Hot, Shot, and Bothered

by Nora McFarland

After wasting time finding my boat again in the dark, I returned to Mr. King’s. Judging from the expression on his face, I was not a pretty sight.

  He leaned out the open doorway and gaped at me in horror. “What happened?”

  I ran my hand over my face. It felt like fine sandpaper from the ash and grit that had dried there. “Someone tried to drown me.” Before he could respond I continued, “Can I use your phone? Mine is at the bottom of the lake.”

  He stepped back from the doorway to allow me to enter. “It’s right there, by my chair. Are you calling the police?”

  I crossed to his recliner and picked up the phone. “Yes, but there’s someone else I need to call first.”

  Bud didn’t pick up his cell, so I hung up and dialed again. This time he picked up immediately.

  “Bud, it’s Lilly.”

  “What are you doin’ callin’ from somebody named Henry King’s phone?”

  “I borrowed his boat. It’s a long story, but basically, someone just tried to kill me.”

  “Little Sister!” I heard metal crash in the background— probably a baker’s tray. “Are you all right?”

  I looked down at myself. My hair had dried on the boat ride back, but my clothes were still damp, and my cargo pants were torn. “Pretty much.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at Henry King’s house.” I managed not to say the duh, but I’m sure it was in my tone. “Listen, I’m sorry to bother you, but I may need your help with bail or talking myself out of police custody or something.”

  “Hold on, I thought someone tried to kill you?”

  “Yes, and now I have to go tell the police what happened, but they already threatened to arrest me once tonight, and they’re going to be really pissed when they find out I was out at the crime scene, so I need you to be ready in case I need bail. It’s just a precaution.”

  “Hold on, Little Sister. What crime scene?”

  “Road’s End. I took a boat to look around because the police aren’t investigating the drowning I told you about earlier.”

  His tone changed. “And you went out there and somebody tried to kill you?”

  “Yes, but it was too dark to get a good look at him.”

  “You got any witnesses?”

  “No.”

  “You got any proof at all?”

  I thought for a moment, then reluctantly admitted, “No.”

  “And you were breakin’ the law bein’ there in the first place?”

  I hesitated. “It’s a gray area.”

  “If you didn’t do nothin’ wrong, then why are you worried they’re gonna lock you up?”

  “I’m only calling you as a precaution. I was out at Road’s End in an official capacity, as a journalist. It’s my job to investigate.”

  “Then why are you callin’ me and not the outfit you work for?”

  I glanced at Mr. King. You can always tell if you did something wrong when it comes time for other people to hear about it.

  “Lilly?” Bud said.

  I turned my back on Mr. King and lowered my voice. “I may have, sort of, given my word to Callum that I’d stop looking into the drowning.”

  He sighed. “And why aren’t you callin’ Rod?”

  “I may have, sort of, told him I’d meet him at headquarters, but came here instead.”

  “Little Sister, you fixin’ to lose your job, your man, and get ill of the cops all in one night?”

  My voice rose. “Don’t be melodramatic. I only called you to arrange bail because someone tried to kill me.”

  “Can you hear yourself?”

  “I thought after all the jams you’ve been in, you wouldn’t be judgmental.”

  “Did you ever think I want better for you than takin’ after me?”

  That shut me up. I’ve never been good with touching moments, and seeing as I was sleep-deprived, hungry, damp, dirty, and had swallowed an unhealthy amount of lake water, I was incapable of responding.

  Fortunately, Bud changed gears. “Now listen. Don’t go to the cops right off. We need to get together and make a plan. Maybe there’s some other cops to talk to that you haven’t got all bowed up.”

  “Lucero!” Mr. King jumped, so I lowered my voice. “I can call the detective in charge from the Sheriff’s Department. I know him and he’ll probably listen.”

  “Good.” Bud paused and then came back on the line. “I got some doughnuts to deliver right now, but I’ll be free in an hour or so. Why don’t you go find Rod and tell him what you done and make nice?”

