by Dave Balcom
I didn’t recognize the car or the voice. I walked over to lean down to look inside, and saw the driver was a man wearing what appeared to be a suit, but I couldn’t make out his face.
“You don’t know who this is,” the voice spoke again, but it came from the back seat. “But we know who and what you are. If you are as smart as you think you are, you’ll find someplace else to practice your kind of journalism. Otherwise these nice walks home will become something else.”
“I don’t have any plans for moving anytime soon,” I said to the darkness.
“It’s never too late to plan, Stanton. If we don’t hear about your resignation by this weekend, then we’ll have another, different kind of talk with you.” With that I saw a finger point forward out of the dark, and the driver pulled away from the curb.
I tried to make out the license plate on the back of the vehicle, but the little bulb that illuminated it was either burnt out or broken, and I could make out nothing.
I hurried home from there, and hit the back door moving quickly into the kitchen where I found Sandy and Sara working on a salad.
The sound of my arrival gave them both a start, and Sandy was quick to shush me. “Jeremy’s asleep,” she whispered.
“Where is he?”
“Up in his room, why?”
I didn’t answer. I just quietly went up the stairs and found him zonked in his crib. I looked at him in the gloaming and fought the need to hold him. Assured he was all right, I made my way back downstairs and found Sara waiting at the bottom. I picked her up and gave her a big hug as I walked back to the kitchen.
She was hugging my neck with her face in the crook of my shoulder. I patted her rump as I put her down, and pulled Sandy into a standing hug.
“Long day at the mines, Sailor?”
I had her head under my chin, and just hugged her a bit more before answering, “Yeah, long day, long walk home.”
“Well you’re here now, and supper is almost ready. Sara will set the table if you get the dishes down for her.”
I did that, but as I looked around at the bright and homey kitchen I felt a complete disconnect from the encounter on the street. I decided right then to keep this to myself, and just enjoy my family.
I helped set the table, and purposely put the knives and forks on the wrong side of the plates.
“No, Daddy,” Sara said politely as she rearranged my work. “It goes like this.”
“Oh, that’s right. I always forget.”
“You don’t have to ’member this stuff. You have Daddy stuff to ’member; Mommy and I will keep the table right for you.”
At that moment Sandy came in with the platter containing our meal, a bowl of salad, and a quizzical expression on her face. “Getting a bit of training, Mr. Stanton?”
“Just a refresher, Mrs. Stanton.”
“A refresher?”
“Yes, on what the important things really are...”
49
The phone rang at 10 p.m. but there was no one on the other end, and then it rang again at 11, midnight, one a.m. and each time there was nobody at the other end. After the call at one, I turned all three of our sets off.
“What’s this all about,” Sandy asked as she came back to the bedroom from quieting Sara.
“I don’t know, but I have an idea it involves the FBI and our local police force.”
“Really?”
I filled her in on the meetings I’d had all day with the FBI after being rebuffed by Hennessey. I kept the incident on my way home out of the narrative.
“So who is calling? Not the FBI certainly.”
“My guess is that Reynolds and Segura have started talking to the local cops about coming into their jurisdiction.”
“And the local cops are mad at you?”
“There is a lot of antagonism between local agencies, state agencies and federal agencies. I wouldn’t be surprised if that antagonism might be transferred to me and the paper.”
“But calling you hour after hour at home? Don’t they know you have an infant?”
I hugged her to me. “You know, they just might know that.”
“Well shame on them is all I can say.”
“Me, too,” I said as I held her close to me and felt sleep take control of my eyelids, “Me, too.”
I was up and around by five, and at the police station by six-thirty.
“You’re gettin’ to be a regular ’round here,” Sergeant Murphy greeted me as I came into the station. “You takin’ over for Cindy?”
“No. Just bumming a cup of that murk you guys call coffee. It’s addictive.”
He laughed without restraint. Loud enough, I thought, to be a signal for the rest of the building. I made my way to the coffee, poured a cup and noticed an old coffee tin with a note on it, “25 Cents, free refills.” I dug a quarter out of my pocket and deposited it. It made a lonely sound as it hit the bottom of the can. I shrugged and ambled back out to the sergeant’s desk.
“Anything from last night, Murphy?”
He looked at his blotter for a minute, and then spun it around and pushed it over to my side of the desk.
I went through the charade of looking at the usual list of petty crap that occupied most small town police departments most of the time. The blotter was simply a listing of calls, complaints, phone numbers, addresses and dispositions – from “street justice” lectures to incarcerations. The bulk of them split between “forwarded to detective bureau” and “no further action needed.”
“Quiet night?”
“That it has been, thank the Lord.”
“No calls about mysterious dark sedans roaming the city making crude and threatening warnings to honest citizens?”
“Certainly nothing of that sort; you know how it is. This is Lake City, and behavior such as that wouldn’t fit, don’t you know.”
