Mayhem & Mistletoe

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Your man was one of the dead Santas.” I didn’t mean to blurt it out, but the look on Jake’s face when he snapped up his head told me I was right. “The reason you haven’t released the names is because one of them is your officer.”

  “Oh, man.” Eliot shifted next to me. “I’m so sorry. That’s ... truly awful.”

  “It’s even worse than that.” Now that I’d figured out part of it, the other pieces were falling into place. “You can’t be sure your man was still working for you and not them.”

  Jake let loose a disgusted sigh. “You always were too smart for your own good.” He extended a warning finger. “You’d better not even think about publishing this. If I see a hint that you’re going down that route, I’ll throw you in jail myself. I don’t care if I have to trump up charges to do it.”

  Sympathy warred with my infamous competitive streak. “You can’t keep this secret forever.”

  “I can keep it secret for now. I need you to back off.”

  I couldn’t do that. As bad as I felt for him, this story kept getting more interesting. “Did Cal kill the Santas?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Who killed Cal?”

  “I don’t know that either. This entire thing is a huge mess. You need to stay out of it.”

  Rather than agree — or disagree for that matter — I changed the subject. “What’s your next move?”

  “I don’t know. We’re trying to figure things out. The only thing I’m certain of is that these people are dangerous. The body count keeps growing. It would be best for all concerned if your body wasn’t added to the mix.”

  On that we could agree. Still, this was too big to ignore. The answers were out there. I had to figure out how best to uncover them.

  22 Twenty-Two

  My dreams were dark, leaving me to wake restless ... and a little sweaty. Eliot was already up and at it before I rolled out of bed. I found him in the kitchen mixing pancake batter, his eyes on the television. He obviously hadn’t heard me because he didn’t look in my direction.

  My heart gave a little sigh at the sight of him. He wore only boxer shorts, and he appeared perfectly at ease. He was the only guy I knew who could look tough while making pancake batter.

  “Are you having dirty thoughts?”

  The question jolted me back to reality. I couldn’t help but smile when he turned to me.

  “How did you know I was here?” I was honestly curious. “Did you hear me?”

  “You have a certain presence.”

  “Morning musk?”

  “Evil.” He laughed as I frowned. “I sensed you were there watching me. Did I wake you? I was hoping you’d sleep a little longer.”

  “You didn’t wake me. I just ... woke.” I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the microwave door and frowned at what I saw. My hair stood on end, signifying a rough night, and there were circles under my eyes. “How can you wake up looking like a male model and I wake up looking like the woman who should be cleaning the male model’s house?”

  “Clean living?”

  “Ha, ha.” I sidled closer to him and peered into the mixing bowl. “Where are the blueberries?”

  “I was debating between them and chocolate chips.”

  “Go with the blueberries.”

  He seemed surprised. “I’ve never known you to turn down chocolate.”

  “I know, but chocolate chips don’t belong in pancakes. They belong in cookies. If you want to make some of those, too, I won’t complain.”

  “If I make cookies, will you expect me to wander around in an apron for the rest of our lives? I’m not sure I can live with that.”

  I knew what point he was trying to make ... and I didn’t like it. “Or I could just go to McDonald’s and get that steak bagel thing and you can do whatever you want for breakfast.”

  He grinned. “Get the blueberries out of the freezer.”

  I made a face. “We don’t have fresh blueberries?” That was a bummer.

  “You know as well as I do that blueberries are terrible this time of year. If you’re dead set against the chocolate chips, we have to go with what’s available.”

  “Fine.” I trudged to the freezer and yanked it open. “It feels as if the world is already out to get me today.”

  “That’s because you have a persecution complex.” He went back to watching the television. “Channel 4 is starting to make noise about the dead Santas. They want to know why the names haven’t been released.”

  I followed his gaze, scowling when I saw Devon on the screen. “What’s she babbling about?”

  “She’s saying the sheriff’s department still refuses to release information, pointing out that it’s unlike Jake to not play nice with the media. She’s also insinuating that maybe there’s more to the story that they’re hiding.”

  “I would want to kick her hard for infringing on my story but getting the television stations involved with this can only help at this point. If the pressure mounts, Jake will have to start doling out information.”

  Eliot’s expression was serious. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but maybe you should give Jake a break.”

  “You’re right. I don’t want to hear it,” I agreed.

  “He’s working under a tremendous amount of pressure — and I don’t just mean from this case. He’s still coming to grips with my proposal to you.”

  “He says he’s fine with that.”

  “It’s still a lot to deal with.”

  “I can’t worry about that.” I didn’t want to be a hardass — no, really — but I had a job to do. “I have to follow my instincts, and they say it’s important to chase this story.”

  “Avery ....”

  I shook my head before he could get up a full head of steam. “It’s not just a bunch of dead drug dealers and a possibly-murdered hero … who could turn out to be a zero. This drug is highly addictive – and can kill. People have to know what to look out for.”

