by Lauren Carr
Dressed in a casual blue business suit, Becca Cambridge was chatting with the administrative assistant at her desk. As soon as she saw Nikki, the journalist flushed. The administrative assistant, who appeared to be in her mid-thirties, jumped out of her seat.
Quickly, Wyatt introduced the assistant as Casey McConnell. “This is her first day, too. Casey has transferred from my office.”
Displeased with being ignored, Elmo jumped up to plant his paws on Casey’s desk.
“I guess this is Elmo.” Casey patted the dog on the head. “I befriended you on social media this morning. Maybe we’ll get Becca to take our picture later so that I can get some social credibility.”
Elmo answered by licking her face.
Nearby, Becca scratched her left arm while Nikki and Casey made small talk to get acquainted. When Nikki regarded her uneasiness, Casey urged her, “Tell them, Becca.”
Her face flushed. Becca shook her head.
Wyatt looked from Casey to Becca. “Tell them what?”
“Becca has been working on her first investigative report,” Casey said.
“And she’s got a breaking news story?” Nikki arched an eyebrow.
“It’s my story,” Becca said forcibly as she extracted her shiny silver laptop from her bag. “That’s why I was afraid to tell you. After Ashleigh got killed after saying she was going to break a big story at six o’clock tonight, I knew how it would look for me to say I had a story. The thing is, I’ve been working on this story for months.”
“Becca had told me weeks ago that she was looking into corruption on the county school board,” Casey said.
Wyatt looked at Nikki, who looked Becca up and down. Becca certainly was eager and hard working. She was also very ambitious.
“Mom had told me that you were covering the board of education. What put you onto this story? Who’s your source?” Nikki asked. “Don’t tell me that he or she is anonymous.”
Becca hesitated. “I don’t know who it is. I came out of the board of education one day after a press conference and found a brown envelope slipped under my windshield wiper with copies of Superintendent Wheeler’s travel reimbursements.” She opened her bag and extracted a thick leather binder. “When I saw how many there were and where he’d been traveling, I knew I had a story. Everything else, I found out myself.” She showed them a large envelope.
Nikki took the envelope, which was worn from frequent opening and closing. “WKPG News” was scrawled across the front in purple marker. It was sealed with a string and tab. Nikki unwound the string and extracted several sheets of paper with what appeared to be travel vouchers for reimbursement. The name on the vouchers was Bob Wheeler, the county’s school superintendent.
“Step into my office, Becca.” Nikki led them into the corner office.
Her breath was taken away when she stepped inside.
Twenty-three years earlier, it had been her father’s office. She hadn’t been in the room since before his death.
Previously, the heavy oak desk faced the built-in floor-to-ceiling bookcases, in the center of which was the entertainment center for the television and DVD player. The desk rested in front of the window looking out on Pine Grove.
In the years since his death, Kathleen had flipped the room. Gone was the heavy wooden desk, which had found a home in the study at Julie’s house. It had been replaced with a glass top contemporary desk placed in the far corner to provide the occupant a full view of the office and the landscape out the window. The bookshelves had been torn out. A mural of a field of colorful wildflowers filled the space to provide a light airy atmosphere.
All the wildflowers in the world couldn’t change that this was the room where Nikki’s father had been killed.
As she circled the room, Nikki mentally replaced the décor with the classic office furniture from another time. No longer was there a desk with a glass top, but her father in his executive chair with a pair of scissors shoved into his heart.
She wished she could unsee the crime scene pictures that Ryan had shown her the day before.
“Did the police find anything out about Ashleigh’s murder?”
Nikki was startled when she realized Becca had been talking to her, but she hadn’t heard a word she’d said.
Nikki began to step behind the desk but decided against taking her mother’s chair. It was too soon. She wasn’t ready for that. She opted to lean against the desk. “Take off your jacket, Becca. Make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you, but I’m cold blooded, I guess. I’m one of those people who’s always cold.” Becca unbuttoned her suit jacket, took the chair across from Nikki, and opened her laptop.
Nikki saw that her hands trembled as she tapped the keys to bring up her story so that she could refer to her notes. “What have you uncovered?”
“Last year, Bob Wheeler was sworn in as school board superintendent,” Becca said. “He was elected on a platform of taking our schools to the next level in education with new programs.”
“That’s what they all campaign on,” Wyatt said from where he sat back in the chair across from them.
“Well, since Bob Wheeler has taken office eighteen months ago, he and his vice superintendent have gone to twelve conferences and trips to research various programs,” Becca said. “We’re not talking about day trips to Pittsburgh. We’re talking about four-day boondoggles to Hawaii and Lake Tahoe, even a resort in Rio de Janeiro. Since they’re checking out education programs, the cost for the trips have been coming out the county’s school budget. One trip cost sixty-thousand dollars.”
Becca went on to show them copies of reimbursement forms and statements from employees at the board of education.
“Can I look?” Nikki held out her hand to Becca, who handed her the laptop.
Wyatt went on to ask more in-depth questions about the steps she had taken in her investigation and her sources. While Becca was occupied answering his questions, Nikki checked the metadata on the report and various documents pertaining to the journalist’s investigation. Becca’s name was listed in the metadata, indicating that she had created the document file. The date the file had been created was listed as July 10—at least two months earlier.
