“Of course,” Fritz said. He shut the door of his lab firmly behind us and gestured toward a high lab stool.
“Is it all right to talk here?” I asked in a quiet voice.
“Do you mean is my lab bugged?” Fritz shook his head. “No, I check every morning with electronic equipment given to me by a friend. So far I’ve found nothing but one can never be too careful.”
“Why do you think anyone would bug your lab?”
“Because they know that I’m a genius,” Fritz replied. He spoke calmly, far more calmly than he had the other day. His whole attitude was more relaxed and I wondered if something had happened with ‘Fat Off.’
“Did something happen with ‘Fat Off’?” I was getting better at the pushy thing.
“As a matter of fact, yes.” A wide smile covered Fritz’s face. “I believe I’ve had a true breakthrough on the smell problem.”
“Just how does ‘Fat Off’ work?” I asked.
Fritz waved a hand in the air. “It is quite complicated. How are you at chemistry?”
“Pretty bad,” I admitted.
“Then let’s just say that my invention inhibits certain parts of your brain while activating certain parts of your metabolism. Does that make sense?”
“Sort of. Is it safe?”
“As far as I know it is. Of course, we must have many months, probably years, of clinical trials before ‘Fat Off’ can be put on the shelves but we’re getting closer and closer to that day.” Fritz’s eyes lit up. “How would you like to experience ‘Fat Off’?”
I gulped. I mean, I knew I could stand to drop a few pounds but the thought of inhaling some chemical compound that would kill my appetite while messing with my brain and my metabolism was more than a little scary. “Now?”
“Why not?”
“What if someone catches us?”
“This is my lab and ‘Fat Off’ is my invention. Besides, it isn’t illegal, DeeDee. I’ll have you smell the first version and then the second one. You’ll be amazed by the difference between the two. It will just be a couple of whiffs. Nothing to become alarmed over.”
I felt a flutter of butterflies in my stomach. I’ve never been good with smelly things and I didn’t have the strongest stomach in the world either. What if I threw up in front of Fritz? But I was a journalist. I was going to have to do challenging things every so often to get a story. “I guess so,” I said slowly.
“Wonderful!” Fritz reached into a cabinet and pulled out a plain white aerosol can. He spritzed it once. Instantly the air was filled with the most putrid scent I’d ever had the misfortune to experience. It smelled like a combination of dead skunk, garbage and a pig sty. “Oh my gosh, that’s awful!” I said as I covered my mouth and nose.
“Yes,” Fritz said sadly, “it is. Now smell this one.” He pulled out another can and spritzed the air again. “It’s all right,” he told me. “You can take your hand off your mouth and nose. This one smells much better.”
Hesitantly, I removed my hand and sniffed the air. I smelled lemons and mint and none of the disgusting scent. “That’s lovely,” I said. “Are you sure they’re the same product?”
“Quite sure.”
“And I’m going to lose my appetite?”
“Are you hungry?” Fritz asked.
I thought about it and realized that even though it was closing in on eleven o’clock and all I’d had to eat that day was coffee and a piece of toast and by all rights should have been starving, I wasn’t hungry. Not in the least. “No, I’m not. Does it work that fast?”
“Are you usually hungry at this time of day?”
“Starving,” I admitted.
“Then there’s your answer.”
“How long will the lack of hunger feeling last?”
“Depends on the individual. It could last up to three days.”
Three days! I’d drop at least five pounds if I didn’t eat for three days! “Fantastic,” I said. A sudden thought hit me. “Will there be any weird side effects?”
Fritz pulled in his lower lip and bit it. “None that I’m aware of,” he said in a tone of voice that made me a little nervous. “But be sure to call me if anything…odd happens.”
“Such as?” I pressed.
“You know. The usual. Sudden swelling of the lips. Rapid breathing. Your heart feeling funny.”
