“You’re the last person I expected to find darkening my doorstep,” she admitted once we were secured in her office and seated. “I thought you would be fixated on your own problems instead of mine.”
“Your problems overlap with mine.” I said. “You’re in this as much as I am.”
“I don’t know that I would agree.” She leaned back in her chair and gave me a long look. “What can I do for you, Ms. Shaw?”
“I need information, and because I’m suspended from the newspaper I figured I would come right to the source.” Leona wasn’t the type of woman who appreciated lying. She liked blunt people, which meant I had a decent shot of ingratiating myself.
“I wondered if they would suspend you. I heard rumors. You know how the gossip mill in this county is.”
“I do.”
“What do you want to know?”
“We just came from the hospital,” I volunteered. “We were checking on Tad. He’s no longer in a coma, but he’s not exactly lucid. He’s on heavy pain meds and can’t tell investigators who shot him. I think it’s unlikely he’ll be able to come through with a name before the election.”
“Which seems like a concern for you, not me.”
“I hear it is a concern for you,” I pressed. “Tad’s secretary — a woman I openly loathe, which I guarantee is why he hired her — said he’s now pulled ahead in the polls. Can you confirm that?”
Leona was a well-heeled woman. She dressed well, her hair always in place. Her makeup was never smudged. Unlike me, she never had coffee stains on her clothes. The face she made reminded me of something I would see in the mirror if Tad was beating me. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at her expression.
“According to the results I just received from my aide, that is correct,” she said. “I’m not sure how important this poll is. It’s not a poll of registered voters. It’s residents in the county. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll win.”
She was trying to give herself hope. Much like me, she realized she’d gone from a sure thing to a likely loser.
“Listen, nobody wants you to win more than me,” I reassured her. “I can’t stand Tad. Our relationship has always been ... difficult. I had every intention of making him look like a fool at every turn in the run-up to the election.”
The statement was enough to elicit a legitimate smile from Leona. “I know. I’m a big fan of your work. That thing you did the night he was shot — turning him into a gun-hating weasel — was pure gold.” She pressed her fingertips together and kissed them for emphasis. “I was going to send you a fruit basket, but then you became a suspect and I couldn’t risk it. Still, you’re a master at what you do.”
“He brings out the worst in me,” I admitted. “It’s not really a chore. This shooting has turned the tide of the election, though. I was certain you would win. Heck, I still thought you were winning until Fawn told me otherwise. I hate being out of the loop.”
“I haven’t given up hope,” she said. “Right now I’m ... assessing. I guess that’s the word I would use. Tad being shot has certainly changed the makeup of this election. I can’t help wondering if he planned it himself.”
I was taken aback. “Wait ... you think he arranged for his own shooting?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“I can see him arranging his own mugging or something, but a shooting? He almost died. He’s still not out of the woods. I’ve never seen anyone as in love with himself as Tad is. He wouldn’t risk his life.”
“No, but what if he hired someone who was supposed to break into his home, put on a show of some sort, and then be chased off by a brave man with a gun? You did make him look like a weenie. This might’ve been his way to make up the ground you stole from him.”
I glanced at Eliot, genuinely curious. “Think that’s possible?”
He rolled his neck, his eyes cloudy. I could tell he was giving it some real thought. “It’s possible. We all know he’s a jerk of the highest order. For things to go off the rails this far, he would’ve had to hire someone who backstabbed him or was totally inept. I can see him arranging to be shot in the hand or something. I cannot see him arranging this.”
“Could he even find someone to do that?”
“I don’t know. I’m guessing he had some unsavory contacts. Finding someone with the gumption to do this ... it would’ve been tricky.”
I turned back to Leona. “Do you have someone digging into this angle?”
She nodded. “Yes, but I’m running out of time. Sympathy has swung in Tad’s direction and he’s not in the public eye making a fool of himself. I don’t know that I have time to uncover the truth.”
“We don’t know that this is the truth,” Eliot stressed. “It’s just as likely that he ticked off someone so much that they simply snapped. Any number of people had grudges against him.”
“Including the two of you,” Leona noted. “I understand that the two of you haven’t been cleared.”
“We can’t be cleared because we’re each other’s alibis,” Eliot shot back. “I’ve given them the name of our security company. I set the alarm long before Tad was shot. We didn’t leave the house and that can be verified. They simply refuse to check.”
“Because they’ve already decided it’s you,” Leona mused. “Avery’s display on the evening news was the talk of the town. She makes an enticing scapegoat ... for either Tad if he did it to himself or someone else who was trying to cover their tracks.”
“Yeah.” Eliot bobbed his head. “But she didn’t do it. I didn’t either.”
“I believe you.” Leona let out a long sigh. “I thought I was coming to the end of a journey and this would all be worth it when I was finished. Now, I don’t believe that’s true. I think things will get worse before they get better.”
“We’ll check into your idea,” Eliot promised, pushing himself to a standing position. “We’re trying to clear ourselves and save the election for you at the same time. I don’t know that we’ll be capable of doing it, but we’ll give it one heckuva try.”
“Good luck. I think we’re all going to need it.”
