Bury! The Lead

by Shelley Dawn Siddall

  “The first five thousand by Monday? That’s over a thousand words a day!”

  “You can do it Crystal; just pretend you’re telling us the story and write. I’ll clean it up after.”

  ***

  Later that evening Crystal could not wind down. She had been calm with her mom on the ride home and had outlined the discussion with Ben and Marjorie without embellishment or tangents. Now, however, she was having a bad case of the what-ifs. She talked to herself as she paced around the cabin.

  “What if Ben changes his mind and figures a bird in the hand; namely one reporter Scott Avery despite his questionable integrity is better than firing him and going out and hiring a new guy? Then Ben will cancel my story and of course will cancel my check…” She looked over at the check sitting on the kitchen table and smiled. Then something like an electric jolt went through her.

  “I have to start writing now! What if I can’t remember anything and even if I do my story ends up sounding like a two year old wrote it and then no one will believe it and they’ll think I’m a liar? And people like Barry will think less of me?”

  Crystal stopped and closed her eyes half-way. “Why do I care what Barry thinks of me? He’s already been told I prey on women in rest homes with nerve problems and I’m a destroyer of reputations. Plus he’s about ten years older than me, which isn’t much when I think about it? What do you think, Duffy?”

  The drawing of the cat was taped on the wall again. It still did not answer Crystal.

  Crystal looked around her little home. It was so cozy. But somehow, something was different tonight. For so many years it had been her sanctuary; now it felt less like a refuge and more like a place where she could work. She sat down at her kitchen table; picked up her pencil and wrote ‘The Fielding/Avery Conspiracy’. Fatigue hit her and she put her pencil back down again.

  “I am too darn tired to worry anymore; I’m going to bed.”

  Somewhere in the middle of the night Crystal woke up and wondered what that bottle of vodka was doing in Ben’s desk, to say nothing of the picture of Gloria. “I’ll have to…” was all she said and fell back asleep.

  ***

  “So your new look stuck.”

  “Pardon?”

  “From yesterday; I noticed last night that you had a new way of putting on your warpaint and you’re wearing it again today.”

  “Too much?”

  “It’s fine Crystal; just remember to be cool today. Don’t do anything unusual that would tip Scott off that we’re planning on firing his butt as soon as possible.”

  “You got it!” Crystal opened the mailbox that hung on the inside of the front door of the Harrogate News. “Look; more Betty letters. I’ll just sit at my desk and answer these this morning.”

  “Should keep you out of trouble. And just so you know, until such time as you can make a decent pot of coffee, I’ll be making the coffee.”

  “And I’ll be drinking it!”

  Crystal headed straight to her desk and began opening envelopes and paperclipping the matching letter to the envelope. When she had prepared each one; she began reading and writing her answers.

  Dear Betty,

  I don’t know what to do because some weird woman at work keeps hitting on me. I don’t want to go into too much detail because then you and everybody else will know who I am; but this woman keeps calling me Lorenzo! That is not my name!

  And she thinks I’m going to run away with her or something insane. Betty, I just turned sixteen and she’s old enough to be my mother!

  How do I get rid of this crazy person without being rude? If I’m rude, my boss might fire me and I need this job because I’m saving up for a car.

  Yours truly,

  Trying not to be rude.

  Dear Trying;

  You are doing a fine job in not being rude. May I suggest you do otherwise?

  Go ahead and be rude.

  Start with telling this woman, very firmly, that your name is not Lorenzo. Then, increase your volume and tell her that you are only sixteen and finish by saying ‘You’re old enough to be my mother!’

  I think she’ll get the point.

  As far as your job is concerned, show this article to your Boss, along with last week’s article addressed to ‘Babysitter Blues’.

  He’ll understand.

  Sincerely,

  CeeCee.

  Scott Avery came in and walked straight over to Crystal’s desk. She didn’t say anything or acknowledge him in any way.

  He started to pick up the coffee mug that Marjorie had brought over a few minutes before, when Crystal advised harshly, “You touch it, you die.”