Oh, wonderful! Being able to fit into size ten jeans again didn’t seem so important after all. “Do you know when these side effects might occur?” I questioned, hoping they wouldn’t be in the middle of the night. Bad things always seem to happen in the middle of the night and Steve would kill me if he found out that I gave myself fat lips, panting and a major heart episode just because I wanted to have thin thighs, something I hadn’t had since the seventh grade. “Is there an antidote?”
Fritz threw back his head and laughed heartily. A little too heartily. “Oh, DeeDee,” he said once he got hold of himself, “you are priceless. I didn’t poison you. Would Fritz do that? No, I gave you a release from your appetite for a few days, that is all––a release that your tummy will probably appreciate, no?” He eyed my blue jeans a little judgmentally. “As we age, it gets harder to lose weight.”
Since Fritz was around fifteen years younger than I, as well as a skinny as a bean pole—although he did have a bit of a paunch—I thought it was mighty generous of him to say “we.” “Yes, it does,” I agreed.
“You just go home and relax. Let’s get together in a few days and then I’ll give you the background of ‘Fat Off’ and we can begin our own strategy on how to introduce my product to first the community and then the world, one fatso at a time. I haven’t forgotten about our deal. I am writing my notes for what Deep Throat will tell you.”
“Will I be able to use those notes in a newspaper story immediately?”
Fritz nodded. “I think so. I have stories about this company that will curl your attractive hair.”
“Won’t your boss know where the information came from?”
“I think not. Much of what I’ll tell you are things I heard from other sources. I won’t be a suspect.”
No, but the other sources would be. This all seemed far too convoluted for me and while I could understand where Fritz was coming from, I didn’t really want to present a lot of rumors to Kate as rock solid story leads. “I’d really rather write about ‘Fat Off’,” I insisted.
Fritz pursed his lips. “How? Let me think on that one.”
I continued. “Wouldn’t it be easier for you to tell your boss that you aren’t happy with the deal the two of you have? Can’t your rewrite your contract or do whatever needs to be done?”
“DeeDee, you are obviously a babe in the woods when it comes to business,” Fritz said. “I have been painted into a corner by the reprehensible Bernard Morton and I have no option other than to fight back through the media.”
It pained me to say what I was going to say next but I knew that I had to do it. “You know, Fritz, I’m extremely small potatoes when it comes to the media. You would be much better off approaching a larger newspaper or someone higher up the chain of command on my newspaper, don’t you think?”
Fritz studied me for so long that I began to feel like a specimen under a microscope. “I think not,” he finally announced. “You serve my purpose very well, DeeDee. You see, you do not have the one thing that I truly cannot abide.”
“What’s that?” I asked, a little afraid to hear his answer.
“You are not jaded. Although you aren’t a spring chicken by a long shot, you have an innocence about you that tells me that you don’t know how to lie and you don’t know how to manipulate. I trust you and that, my dear, is worth ten reporters from the Chicago Tribune or CNN or even the next person up the ladder at your newspaper.”
I was flattered, sort of, but also a little worried. Fritz was putting a lot of trust in me and I wasn’t at all sure if I merited it. No, I was positive that I didn’t merit it. I wasn’t even a true journalist, I was j
ust a mom and a wife and a Christmas letter writer. “I’ll do what I can,” I said after swallowing hard.
“I knew that you would. Our little talk has given me an idea. You’re right—writing about some of the other detestable things that are happening at Kutrate Kemicals would be counterproductive. I think it would be much wiser to focus on ‘Fat Off.’ Our first step should be a diary. You will write a diary for your newspaper about your amazing weight loss but you won’t name any names. That will whet your readers’ appetites for my product.” Fritz chuckled over his joke. “After a few weeks of that, we will have an in-depth interview with me, the inventor of ‘Fat Off’.”
“Couldn’t that get you into trouble?”
“What will happen? I will get fired? My severance package will be better than what I will get from ‘Fat Off’ the way things are right now,” Fritz snarled.
“But what good is it in letting everyone know about your product if it’s not for sale?”
“Don’t you see? The public demand will be so great that it will force that pig Bernard Morton to hurry up and put ‘Fat Off’ on the shelves. He will have to abide by my rules and play ball the way I want to play.”
