Off the Record (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 10)

by Amanda M. Lee

  Eliot pursed his lips as he regarded me, annoyance kicking its way to the surface. “If you don’t want to help, why did you come?”

  “Because I need a set of keys. You’re having the locks changed.”

  “And you thought I wouldn’t give you a set?”

  He was angry. I could see the anger lurking behind his eyes. He’d been in a good mood an hour ago. The swift shift had nothing to do with physical labor and everything to do with me. That hardly seemed fair on what was supposed to be a happy day. I adjusted my tone.

  “I’m nervous and I don’t know how to react,” I admitted. “I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

  Eliot’s expression softened as he rubbed his hands over my shoulders. “Why are you nervous? You badger people into doing what you want for a living. This should be easy for you.”

  “Yes, but these aren’t my sort of people.” I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “These are rule followers.”

  Eliot’s lips twitched. “And that’s a bad thing?”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s certainly not a good thing. Rule followers don’t like rule breakers. I’m a rule breaker.”

  “Oh, honey, don’t sell yourself short,” Eliot teased. “You’re a ball breaker, too. In fact, you’ll break anything you can get your hands on … apparently including my back.”

  I offered him an exaggerated look before grabbing one of the boxes from the back of the truck and following him toward the house. Even though I was resigned to helping, that didn’t mean the complaint train was pulling into the station.

  “Do you honestly think these people are going to like me?” I refrained from asking the question until we were inside, away from prying ears, and the box was stacked with the rest in the middle of the bare living room.

  Eliot blew out a weary sigh as he turned to me, conflicted. “I don’t think they’re going to like you. To be fair, though, the neighbors at the Roseville house don’t like you either. They think you call the cops on them for lighting fireworks.”

  “I do call the cops on them for lighting fireworks.”

  “And that’s why they don’t like you.” Eliot made a clucking sound with his tongue as he shook his head. “I don’t expect you to make friends with these people. That’s not what this move is about.”

  “That’s good. I can already tell I’m not going to like them.”

  “You haven’t even spoken to them.”

  “The one pumping her arms with weights wants to pump something of yours. I saw the way she looked at you.”

  The corners of Eliot’s mouth tipped up. “I see. Well, I don’t think you have to worry about that. I prefer my women moody and unpopular with the neighborhood cliques.”

  “Do I look worried?”

  “You look like you’re panicking.” Eliot framed my face with his hands. “This is going to be okay. If you feel overwhelmed, I want you to take a break. We have only a few boxes to move into the house and then I can take you to lunch. Why don’t you rest in here while I do that? How does that sound?”

  “No Indian food.”

  “No Indian food,” Eliot conceded. “I’ll never make that mistake again. I didn’t sleep for almost thirty-six hours because you were so unhappy with the Indian food.”

  “My mouth was on fire!”

  Eliot rolled his eyes. “You’re giving me heartburn. My chest is on fire.”

  For some reason, that made me feel better. “Fine. I’ll wait in here for you to be done. Then we need to get out of here before the pod women – seriously, did you notice they all have the same haircut? – try to absorb me into their ranks.”

  “Oh, geez. Is this going to be your new obsession? Are you going to adopt an Invasion of the Body Snatchers theme?”

  “Well, you were tired of the zombie apocalypse theme.”

  “Good point.” Eliot dropped a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll be done in five minutes. Decide what you want for lunch.”

  “No Indian!”

  “If you say that again I’m going to bathe you in curry,” Eliot warned. “Pick something else and … shut your mouth.”

  “Oh, well, the love is clearly gone.”

  Eliot smirked. “You make me so tired.”

  He said that as if it was a bad thing.

  8

  Eight

  I stopped at the office before heading to the festival, taking perverse joy in the way Fish rubbed his eyes when he caught sight of me. He once said I gave him a reoccurring eye twitch. In turn, I asked him if he was allergic to me. He said he was allergic to my attitude. I followed that up by performing a small puppet show with my winter mittens, and I swear he almost cried … although that could’ve been the eye-twitching thing. I really can’t be sure.

  “There she is.” Marvin Potts is my work best friend. When he exited reporter row and walked into the main part of the newsroom he had a mischievous look on his face. That usually means he’s figured out a way to make Fish’s head spin around in a counterclockwise direction or he’s found a new woman to walk all over him. Strangely enough, being treated like dirt turns him on. I can’t explain it.

  “Here I am.”

  “I heard you were back in town,” Marvin said, leaning his hip against the wall of Fish’s cubicle and crossing his arms over his chest. He wore his self-appointed work uniform despite the heat – polyester black pants, a white button-down shirt, white Reeboks that I swear are vintage (and not in a good way) – and he looked thrilled with my return. “How was camping?”

  “Have you seen Deliverance?”

  “You were taken advantage of by a group of banjo players?” Marvin was horrified. “Did they make you squeal like a pig?”

  I rolled my eyes as Fish scowled.

  “You can’t say things like that, Potts,” Fish hissed, annoyed. “That could be misconstrued as sexual harassment.”

  “I didn’t say I wanted to make her squeal like a pig,” Marvin shot back.