I WAS STILL RUNNING THE POSSIBILITY OF TAD arranging his own shooting when we reached the parking lot.
“I know he’s stupid, but do you think he’s that stupid?”
Eliot shrugged as he jangled his keys. “I have no idea. I’ve never liked the guy. But I’m not sure he’s capable of this.”
“She’s right. It could’ve been an accident. What better way to squelch my anti-gun narrative than to fight off an armed intruder? He could’ve accidentally been hurt in the process, or maybe he hired a drugged-out idiot or something. Maybe he really was accidentally shot and the guy he hired fled.”
“I can totally see that happening. He hired Ingalls. That guy wasn’t known for being the brightest bulb in the package, but he wasn’t inept. If he enlisted for this task, I can’t believe what happened to Tad could be construed as an accident.”
I hadn’t even made it that far yet. “Oh, geez. You think it’s possible Ingalls shot him?”
“Maybe. I really don’t know what to think. We need to go home and go through those documents. I think that’s our best bet.”
“Um ... we have family dinner.”
His expression didn’t change, but his eyes flashed dark. “Crap. Is it Friday? How did I miss that?”
The weekly dinner at my family’s restaurant was non-negotiable. We either showed up or my mother would hunt me down and ultimately sell my skin as a pelt. Eliot didn’t believe me the first few times I took him, but now he was entrenched in the ritual. “We’ve had a few other things on our minds,” I replied dryly. “We can’t ignore it.”
“No.” He blew out a sigh and moved his hand to the back of my neck and began rubbing at the tension there. I leaned into him, enjoying the feeling. I registered the moment his demeanor changed as he tensed.
“What now?” I didn’t want to ask, but I had litt
le choice. I couldn’t not know.
“Don’t turn around.”
Oh, well, that did it. Of course I had to turn around. When I did, I found the most horrific of sights. Two spots over from Eliot’s truck rested a Michigan State Police sports-utility vehicle. Jacobs sat in the driver’s seat, watching us.
“Oh, man!”
“I told you not to turn around,” Eliot hissed.
“You know I can’t stop myself. That’s like waving a red blanket in front of a bull.”
Jacobs’ wide smile was on full display as he rolled down his window. “Well, fancy meeting you here. This is quite the coincidence.”
“Not really,” Eliot shot back. “I’m pretty sure you followed us here from the hospital.”
My heart gave a little heave at the notion.
“Perhaps.” Jacobs winked at me. “Just out of curiosity, what were you doing at the hospital?”
“We were checking to see if Ludington had regained consciousness,” Eliot replied. “We’re expecting him to clear us when he does.”
“His secretary, Fawn, said you were there to finish the job. Er, well, Ms. Shaw was there to finish the job. She claims you’re a victim of some spell that’s been cast over you and you shouldn’t be held accountable for your actions if you’ve been helping Ms. Shaw shoot people. That’s a direct quote.”
I rolled my eyes. “I told you she was psycho. You totally should’ve fired her months ago. Actually, you never should’ve hired her. I wasn’t consulted on that decision, though.”
“Because we hadn’t even met yet when I hired her.”
“You still should’ve tracked me down. I know things about ... well ... crazy people.”
“Whatever.” His hand never moved from the back of my neck. It was as if he wanted to keep a firm hold on me in case Jacobs tried to cuff me. “Is there something you want from us?”
The state investigator chuckled. “Oh, all manner of things. Right now, I’m just trying to figure you guys out. You have an interesting relationship.”
“I’m very interesting,” I agreed. “I should have my own television show.”
“Like Orange is the New Black?”
The comment was pointed ... and grating. “More like Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” I grabbed Eliot’s arm firmly and dragged him toward the truck. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.”
Eliot’s eyes were still on Jacobs as I did my best to push him to get behind the wheel. “She didn’t hurt Ludington. That’s not who she is. I don’t understand why you don’t see that.”
“As far as I can tell, she’s never done anything but hurt Mr. Ludington,” Jacobs countered. “She’s made a career of it.”
“How do you figure?”
“Well, let’s see.” Jacob grabbed a file from the passenger seat of his vehicle and flipped it open. “According to this list, she made him admit to being a racist in public. She caused him to trip and hit his face no less than five times. She once distracted him while crossing the road and he hit his nuts on a fire hydrant, at which point she yelled ‘liar, liar, pants on fire’ and tried to get the valve off the hydrant so it would spray him directly in the family jewels.”
I snorted at the memory. That was a classic.
Jacobs arched an eyebrow and continued. “She once told the women at a Take Back the Night rally that he was the prime suspect in a series of panty thefts in college.”
I pressed my lips together and avoided the look Eliot shot me.
“During Halloween one year she told everyone at the hot cider booth that she often had dreams about a scarecrow doing bad things to her ... and he was dressed as a scarecrow.”
“That was a coincidence,” I shot back.
He pretended he didn’t hear me. “At the art festival two years ago, she convinced a group of children to chase him around while barking like dogs. She had his anti-drug group dismantled, his women’s group dismantled, his Feed the Children group dismantled, his education group dismantled.”