“But what about all those clinical studies?”
“Government red tape. I assure you ‘Fat Off’ is perfectly safe. Just wait until the next time you get a whiff of it and you move into Stage Two.”
“What’s Stage Two?”
“Your appetite will return with a vengeance and you will want to eat everything in sight. And you will eat everything in sight only you won’t gain any weight. That is the beauty of ‘Fat Off.’ If you maintain your usage you can have every banana split, every turkey sandwich with extra mayo, every double fudge brownie that you want and still stay slim.”
“Wow,” I breathed. If all that was true, I could see why Fritz wanted to get his hands back on his patent. ‘Fat Off’ was going to be huge.
“So you see what I mean? We must start getting the word out to the overweight public. It’s imperative.”
“All right,” I agreed. “I’ll start a diary and see if I can get it in the newspaper although I’ll probably have a little trouble getting my editors to publish it.”
“I doubt that,” Fritz said. “You’re going to start dropping pounds immediately. They’ll let you print your diary. I suggest you blog it and Twitter it as well.”
My face lit up. This would be perfect for me to blog and Twitter about! “You’re right and that’s part of my job description!” At least, I was pretty sure that it was. “I’ll get started as soon as I get home.” I stood up and I swear my pants felt looser. Maybe ‘Fat Off’ did work! But so fast? “I’ll talk to you soon, Fritz.”
“Very soon,” he promised me. “We’ll meet in three days for your second session. And remember, call me or head for the nearest emergency room if you have any side effects.”
With Fritz’s warning ringing in my ears, I walked out to the parking lot and got into my car. It was eleven thirty and I wasn’t the least bit hungry. If anything, the thought of eating made me kind of sick. Was that a side effect, I wondered? The only times in my life when the thought of eating has ever made me sick was during my first trimesters when I was pregnant with Jane and Tyler. It was going to be interesting to see how long the ‘Fat Off’ spray lasted. It was also going to be interesting to see how loose my jeans got over the next three days, hopefully with zero side effects.
Chapter Nine
The newsroom was buzzing with activity when I arrived the following morning. Moving toward my cubicle some of the other reporters nodded at me as I walked past them and Caroline Osborne gave me a friendly wave and I felt the happy glow of belonging. I also felt the happy glow of being one pound lighter. The ‘Fat Off’ spray was working. I hadn’t felt like eating all evening long and breakfast that morning had been black coffee. Best of all, there hadn’t been any side effects, unpleasant or otherwise.
“DeeDee!” Kate Weston’s shrill voice cut into my good mood like a knife cutting into a steak. “I need to see you now!”
Taking five seconds to deposit my purse in the bottom drawer of my desk, I was in her office within moments. “Good morning, Kate,” I said somewhat breathlessly.
“What took you so long?” she questioned.
I was starting to get a little bit smarter as to how to handle Kate and instead of responding to her attack, I turned the tables on her. “What did you want to see me about?” I asked pleasantly.
It worked. Instead of harping on my three minutes of tardiness, Kate asked, “What are you working on?”
“Well…” I hesitated for a long moment. “Actually, I’m on the verge of something pretty big.”
Kate fixed her bug-like stare on me. “Such as?”
“I’d like to do a new feature for the newspaper on diets.”
Kate almost spewed an entire mouthful of black coffee across the top of her paper strewn desktop. When she got control of herself, she said, “I assume you’ll be going on one? Is that why you’ve been spending so much time surfing the web looking at different diet plans? Look, DeeDee, this newspaper hasn’t been set up to arrange for you to do little pet projects of your own and then have us pay you to do them. We need real stories that have an impact on more people than just you.”
“How did you know I’ve been looking at different diet plans?” I asked.
“I can check what everyone’s doing on their computer from my computer,” Kate said in a very smug tone of voice. “It would behoove you to remember that.”
