I took my time driving to the local news station. Street conditions were as bad or worse than Gladys had warned. Twice I had to detour around the main route due to flooding. One intersection sported several stalled cars whose owners never should have tried driving through water so deep.
My circuitous route eventually led me to my destination. There were few other vehicles out and about. KDOP Channel 17 News was located in a large rectangular, white brick building. The news station shared the space with the one and only local radio station as well as the Seashell Bay Press, the town newspaper.
Stepping into the lobby, I took a moment to look around. Slate gray tiles covered the floor, with pale blue walls creating a soft atmosphere. Oceanscapes dotted two of the walls. A single receptionist sat at a small but sturdy wooden desk. She talked rapidly into the headset hooked over her ear while simultaneously typing on the laptop before her. Beyond the reception desk, three metal doors lined up in the back wall. Sam usually did the small amount of advertising for the bakery; I craned my neck to read the nameplates next to the doors.
“May I help you?”
So intent on my task, I hadn’t heard the receptionist end her phone call. She was looking at me askew. I guess squinting for five minutes over her head at the doors might make me look a little bit nuts. “Yes, please. I need to talk with someone with the Seashell Bay Press.”
“Name?”
“Piper Rivers.”
“No, the name of the person you need to see.” She said it slowly, like she feared I might not be too bright.
“I don’t know. Someone who can publish an announcement for me.”
“You don’t have an appointment then?”
Her put-out tone reminded me of Missy, the local news anchor. Maybe condescension was a requirement for the media profession. “No, ma’am. No appointment.”
“Take a seat.” She flicked a wrist toward a row of hard plastic chairs by the door. Purposefully misunderstanding, I inched past her desk and seated myself in one of the plush, comfy wingback chairs nearer to the wall with the doors.
“Excuse me!” The receptionist glared. Fortunately for me, her phone rang. Pushing the button on her headset, she turned and began speaking.
Luck was on my side. While the receptionist had her back to me, the center door flung open and Kendra walked out. She stopped short seeing me and I took the opportunity to catch the door before it shut again.
“Hey, how are you?”
“Good.” She smiled. “What are you doing here?”
“Posting a notice about the food and shelter for victims of the storm or disaster relief workers who came to help.”
“Wow, that’s great. I feel so terrible for all of the people whose homes have flooded.”
I nodded sadly. “It’s terrible.”
Kendra looked at her watch, a beautiful charm bracelet type. “Sorry, I’ve got to run. Too many errands.”
She and Sam had one thing in common: they made nearly sprinting in high heels look as easy as a stroll on the beach. I hurried into the newspaper offices, shutting the door softly behind me so as not to alert the receptionist.
Okay. I made it in but still had no idea who would be the best person to speak with. My eyes roved around the room. Rows of cubicles greeted me; small square colored blocks all linked together with tiny rectangular windows at the top. I shuddered. Thank goodness the bakery continued to provide a steady income and an outlet for all of my creative energy. The thought of being stuck in thirty square foot space all day, staring at a screen for hours and hours nearly made me hyperventilate. My gratefulness for being able to pursue my passion increased tenfold in that moment.
Seeing offices in the back of the room, I decided starting there made the most sense. Pushing away from the door, I straightened my back and walked confidently between the rows of cubicles. Act like you belong and nobody questions it. Advice I’d gotten from Sam once upon a time in our college days when I asked how she could be so self-confident all of the time. A lesson I’m sure Deidra foisted upon her at a young age.
Deidra’s name was suddenly a whisper nearby. I stumbled, nearly twisting an ankle. Had I spoken aloud? Darting quick glances, I saw that nobody in the room was paying a lick of attention to me. The whispers quickened, burning like wildfire through the room.
“Did you hear?” A brunette tapped on the orange cubicle wall. “There’s another big story coming.”
“About the storm?” A girl with glasses popped her head up to look through the small window at the brunette.
“No. The mayor’s wife.”