I sipped and nodded. “You’re right. I’ve always thought Lake City was a friendly place.”
“Aye, and that it is,” he agreed, paying attention to something he was noting on his desk. “But, then again, there is always that element that finds things not to like...”
I assured him I understood. “I guess I have to get on to work, Murph. Thanks for the coffee and the news.”
“And you know as sure as you were born it wasn’t any news I was about givin’ you.”
I raised my cup in salute, and smiled. “That’s my story and I’ll take it to my grave.”
He looked at me soberly, “You just make sure you don’t take any shortcuts in that direction.”
“I’ll see you, Murph.”
He turned back to his note, and I walked out into the chilly morning.
Wednesday and Thursday came and went without word from the police or the FBI. Cindy had heard from her newspaper sources, and Fritz had made the deal with the AP Photo people, and the mug shots of our three victims were expected to move on the overnight state wire.
“Jesus,” Randy said, “They bill us seventy-five bucks a shot! Then they’ll turn around and move them on the national wire with our story for nothing on Saturday.”
“If you think the National Wire and National Photos move at no charge to the members, your education in this business has been sorely lacking.”
“Well, I know we pay dues...”
“Dues? We pay the AP more than it would cost us to pay another full time reporter, complete with benefits.”
“More than a reporter?”
“Not quite enough for two.”
“And we use it as brief material most of the time.”
I nodded. “But when a national or statewide story breaks – like the one we’re trying to break here, there’s no replacement for a wire service. On those occasions, it’s a bargain.”
“The age-old question, how much is the story you don’t have worth?” He asked with a sardonic smile.
“See, your education may be lacking, but it hasn’t been totally absent.”
As I was cleaning up my desk for the n
ight, I heard a tapping on my street-side window, and found Sandy grinning through the glass like an idiot. I pulled the window open, “What’re you doing?” Then I could see that she had Jeremy’s stroller and Sara with her. I could see Sara grinning, too.
Sandy was nearly breathless with mirth, “We went shopping and as we drove by on our way home, I saw you straightening up, so I decided to pull in and pick you up if you’re ready to come home.”
“Your timing is perfect. I’m on my way.”
When I got to the car, I pulled open the front passenger door and slid in on my knees, looking into the back seat where Sara was riding in her seat. Jeremy was bundled up in the next seat, strapped into his carrier.
“Hello, Little Dickens!”
“Hi, Daddy!” She beamed at me. I leaned way over the seat and gave her a kiss, said “Hi, buddy,” to Jeremy with a pat on his arm that I could reach, which earned me an intensified wiggling of all arms and legs, then turned and righted myself. “Home, dear.”
“As you wish, Master.”
As she pulled out of the lot, turning left onto the street, Sara piped up from the back, “Daddy? Who’s that?”
I looked out the window and on both sides of the street and saw no one. “Who’s who, Sara?”
“The man in that black car back there. He was watching you through the window when we saw you.”
I glanced at Sandy, but she was watching the street.
“I don’t know, Sara. I didn’t see the guy or the black car.”
“He was watching you.”
I didn’t answer, and Sandy changed the subject, “Sara, what did you decide about dinner?”
“Pisghetti,” she said emphatically.
Sandy looked at me with a grin.
“Meatballs or sausage?” I turned to ask Sara.
“Meatballs!” she said laughing. “But no garlic toast, just bread.”
Sandy put her right hand on my knee, “Okay with you?”
I laughed out loud, “In this case, I don’t think I get a voice or a vote.”
50
As we got ready for bed Thursday night, I shared a bit of my anxiety over the coming day with Sandy.
“I’m sure it’ll be somewhere between the worst you fear and the best you hope for,” Sandy said before kissing me goodnight. “You’ll have to go to sleep so you can wake up and find out.”
Reynolds called me just after nine a.m. on Friday, “Mr. Stanton, Agent Reynolds here. I’m calling, as promised. There will be a press conference in Lake City today at three o’clock to announce that the FBI is now actively involved in the Suzanne Czarnopias investigation.”
I was making a note and didn’t interrupt. She continued, “There will be simultaneous announcements at two in Monterey and noon in both Huntington Beach and Bishop.
“I’m making this call, but the rest of the announcements are being made by our press-relations corps.”
“Thank you, agent. How will we follow your investigation as it develops? Will you have regular check-ins or conferences?”
“Not hardly. The next time you hear from us will be when we announce a suspect in custody.”
“Who will be the local liaison officer?”
“That’s not my issue to discuss; you’ll have to get that from the chief down there. Now, I have to be going. Our forensics team and profilers are meeting your folks down there to make certain we have all the evidence and to see where we might add value to their efforts. Good day.”
I sat there holding an empty phone.
I got up and went to Randy’s desk. I gave him the Cliff Notes version of the brief conversation. “So, it’s plan A, right?” He asked.
“Maybe, but I think it’s Plan A plus.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our stories are written, edited and ready, right?”