That eliminated Becca of suspicion for stealing Ashleigh’s story. The young journalist had clearly been working on the story for months.
Besides, Becca had been out on a run when Ashleigh was killed. She was still wearing her running suit when she rushed to Ashleigh’s house to break the story after hearing the call on the scanner.
Becca was practically bouncing on her toes when Nikki and Wyatt approved the story for her to break during that day’s evening newscast.
Wyatt waited for Becca to leave before he asked, “Do you know who Bob Wheeler’s wife is?”
Nikki shook her head. “I didn’t even know who Bob Wheeler was until just now. I only got back into town two days ago.”
“Bob Wheeler is the loser high school football coach who married Greta Lowell.”
“Lowell,” Nikki hissed.
“Of course, it doesn’t look good for Art’s daughter to be married to a loser. That’s why Art invested a whole lot of money into Bob Wheeler’s campaign to get him into politics. Now, his daughter could hold her head up high—until tonight that is.”
Nikki tapped her chin. “I wonder if Bob Wheeler noticed Becca nosing around.”
“Or maybe Art Lowell gave his son-in-law a heads up when he heard Ashleigh’s announcement at the party?”
“And maybe Art sent someone over to Ashleigh’s place to shut her up permanently,” Nikki said.
“But Ashleigh’s death didn’t kill the story,” Wyatt said. “It’s Becca’s story. She’s the one who’s been investigating it.”
“According to her laptop, Becca started working on that story in the beginning of July,” Nikki said. “Look at it from
Bob Wheeler’s or Art Lowell’s points of view. Wheeler is using taxpayer dollars to take extravagant vacations with his vice superintendent, which makes me wonder if she could be a little bit more. He’s doing something wrong. He has to know it. He also has to know that WKPG News has a journalist covering the board of education. He gets word that WKPG News is going to break a huge story on Monday.”
“Guilt will make him wonder if that story has anything to do with him,” Wyatt said.
“I’ve learned that with the absence of facts, a fine mixture of guilt and imagination can take you really far.”
“If that’s the case,” Wyatt said, “then maybe Ashleigh’s death has nothing to do with your father’s?”
“The sheriff isn’t buying that the two are connected. A few minutes ago, she liked me for using murder to void the station’s contract with Ashleigh—thanks to your wife.”
“I’m not responsible for Suzanne’s bad acts,” Wyatt said with a wave of his hand. “There’s another very good possibility. Conner is a big cheat. He could have hooked up with someone who wanted to get the wife out of the way so that she could take her place.”
“The police are already considering that. I hope they consider that motive longer than they focus on me.” Remembering that Ashleigh had anchored the evening news, she asked, “Who—”
“Meredith Norris will take over the slot for the time being,” Wyatt said.
“The meteorologist?”
“Former meteorologist,” Wyatt said. “She’s been hosting the noon hour show. She’s developed quite a following. I’ve asked her to stick around for the news until we decide on who the permanent host will be. She’ll do it as long as we need her.”
“If she’s popular and has a following—”
“That’s a no-go,” he said with a firm shake of his head. “The noon show allows her to come in after she drops her kids off at school and it wraps up in time for her to pick them up. She’s only going to do this to help us out. I asked her because she’s got the experience to handle the anchor desk without any of the high maintenance.”
Elmo trotted in from where he had been hanging out with Casey and sniffed around. Nikki had deposited the bag containing his stuff on the sofa. He jumped up and stuck his nose into the bag. Grasping his bed in his jaws, he pulled and tugged until he had extracted the bed. Then, he jumped down onto the floor and dragged the bed to a corner behind the desk. Once the bed was in place, he returned to the sofa to continue unpacking his belongings.
“Who taught—”
“He’s self-taught.” Nikki visualized the previous entertainment center concealed behind doors in the bookcase behind Wyatt. Why is that bothering me?
Elmo pulled a chew toy from the bag and carried it to the bed where he turned around and around before collapsing with a sigh.
“Did Ashleigh ever discuss Dad’s murder with you?” Nikki asked.
Wyatt jerked from where he had been watching Elmo with curiosity. “Never.”
Nikki knelt next to Elmo and stroked his head. He looked up from the toy and licked her hand. “Was Sam Hill here on the day of Dad’s murder?”
“Why are you asking about Sam Hill?” Wyatt asked.
Nikki looked over her shoulder at him. “Mom told me that Dad had forced Sam Hill into retirement. She told me why. Sam had taken a crew and produced a fictional investigative report. He had even hired an actor to pretend to be his source. Now you can’t tell me that he managed to do all that without anyone on his crew telling you—the producer—about it.”
“Who do you think told Ross about Sam’s fictional news piece in the first place?” Wyatt rose out of his seat. “Sam was losing it. Yes, I was the producer of the news back then. That made me his boss. But Sam Hill was a legend. How do you tell a legend that his time has passed?”
“What do you mean Sam was losing it?”
“Mentally, Sam was on his last legs.” He paced the length of the room. “I had sensed that Sam was fighting to keep it together, but I’d seen cracks in his thinking. He’d accuse the crew of trying to sabotage him.”