I kept walking. They weren’t giving any details away so far and goodness knows I didn’t want to be swept up in the middle of anything concerning Deidra. I wonder where they were getting the story though. Slowing my pace, I lowered my lashes and surveyed the room. The only people I saw were seated at cubicles. No other person. It must have been a phone call tip. Or someone who already left. My thoughts flitted to Kendra of their own accord. No, surely not. Shoving the thoughts aside, I brought the slip of paper up in front of me and knocked on the glass office door labeled Editor.
A balding, slightly overweight man sitting at the desk inside waved his hand in the air without looking up. I took that as permission to enter.
“Hello.”
“Who are you?” Finally raising his head, Bill, according to the name on his desk, shot me an impatient look.
“I’m Piper Rivers.” I stuck my hand out to him. “Nice to meet you.”
Rather than shaking my hand, Bill glanced back at the papers on his desk, moving a few sticky notes around. His computer, I noticed, sat covered in dust at the side of his desk and surrounded by dirty coffee mugs. Not one for technology or tidying up evidently.
“What do you want?”
I smiled, determined not to let his rudeness upset me. “I’m here to place an announcement in the paper.”
“Where do you work, Pippy?”
“It’s Piper.” My nostrils flared and I inhaled deeply. “I co-own the Ooey Gooey Goodness Bakery. I came to place an announcement…”
“Did you bring any cookies?” He eyed me as if there might be some tucked away somewhere.
“No, sir.”
“Of course not. If you want to advertise cookies you have to buy an advertisement slot just like everyone else. Down the third row, second cubicle.” Bill waved dismissively and dropped his gaze to the papers on his desk once more.
“Excuse me, Bill.” My forceful tone snared his attention. Maybe I should have counted to ten like Sam sometimes does but it was too late now; I could feel my blood pressure rising. “If you would be so kind as to let me finish, you would understand that I am not here to purchase an advertisement or to advertise and sell cookies.”
Bill narrowed his eyes, leaning back in his large leather chair which creaked and groaned in protest.
“I am here to place an announcement about storm disaster relief efforts and aid. I believe Pastor Dan called ahead to let someone know to expect it. Unfortunately, I don’t have a clue who that person would be.” I tried to calm my face which I’m pretty sure was currently running its own advertisement of my frustration with journalistic persons of any kind. “Now, if you could please tell me who the public service announcement needs to go to, I will happily leave you to your obviously busy day.” My pulse raced. I half expected Bill to kick me out of the building. My moment of self-righteous anger fled; heaven forbid he find out I snuck my way inside rather than waiting in the lobby.
“Danny sent you?” Bill started laughing. The laughing turned into wheezing and he reached for a coffee mug.
I cringed, hoping he lucked out and grabbed a fresh one.
After a few gulps, he seemed to have it together again. “Danny and I were in high school together. I haven’t seen him in a long time. Guess that means I ought to get myself to the church, that’s what Danny would say. Always was more into God while the rest of us boys were more into girls.”
Noticing the lack of a band on Bill’s ring finger, I thought that Pastor Dan must have caught the blessing on both counts but refrained from pointing that out. No reason to lose this newfound goodwill. “That’s right. He asked me to personally deliver the announcement so that it could be in tomorrow’s paper first thing in the morning.”
“Best let me see it.” He extended a chubby palm stained with blue ink. “Danny never could properly punctuate a paper to save his life.”
Trying hard to conjure up an image for Danny the schoolboy in place of Pastor Dan, I handed over the folded rectangle of paper. And waited. Bill attacked the page with his blue pen – there goes my notion that all editors bleed red onto articles – and eventually nodded, satisfied.
Pulling a bright orange sticky note from the pad, Bill scrawled a note across and stuck the note to Pastor Dan’s announcement. “Now it can be printed in my paper.” Bill shoved the paper back at me. “Take this to Amy. Sixth cubicle.”