Although Kate’s tone of voice was irritating in the extreme, I gritted my teeth and tried to remember the red hot story I had cooking on my stove. “Yes, I’ll be going on a diet. I’ve stumbled upon a weight loss plan that seems pretty amazing. I just started yesterday and I’ve already lost a pound.”
“Well, you’ve got more to go,” Kate said snidely. She sighed deeply. “Oh, what the hell. Go ahead with your little diary, DeeDee. It might be cute but if we don’t get positive feedback from our readers, I’m pulling it. I’ll give you three weeks which is mighty generous of me.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome. Be sure you blog about it and Twitter too. And don’t let me catch you eating any Twinkies!” Kate laughed loudly at her own wit.
Back at my cubicle, I sat down and sighed to myself. Talking to Kate always made me sigh deeply. “Are you DeeDee?” a voice asked. Looking up, I saw Bob Meredith standing next to my cubicle.
“Yes, I am. We met the day I started at the newspaper,” I began but stopped when Bob ignored me.
“I’m supposed to take you on my next assignment.”
“Why?” Ren asked, his head appearing around the wall between our desks.
Bob didn’t turn his head to look at Ren as he answered. “Because, apparently, I’m supposed to teach her how to conduct an interview, although why the bosses would hire someone who needs to be taught how to do an interview is beyond me.”
My face turned a bright shade of red. “Did Kate tell you to take me along with you?”
Bob nodded. “Yep. So get your notebook and let’s go.”
“I just saw Kate and she didn’t say anything to me about going on an interview with you.”
Bob shrugged. “Go ask her if you don’t believe me. I assure you it wasn’t my idea.”
I believed him as I remembered what Sam had said about Kate’s m.o.—how she never did any dirty work herself. “I believe you,” I said.
Bob shook his head. “Just my luck to get stuck with the mentor role,” he complained. “Like I don’t have enough on my plate?”
It was on the tip of my tongue to apologize but I stopped myself. After all, it wasn’t my idea to be foisted off on Bob Meredith and it wasn’t like I wanted to go along with him on his assignment, but if I was stuck, and it looked like I was, then I might as well make the best of it. I’d have to start working on my diary later. “I’m ready,” I said as I got to my feet.
> “Well, come on.” Rolling his eyes, Bob led the way through the newsroom. I felt exactly like a struggling math student being tutored by the class brain. As we walked toward the staircase, I could feel the eyes of the other reporters following us and in spite of my forced courage, I wondered what they were thinking and what they’d say as soon as we were out of earshot. Most likely they would be clucking over the fact that I needed remedial help in Journalism 101 and I was sure that most of them were wondering along with Bob why the newspaper had bothered to hire me in the first place.
It was a question that I was beginning to ask myself more and more. Why had the newspaper hired me? Was it just because I was cheap? Or did Kate and Jeff really see a small glimmer of talent in the writing samples that I’d submitted to them?
I hoped that it was more the latter than the former. While I never expected to win the Pulitzer in Journalism, I wanted to make this job work and the only way to do that was to learn as much as I could about writing for a newspaper. If that meant spending time with socially maladjusted people like Bob Meredith, then so be it. Maybe if I looked at it like Kate was doing me a favor by criticizing me then it wouldn’t sting quite so badly.
In the parking lot, I climbed into the cab of Bob Meredith’s enormous Ford truck. It was quite a climb. “What story are we covering today?” I asked.
“Rumor has it that Kutrate Kemicals Industries is about to introduce a new product. We’re going to find out what the scoop is. I’m going to show you how an expert does it.”
“Where did you hear about that?” I asked in what I hoped was a nonchalant voice.
“Oh, around.”
It had to be ‘Fat Off.’ That had to be the product he had heard about. “So what kind of new product is Kutrate Kemicals going to introduce?”
Bob shrugged. “Some new vitamin product. That’s big business these days with so many baby boomers getting old and finally starting to think about their bodies when it’s probably too late.”
Black and White and Dead All Over: A Midlife Crisis Mystery (Midlife Crisis Mysteries) Page 11
