Hot, Shot, and Bothered

by Nora McFarland

  I awoke about twenty minutes from town. The land on each side of the freeway ran in flat planes. Neat rows of lettuce and grapes stretched into the distance. The horizon was open without any skyscrapers or hills boxing us in. Occasionally an oil derrick would appear between farms, pumping at its own slow pace.

  Freddy got off the 99 near downtown. We passed the turn for Buck Owens’ Crystal Palace. Buck’s gone now, but his restaurant/ nightclub is still going strong. As if cued to my thoughts, Freddy turned on a CD of Buck singing “Streets of Bakersfield.”

  The Wonder Twins both sang along as we drove. The wide, flat streets and excess space between the buildings, cars, people, trees—everything—felt luxurious after being in cramped and overbuilt L.A.

  Freddy drove the van into the KJAY lot and parked next to Granny Pants, our backup live truck. It’s really just an old Chevy Suburban with a collapsed microwave mast on its roof.

  Freddy kept the engine running. “Mind if we drop you here, chief?”

  “Don’t worry.” I slid toward the door. “I’m going to talk to Trent about getting you two paid for today. Since we came back with tape, it’s a justifiable expense.”

  “It’s not that,” Freddy said. “We just don’t want to get conscripted.”

  “Totally, dude, we got class tonight.”

  I froze reaching for the door handle. “What class?”

  Always upbeat Teddy smiled. “We’re signed up at BC.”

  “You’re going to Bakersfield College?” I looked from one to the other. “When did that happen?”

  “It’s just one class, dude.” Freddy kept facing forward in the driver’s seat. “Not a big deal.”

  Teddy turned and looked back toward me. “It’s sort of a big deal.”

  “It’s not a big deal,” Freddy said again.

  Teddy twisted and stretched even farther toward me, as though about to confide a secret. “We’re getting too old to be, like, everybody’s favorite jackasses. I’m going to be twenty-four next month.”

  “I never said we’re too old to be jackasses.” Freddy still didn’t turn around. “And we’re not jackasses.”

  “The new sports guy is actually younger than us. That’s never happened before.”

  “I totally said we needed to be proactive about our futures, dude.” Freddy finally turned to look at me. “I never said anything about getting older. I never said that.”

  “It’s okay. I understand.” I smiled at Teddy. “Let me know if you need to shift your schedules. I won’t tell Callum or Trent why.”

  I took my gear bag and got out. The triple-digit heat was a shock to my system. I rushed to get inside where there was airconditioning.

  I entered the newsroom from the back. KJAY was in live breaking-news coverage of the fire. The rows of desks were all full. Everyone was working. In addition to the conversations, phone calls, and screaming matches, a blur of different audio came from the many TV monitors placed around the room.

  The new sports reporter Teddy had just mentioned saw me and got up from a desk. He’d recently graduated college and was annoying everyone with his great attitude and sunny disposition. “Hey, Lilly,” he called. “Can I have Freddy on Saturday?”

  I passed the bin where I’d normally put my video and walked straight up to the assignment desk. This raised platform in the rear corner of the newsroom was where Callum kept his eagle eye on the rest of the room.

  Callum’s unibrow dipped in the middle when he saw me. “Lucero’s not here yet.”

  The new guy came up behind me. “Can I have Freddy on Saturday? I’ve got a competitive-swim thing to cover and need a second shooter.”

  “I have to look at the schedule to confirm,” I said. “But we should have coverage.”

  “All right.” He raised his hand for a high five. “ ‘And it’s a Breaking Blast.’ ”

  He’d gone through several attempts at creating a signature tagline for his sports highlights. I could only assume this was the latest.

  I looked at him and shook my head. “No.”

  His hand dropped. “You really don’t like it?”

  “Besides its inherent lameness,” Callum began, “it’s perfect.”

  The door to the studio opened and the floor director’s head popped in. He covered his headset’s mic as he yelled toward the assignment desk, “We still need relief at prompter. Kylie has to pee.”