“Thanks.” Bill ignored me, already engrossed in slashing someone else’s article to pieces. At least, that’s what it looked like to me. I’m sure to him it was an act of heroism making something worthwhile out of a mess of text. Before I left, I thought of one more thing that he might be able to help me with. “Bill, may I ask you a question?”
“Make it quick.”
“Do you know who has been feeding the media information and photos about Deidra Lowe? I’m a friend of her daughter and…”
“Get out!” Bill looked up, his face turning red.
I flinched, the anger rolling off of him palpable.
Banging a meaty fist on the desk, he raved on. “I’ve already told that woman and her whole team of lawyers that this paper will print news no matter who you are and our source is confidential. Get out and don’t come back!”
Yikes, guess I found another person not part of Deidra’s fan club. I backpedaled out of the office and spun away only to find the entire newspaper staff poking their heads out of their cubicles, staring at me. “Amy?” I squeaked, embarrassed.
One platinum-blonde haired woman with a mohawk at the end of a row of blue cubicles raised her hand. Everyone else sat back down. Hushed and not-so hushed whispers followed me as I made my way to Amy.
“Bill told me to give you this.” Asked would have been too polite a description for receiving orders from that bull of a man. “It has to be in tomorrow morning’s paper, please, so that people know where they can go for food and things if the storm damaged their homes.”
Amy blew a large purple bubble with her gum. Biting it, she popped the bubble and sucked it back in her mouth. She scanned the page. “Shouldn’t take me but three minutes to make the corrections.”
“Thank you.”
“What’d you do to tick the ol’ man off?”
“I’m sorry?”
Amy smacked on her gum. “Oh, come on. We all heard him yelling. It’ll be our butts he chews the rest of the day thanks to you riling him up. May as well tell me why; it’s the least you can do.”
I bristled. Being told I owed her for her boss being volatile didn’t particularly put me in the mood for sharing. Still, maybe to get some info I had to give some; Amy might be more forthcoming about details on where the Deidra smear campaign was coming from.
“I only asked a question. Your boss misunderstood and thought I was a friend of Deidra coming to harass him about the articles the paper has been publishing lately.”
Smack. Smack. Bubble. “And you’re not?” Amy crossed her arms.
“No, not at all. In fact, Deidra hates me. The problem is, my friend Sam is getting blamed and she had nothing to do with those photos.” I sighed. “I wish there was a way to figure out who the source is.”
“This Sam – guy or a girl?”
“She’s a woman.” My eyebrows drew together in confusion.
Amy relaxed, uncrossing her arms. “Well, good luck on your little mission. I can tell you the notes are coming from a guy but that’s all I know.”
Surprise coursed through me. “I guess that narrows down fifty percent of my search.” Giving a small laugh, I pushed a little further. “How do you know it’s a guy?”
“Handwriting.” Bubble. Smack.
Strongly tempted to snatch the gum right out of her mouth, instead I waited for more information.
Sure enough, she leaned forward, eyes gleaming at the opportunity to give up the next juicy secret. “I’m the one who gets all the handwritten junk to fix before printing. Definitely a guy.”
“Why do you think that?”
“I don’t think it. I know it. You can just feel it.” Bubble. Pop. “That’s not all. He’s most likely schizophrenic, too. The letters were oversized and he crossed out extra letters a lot.” She nodded, like this made all of the sense in the world.
O-kay. My hopes for a decent clue came tumbling down – my bubble burst, as it were. Obviously, there wasn’t going to be any enlightening information here, after all. I thanked Amy, made sure she had the announcement, and wound my way down the aisle of cubicles to the wooden door I’d entered through.
Scooting past the receptionist, I escaped back into the rainy day outside. My goodness, how long can a tropical storm last? Puddles were unavoidable. I splashed my way to the truck and decided to check in at the church. At this point, it was closer than the bakery. A quick detour wouldn’t hurt and I could let Pastor Dan know in person that the announcement should run on schedule tomorrow.
~
“Piper!”
I turned to face the kind woman, as sweet as her voice. “Hey, Nora. Things are bustling in here.”