“Paranoia,” Nikki whispered.
“Then, when your father forced him to retire, that was when he went off the deep end. He claimed Ross had been out to get him all along.”
“Wyatt,” Nikki asked gently, “was Sam here at the station on the day of Dad’s murder?”
“He didn’t do it.”
“How can you be so sure?” Nikki asked. “You said he was showing signs of mental instability. He was paranoid. When he lost his job, he probably went off the rails. Wyatt, was Sam here?”
Wyatt chewed on his bottom lip.
“Did someone tell Ashleigh about Sam being here on the day of the murder?”
Wyatt gritted his teeth. He let out a breath. “Sam was a big pipe smoker. He always had one of those pipes in his hand. You’d smell that cherry tobacco before you’d see him.”
“I remember that,” Nikki said.
“I had a meeting with Ross that day. Everything was fine when I left at three o’clock. I’d spent the rest of the afternoon working with the editors on the filmed segments for the evening newscast. A little before five I came up here and found Ross dead and Debra cleaning the corner of his desk.”
“Debra? Dad’s administrative assistant was cleaning his desk with him sitting behind it dead?” Nikki gasped.
“And the ashes on the floor.”
“What about Sam? Where was he?”
“I didn’t see Sam,” Wyatt said. “I smelled his cherry tobacco though. Debra must have gotten him out of the building after he’d killed Ross. She begged me not to tell the police about that burn mark being new.”
“Did Sam kill Dad?” Nikki demanded to know.
“Debra didn’t tell me if he had or not, and I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know.”
“You didn’t want to know?”
“I felt sorry for the old man,” Wyatt said.
“And what about me? I lost my dad! Mom lost her husband! Julie had no one to walk her down the aisle when she got married. Didn’t you feel sorry for us?”
Tears formed in the corners of Wyatt’s eyes. “Yes, I had agreed to help Debra cover it up. The truth is that I never saw Sam that day. He must have sneaked into the station and waited for Debra to leave her desk to go in and confront Ross. They had an argument. Sam dropped his pipe on the desk in the struggle when he stabbed your father.”
“Then Debra walked in on it after returning from the mailroom,” Nikki said. “Why would she cover up for Sam after he killed Dad?”
“You have to ask Debra. Don’t tell her that I told you,” Wyatt said. “I had promised I wouldn’t tell anyone, but you do have a right to know.”
“Where is Sam Hill now? Is he still alive?”
Wyatt threw up both hands as if she had pulled a gun on him. “I’m not sure.” He lifted a shoulder. “I’ve heard several different stories. One was that Sam had moved to Spain to write a novel. The other was that he was working undercover as a rich playboy for the government to capture traitors in the deep state. Another rumor was that he had lost his mind and was checked in at the Shady Pines retirement home under an assumed name.”
“Which do you think it is?”
“Based on the condition he seemed to be in the last time I saw him, the latter.”
“What name is he using?”
“I don’t know.”
Her eyes narrowed to menacing slits, Nikki took a step toward him.
Wyatt’s hands shot up higher. “I swear, I don’t know. Besides, after all these years, he’s probably dead by now. He was sixty-three when he retired.”
Nikki regarded him with a glare.
“Am I free to go?” There was a plea in Wyatt’s tone.
Nikki jerked her head toward the open door. “And close the door behind yo
u on the way out.”
Wyatt scurried out and closed the door.
Alone, Nikki paced the office from one end to the other while digesting Wyatt’s news.
Occasionally, she would stop to regard the glass doors of the entertainment center. Then, she would look back at the mural where the entertainment center used to be. Why is that nagging at me?
Then, she would pace again.
Debra covered up for Sam Hill. Why would she take such a risk for him?
Sam Hill had been WKPG’s star. She was “just an administrative assistant” in Sam Hill’s eyes. Nikki remembered him as being a very proud—even arrogant—man. He had starred in leading roles at the local theater, which he had started.
Debra had been a single mom, until she had remarried. Nikki recalled Debra once telling her about how her mother struggled as a single mother after her father had abandoned them. Her mother had cleaned office buildings at night to put food on the table and a roof over their heads. Often, Debra would be left home alone.
Debra was proud of working her way out of poverty.
Nikki’s father had treated Debra with nothing but kindness and respect. Why would she risk everything to cover up for Sam Hill killing the boss who had been so good to her?
There was only one way to learn the answer to those questions.
Nikki threw open her office door with such force that Casey almost fell out of her chair. “Casey, I need you to find something for me?”
“What do you need, Ms. Bryant?”
“First, I need you to stop calling me Ms. Bryant. My mother is Ms. Bryant. I’m Nikki. Second, I need you to get the name of the florist shop that the previous administrative assistant used to send flowers.”
Casey paused in jotting down Nikki’s request. “Do you want me to send some flowers to Ashleigh’s family, Ms. Bry—I mean Nikki?”
Nikki paused. Casey had a point. It was only right to send flowers to Camille, Ashleigh’s mother. “Yes. Send the biggest spray they have. Send it from the florist shop that Debra used. There should be a record in accounting. Give me the name when you get it.”