  “I’m working on it,” Callum shouted.

  The new sports guy cleared his throat. “How about, ‘and it’s a Bouncing Blast.’ ”

  “No,” Callum and I said in unison.

  “You’re right. That’s no good.” He shook his head and started to walk away. “It sounded okay in my head . . . Miracle Blast . . . Blowout Blast.” He trailed off as he got farther from us.

  I raised my hand with the tape and offered it to Callum. “You want to see my exclusive video? This is a story with both murder and drugs.”

  He smiled. “I bet you say that to all the boys.”

  “Just you.” I handed him the tape. “And sometimes Rod.”

  Callum took the tape and swiveled around to the wall of decks and monitors behind him. He killed the audio on a live shot Rod was doing and played my tape. After watching it, and listening to my commentary, he rubbed his hands together. “Try and get Lucero to comment on tape. He won’t, but try.” He paused and thought for a moment. “At the very least we can say we’re assisting in their investigation.”

  He wanted copies made before Lucero got there. I hooked my phone up to a charger and started to leave.

  “Hey, Lilly?” Callum said. “You’ll never hear me say this again, but thank you for lying to me and completely going against a direct order. This story is going to be huge for us.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I took the tape to one of the edit bays lining the newsroom. I’d made several copies when I heard a knock.

  Leanore slid open the sliding glass door. “Last time I saw you, you were throwing my purse at me.”

  “I’m sorry.” I hit eject on the deck. “I know this is small consolation, but I wouldn’t have stopped to throw that purse at just anyone.”

  She laughed. “So leaving me stranded in a hundred-and-five-degree weather is proof of how much you like me?”

  I labeled the tape and added it to the pile. “When you put it like that, I sound pretty messed up.”

  Leanore frowned. “Hey, you know I’m teasing, right?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s not you.”

  She walked in, then slid the door closed behind her. “The word around the newsroom is that you knew the lady who drowned up in Elizabeth.”

  “I hadn’t seen her in thirteen years.”

  “You’re obviously troubled.” Leanore sat down in the other chair. There was barely room for both of us in the small space and our knees touched. “Do you want to talk?”

  I paused. “The dead woman was a really strong person.” I glanced at Leanore, who nodded as though she understood. “There was no gray with her. Most people who believe in animal rights become vegetarians, but then they eat fish and dairy and, you know, just do their best with it. Jessica became a vegan. She refused to exploit animals in any way. Her principles were absolute and I really liked that about her.”

  “How did she die?”

  “That’s what so depressing. She started compromising. I think it got harder for her as she got older and the stakes got higher.” I felt an odd reluctance to tell Leanore any more, as though I should protect Jessica’s reputation. “Then this past year Jessica did something really bad, something she knew was wrong and illegal. She must have thought it benefited a greater good, but it led to her death.”

  Leanore’ concern enhanced the crow’s-feet around her eyes. “Are you sure your own fear of making bad choices isn’t influencing the way you see this woman’s life?” She gestured to the muted television where Rod was doing a live shot. “It’s obvious that all this attention is going to bring Rod job offe
rs.”

  I turned away from the monitor. “He says he doesn’t want to leave, but that seems crazy to me. He could have his dream job and go home to L.A., where his family and friends all live.”

  “Can’t you go with him? With your talent, you’d have no trouble getting a job there.” She paused. “I know you haven’t been out of Kern County very much, but maybe if you—”

  “It’s not that,” I said louder than I meant to. “I’m not some hick.”

  “I don’t think you’re a hick.”

  I sighed. “Okay, it’s a little that. It’s scary. It’s a lot of change all at once.” She nodded. “I also plain don’t like L.A. The ocean is pretty, but the rest of it is either loud and angry, or loud and snobby. And you have to pay to park in front of your own house. And the freeways.” I looked up. “But I’d put up with that for Rod.”