  “Oh, well, that makes this conversation perfectly okay,” Fish drawled. “Stop talking about making people squeal like a pig. Human resources already thinks the entire department is made up of deviants.”

  I ignored Fish’s discomfort – actually, I enjoyed it a bit – and mimicked Marvin’s stance as I stood next to him. “Did you know they have French bugs in the woods that suck out your blood and kill you in a terrible way?”

  “I did know that.” Marvin bobbed his head. “I read it in the National Enquirer.”

  “The National Enquirer isn’t real news,” Fish pointed out.

  “You tell that to the vampire bat baby that’s really the reincarnated soul of Michael Jackson.” Marvin was deadly serious. “I bet he believes The National Enquirer is full of real news.”

  “I stand corrected.” Fish’s tone was dry as he scratched the top of his bald head. “Can you two carry on this very illuminating conversation over there?”

  “I don’t think that’s possible,” I replied.

  “Why not?”

  “Because then I wouldn’t be bothering you.”

  Fish narrowed his eyes. “Is this payback for being stuck with festival duty?”

  “It’s payback for several things,” I replied. “The festival is merely the most recent item on my list. It was your tipping point, so to speak.”

  “Do I even want to know what that means?” Fish exudes exasperation on a good day. He seemed more desperate than anything else today. I was already wearing him down. That’s a good sign. He’ll be ready to cede newsroom superiority back to me in three days. Mark it down.

  “Just know that there will be repercussions for your actions,” I answered, barely managing to swallow my smirk as Fish shifted on his chair. “They will be very severe repercussions, too, so you might want to invest in a cup.”

  “You’re a frightening woman,” Fish muttered. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “Only every person I’ve ever met.”

  “And that’s even more frightening. You can�
�t mention a cup without setting off human resources, by the way. You’re already on probation for that time you told Duncan that his ego suggested he was hung like a miniature shrew.”

  I snorted. I’d forgotten all about that. I printed out photographs to prove my point and got yanked down to human resources and yelled at for an hour straight. It was totally worth it. “Do you know what’s funny about that?”

  “I don’t want to know.” Fish’s voice was firm as he stared at his computer screen.

  I ignored him. “I actually did research. A shrew has a penis that’s about a fifth of an inch.”

  Fish was appalled. “How can you know that?”

  “I Googled it.”

  “Here?”

  Huh. That sounded like a trick question. “No. I Googled it at home.”

  “You’re a lousy liar,” Fish muttered. “You’re not allowed to Google anything inappropriate on the work computers. Human resources sent out an email six months ago. You know better than Googling the penis size of shrews.”

  “Oh, well, no worries.” I didn’t bother hiding my smile. “For the record, I didn’t Google shrews specifically. I Googled something like ‘what has the smallest penis size.’ I expected to see Duncan’s face pop up – right next to Tad Ludington’s, of course – but that’s how I discovered the shrew.”

  “Speaking of Tad Ludington, the candidates running in the special election for the vacant county commissioner seat will be all over that festival this week,” Marvin noted. “Once I heard you were stuck with the sponsorship coverage I started doing legwork to see if I could come up with a good angle.”

  “And that’s why you’re the only person who won’t be on the receiving end of my wrath.” I offered him a sweet smile. “I didn’t consider that everyone would be campaigning at the festival. It makes sense, though. This is one of the rare times people voluntarily want to visit Mount Clemens.”

  Fish made a face. He lived in Mount Clemens and considered it the center of the universe. No, that’s not an exaggeration. In his mind, Mount Clemens isn’t merely the heart of Macomb County. It’s also the creamy center of the Tootsie Pop that is his universe.

  “I’ll have you know that Mount Clemens is the most popular city in the area,” Fish argued.

  “Um, that’s totally not true,” I countered. “St. Clair Shores, Harrison Township, Chesterfield Township and New Baltimore are all more popular because they’re on the water. Sterling Heights and Clinton Township are more popular because they have malls. Oh, and Warren is more popular because there’s a nutjob running the city and deviant sexual behavior with fire hydrants is not only allowed but encouraged.”

  Fish’s mouth dropped open. “You just made all of that up.”

  “Actually, all of that is true,” I argued. “The fire hydrant thing might not be true, but that city is so weird that it’s a distinct possibility.”

  Fish sucked in a breath to calm himself. I have a magical ability to derange people in five seconds flat. He probably couldn’t even remember how this conversation started. I was starting to wonder if I even remembered how it started. Oh, wait. Banjos.

  “So, did I mention that carnival crew that was in Port Hope while we were there is in downtown Mount Clemens right now?”

  Fish’s eyes widened. “I’m not sure what to make of that. Why is it important?”

  I told him about the dead girl, and when I was done, he seemed interested despite himself.

  “Do you think it will lead to something?” Fish asked. He almost looked hopeful. Mount Clemens was his favorite city in the world, but if the festival turned into a murder zone he wouldn’t hesitate to splash it across the front page. Circulation outranks hometown loyalty.

  I shrugged. “I wish I could answer that. I have no idea what happened to that case in Port Hope. Eliot made a big deal of reminding me that it was out of my jurisdiction, so I had no choice but to drop it.”

