The Preditorial Page

by Lee, Amanda M.

“That’s good,” I said. “Tad hates Marvin almost as much as he hates me.”

  “That’s why I assigned him to the story,” Fish agreed.

  “So what do you want me to work on?”

  Fish raised his eyebrows. “You’re asking for an assignment? That’s not like you. Last night must have shaken you up more than you’re willing to admit.” He rummaged around on his desk, handing me a stack of news releases after his search. “Work on these and then you can go when you’re done.”

  I took the packet and frowned. “Obits and briefs?”

  “Yup.”

  “But that’s so boring,” I said.

  “That’s what you need today,” Fish countered. “Boring work.”

  I considered arguing, but that seemed an endeavor that would require too much energy. I had slept a full ten hours the night before and instead of leaving me energized it had left me draggy and tired.

  It only took me about half the day to finish Fish’s stack of boredom. When I was done, I said my goodbyes and left the building. The receptionist stopped me as I was leaving, handing me the keys to my car with a big smile.

  “The guy who dropped these off was hot,” she said. “Is he your mechanic?”

  “Nope, just my warden.”

  The receptionist smiled. “That sounds kinky.”

  I didn’t return the smile. “Then I’m telling it wrong.”

  I drove straight to Eliot’s apartment, dawdling just long enough to buy a gourmet coffee from the next-door shop, and then trudged up the steps and let myself in. We had dinner with my family tonight, and I wasn’t exactly looking forward to that. I had better call Derrick and warn him about telling my mom what had happened the previous evening. She would freak out. I had to drum up something interesting to blackmail him with first, though.

  I stopped in the open doorway when I heard voices. Was Eliot on the phone? I glanced into the kitchen and froze when I saw Jake and Eliot sitting together and drinking coffee, like a cozy little scene from some magazine that features hot guys lounging around. Okay, there’s probably no magazine like that, but you know what I mean. And there should totally be a magazine like that.

  I remained quiet, because neither one of them had seen me yet.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Jake asked, his voice low and angry.

  “I figured it was her place to tell you,” Eliot answered.

  “So, why are you telling me now?”

  “Because she’s never going to tell you and I’m not going to let her die because she wants a big scoop.”

  What the hell? I slammed the door, causing both Jake and Eliot to jump. “Anyone want to tell me what’s going on here?”

  “Eliot was just informing me about how far you’ve progressed on this case,” Jake said tightly. “Very impressive.”

  “Was he?”

  Eliot didn’t have the grace to look embarrassed. He met my hard gaze head on. “I’m not playing games this time.”

  “What exactly did he tell you?” I asked Jake.

  “He told me that you know there are really three victims and you’ve been in touch with two of their families. He told me that you know about the speed dating, which I already knew about. He told me about the personal ads, which I didn’t know about and you should have told me about. Oh, and he told me you got flowers from an anonymous individual days ago that could have tipped us off that you are now a potential victim, you complete and total moron.”

  Eliot had a very big mouth. That wasn’t quite everything. Close enough, though. “Well, that’s just great.”

  “I’m not done,” Jake growled. “He also told me that you already have a list of suspects.”

  That was a lie. “I do not.”

  Jake glanced at Eliot, who was giving him a funny look. “Okay,” Jake conceded. “I was just throwing that one out there to get a reaction.”

  Jerk.

  “From now on,” Jake said. “We’re all working together on this.”

  I opened my mouth to argue but Jake silenced me with a look.

  “There will be no negotiations,” he said. “If you refuse to play by the rules, I’m going to lock you up.”

  “On what charges?” I was incredulous.

  “Deliberately keeping information from law enforcement,” he said smugly.

  “You can’t prove that,” I argued.

  “I don’t have to,” Jake said. “I just have to keep you locked up on the suspicion long enough to catch a killer -- and let someone else write the story when I do.”

  I glared at Eliot. Jake had me. They both knew it. “I really hate you both right now.”

  “You’ll live,” Eliot said. “And that’s all that really matters.”

  Twenty-Nine

  “I think that Attack of the Clones is clearly the best Star Wars film ever made.”

  Eliot and I were on our way to the family dinner. I had managed to make it through the rest of the afternoon without saying a word to him. When Eliot realized what was happening, he embarked on an all-out assault to break me, which is where we were now. He knows I hate that movie.

  “It totally makes sense how Anakin’s mother managed to hold on for a whole month only to die thirty seconds after he got there. And it’s not creepy at all that Natalie Portman is cougaring it up with Anakin.”

  I bit my lower lip to keep from spouting off. Eliot was nowhere near finished, though.

  “I also think those Twilight movies are something special,” he continued. “Making a vampire sparkle was a stroke of genius. So awesome.”

  If he didn’t stop soon I was going to launch myself over the middle console separating the seats and strangle him.

  “And I’ve also decided that Paranormal Activity is the best modern horror movie in ages.”

  I snapped. “That is just crazy! That movie has more holes than a meth addict’s teeth.”

  Eliot smiled smugly. “It’s good you broke when you did. I was just about to explain how Jaws 4 is the best shark movie ever.”

  “You’re evil.”