  “Then why don’t you? Isn’t that the simplest way to solve your problem?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “What is it, Lilly?”

  “I’ve had this job for almost six years. When I started here . . .” I trailed off. Leanore waited. “My life was crazy and out of control.”

  She laughed. “A lot of people would say it’s crazy and out of control right now, the way this job keeps you running around.”

  I looked up and our eyes met. “But that’s the thing, it’s controlled chaos. There’s structure to it. I make sense here and I like myself doing this job. I feel good about myself.”

  “I think I’m going to puke.” I looked up and saw Callum standing on the other side of the glass. His voice was muted, but I could still hear him, as he’d undoubtedly heard us. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

  I cupped my ear and leaned toward the door. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I looked at Leanore. “Did you hear him?”

  Leanore cupped her ear. “Try again, Callum, and this time e-nun-ci-ate.”

  He looked at Leanore. “Stop encouraging her.”

  “Still no good,” she said. “Try saying it louder.”

  He ripped open the door. “Stop whining around like some pimply-faced teenager in an after-school special.”

  “Callum.” A panicked desk assistant ran up. “I lost the bird. I swear we had it booked for another ten minutes, but it’s gone.”

  “Give what you have to an editor, and then get on the phone and find out what happened.”

  “I swear I booked it,” she continued. “But it just went to black in the middle.”

  “I already said get on the phone.” Callum’s wide middle was jiggling, but he didn’t look jolly. “Find out what happened.”

  She left and then Callum turned to me. The crankiness vanished from his face. He took a breath and prepared to speak.

  “I got it.” The new sports reporter ran up with such force that he actually pushed Callum out of the doorway. “ ‘It’s a Blowup Blast,’” he shouted.

  “No,” I said.

  Callum righted himself. “You got some kind of fixation with explosives?”

  Even Leanore shook her head and muttered, “No, no.” She thought for a moment. “How about ‘It’s a Bakersfield Blast.’ ”

  Callum and I both froze.

  The new guy smiled. “ ‘It’s a Bakersfield Blast.’”

  “That works,” I said.

  Even Callum nodded. “That’s it.”

  The new guy turned around and shouted into the newsroom, “Ladies and gentleman, it’s a Bakersfield Blast.”

  Applause erupted from half the room, then he jogged a victory lap around the desks high-fiving people as he went.

  Callum watched him for a moment, then turned back to me. “I’ve got multiple ex-wives and I’ve made a mess of every friendship I ever had, so maybe you’d rather listen to Leanore’s flowery love-will-find-a-way talk.”

  An uncomfortable feeling settled over the edit bay. Callum looked vulnerable in a way I’d never seen and I wasn’t sure I liked. Leanore must have seen it too because she didn’t snap back after the obvious dig.

  Callum took a breath. “But if you were my kid, I’d tell you life isn’t about making the right choice. There is no right choice, just a bunch of lousy compromises. Life is about being strong enough to live with the consequences. And you are strong, so stop whining around and wringing your hands.”

  He handed me several papers and abruptly changed his tone. “Here’s what I got on the McClellans, and Lucero is waiting for you in the conference room.”

  He slid the door shut again and left.

  I got up. “I can’t keep Lucero waiting.” I shut off the monitor and deck. “Thanks for listening to all my weird personal stuff.”

  Leanore grabbed my arm as I turned to go. “Lilly, it may sound flowery and trite, but sometimes love does find a way.”

  “Sometimes?”

  She smiled. “Pretend I said always.”

  I looked over the papers on my way to see Lucero.

  The McClellan patriarch had taken his money from the sale and moved to Santa Barbara, where he’d died two years ago. His childless son lived in Seattle, but he owned a patent on some kind of handwriting software and was a rich man in his own right.

  When I entered the conference room, an intern was asking Lucero if he wanted coffee.

  He saw me and stood. “This better be good. We’re about an hour from losing all emergency and police communication for a third of the valley. You better not be wasting my time here.”