  Scott began poking the coffee cup with his finger. Crystal looked up at him but remained seated.

  “Lame,” she said.

  Scott frowned. There was something different about the new girl this morning. Something about her face?

  “I’ve got bigger fish to fry than stand here and trade insults with you!”

  “Fry away.”

  Dear Betty,

  Or should I say CeeCee? I wrote you last week and you didn’t answer my letter. No worries; I’ve decided on lead poison. There will be a certain kind of irony for this person to die of lead poisoning.

  You should really publish my letters. I took the time to write to you; you should at least be gracious enough to write me back. If only to say good choice!

  But of course, I’m only jesting.

  I would never kill her. I’m only thinking about it every day.

  Pondering Poison

  The letter gave Crystal the creeps. She put it in the file she had made up before; the one labelled ‘weird letters that won’t see the light of day’; and carried on to the next letter.

  Dear Betty

  My husband’s sister is so devious. Her last maneuver has me livid.

  First off, she always has to rub it in my face how rich she is. She’s so full of herself; she thinks she is so much better than other people! Just the other day I ran into her at a store and she was holding at least five huge bags full of clothes. She told me they were going on a cruise and so she had to buy all white clothes, of course.

  I felt like a fool! I’ve never been on a cruise and I didn’t know you had to wear white clothes every day to be in with the in crowd.

  Then she invited me out to a restaurant for lunch; a fancy restaurant she knows I can’t afford. When we sat down, she started identifying each piece of cutlery and what it was for. And when the waiter brought a little bowl of water with a slice of lemon in it, she told me not to drink it, but to wash my hands with it. And she told me not to gargle with the wine.

  Really?

  She must have arranged this whole thing before hand just to make me feel like a fool and look like one too. I mean, it was just waiters, but still; I’m sure they were laughing at me.

  Everything she does is to make me feel like an insignificant nothing.

  How do I get back at her? I know it’s not normally your thing; but can you tell me how I can set something up to embarrass her?

  Yours truly,

  Want to see her squirm like a worm!

  Dear Squirming Worm,

  Whew. What a Sister-in-Law! The Sister-in-Law you described actually wants to embarrass a member of the family she married into. Further, she intends to demean this family member; to make her feel like nothing.

  What to do?

  You might want to look in the mirror. You’re the one with arrogance issues; waiters are not ‘just waiters’; they are important people and some of them even go on cruises. And wear light clothing; perhaps even white clothing.

  I do agree that telling you not to gargle the wine was a little petty; but I wonder if you even said thank you for the luncheon?

  And you know what else you shouldn’t gargle? Poison. You know, wanting revenge is like drinking poison and hoping the other guy dies from it.

  You want me to set something up for you? How about if you set your sights on becoming
a better friend to your Sister-in-Law and discover how rich you will really be for doing so.

  Sincerely,

  CeeCee.

  Crystal was so busy reading and writing that she didn’t hear the phone ring. It wasn’t until Marjorie called her twice that she looked up.

  “For me? The phone is for me?”

  “Is your name Crystal Schmidt?”

  Crystal raced over and grabbed the receiver from Marjorie.

  “Hello? Crystal speaking.”

  “Hi Crystal; this is Ashley Bicks from yesterday. I have an update for you about the Claire situation.”

  “Oh hi Ashley! You certainly work fast! Did they book you in for a seminar?”

  “You bet. As I mentioned; free legal advice opens doors. I’m going to Arbutus on Monday afternoon at two. But, I may have been a bit sly when I set it up…”

  “I bet you were; what did you do?”

  “I mentioned that I would need the full name of every patient/client who would be attending for legal reasons. The Director provided me with those names; so now I know Claire’s last name is Harkness.”

  Crystal couldn’t help herself. “Far out!” she yelled. Scott and Marjorie looked up and both Ben and Matt came out of their offices.

  “Just talking to my new stylist; my favorite lipstick is going on sale,” Crystal said.