  Eliot rolled his eyes. “Since when are you interested in ending the scourge of drugs?”

  “Since always.”

  He shook his head. “I know you can’t give this up. I’m not asking you to. I simply prefer you gave Jake a break. You know as well as I do that he’s likely blaming himself for the death of one of his own.

  “Even if this cop turned bad, Jake will blame himself,” he continued. “He’ll rationalize that this never would’ve happened if he hadn’t assigned him.”

  I suddenly felt very tired and wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and disappear inside a book for the rest of the day. Anything was better than grappling with the real world right now. “I don’t want to make things harder for him, but this is a huge story. It’s going to break whether he likes it or not.”

  “And you think you’re the one to break it.”

  “I think I’m always the one to break every story. In this particular case, the story needs to be told and I want to be the one to tell it.”

  He nodded and flashed a small smile. “Just be careful. If you think you’re going down to that halfway house again, take me with you. I won’t step on your toes. I promise to hang back.”

  “If I decided to head back down there — and that’s a big if now because I have other things to focus on — I will enlist your services.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Just for this story,” I cautioned. “I reserve the right to do whatever I want in the future.”

  “I agree to your terms. Now hand me those blueberries. I’m starving and you’ll need fuel for whatever you have planned for the day.”

  I WENT TO THE OFFICE AND CORNERED Fish as my first order of business. He was in the conference room looking over art for the front page. He scowled when he realized who had joined him.

  “You missed the reporters’ meeting this morning.”

  He acted as if that was something new. “I was busy.”

  His glare was dubious. “Were you chasing contacts before the sun even rose t
his morning?”

  “First, it’s December in Michigan. We almost never see the sun rise.”

  “Fair point.”

  “Second, I was dealing with some ... fallout ... from last night.”

  “Oh, geez.” He groaned. “Do I want to know what you were up to last night?”

  “Probably not, but we’re getting into a gray area and I want to see what you think.” I shut the door. “A lot has happened.” I laid everything out precisely. When I finished, Fish looked stunned.

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “But I got all that information off the record, so we can’t use it yet.”

  “Obviously not.”

  “We’ll be able to use it eventually, so we have to come up with a plan.”

  “You know as well as I do that all of this is contingent upon whether or not that undercover deputy was playing for the right side. It’s either going to be a great tragedy or karma coming home to roost. Until we know, we’re stuck.”

  “That’s another reason I wanted to talk to you,” I said. “I meant to bring it up the other day but got sidetracked when you saddled me with the intern from hell.”

  “She’s a nice girl and you’re a big meanie.”

  “You say tomato.”

  “I say that you’re a big meanie,” he countered. “You’ve crushed that poor girl’s spirit. She’s not even sure she wants to be a reporter now.”

  “If she can’t take a little pushback then she has no business being a reporter.”

  “You only think that because you have no fear,” Fish argued. “Other people, normal people, suffer doubt sometimes. Your ego refuses to let you believe that you’re anything other than perfect.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  His expression was grim. “All that poor girl wants is to learn from the best, yet you refuse to spare even five minutes of your precious time. It’s disappointing.”

  I knew what he was doing. Unfortunately for him, my mother had long since ascertained that shaming me was impossible. He’d yet to learn. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed.”

  “So you’ll work with her?”

  “No.” I was firm. “She’s annoying and this is getting serious. Eliot and I were shot at last night. Do you really want to put her at risk?”

  Fish snorted. “You were in the vicinity of a drug dealer who was shot. Let’s not exaggerate.”

  “It’s still a dangerous situation. She doesn’t understand how to handle herself with people she considers beneath her social level. She’ll get in the way.”

  Fish held my gaze and then nodded. “Fine. I’ll keep her otherwise engaged.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But only until this story breaks wide open,” he cautioned. “You will be spending time with her after this, even if I have to assign you to cover sports again in an effort to keep her safe.”

  “I was almost killed covering sports.”

  He inclined his head. “Is that all? If you’re asking for guidance on what to do with the information you have, you’re on your own. All I can tell you is to keep at it. I want to know of anything new you uncover. The rest is on you.”

  “You’re such a helpful guy.” I rolled my eyes. “That’s not all. I really do have something else I want to talk to you about.”

  “I can’t wait to hear it.”

  The sarcasm wasn’t lost on me, but I let it go. “You had inside information on Beau Burton back when his story first broke. I heard you talking to Marvin about it.”

  He looked taken aback. “I don’t know that I would call it inside information. My wife serves on a lot of boards with some of the women scammed by Burton. It was gossip more than anything else.”

  “I love gossip.” I forced a placating smile that I didn’t feel. Getting people I knew to trust me wasn’t always easy.

  “I only heard stories about the women who were taken in by him,” Fish insisted. “I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but apparently they fell for his ridiculous story.”

  “Were CeeCee Green and Janet Olsen on that list?”

  Fish’s eyes widened. “No. Where did you hear that?”

