New Media & Old Grudges

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Oh, you definitely need to talk to Fish.” His tone was so smarmy I knew that I wasn’t going to like whatever conversation had gone down in my absence. Something had already been decided — my guess was Fish had handed over coverage of Tad’s shooting to someone else — and I was going to have to bully my way to happiness this morning. Ah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time.

  “That’s what I intend to do ... so get out of my way.” I gave him a vicious push but he was expecting it and wasn’t easily displaced. “Move, Duncan.”

  He adopted an expression of contrition. “I just want you to know that I’ll be praying for you.”

  “You might want to pray for yourself,” I suggested. “If you get your way and I’m charged with Tad’s attack I’ll have nothing stopping me from adding you to my murder list. Have you considered that?”

  For the first time since getting caught gossiping, Duncan looked distinctly nervous. “You can’t threaten me.”

  “That’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”

  “I’ll report you to HR.”

  That was his go-to threat. “Go ahead. I have bigger things to worry about today besides your propensity for testing your manhood with complaints to human resources. Do whatever you want. Just get out of my way before you do it. Understand?”

  He finally shifted so he was no longer blocking my path. “I hope there are no hard feelings about the other thing.”

  I had no idea what the “other thing” was, but I figured I’d find out shortly. “Just go away. I’m not in the mood for you right now.”

  “Being an attempted murder suspect has hardened you.”

  “It’s also made me vindictive — and my favorite target is in the hospital. Would you like to move up the list, Duncan?”

  He held up his hands and took a step back. “I hope you’re feeling better later. I, however, will be heading down to human resources to file a formal complaint.”

  “Yeah, you do that.”

  Fish was aware of my approach. I recognized that by the way he kept his eyes glued to his computer, refusing to look in my direction. I have a certain presence, and when I want someone to feel me they don’t have a choice.

  “Hey.” I was wary as I leaned against the wall of his cubicle.

  “Oh, hello.” He flashed a pleasant, if distracted, smile. “You’re early today.”

  I flicked my eyes to the clock on the wall. “By, like, ten minutes.”

  “You’re usually ten minutes late, so technically you’re twenty minutes early.”

  “Good point.” He was acting squirrelly, ridiculously so. “I guess you’ve heard what happened.”

  “I have.” He gestured toward the conference room across from the row of reporters’ desks. “Perhaps we should go in there to talk.”

  I didn’t like that idea one little bit. Nothing good ever happened in that room. Okay, we did the fantasy football draft in that room because of the dry erase boards and that was often fun because Duncan melted down and accused people of collusion. He was always good for a laugh, even if he was never joining in the laughter. This was different.

  “Do you think that’s necessary?” I didn’t want to go into the room.

  “I think it’s best.” He pressed his lips together and offered me one of those thin smiles that can only mean bad news.

  “Well, great.” I dragged my feet as I followed Fish to the conference room, glaring at Duncan when I caught him preening on the other side of the newsroom. I hated when he had information I wasn’t yet privy to. Whatever he knew, he liked it. That meant I would totally hate it.

  “Take a seat.” Fish closed the door once I was inside, another ominous sign. He was doing his best to reassure me with grim smiles, but I knew better. The bottom was about to drop out of my world ... and that meant I would have to terrorize the people I hated most to make myself feel better.

  “So, news broke around six o’clock this morning,” he started, keeping his eyes on the tabletop. “MacDonald got it because he’s Tad’s father-in-law.”

  In addition to having ties to Tad — a black mark in his column — Jim MacDonald was the publisher of The Monitor. When he initially got the job I hated him. Once his daughter and Tad separated and he started encouraging me to terrorize my college boyfriend I grew much fonder of him.

  “I thought Maria and Tad were divorced,” I started.

  “They’re separated. Divorce papers have been filed. They’re still going through the courts. It seems there are some financial issues to iron out before they can both sign off on the divorce.”

  I filed that away to consider later. Maria had always seemed a nice, if boring, woman. Perhaps she got tired of Tad dragging his feet when it came to child support and decided to off him. They were still married, so he was worth more to her dead than alive. Of course, I couldn’t give voice to that suspicion now because it would get back to the publisher, and he wouldn’t be happy about it.

  “So they contacted her as next of kin,” I mused. “She’s still staying with her father, right?”

  “Yes.”

  I also filed that away to consider later. “Listen, you might as well come out with it,” I said finally. “It’s obvious you have something to say and you’re dragging your feet. That makes it worse. Just tell me what’s going on and we’ll take it from there.”

  “The sheriff’s department sent a deputy looking for you,” Fish explained. “Apparently he went to your house expecting you to be there, but nobody answered the door.”

  “Well ... that’s not my fault. I was probably on my way here.”

  “Probably. Although ... that does beg a certain question.” He eyed me, contemplative. “How did you find out about Tad’s shooting if the detective didn’t find you at your house? It hasn’t hit the news yet. This will be the lead on all the stations at noon, but nobody else has it yet. We’ve been monitoring.”

  Oh, well, crap. There was no way I could answer that question without screwing Jake in the process. I had no intention of doing that. “Eliot got a call from someone. He has business associates who keep their ears to the ground on stuff like this. They thought he would want to know because of me.”