  “Was this before or after you had your freakout regarding the French bug disease?” Fish asked. He was clearly trying to irk me, but I had no intention of letting him pull ahead in the aggravation race.

  “After.”

  Fish waited a beat. “That’s it? Aren’t you going to say something about me making fun of your terrible disease?”

  “No. You’re trying to distract me because you want me to forget that you’re on the chopping block – and by that I mean the dismemberment chopping block – for sticking me with this stupid festival.”

  Fish made an exasperated sound as he rolled his neck. “Have you forgotten that I’m the boss and you’re the employee?”

  “Have you forgotten that I’m mean and vengeful?”

  “Okay, I’m done talking to you.” Fish made a big show of focusing on his monitor rather than my face. “You’re dead to me … and because you’re deceased, you might want to find a story to resurrect yourself.”

  If he thought that was going to work he had another think coming. I’m gifted when it comes to making someone wish they’d never met me. Still, I decided to focus on Marvin for a moment so I could lull Fish into a false sense of security.

  “Tell me about the politicians,” I prodded. “Who filed for the vacant seat? I know Tad did – I mean, who didn’t see that coming – but who else?”

  In addition to being the college boyfriend from hell, Tad Ludington was a former county commissioner I destroy politically whenever I get the chance. He was kind of like a vampire. Every single time I thought he was down for the count he proved otherwise, rising from the ashes of his scorched reputation and finding something to bring him back from the dead. I was starting to think horcruxes sustained him or something.

  “Ludington is on the list,” Marvin replied, sobering. “You also have the guy Jake is touting, the former attorney who has been showing up at every fundraiser between here and Lake St. Clair for the past two months. I can’t remember his name, though.”

  I could. “Richard Aiken,” I supplied. “Or, Dick Aiken.” I giggled, trying to catch Fish’s glance.

  “So immature,” Fish intoned, never looking away from his computer monitor. “Only you would think of something that … juvenile … when confronted with a perfectly normal name.”

  That definitely had to be a challenge. “So, you’re saying your head doesn’t go to a weird and scary visual place when I say Dick Aiken?”

  “It does not,” Fish answered. “I’m an adult.”

  “What about Fawn Dillmiballs?”

  “Avery.” Fish’s voice was low and full of warning. Of course I ignored it because … well … that’s what I do.

  “What about Harry Undersack? Ima P. Ness? Jack Goff? Pat McGroin? Willie Layer?”

  Fish’s face turned a mottled shade of red I recognized from the few times my grandfather had to spend more than two hours babysitting his brood of grandchildren when I was a kid. I still had it. I never doubted it for a second.

  “Did you just come up with those off the top of your head?” Fish asked after a beat.

  “Mostly, but I’m sure I’ve heard most of them from someone else before. I simply have a mind for details. I remember everything I hear.”

  “If that were true you’d stop sexually harassing people,” Fish countered. “I’m convinced you only remember half of what you’re supposed to hear.”

  “I hear it. I simply push it out of my head if I don’t like it.”

  “You’re such a good employee,” Fish drawled, rolling his eyes. “Is there a reason you’re such a royal pain in the ass today?”

  Well, that was a loaded question. “Why just today? I like to think that I’m a pain every day.”

  Fish ran his tongue over his teeth as he regarded me, his mind clearly busy. “If I tell you that you’re off festival duty, will that earn me a reprieve?”

  “I don’t know. Am I off festival duty?”

  “No.”

  “Then you definitely haven’t earned a reprieve.”

  The growl Fish let loose was something right
out of a rampaging dinosaur movie. I couldn’t help but grin.

  “Tell me again why you’re in this particular mood … or get away from my desk,” Fish ordered. “I don’t particularly care which way it goes, but pick one.”

  “Okay. Eliot and I closed on the house today. We already started moving things.”

  “That should be cause for happiness in normal people,” Fish noted.

  “Not me,” Marvin complained, making a face. “I think moving to a hoity-toity area like that sounds terrible.”

  “And why is that?” Fish asked.

  “Because those aren’t normal people,” Marvin replied. “Those are the type of people who do book clubs … and have martini parties … and wear matching track suits when they walk around the subdivision.”

  Wait … was that true?

  “You’re making that up,” Fish chided. “That’s not how subdivisions work. They’re like small communities.”

  “Well, my small community is completely white and blond,” I said. “It was quite the eye-opener this morning.”

  Fish cocked a dubious eyebrow. “You’re white and blond.”

  “Only on the surface.”

  “What are you beneath the surface?”

  “A Jedi knight.”

  “Oh, geez.” Fish pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to tick off these people in five minutes flat, aren’t you?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “What does Eliot think of your plan?”

  “Eliot wants me to be me.” I answered before thinking, although I was almost positive that was true. “He says he’s fine if I don’t want to make nice with the neighbors.”

  “He got so lucky when he hooked up with you.” Fish said the words, but his tone indicated he didn’t believe them.

  Oh, well, no matter.

  “So, I have your permission to suck as many stories from this festival as possible, right?”

  Fish stilled, suspicion taking over. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t say that.”

  “But you meant it.”

  Fish shook his head. “No.”