  “Directly from the source on both counts.”

  “Not that I’m not intrigued to hear that story, but I thought you were convinced that Burton’s death had something to do with this drug ring.”

  “I am convinced that’s why he died. I’m not ready to ignore the fact that he scammed a bunch of powerful women. If I were on the receiving end of what he did, I might want a little payback.”

  “You would definitely want payback, but you wouldn’t get it by killing him. You would force him to pay in other ways.”

  That was true. “What if one of these women figured out what Burton was doing and tried to hide his death behind a drug hit?”

  The question had Fish raising one eyebrow. “Really? I can’t imagine CeeCee paying someone to kill extra people to get at Burton. I know her a little. She’s pretty straightforward. In some ways, she reminds me of you.”

  “That must terrify you.”

  “You have no idea. No matter how you look at it, though, I can’t see her killing innocent men.”

  “I still want to track down these other women. Can you put together a list? I want to know anything you know.”

  “I can. I don’t know how helpful it will be.”

  “I just want to cover all my bases.”

  “Fair enough. Other than that, what’s your plan?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’ve got to think it through.”

  “Just keep me informed.”

  I saluted and headed back toward the door. “That’s the plan.”

  I CHECKED MY MESSAGES TO see if perhaps I would stumble across an anonymous tip but came up empty. I had information to work with, but it was all off the record, which meant my hands were largely tied, something I absolutely hated.

  After running a few fruitless searches regarding Cal, I pushed myself away from my desk in frustration and slid directly into Sabrina as she moved down the aisle. I forced a smile for her benefit and attempted to roll my chair back into position, but she grabbed the fabric so I couldn’t flee.

  “I would like to talk to you.” Her tone was high-pitched and brittle.

  “I’m busy right now. Perhaps you can make an appointment for next week.”

  To my surprise, she didn’t back down. “I know you don’t want me hanging around.”

  “This is a very delicate story. I can’t afford any distractions.”

  “I wouldn’t be a distraction.”

  “Honey, all you are is a distraction, one I can’t deal with right now. I’m sorry if you’re upset, but ... well ... I have other things on my mind. I can’t worry about hurting your feelings.”

  “You haven’t hurt my feelings.” Surprisingly, the vulnerability that had been emanating from her eyes disappeared, replaced with a look of hard determination. “You have ticked me off, though. I kind of don’t like you anymore.”

  It took everything I had not to grin. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I don’t expect you to say anything. For once, you should listen. I have information that you need. I’ll only give it to you if you let me help you with everything you’re working on.”

  “Are you blackmailing me?”

  “I’m playing to my strengths. That’s what you do, right? Well, I have information regarding Cal Shepperly and I guarantee you want to hear it. I want something in return.”

  I had to be impressed with the tactic. “How do I know this information is good enough to include you?” I asked. “Your idea of pertinent information could be vastly different.”

  “Oh, this is really good information.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “I have sources too.”

  Now she was just playing coy. “Fine.” I threw up my hands. I was so desperate for something to focus on that I didn’t see that I had much choice. “If your information reall
y is actionable, I’ll include you ... in at least part of my day.”

  “The whole day.”

  “Part.”

  “Whole.” She folded her arms over her chest and fixed me with a defiant glare. “I want a co-byline, too.”

  “No way. I don’t share bylines.”

  “Those are my terms.”

  I had no way to buy time. “I’ll give you a contribution credit at the end of the article,” I said. “That’s the best I can do.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “Then we’re done. I’m not offering you anything else, especially when I have no idea how good this information is. For all I know it could be made up.”

  “Oh, it’s the truth. If you don’t want the information, perhaps Duncan does. I assume he’ll jump at the chance to talk to Cal Shepperly’s estranged wife.”

  I sat up straighter in my chair, dumbfounded. “He has a wife?”

  “They’re separated.”

  Crap. I hadn’t yet been able to uncover anything on this topic. It was indeed a very good lead. “Fine. If the information leads anywhere — and by that I mean actionable leads and not a door slammed in our faces — you can share a byline.” It was painful to offer, but I needed the information. On top of that, I appreciated her style. “What’s the name?”

  “Ruth Shepperly. She lives in Romeo. She also has a brother who used to hang out with Beau Burton.”

  I wanted to know how she’d stumbled across the information but ultimately it didn’t matter. “Well, let’s track down Ruth, shall we?”

  She beamed. “I knew you would see things my way.”

  I’d just been shaken down by an idiot and I didn’t even care. Finally, we were getting somewhere.

  23 Twenty-Three

  Sabrina was feeling pretty good about herself. She’d preened, checked her makeup in the passenger side mirror, and shifted in her seat so many times I’d lost count.

  “You can’t say anything,” I warned as I pocketed my keys. “This is still my interview.”

  Sabrina’s head bob was perfunctory. “Of course.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I know you’re in charge.” She looked at me hard. “Despite what you seem to think, I’m not an idiot.”