  Both men returned to their offices; while Scott and Marjorie pretended they were very busy but eavesdropped shamelessly.

  “I heard that,” Ashley laughed. “What has been the reaction to your makeover? Were you able to duplicate my efforts to glam you up?”

  “Oh, I am so glammed up. Actually, it’s gone over pretty well. Mom had a shade similar to the one you used; so I’m fairly duplicated, if you will. So back to Claire; what’s next?”

  “You know if she does become my client; this will be my last report to you; client confidentiality and all that; but in the meantime I plan on talking to her Monday and we’ll take it from there.”

  “That is so cool. Thanks for the update.” Crystal was going to say goodbye but was so overwhelmed with gratitude that she decided to invite Ashley for dinner.

  “Heah Ashley, do you like Chinese food?”

  “I like all food. Why do you ask?”

  “Can I take you and your husband out for supper next week?”

  There was silence.

  “Ashley?”

  “I guess you saw his photo on my desk.”

  “Yes. If you don’t mind me saying, he’s very handsome. I saw the inscription, ‘to my lovely wife’ written across the photo. Did I say something wrong?”

  Instead of her usual confident voice, Ashley practically whispered, “He died three years ago from cancer. You said nothing wrong. In an odd way, it was nice to receive a supper invitation for me and my husband.”

  “I am so sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine. How were you to know?” Ashley’s voice regained it’s former strength. “Anyhow, we will meet next week! I’ll phone you to set things up as I have a few evening meetings tentatively planned. Talk to you then!”

  Crystal hung up the phone and found Marjorie and Scott staring at her.

  “What?” she said, “Haven’t you ever put your foot in your mouth?”

  Marjorie laughed. “Well, at least you have the correct shade of lipstick on!”

  Crystal chuckled with Marjorie, then put her hands under her chin and batted her eyes.

  Scott sneered. “Girls; hosting seminars on how to apply make-up? What is this world coming to? I’ve got some advice for you, Common Sense CeeCee; you would do well to apply your mind to more serious endeavours than make-up. And you might want to take your choice of friends up a notch. A stylist? You’d think she’d have something better to do with her life!”

  “Hopefully she’s made good use of the new laundromat in town; I understand things are really hot there.”

  Marjorie quickly glared at Crystal and shook her head slightly.

  “Because the plumbing is so good, you have really hot water to clean clothes…I heard.”

  “How you function in life is beyond me,” Scott muttered and went back to his reading his science fiction book.

  Crystal returned to her desk and was shocked by the next letter she read.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dear CeeCee,

  I read your new column today and just had to drop you a line (I’m going to put it in the paper’s mailbox tonight) and say Brava CeeCee!

  Your advice is spot on and has certainly livened up that tired old A bit of advice from Betty!

  I hope you have lots of fan mail and lots of people who need your advice.

  Yours truly,

  Donna McLaughlin

  Crystal’s grin went from ear to ear. Her first official piece of fan mail. It might be her only one, but it made her ridiculously happy. The woman even signed her name. Doubt started to creep in. Was it her name or was it something Crystal's mom had made up? She went over to the phone book and looked up under McLaughlin; it was there! Jim and Donna McLaughlin! Crystal made up a folder called ‘fan mail’ and gently placed the letter in it. She started to hum the song playing on the radio and excitedly opened the next letter. Drats, she thought, it was addressed to Betty.

  Dear Betty,

  I have this person at work who is a real pain in the derriere. You know the kind I mean. They don’t do anything at all when the boss is gone and then when the boss shows up; they’re suddenly busy. Then they point out all the work other people did and claim it for their own when they don’t even know how to do it in the first place.

  It’s annoying to say the least.

  I don’t want to say anything to the Boss, because then I’ll sound like a tattle tale. I’ve tried approaching my lazy co-worker but they just laugh and say, ‘When the cat’s away, the mice will play.”

  What should I do?

  Yours truly,

  Cheesed-Off.