  “Rod’s at headquarters.”

  “Perfect. I’m supposed to be deliverin’ there. I’ll make it my last stop and the three of us will have a war council.”

  I was surprised at how relieved I felt. The idea of facing the sergeant again and telling him where I’d gone and what had happened, without any proof, was not appealing. There was also the issue of bailing on Rod when I’d promised to meet him at headquarters. If I got tied up all night with the police, I wouldn’t be available to shoot his material on the fire.

  “That’s a good idea. I should explain to Rod in person.” I looked at my watch. “He’s probably already worried about me.”

  I parked the live truck in the same place behind the grandstands. Rod’s van was there as well as the L.A. satellite truck. It looked as if the briefing was over. There was no sign of Rod, but Slim was back sitting out the open side door of his truck. He leaned over a different graphic novel while eating a sandwich. Where was he getting all this food?

  Instead of asking that, I said, “Have you seen my reporter? His name is Rod Strong?”

  He looked up and frowned. “What happened to you?”

  I tried to rub some of the grit off my damp clothes. “I almost drowned. Have you seen my reporter?”

  “Seriously?” Apparently he thought the situation important enough to lower the sandwich. “How’d you manage that?”

  “I was working on a story.”

  “Man. That’s why I hate these kinds of assignments. Everything is so friggin’ dangerous. Nobody ever drowned at a pastry competition.” He raised the sandwich again. “I’m just sayin’.”

  “Have you seen my reporter?”

  “Sure.” He gestured to the graphic novel. “What a great guy. He knows all this cool stuff about Joss Whedon’s Wonder Woman movie that never happened.”

  I tried to interrupt him. “Where is he?”

  Slim didn’t hear me. “You would never guess he was a geek from how he looks. If anything, he reminds me of the guys who used to pick on me in high school.” Slim gestured to me with the sandwich. “And what about you going to Jareth’s Ball? When he told me that, I almost choked.”

  I started to ask where Rod was, but stopped. “How do you know Jareth?”

  For a moment Slim looked confused, but then all at once he laughed and pointed. “You have no idea what the ball is, do you?”

  I shook my head.

  He finished laughing. “You know that Jim Henson movie Labyrinth with David Bowie?”

  “Stop.” I raised my hand. “Stop talking. This day can’t possibly get any worse.”

  “You’ll have to coordinate costumes, of course.” He took a bite and spoke while chewing. “But it’s better if Rod explains. He’s got other stuff to tell you too. I guess he knows our assistant news director, Helen Henry.” Slim smiled. “But I’ll let Rod tell it. He said I should wait for him.”

  “Where is he?”

  Slim gestured toward the hill at the end of campus. “Up in the gymnasium with the IO. He tried calling your cell a bunch of times. He’s got an interview lined up. He was worried he’d lose it if you didn’t show up soon.”

  Rod was the best at getting people to go on camera, but I hadn’t expected the IO to give anyone a sound bite so quickly.

  I got my gear out of the truck. Before heading for the gymnasium, I stopped and spoke to Slim one more time. “I’m going to shoot Rod’s interview, but when I’m done, I need to ta
lk to you about that sound bite of yours that’s been running all night.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You mean the bimbo who won’t evacuate?”

  “I need to find her and the people with her. Especially a guy named Farris who had a ponytail.”

  “They were at a house on the other side of the mountain with a weird name. I don’t remember, but the turnoff’s easy to spot because it’s right by some fruit stands.”

  “Was the house called Bonny Hazel?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. It’s actually inside a nature preserve.” I started to walk away, but he called after me, “Don’t you want to change clothes before the interview and clean up a little?”

  “I don’t have any other clothes and I don’t have time for a shower.” I glanced back. “Don’t go anywhere, okay? I need to talk to you about Bonny Hazel.”

  I crossed a dirt field and climbed a small slope to the high school gymnasium. This was where the incident commander had set up his war room. Press had never been allowed inside before, so despite my plunge into the lake, I was excited to shoot an exclusive look at the operation.