  “Ah.” If Fish recognized I was lying he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he merely bobbed his head.

  Yes, I am an adept liar when I need to be. “Just tell me.”

  “Fine. I was hoping to ease you into this, but you refuse to allow anyone else to lead. That’s just who you are.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tell me.”

  “Because of what happened last night with Ludington, you won’t be allowed to chase that story. You’re a suspect. The detective pretty much came out and said so. Not only are you a suspect, so is your boyfriend.”

  For some reason it bothered me more that Fish was casting aspersions on Eliot. “Eliot only stepped in yesterday because Tad was physically threatening me.”

  “Did you feel threatened?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “I think it is.” Fish was grave. “You’ve been terrorizing Ludington for years. He’s gone after you more than a few times. Last night, Mr. Kane decided to insert himself into the situation. He doesn’t generally do that.”

  His tone bothered me a great deal. Why was he suddenly referring to Eliot as “Mr. Kane?” That wasn’t like him. “Eliot has been a bit worked up since the corn maze incident. He’s just a little overprotective.”

  “How overprotective?”

  “He didn’t shoot Tad!” My temper finally got the best of me and I spat out the words. “That’s not who he is. He stepped in to make sure I was okay. Then I went back to his shop to write my piece before we went to dinner. After that, we went home and watched the show on all the news stations because we thought it was funny. Then we went to bed.”

  Fish held up his hands. “I’m not saying he’s a killer.”

  “That’s good. By the way, Tad isn’t dead. He probably should be, but he made a deal with the Devil years ago an
d now he can survive two gunshot wounds straight to the chest.”

  “Two?” Fish furrowed his brow. “Who told you it was two? I didn’t hear that.”

  Uh-oh. Why did I open my big mouth? Why did I always open it? “He was shot twice. That’s what Eliot’s source said. I don’t have confirmation, but I have no reason to doubt this guy.”

  “Right.” Fish rubbed his cheek.

  “And, no, before you ask, Eliot wouldn’t shoot someone twice in the chest because he disrespected me.”

  “You just said that Eliot went after Ludington because he was concerned about your safety after what happened in the corn maze. That seems to indicate Eliot is close to the edge. Maybe too close.”

  I wanted to scream, but somehow I managed to hold it together. “Eliot didn’t touch him. Neither did I. You’re giving the story on Tad’s attack to someone else. That makes sense. I guess that means you want me to focus on the election.”

  Slowly, Fish shook his head.

  “You don’t?” Now I was really confused.

  “We can’t have you covering political issues. It will reflect poorly on us.”

  I felt sick to my stomach. “I see.”

  “Avery ... .”

  “No.” I shook my head. I was about to explode. “You said I could have as much leeway as I wanted for this election. You said that I was in charge.”

  “That was before you became a suspect in the shooting of one of the candidates.”

  “I didn’t shoot him!”

  “I know you didn’t.” Fish’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “I don’t think you’re guilty.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that Dexter Porter will be taking over election coverage.”

  There was more. He was leaving out the worst part. “And?”

  “And Duncan will be covering Tad’s shooting.”

  And there it was. “Well, that’s just great,” I spat, giving in to the anger. “My own newspaper is going to publish slanted articles about me.”

  “We had to give it to someone who wouldn’t slant the stories in the other direction,” Fish argued. “Marvin really wanted the story, but we knew how he would play things. He’s your biggest fan.”

  “No, I’m my biggest fan.” I was beyond consolation. “I can’t believe you did this to me. I mean ... what am I supposed to do while everyone else is covering my beats?”

  “We have an opening on the human interest desk because Betsy is off taking care of her daughter thanks to a car accident.”

  I thought I legitimately might pass out. “The human interest beat?”

  I didn’t think my life could get any worse.

  6 Six

  My first assignment was to write a human-interest piece on the gardening club at the county’s senior center. Because that ranked right up there with sticking a sharp implement in my ear, I stormed out of the building — but not before promising to get offensive new mitten puppets to torture everybody with — and headed downtown.

  I tried to tell myself that unloading on Eliot was unnecessary and unfair — he had his own stuff to worry about, after all — but once I had more sugar and caffeine in me I headed directly for his shop.

  “My life is over,” I announced as I strode through the door.

  Eliot stood behind the counter, his phone pressed to his ear, and looked me up and down. He didn’t immediately say anything, instead listening to whoever was talking. I tried to feign patience even as my emotions threatened to bubble into a volcano of destruction.

  “I’ll be expecting the delivery,” Eliot said after a beat. “Yes. Thank you.” He disconnected and turned his full focus on me. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “I just told you my life was over.”

  “I need more information than that.” He left his phone on the counter as he crossed to me, his fingers gentle as he brushed my hair out of my face. “Your eyes look a little wild. Did you drink more sugar even though I told you before we left that wasn’t a good idea?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Since when are you the sugar police?”

  “So ... that’s a yes.”

  I jutted out my lower lip. “I had a big mocha ... and a danish ... and two cake pops.”

  “Well, good. There’s little I like more than a sugared-up Avery.”