“I also had his White Guys Need Love Too group dismantled,” I volunteered.
“At a fishing derby on Lake St. Clair, she somehow managed to convince one of the volunteer fishermen to maroon him on a buoy for five hours. She then paid another fisherman to drive his boat around the buoy while she played the Jaws theme on her phone and said ‘Smile you son of a bitch’ over and over while shooting video and uploading it to social media websites.”
Eliot’s lips quirked. “Obviously he survived all those things.”
“That’s on top of the time she told the women at the library that he was whacking off in the periodicals section. They attacked him with newspapers.”
“He also survived that,” I supplied.
“It seems to me that Ms. Shaw has been working up to a coordinated attack on Mr. Ludington for years. Her entire file reads like a how-to manual for a sociopath.”
“She’s not a sociopath,” Eliot argued. “You don’t even know her. And, quite frankly, you don’t know Ludington. All those things ... he earned them. He’s dished out as much to her as he’s taken.”
“Oh, no. I’ve dished out way more,” I argued.
“Ms. Shaw is a suspect because she’s earned it,” Jacobs offered. “For once, she won’t get away with terrorizing that poor man.”
Oh, well, that sounded like a challenge. I couldn’t wait to prove him wrong.
19 Nineteen
“If I don’t come back from this, remember, I loved you best and I’ll haunt you forever if you try to replace me with some insipid Real Housewives fan.”
Eliot didn’t immediately respond, and when I slid a glance in his direction I found him biting his lower lip.
“I’m serious.”
“Uh-huh.” He slid his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in for a hug. We stood in the parking of my family’s restaurant. The feeling of dread that had been slowly growing throughout the afternoon was about to grab me by the throat and squeeze until I passed out. “I think you might be a little dramatic.”
“I know. It’s my thing. Just give me a second and I’ll be over it.”
He grinned as he leaned in and kissed the corner of my mouth. “It’s going to be fine. There’s a chance they don’t even know. Maybe they haven’t been watching the news.”
I was incredulous as I pinned him with a look. “Seriously? Are you nuts? Besides, Derrick knows.” My expression darkened further at mention of my cousin. He most definitely knew. He was Jake’s right-hand man. They’d probably been talking nonstop about my plight. “Mario knows, too.”
“If Mario knows what’s good for him he’ll keep his mouth shut,” Eliot groused. “I warned him about giving you too much grief.”
“Oh, why did you do that?” My heart sank. “Now he’ll come up with a creative way to torture me.”
“I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “Believe it or not, he loves you. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He’ll be quiet.”
I merely stared at him a moment and blinked before allowing a sigh to escape. “You’re cute. Naïve, but cute.”
“Come on.” He gripped my hand tightly, tugging me toward the door. “It’ll be okay. Trust me.”
“YOU WERE SAYING?”
I stared at the family booth with a mixture of horror and baffled amusement. Someone — probably Mario, because it was his way — had decked out the booth in Orange is the New Black decorations. Sets of plastic handcuffs littered the table. The sight should’ve made me furious. Instead, it eased some of the tension.
At least I didn’t have to wonder who knew at this point.
“I’m firing him,” Eliot groused, a muscle working in his jaw. “I shouldn’t have hired him in the first place.”
“I believe I sent that memo the day you told me about it.” I blew out a resigned sigh as my gaze snagged with Derrick’s from across the room. He sat at the far end of the rectangular booth, his arm around Devon’s shoulders, and he looked as if the last thing he wanted to do was share a conversation with m
e.
“You know what? This might be fun after all. I might finally get my wish and watch my mother officially become speechless. And, look, there’s prime rib on the menu. Things are looking up.”
“If you say so.”
Eliot was a glaring mess when we sat. We took the open spots on the end next to Devon and Derrick, the latter of whom found something interesting to stare at on the wall, refusing to make eye contact.
“I saw your coverage on the Tad things,” I offered to Devon as I grabbed a breadstick. “It was cool. I’m talking about the first report, the one where he went crazy and started screaming. I’ve been channel hopping to watch coverage of the shooting. Yours seemed adequate.”
She smirked. “Thank you.” Her expression was hard to read as she leaned back in the booth and rested her hand on her stomach. “Have you heard anything new about what’s going to happen to you? Off the record, I mean. I wouldn’t run with the information.”
We both knew that wasn’t true, but it hardly mattered. “We’re in limbo right now.”
“She’s innocent,” Eliot stressed, his eyes dark. “She was with me when it happened.”
The fact that he felt the need to stand up for me in front of my own family was telling. Still, it wasn’t my primary concern. I kept my eyes on Derrick as I methodically chewed a breadstick, practically daring him to look in my direction. He refused.
“So, I went to a birthing class with Carly the other day,” I said, my voice flat. “I saw a kid pop out of a vagina and everything. It was worse than any other thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Derrick finally jerked his eyes to me. “You’re a suspect in the shooting of a political figure. I would think that’s far worse.”
“But you’d be wrong. Anyway, it was bloody ... and gooey ... and there were fluids that shouldn’t exist outside of a horror movie. You’re not going to survive the birth.”
New Media & Old Grudges Page 18