  My anticipation was heightened by the two men in black suits standing guard at the door. They checked my ID, patted me down, and searched my gear bag before allowing me in. The patdown was especially awkward given the state of my clothing.

  After all that buildup, the war room was a letdown. The basketball court inside had been filled with rows of tables and more computer and communications equipment. Cables carrying electricity to all those devices ran along the floor. Officials were everywhere—some in ties and slacks, some in uniform, but nothing I hadn’t seen before. At the end of the court a large movie screen hung in front of the basketball hoop. It showed a computer-generated map of the fire.

  I scanned the crowd for Rod. Maybe the mood in the room was what gave me the feeling of disappointment. Judging from the dour expressions on people’s faces, we were losing the war. I finally saw Rod with the IO and two other men in the corner. The men looked like generic officials, drinking coffee in their rolled-up shirtsleeves.

  I walked straight up to Rod. “I heard you’ve got an exclusive. Sorry, I lost my phone.”

  “It’s okay. Are you ready to shoot?” Rod took a good look at me and stopped smiling. “Wait a minute. What happened?”

  I set down my sticks, then locked down each leg. “I almost drowned, but I’m fine.” I attached the camera to the tripod head. “And I’m always ready to shoot.”

  One of the men with Rod laughed. “And I thought my job was hard.”

  I took a good look at the man. I recognized him immediately.

  He offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Hawkins.”

  And that’s how I met the governor of the great state of California for the fourth time; damp, smelly, and from about two feet away.

  ELEVEN

  Friday, 2:38 a.m.

  I shook the governor’s hand. His grip was perfect. Not too tight. Not too loose.

  He smiled. “Rod’s been telling us all about your adventure last winter.”

  “You mean when I was wanted for murder?”

  The IO flinched, but the governor laughed.

  Two of the governor’s aides laughed too. The third, aka schedule Nazi, glared.

  “What do you mean, you almost drowned?” Rod turned me toward him and touched a tender spot on my forehead. “You’ve got a huge cut here. Do you need a doctor?”

  “I’m okay. It’s nothing.”

  He started to pull me toward the exit. “We’ll go to the Red Cross.”

  Schedule Nazi came as close as he probably ever got to looking happy. “Sir, we really need to go. You should have left ten minutes ago.”

  “I said I’m okay.” I refused to be pulled by Rod’s gentle grip. “And if you think I’m giving up an exclusive with the governor, then you don’t know me at all.”

  The governor looked at his aides. “I’d like to make time.” His voice was friendly, but it also conveyed finality.

  The schedule Nazi frowned. “In that case, there are a few things that need your attention.” He gestured to the other aides, and one got out an iPad. “I can go over the interview format while you’re doing that.”

  The two aides joined the governor while schedule Nazi walked over to us.

  Rod looked at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  The schedule Nazi pulled us farther away so no one could hear us. “I don’t care if you’re fine or not. I want you to back out of the interview.”

  Rod did a double take. “Why?”

  The schedule Nazi spread his arms. “Because it’s going to kill my schedule. Why else?”

  “Then you’d better grab Eva Braun,” I said. “And a couple cyanide pills, and head for the Nazi bunker, because your schedule is going down.”

  Rod and I started to walk away.

  “You owe me from that thing, before.”

  I stopped. My hands shot to my hips. “You only kept your mouth shut about that thing because it was in your own best interest.”

  “Hold on.” Rod quickly looked around, then dropped his voice. “How does he know about the thing before?”

  Schedule Nazi didn’t give me a chance to answer. “When a person looks the other way on a thing, then you owe them. That’s an understanding people everywhere have. It’s part of the social contract.”

  I stepped back to him. “I’m sorry. I never got that memo when I joined the people-everywhere club.”

  Rod looked from one of us to the other. “I’m sorry, but as long as Lilly is physically able, we’re doing the interview.”

  “Have it your way.” The schedule Nazi passed us and approached the governor. Rod and I followed.