His eyes lit up. “And there’s no time like right now, right?”
“I’ll be back in five minutes.” I hurried up front and found “Renewal” in the circulation office. “Can you come with me?” I asked him.
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Selling newspapers?”
“I’m your man.”
I led the way to Doug’s office and Harriet just waved us in.
I told them about the call, our preparations, and that I wanted to re-lead our story with this news and break it for that day’s lunch crowd.
“Andy,” Doug said. “Can you do anything special with this?”
Andy was grinning ear to ear. “I can see hawkers at City Hall, major corners, the mall, the grocery store. When can we get our hands on this paper?”
“I’ll implement the snow plan,” I told them. “We’ve never been better prepared to go early than this.”
“Do it!” Doug blurted. “This is great!”
The headline screamed across the top of the paper in inch-high type:
Sentinel-Standard probe
spurs FBI investigation
into Lake City murder
The sub-head set the stage for the rest of the story:
Feds suspect Suzanne latest
of serial killer’s victims
The paper was rolling off the press at just after eleven a.m., “We scooped the world,” Randy said as he slapped me on the back after giving the pressmen the “go” sign.
I watched the papers feed off the end of the press onto a conveyer that ended at the automatic bundle machine where workers counted the uniform stacks of twenty-five copies into the correct counts for their final destinations – the vending machines, dealer outlets and, today, the hawkers who would sell the “extra” at various points around the city.
Finally, the papers would be counted into the exact numbers needed by the youth carriers and rural motor-route drivers.
“That’s history on the hoof,” Doug said as he walked up behind me. “I just never get tired of this moment, especially on a day when you know you’re going to rock the part of the world you live in.”
I smiled at him and tried to imagine the guy who had thought the news staff was a ‘necessary evil’ for his business.
“I’m taking the newsroom to lunch, Boss. You want to join us?”
“No. You go ahead. Where you takin’ them?”
“I don’t know, I’ll let majority rule.”
“Take ’em to Silva’s, please. And tell Mama Silva that it’s on me, and that I’ll be along later to cover the tab and gratuity.”
“Absolutely, but you really should come; let them see your happiness.”
He shook his head, “No, this is your doing, your day. I’ll be very happy to see you receive the appreciation you deserve both inside and outside this building.”
I thought about the threat from the other night, “I guess we’ll see about that.”
“You’ll see,” he said with conviction. “You’ll see.”
51
Silva’s was located on the southern edge of town, right across from the lake shore, and was considered among the top eating spots in Lake City. There were more than a few of our staffers who had never been inside the landmark establishment.
I had made a quick call to see if they could handle our crowd on short notice, and Mama Silva, the fourth-ever Silva to run the restaurant, was quick to assure me that they had a special room for groups such as ours, “on the west veranda, overlooking the lake and the gardens.”
I told her to expect us at one, and she said she’d have the antipasto salad ready when we got there. “I’m thinking three entrees of choice, all in the twelve dollar range, will that work, and send you all back on the job without the need for siesta?”
“One fish, one meat, one veggie?”
“I think that would be perfect. Do you have any gluten, nut or other allergies?”
“Probably; we have about twenty coming, and in that mob there’ll be something, but they’ll figure it out.”
Lunch was a huge success. I made sure to tell them all that the tab was being picked up by the publisher, and
then I told them about his comment that morning as the press was starting up.
“It’s amazing what you’ve done in the education and training of that office,” Randy said to nods around the table.
“What’s amazing,” I said back to him, “is how having a newspaper he can be proud of changes a guy’s perspective. I don’t think this publisher will ever again be satisfied with anything less than the kind of paper you all produce.”
“We weren’t chopped liver before you came,” Randy said. “But we weren’t as good as your process has let us become, either.”
His words were greeted with applause from the rest of the staff, and I bowed my head a bit, before I responded, “Thank you, but the key word in all that was ‘us.’ Remember, readers don’t average and neither do publishers. Enjoy this moment and this meal, but then it’s back to finding out just how good a local newspaper can be.”
After everyone was finished, I stopped by Mama’s office and signed the tab, and next to the gratuity, I noted, “See Doug, as per his request.”
As she read that, she smiled, “He’s very generous. I’m pleased to have had your people here. Wait staff remarked how nice and polite they were. You have good people.”
I thanked her and made my way to my car. I had just pulled out on South Lake Drive and crossed the line into the city when I saw the flashing lights in my rear view.
I pulled over to the side of the road, and a city patrol pulled up behind me. An officer I didn’t know got out of his squad, its lights still flashing, and put his baton through his belt before making his way slowly to the driver side door.
“License, registration and proof of insurance, please.”
“My license is in my wallet; registration and insurance card are in the glove box, okay?”
“You want me to get them myself?”
“Of course not, I just wanted you to know what I was reaching for,” I said as I shifted my weight to pull my wallet out of my hip pocket.