  Dear Cheesed-Off,

  You have two options. Take a long range view or do something immediately. For the first option, let’s credit your boss with observational skills. It should become evident to him or her that the lazy employee is not actually doing anything other than appearing busy.

  Hopefully, the boss knows how the business runs on a day to day basis and will see right through the façade of your co-worker. Perhaps your boss is just waiting for the right moment to call the employee on the carpet; perhaps that employee has already been given disciplinary action and is on probation. Your situation may improve before you know it.

  The second way is faster and involves a mousetrap. At a time when your co-worker is pointing out all the work they supposedly accomplished, you could play dumb and say, ‘gosh, I don’t know how to do that; could you show me how it’s done?’

  Right now, your co-worker thinks they’re a pretty big cheese; but my bet is soon they’re going to realize they’re just part of the fondue.

  Sincerely,

  CeeCee.

  The phone rang and as Scott had left and Marjorie wasn’t moving, Crystal got up and answered it.

  “Hello, Harrogate News, Crystal speaking.”

  “Crystal? Joanne Schmidt here.”

  “Yes Mom; somehow I managed to recognize your voice.”

  “I’m trying to be professional, CeeCee, so you don’t get in trouble at work for taking a personal call.”

  “Mom, they can’t hear your side of the call. What’s up?”

  “I put that check in the bank for you.”

  “Thank you. What else are you phoning about?”

  “Just checking in on you. You know, the situation from last night? Any ideas yet?”

  “Actually; I did have one. I thought I might go to a big company and seek a corporate sponsorship for my participation in Cycling for Kids. Also, Mom, I think it’s a grand charity, but the name needs a bit more pizazz.”

  “That occurred to me also; but I got stuck on alliteration and came up with insane titles like �
��Wheels for wheelie needy kids’ and ‘Bikes for Babies’.”

  “I see what you mean.” Crystal snapped her fingers. “Say Mom, is it mostly women entered? The only man I know is Matt. The reason I ask, you could call it ‘Babes on Bikes’.”

  “We have quite a few men entered and although they could be called babes, I think I’m going to pass on your suggestion because, um, it sounds kind of sleezy.”

  “Yeah, it does. I’ll keep thinking. In the meantime, I’m going after that corporate sponsorship. Say, Scott is out of the office so you don’t have to worry about him overhearing. Do you know what Fielding Industries does?”

  “I think they do a myriad of things. They make Jetson sprockets or something like that. They’re in the transport business; they have trucks and they run those coach lines called ‘Far Afield Wonders’…”

  “You mean the ones that take folks down to the states to gamble?”

  “Yes. You’ve probably heard they’re slogan, “Time for you to take a field trip!” Joanne lowered her voice. “Is that the corporate sponsorship you’re going for?”

  “Yes.”

  “Be careful and remember to take the Dictaphone with you.”

  Crystal filled her cheeks up with air and blew it out as she thought of the immensity of the task ahead of her. “I don’t know if I’ll even get in to see him. Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need it. With your hard work you’ll make your own.”

  “Thanks Mom. See you later.”

  Crystal hustled through the rest of her morning; threw her work in her knapsack and picked up the mini recorder from Scott’s desk where Ben had left it the night before.

  “Hon?” Marjorie asked.

  “Yes?”

  “Get them. Get those entitled rich bastards.”

  Crystal looked at Marjorie curiously. “Whatever happened to ‘not my circus, not my monkeys’?”

  Marjorie looked over the top of her glasses. “This is not a circus. This is the City of Harrogate, British Columbia where a child died in a hit and run crime.”

  ***

  The first impression when Crystal walked into the big “Fielding Industries” building was that of cleanliness. Harrogate, a city of some forty thousand people, still had that small town feel. Business owners knew most of their clients by name or greeted them personally. Customers were free to use the phone and family pets were welcome to come into the business, despite the paw prints. In contrast, Fielding Industries’ decor was almost antiseptic. White pillars flanked by white occasional chairs and large black and white artwork with white frames.