“You bet. We have three different volunteer organizations bunking in the basement. Disaster relief teams from all over the state, would you believe it?” She shook her head in wonder, a hand over her heart. “And then, of course, we have those who were scared to stay in homes along the coast and sought shelter before the storm or whose home is too damaged to live in right now.”
“Oh boy! Did Sam and Landon make it back with the goodies from the bakery?”
A wide smile lightened Nora’s face. “They did! You girls are just too kind. I think you’ll find them in the kitchen if you want to check in.”
I hugged her. “Thanks, Nora.”
Picking my way through the crowd of people was tedious. I glanced at my watch. Worried that they might need me back at the bakery, I went out a side door. Rain persisted. I would be well and truly drenched before I got back to work. I pulled my hood tighter. Should have bought one of those plastic rain jackets like Sam’s.
Planning to circle around and enter the kitchen from the outside, I stopped short when I heard arguing coming from the corner of the building. My heart stuttered and I automatically slowed my breathing. The last time I’d walked blind into an argument between strangers, I’d ended up stranded in a pit and nearly buried alive or shot. Neither had appealed to me then and while I suspected that was a one-time scenario, I still preferred to look before I leaped. Moving slowly forward, I listened.
“You’ve got to stop this foolishness, son.”
“Oh, I’ll stop it all right. All of it.”
“Just give me the album and come home.”
“I won’t.”
An album. That didn’t sound too bad. I chastised myself for being so paranoid. Some punk kid arguing with his dad about a rock band or something, probably. I continued on the path toward the voices; maybe I wouldn’t interrupt them too much.
“Dad. Dad!” Panic laced the voice this time.
Gasping for breath, the second voice grew weaker. The words were hard to make out. “Wade. Don’t. Please. Don’t stay here. Forgive.”
“Dad!”
I raced around the corner, concern for the man who sounded in pain overcoming caution. A figure draped in a black rain slicker knelt over an older man who lay collapsed on the ground. As I watched, the hand clutching his chest slid to his side.
“Is he okay?” I shouted, running now. The figures we
re right in front of the kitchen door.
Bolting upright, the man in the rain slicker whipped his head to me, then back to the man on the ground. He hesitated.
“Should I call 911?” I reached them only to be shoved aside as the man in the black slicker took off running. His hood slipped and I thought he looked familiar but with the rain and the man on the ground I didn’t have time to worry about him. Punching numbers in my cell phone, I called 911 and stumbled to the kitchen door. Banging on it for help, I returned and knelt by the man. I picked his head up out of the mud and felt for a pulse. Nothing.
~
By the time the ambulance arrived, it was far too late. It would have been too late even if the roads hadn’t been flooded and they had arrived five minutes earlier. Landon and Sam had rushed out of the kitchen after I banged on the door but there was nothing they could do either. The man was dead.
I tried to pay attention as they took my statement; first, a police officer, then a detective whom I’d never met. Instead of hearing the questions, I kept seeing the man's arm drop from his chest and hearing it splash into the mud at his side, again and again.
“Are you sure there is nothing else you can remember about the man?” The detective, a wiry black man in a three-piece suit, asked again.
Who wears a three-piece suit in Alabama during a tropical storm?
Detective Johnson cleared his throat, summoning me back from my thoughts.
“Nothing. For a second, I thought that he looked familiar but I don’t know a single person named Wade.” I brushed loose strands of wet hair out of my face. We stood under the awning at the back of the church; beyond it, the rain trickled steadily down but the fierce beating drops were at last lightening up. Before the police arrived, I had asked Sam if she knew anyone named Wade. She didn’t.
“Thank you for your time, Miss Rivers.” He flipped his notebook closed. It disappeared into the inside pocket of his navy-blue suit. He motioned to one of the cops, passed on some instruction as they walked, and then disappeared around the corner to the parking lot.
Ooey Gooey Bakery Mystery Box Set Page 56
