does that.” I studied him for a long beat. “What are you doing the rest of the night?”
Marvin shrugged. “Hiding from her. She’ll wear me down if I don’t make myself scarce.”
“You do have a willpower problem.” I pushed myself to a standing position and smacked his knee. “Well, come on. Eliot and I are going to dinner downtown. You can burn some of your time with us.”
Marvin brightened. “Do you think Eliot will know a way for me not to become a father?”
I was pretty sure Eliot would have a fit when he realized I’d invited someone on our date. Of course, Marvin made an excellent buffer, and I was in no mood to hear more complaining about my visit to Andre. “I think Eliot will love giving you advice.”
“Score.”
IT TURNS OUT ELIOT did not like the idea of giving Marvin advice. His discomfort – and anger – were on full display when he slid into the booth seat next to me and fixed Marvin with an annoyed look.
Marvin had not stopped talking about his predicament for the entire walk to the Italian restaurant, and I was fairly certain Eliot would blow a gasket if the chatter didn’t cease.
“So, my question is, how do you tell a woman you want to have sex with her but wipe your hands of the situation if she turns up pregnant?” Marvin asked, his expression serious.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” Eliot replied blandly. “If you have sex with her, you take on the consequences of that action.”
“But … what would you do if Avery turned up pregnant?” Marvin persisted. “Would you kick her out of the house or sneak out while she was asleep?”
Eliot slid me a sidelong look. “Is he serious?”
I grinned. “Welcome to my world.”
“Seriously, I have no idea what I did for entertainment before I hooked up with you,” Eliot grumbled. “As for your problem, Marvin, I suggest not having sex with her if you’re legitimately worried that she’ll end up pregnant.”
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