  “I’m fine, thanks for asking. How are you?”

  “Cut the smart talk. If you pull this kind of emergency lever, and I take the bait, then you better have some major 911-type info to share. So start sharing.”

  “Jessica Egan needed money to keep her nonprofit from selling their land in the Terrill Valley, so she farmed marijuana.”

  He sat back down and looked at the intern. “Black with two Equals.”

  I told him about Green Seed’s plan to sell the nature preserve, Jessica’s secret weekend visits, and finished by showing him the video I’d shot of the plant.

  “Most of that’s guesswork,” he said. “But even if you’re right, how’d she end up a drowner? If the cartels got wind of what she was doing, they’d have killed her, but not like that.”

  “This wasn’t a professional murder, just like Jessica wasn’t a professional drug dealer. These were amateurs, improvising.”

  “Plural?”

  “Jessica never could have managed a marijuana grow on her own, even if she drove up from L.A. on weekends. She needed local help.”

  “But if the partner wanted to kill her, they would have waited until after the fall harvest. No sense in killing off your labor pool before the hard work is over.”

  “Jessica wasn’t killed for her share of the profits.” I sat down. “I know how you must feel about people who farm pot, but Jessica really was a good person. She genuinely wanted to make the world a better place. I think she came up to Elizabeth on Wednesday to turn herself in.”

  “Why now?”

  “The wildfire turned deadly on Monday. I think Jessica blamed herself.”

  Lucero pulled back.

  “I don’t have to tell you how many wildfires are accidentally started by people tending marijuana farms.” I pointed at the monitor. “And these plants are hybrids. They don’t look like marijuana from the air. That’s why they don’t show up on aerial photos taken in the days before the fire.”

  He thought for a moment. “You got any ideas about who the partner is?”

  I told him my theory and why.

  “I have to talk to the detective sergeant,” he finally said. “Then we’ll get some warrants and take a forensics team up there.” Lucero took his two tapes and started to leave.

  “Wait.” I stopped him. “There’s something you’re not going to like.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Rod’s got Jessica’s cell phone. I took it out of her unlocked car last night.”

  He read me the riot act, bu
t in the end admitted I wouldn’t be in any trouble.

  He left and I checked in with Callum. The evacuation was being declared a success, and the canyon road had been reopened to eastbound traffic. Unfortunately, the humidity had continued to drop and the winds were due to rise in about an hour. Rod and Dennis were doing one final live shot before evacuating back to Command Headquarters.

  I checked my phone and found a message from Rod. He’d gotten into Jessica’s iPhone and found two voice-mail messages from Farris asking Jessica when she was coming to Bonny Hazel. There were no other messages. Rod’s voice sounded even worse than when I’d spoken with him from Jessica’s apartment. He said he missed me and couldn’t wait to come home.

  I took a news van without asking since I doubted Callum would have approved of a third station vehicle being taken up to Elizabeth. I went through the drive-through at John’s Burgers and got three orders of chili fries—Rod’s favorite junk food. I headed out of town toward the mountains. Traffic was still evacuating down the canyon, but it was sporadic and moving quickly. As I climbed back into the mountains, the skies darkened and I had to flip on the headlights.

  At Command Headquarters, I parked in the same spot behind the grandstands. It was weird to be back on campus, even though it had only been half a day since I’d left. The news van Rod had driven up the night before was still parked where we left it. The KBLA satellite truck was also parked there.

  Dennis jumped out of his truck and met me halfway.

  “Where’s Rod?” I handed him one of the styrofoam containers. “He sounded tired on the phone. I thought I’d come up and help.”

  “He’s in your station’s live truck.”

  “Where’s the live truck?”

  He glanced toward the mountains. “He said it would just take a minute. I told him it was a bad idea, but—”

  I cut him off. “What was just going to take a minute?”

  “He drove down the mountain. He wanted to check out a spot in the woods by that house with the funny name.”