  “How long are you going to be mad at me?”

  “How long do you have?”

  “Not much longer,” Eliot grumbled.

  We lapsed into silence. I reached over to turn the radio up but Eliot slapped my hand away. He flipped the station -- stopping at some twangy country monstrosity -- and then smirked at me.

  I inhaled deeply. I was not going to let him get to me.

  Eliot started singing along, as off-tune as he could muster.

  “I can’t believe you tattled on me to Jake,” I exploded.

  Eliot turned the radio back down. “I didn’t tattle on you. I decided to share information in the hope of keeping you alive.”

  “That’s tattling.”

  “No more than what you pulled outside Ludington’s room was eavesdropping.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re not going to trip me up on a technicality.”

  “Listen to me very carefully,” Eliot said. “I am not sorry that I told Jake what you’re up to. He had a right to know. I’m sorry you’re upset, but you’re just going to have to get over it.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled.

  “When you’re not dead in a week, you’re going to thank me,” Eliot added.

  I pursed my lips irritably. “You better not tell my mom.”

  Eliot glanced over at me for a sign I was thawing. “I won’t tell your mom if you at least pretend you’re not angry at me until the ride home.”

  I considered his suggestion. “Fine.”

  Eliot grabbed my hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it thoughtfully as he focused on the road. “Do you think your mom would freak out if she knew what happened?”

  “Have you even met my mom? She would freak out if she found out I went outside in a thunderstorm without shoes on to ground me in case I got struck by lightning.”

  Eliot barked out a laugh. “I guess you’re right.”

  “I’m alway
s right,” I grumbled.

  Eliot pulled into the parking lot in front of the restaurant and killed the engine. I moved to take my hand from him but he stopped. “Don’t forget our agreement.”

  I opened the door and jumped down to the pavement without responding. I moved to the front of the truck and waited for him to catch up. He was watching me warily, as though I was a bomb and I could go off at any minute. Actually, that was a fairly apt comparison.

  “Let’s get this over with,” I said.

  “I can’t wait,” Eliot muttered.

  We stopped when raised voices to the west of the building caught our attention. We exchanged a curious look and followed the sound. I don’t know what I was expecting, by what I saw blew even my mind.

  My grandfather, in all his six feet, two inches of glory, was trying to tie a rope around a handicapped parking sign. My cousin, Mario, who shared my grandfather’s receding hairline and beer gut, was holding the other end of the rope and watching.

  “I don’t think this is going to work,” Mario said.

  “Of course it’s going to work,” my grandfather argued. “It’s my idea. It’s going to work.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked, causing both of them to jump

  “Good, you’re here,” my grandfather said. “We need your truck, long-hair.”

  Eliot grimaced. “What is he doing?”

  “He’s going to try to yank the sign out,” Mario explained.

  “Why?”

  “Because the city put it up without asking him and then they sent him a bill for it,” he said. “A very big bill.”

  A smile played at the corner of my lips. My family never ceases to entertain me -- even while alternately irritating me on a regular basis. “How much are we talking?”

  “Two thousand,” Mario answered.

  “It’s un-American,” my grandfather exploded. “I have a right to decide what goes on my property and what doesn’t.”

  “Why don’t you want a designated handicapped spot? It’s just polite.”

  “There are no handicapped people in town,” my grandfather countered. “Well, Jim Hoskins, but he doesn’t count. It would just be a wasted spot and parking is already at a premium here.”

  “You know everyone in town and only one guy is handicapped?”

  “Close enough.”

  I moved closer to take a look at the sign. “It’s set in concrete. You’re not going to be able to pull that out with a rope.”

  “Well, Miss Smarty-pants, the concrete was just poured a few hours ago. It’s not hard yet.”

  I glanced at Eliot and shrugged. “Help him.”

  “Really? You want me to help him break the law?”

  “You told him you would last week at dinner,” I reminded him.

  “I certainly did not.”

  “It was during that big fight everyone was having,” I said. “I distinctly remember you saying you would help.”

  “I remember that, too,” Mario chimed in.

  Eliot placed his tongue in his cheek while he considered his options. Finally, he blew out a sigh and turned back toward his truck. “If I go to jail for this, I’m blaming you.”

  Mario sidled over to me and watched him go. “I don’t remember him volunteering to help.”

  “I don’t think he realized what he was doing.”

  “Oh, that makes sense then,” Mario said.

  I fixed Mario with a stare. “If you didn’t remember, why did you take my side?”

  Mario shrugged. “I’m kind of curious to see what happens. Especially when Derrick gets here.”

  That would be fun.

  Mario and I moved out of the way as Eliot backed his truck into position. He put it in park and climbed out to help my grandfather tie the rope to the hitch. My grandfather swatted his hand away. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “It’s my truck,” Eliot countered.

  “Go fluff your hair and let me handle this,” my grandfather ordered. “I’m the boss.”

  Eliot glanced at me. “I see where you get it now.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “This is your future, son,” my grandfather said. “You might as well get used to it now.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Eliot said. “By the time she gets this bad I’ll already be dead.”