  “She’s fun,” I agreed, fighting desperately to keep myself from getting tripped up in the morose minefield that was my mind. I wasn’t having much luck. “I talked to Fish.”

  “Yeah?” Eliot kept his expression neutral. “What did he have to say?”

  “They all know. The sheriff’s department contacted MacDonald this morning because his daughter is still technically married to Tad, although apparently they’re close to hammering out a divorce agreement.”

  “And you’re now wondering if the daughter is a suspect.”

  “Well ... she was married to him. She had a bunch of kids with him. If anyone has reason to hate him, it’s her.”

  “And because he’s probably fighting paying child support he’s worth more to her dead than alive.”

  “That’s what I said.” I flashed a legitimate grin. “The more time we spend together, the more you think like me.”

  “There’s no need to be mean, Trouble. I’m trying to help.”

  “Ha, ha.” I poked his side. “It’s something to consider, though.”

  “It is,” Eliot agreed. “But do you think she’s capable of pulling the trigger?”

  I thought back to the mousy brunette I’d seen Tad with over the years. She looked afraid of her own shadow. Sure, looks could be deceiving and all that jazz, but ... . “No.” I shook my head, firm. “I don’t think she’s capable of doing it herself. That doesn’t mean she didn’t hire someone to do it.”

  “You’re thinking hitman?” Eliot rubbed the back of his neck and stared into space. “Okay, I’m not saying it’s entirely impossible, but it doesn’t seem to fit. A professional would’ve made sure he was dead.”

  “Yeah.” I dragged my feet against the floor as I paced the front of his storefront. “Maybe it was an accident. Maybe whoever did it simply assumed he was dead because he looked dead.”

  “That’s not normally how this works.”

  “Yeah, but ... .” He knew more about this than me. “Maybe she hired an inept hitman,” I said finally. “I mean, this would most likely be the first time she had to hire someone to kill a husband. She could’ve gotten stuck with a rookie or something.”

  Amusement flitted across his handsome features. “A rookie hitman?”

  “You don’t know. It could be a thing.”

  “I guess it could be.” He dragged a hand through his shoulder-length hair and pursed his lips. “It’s something to consider. Is that all Fish said to you?”

  “No.” I remembered my conversation with my boss and turned angry again. “He’s a giant butthead and I can’t stand him right now. I mean ... I really hate him.”

  Eliot looked as if he was bracing for touchdown of Tornado Avery, but he didn’t as much as flinch. “Lay it on me.”

  “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

  “We’re sharing a life. That means I want to hear your stuff ... even if I think it’s likely that things will turn loud.”

  Oh, they were definitely going to turn loud. “He won’t let me cover Tad’s shooting.”

  “Did you think he would?”

  “No, but he gave the story to Duncan.”

  Sympathy — and maybe a little anger — rolled across his features. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing you can do about that, though. You had to know that he wouldn’t allow you free rein to dig into this. Appearance of conflict of interests and all.”

  I hated it when he was reasonable. “That’s not all. I assumed he would keep me on the election and just keep me away from the shooting. But he gave that to Dexter Porter. He said people would be uncomfortable with me because I’m a suspect in the shooting.”

 
He blew out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I figured that would be the case.”

  “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I didn’t want you getting worked up over something you can’t change and I thought there was a chance you might be able to keep the election. It was a slim chance, but it was still a chance.”

  “Well, it’s gone now. I can’t cover the election and Tad’s shooting is off-limits. Do you know what assignment he did give me?”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask. Library board?”

  “That would’ve been better than what I got.”

  “Well, now I’m kind of excited to hear about it.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the glass display case. “Lay it on me.”

  Ugh. He was excited. He wanted to laugh at me. “I’m not telling you.”

  He held up his hands in contrition. “I’m sorry. I won’t laugh. Just ... tell me.”

  “No way.”

  “Tell me.” He reached out and snagged me around the waist. When I tried to evade him, he dug his fingers in and started tickling me. “You’re not leaving until you tell me.”

  “I’m totally going to beat you up if you don’t let me go,” I threatened.

  “That will be more fun than watching you feel sorry for yourself. Tell me.”

  “Never!”

  Honestly, even though I knew he would laugh at me, I felt better just being around him. I didn’t think it was possible — I’m crabby by nature, after all — but he always brightened my mood. Sometimes superheroes really don’t wear capes.

  I WENT TO THE GARDENING CLUB AS ORDERED, even though my heart wasn’t in the assignment. I asked the bare minimum of questions, feigned interest, and then happily waved as I trudged out the door.

  I could not stay on the human interest beat. I would kill myself before the week was out. Okay, that was an exaggeration. I had no inclination to kill myself. I would, however, torture those around me until they wanted to kill me.

  Even though I knew Eliot was right to admonish me about sticking my nose into the story, I couldn’t stop myself. Before I even knew what was happening I was in front of the hospital. Then I was walking through the door. Then I was wondering exactly how I was going to schmooze the receptionists into giving me what I wanted, which was Tad’s room number. I didn’t have to do anything, because I caught sight of Fawn on the far side of the lobby, waiting by the elevators.