  “Sir, I have concerns about this reporter. He has issues and I don’t think it’s wise to grant him an exclusive.” The schedule Nazi glanced back at Rod, then leaned closer to the governor. He cupped his hand into a C-shape and raised it back and forth to his mouth.

  The governor cast a concerned glance at Rod, then entered into a whispered discussion with all of his aides.

  “I owe you an apology,” I said. “It is the international symbol for alcohol.”

  Rod didn’t take his eyes off the governor. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

  “Why? Are you going to kill me?”

  “Something like that.”

  From the look on the schedule Nazi’s face, and his mannerisms as he spoke, I guessed he was embellishing Rod’s behavior beyond even what he’d mistaken.

  Finally the governor raised his hands. “Enough.” The aides were all silenced. “We’re making time for this.”

  The schedule Nazi opened his mouth, but the governor cut him off. “I said, I’m making time for this.”

  The aides got out their BlackBerrys and began making phone calls and e-mails.

  Rod, the governor, and I walked over to a nearby table so I could hook up the wireless mic. The governor had to pull his shirt out and run the cord up underneath so it would be hidden. A man and a woman from the Bureau of Land Management, who’d been working on computers nearby, got up to go get coffee and give the governor some privacy.

  Rod took the opportunity to try to do some damage control. “If it’s all right, sir, I’d like to try and explain something. Your aide may have gotten the mistaken impression that I was indulging—”

  The governor cut him off. “Is it okay to speak in front of Miss Hawkins? It’s obvious from the way you were talking about her earlier that your relationship is more than professional.”

  Rod and I glanced at each other.

  “Yes, sir,” Rod said. “But Lilly is actually the one who can explain—”

  The governor placed a hand on Rod’s shoulder. “Part of the reason I agreed to this interview was so we’d have this chance to talk. You’re a remarkably intelligent and talented young man. Those questions you asked during the briefing were sharp, but addiction is something you have no co
ntrol over.”

  Rod’ eyes widened. “Sir, no . . .”

  The governor covered the mic clipped to his shirt. “I’m going to be frank with you, Rod.”

  Rod held up his hands. “No, sir, please don’t be frank.”

  “Even though you’re a journalist, I know you’ll keep it private because of your own difficulties.”

  “He doesn’t have difficulties,” I rushed to say.

  Rod shook his head. “Sir, please don’t share your—”

  “I had a problem myself when I was a young man.”

  All the color drained from Rod’s face.

  “It started with social drinking, then I was drinking on the job.” The governor took his hand off Rod’s shoulder. “You have a bright future ahead of you, but alcohol can’t be a part of it. Don’t let yourself fall as far as I did before getting help.”

  The governor tucked his shirt back in and walked over to the incident commander.

  Rod watched him go. “That did not just happen.”

  “It’s sort of flattering. How many people can say the governor cares about their sobriety?”

  Rod looked at me. “In all seriousness, we can’t ever tell anyone about this. He told us in confidence, and if his past difficulties got out, it could ruin his political career.”

  I nodded. “You’re right, but knowing he struggled and overcame his problems makes me more inclined to vote for him.”

  We spent the next ten minutes doing a walk and talk around the gymnasium. The IO, the aides, and the governor’s security guard hung back and stayed off camera. Sometimes Rod and the governor would stop and face each other for a series of questions, and other times they’d stop and look at something on a computer or talk with a third person. Rod kept things loose and easily switched gears to accommodate the changing situation. His questions were smart and direct, but mostly he listened to the answers and asked great follow-ups.

  I went handheld, something I almost never do, and followed Rod’s lead. For me, the greatest challenge was not tripping over all the cords and cables running along the floor.

  We finished by speaking with the incident commander. He wore a Montecito Fire Department uniform and said he was halfway into a six-year rotation as the head of Team 18. He talked in a relaxed and comfortable way, despite the severity of the subject matter. It spoke well of his performance under pressure.