  Grandpa clapped Eliot on the shoulder. “At least you have something to look forward to.”

  I took the opportunity and shuffled up to Eliot’s side. “Do you think this is going to work?”

  “Nope.”

  “It’s going to work,” Grandpa growled. “Go and give it some gas,” he ordered, looking to Eliot expectantly.

  Eliot ignored him and walked to the sign to double-check Grandpa’s knot. The delay was too much for Grandpa. He stalked over to Eliot’s truck and tried to hop up behind the wheel. Unfortunately his knees didn’t seem to want to give him the lift he needed to complete the task.

  “Get over here and bend down,” Grandpa ordered to Mario.

  “Why?” Mario’s face drained of color.

  “I need a foot stool -- and you’re it.”

  “No way,” Mario argued.

  “Why?”

  “You’ll break my back,” he complained.

  “Are you saying I’m fat?” Grandpa was clearly infuriated.

  “If you can balance a plate on your gut and eat off it you’re fat,” Mario said. “I should know, because I can do it, too.”

  “Just do as you’re told.”

  “I’ll drive my truck,” Eliot said, casting an unreadable look in my direction as he passed by. “You’re going to owe me for this.”

  Not likely.

  We were all so caught up in what we were doing we didn’t notice that not one but two new visitors had joined us.

  “What are the four of you doing?” Derrick stalked in our direction, hands on hips. “That’s government property. You can’t just rip it out.”

  “This is my property,” Grandpa corrected him.

  “I’m not going to stand here and watch you pull it out,” Derrick said. “I’m a cop.”

  “Not here you’re not,” Grandpa countered. “Here you’re just an uptight pain.”

  I finally realized that the second figure that had joined our group was my mom. Great. “I can’t believe you’re helping him do this,” she complained.

  “He didn’t give me much choice.”

  “You always have a choice,” she countered.

  “Tell him that,” I pointed in Grandpa’s direction.

  “Dad, go inside,” my mom ordered. “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

  “You go inside,” Grandpa shot back. “Eat your dinner and mind your business. Long-hair, lift me up in this truck.”

  “You’re not driving my truck,” Eliot argued.

  Derrick turned to me. “Either you talk him out of this or I’m going to tell your mom exactly what happened at your house last night,” he hissed.

  My mom has ears like a bat. She heard every word. “What happened at your house last night?”

  “An orgy,” I answered, glaring at Derrick.

  “Do you think that’s funny?”

  “Kind of,” I admitted.

  “Well, it’s not.”

  “And that’s not what I was talking about,” Derrick warned.

  It was rough being on the receiving end of family blackmail for a change. “Fine. Grandpa, I don’t think this is a good idea. Eliot, don’t help him.”

  “Now you don’t want me to help him?”

  I glanced at Derrick. “Apparently not.”

  Eliot took a step toward me uncertainly. “Why?”

  “Because something apparently happened at her house last night that she doesn’t want me to know about,” my mom answered.

  “Ah, blackmail,” Eliot said.

  None of us were watching my grandfather -- which was a big mistake. Apparently, he decided that even if he couldn’t climb up into the truck he could r
each in far enough to shift into drive. I saw what he was doing, but it was too late. The truck started rolling forward, the rope pulling taut.

  “Eliot,” I pointed.

  “Dammit,” Eliot swore, rushing back to his truck. Just when he got there, though, the sign decided to give and broke out of the ground. Eliot managed to jump into the vehicle and slam on the brakes just in time to stop the truck from hitting another parked car.

  “Oh, great,” Derrick groaned. “How are you going to explain this?”

  “Vandals,” Grandpa shrugged.

  Derrick shifted his eyes to me. “Avery was attacked by a possible killer in her house last night.”

  “You narc!”

  “What?” My mom’s eyes went wide. “How could you do this to me?”

  “To you?”

  Eliot was back. He’d parked the truck and killed the engine, pocketing his keys to keep them from my grandfather. “Now what happened?”

  “Derrick told on me.”

  “My daughter is being stalked by a killer,” my mom said, her hand over her chest. “Again. This is going to be the end of me. I swear. She’s finally done it. She’s killed me.”

  Eliot tilted his head to the side. “Your family is certifiable.”

  Isn’t that the truth?

  Thirty

  “So you’re done being mad at me, right?”

  The next morning Eliot woke me with a surprise. After thirty minutes of calisthenics, we were deciding what to do with our day.

  “I guess not,” I sighed.

  “After putting up with your family last night, you have to forgive me,” Eliot said. “Plus, I gave you that special surprise this morning.”

  “You did that for yourself,” I scoffed.

  Eliot pulled me closer, snuggling in beside me. “Can’t we just agree that it was mutually beneficial?”

  I sighed as he planted a kiss on my neck. “Fine. But you can’t make a habit of buying me off with sex.”

  “Whatever works, baby,” he said, pinching my rear teasingly. “So, what do you want to do today? You don’t have to work, right?”

  “No, I’m off until Monday,” I said, “but I want to go to Ellie Parker’s funeral tomorrow.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s respectful,” I answered.

  “Why really?”

  “Because the killer might be there,” I sighed.