by William Gray
The most important question to answer was whether or not the daughter or any other private individual was forking over the dough for Sue’s care. If the government wasn’t paying for Sue, then that could make his job considerably more difficult. Not least because it’d be harder to pique a general audience’s interest without corporate malfeasance or government ineptitude.
Cracking his knuckles, Caleb smiled. Looking down at Hunter, he patted his lap, inviting the feline up. Scratching the cat’s back and listening to her purr, he felt happier than he had in a long while. “I think this can work. It’ll be great. And we’ll get justice for Sue. That’s important. Jeez, Hunter. Can you imagine, being in that position? You’ve lived your whole life, worked hard and been honest. Now you’re old and vulnerable, powerless at the hands of some corrupt, abusive nurse who is supposed to protect you and care for you?” he asked.
“Meow,” Hunter said, looking up at him.
Just then, Monty interrupted Caleb again.
“Phone’s ringing. Phone’s ringing,” the parrot screeched, intruding on Caleb’s newfound happiness.
“Ugh. Alright, down you go, bud. Sorry, Hunter,” Caleb said, reluctantly getting up. Who calls this late? This can’t be good, he thought.
Chapter 11
“You’re not lying?” Devin asked.
From his tone, he sounded suspicious.
Caleb sighed. Of course, I’m lying, he thought. And he suspected Devin knew that. But they both knew Caleb couldn’t actually come out and tell the truth. If he admitted to defying his boss’ orders, he’d risk jeopardizing the fragile peace and concessions he’d only just managed to extract from the notoriously strict supervisor. Naturally, he’d eventually have to come out and reveal his insubordination to Devin. But Caleb only intended to do that when he had more than enough evidence to justify it. Once he had the ability to get past legal, the story would practically sell itself. It was just getting over that initial hurdle that would be the difficult part.
“Why would I lie to you, Devin? Look, I was in bed, savoring the feeling of being a Pulitzer winner. I was going through all the cool things I was going to do in New York on the company dime. There’s a bar in Hell’s Kitchen. Or it’s near there, at least. Mickey Spillane’s. I was thinking maybe I’d go there. I don’t know if I want to go to the Strand bookstore, though. I’m on the fence. The husband of the owner- you know who it is- he’s, uh, well, shall we say done some things I don’t agree with. But it’s such an iconic place. If I go there and spend money, am I supporting the ideas I don’t agree with?” Caleb asked.
“Son, I don’t know what you’re up to, but don’t mess with me on this one, okay? You do realize I just got woken up from a power nap by a call from your grandma’s nursing home, right? The same nursing home you’d just begged me to allow you to do a story on? Ringing a bell? Now, they made it sound pretty convincing that you and someone sounding eerily similar to Maria just happened to be over there, trespassing and digging through the garbage and all sorts of stuff. Do I need to tell you how bad it would look if it came out that our biggest reporter was about to get re-arrested for the high crime of dumpster diving? And, Caleb, it’s not like these people would play nice. They hate us. They’d certainly at least imply that you were out there trying to steal old granny panties or something perverse,” Devin said.
Cringing at the thought, Caleb glanced over at the pile of trash still resting in the middle of his living room. He smirked. They’re already putting on the pressure, he thought. This has got to be good if they’re already trying to do damage control.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to figure out what empty words to say that might get his boss off the phone the quickest. If he laid on the false reassurances too thickly, Devin would immediately assign him some BS puff piece. Something on how wonderful the Beaverton billionaires were. Maybe something on how the only major private employers in the state had done such amazing things for the local economy.
Smiling, Caleb hit on the one thing Devin would believe. “Devin, I’ll be honest. I was looking into this university angle. There have been these reports that some company was using medical research to hold a college official- and the massive budget they control- hostage. Add in some stuff from the feds claiming there might be some credible ties to slave labor and we’ve got some major goods on higher ed,” he said.
“You can’t be serious,” Devin said.
“Well, I know. I know. It’s good. It might even win me another big prize. But I was waiting until I had some original source material to pitch it,” Caleb said, unable to resist grinning from ear to ear. He could imagine Devin nearing an aneurism right then. I bet his face is plum purple, Caleb thought.
“Caleb, you can’t… you can’t do that story, either. Is this some trick? Are you trying some weird negotiating ploy? Try to trick me into believing you’re committing career suicide so that the nursing home piece doesn’t seem so unreasonable? Because it’s not going to work. Dexter Harmsworthy owns that nursing home. Do you know who that is? OF COURSE, YOU KNOW WHO THAT IS. He’s the richest fu… He’s the richest man in Oregon, Caleb. Or, I guess I should say he’s the richest person. Even bigger than the corporate guy funding all the athletic stuff. The one you were probably just alluding to,” Devin said.
I just got my first big clue, Caleb thought. He immediately went to jot that bit of information down. Saved me the time of having to dig that up, he thought.
Smiling, he debated whether or not to continue baiting his boss. Caleb derived a mild sense of amusement from the exchange, even if it was a distraction. Glancing over at the pile of garbage he still needed to go through, he sighed. “Well, I’m sorry, Devin. I thought it would be something that’d be right up your alley. But, no, I wasn’t doing anything shady. It wasn’t a ploy. You’ve seen me. Do I look like the sort of person who could be that smart or manipulative?” Caleb asked.
Devin chuckled. “You know, I was always surprised that you managed to make it out of Mexico alive. But you did. So, looks can be deceiving,” he said.
“Thanks for that,” Caleb said, sticking his tongue out at the phone.
“Look, I’m not sure I even believe you’re capable of running around, rummaging through the trash. I know you’re fully capable of disregarding my orders. Particularly when you’re with that Maria. That girl, she’s trouble. With a capital T. I only hired her because my boss basically told me to. We needed more diversity and she had some family connections to the war in Afghanistan. But she’s just as bad as you, Caleb. Worse, actually. Because she’s more willing to break the LAWS. Not just the rules, but the law. Plus, she doesn’t have a Pulitzer on her resume,” Devin said.
“Well, I wasn’t with Maria, Devin. I’ve been at home. I swear. But can you give me an idea of the sort of story that is ‘safe’ right now? You want me to go find a little old lady with an emotional support hamster? It’s Portland. I guarantee that if such a person exists, it’s here. Maybe go find a good pic of someone walking their turkey on a leash? I don’t need to speculate on that one. I’ve actually seen it happen here. Hey, maybe we’ll do something on professional cuddlers? I bet we could get some insurance company to buy a few column inches for that one. Oh, wait, we don’t have column inches. Maybe a banner ad? Cuddlers could increase productivity and reduce stress. Speaking of which, maybe we could get me reimbursed. Call it research?” Caleb asked.
“Caleb…”
“Oh, I know. Off-brand, right? Okay, how about this? We’ll do the BDSM scene. But we’ll be sure to avoid any hint of the corporate guys who are allegedly involved. I’m sure that would be positively scandalous, Devin. We’re an investigative journalist outfit, but we don’t want to ruffle any feathers. I get it. Investigate things and report on them, but only when it won’t piss anyone off. So, we’ll do BDSM. But no one who makes over the median. And we need to avoid alienating anyone in the LGBTQ community. And there are people out there who might be triggered by chains. V
ery cringey. That’s the word the kids use now, right? Cringey AF? So, maybe we’ll make BDSM racist. That seems pretty safe, right? After all, who can actually afford to have sex for pleasure? And to have safe words and elaborate role-playing involved? You’d have to be pretty privileged to be able to engage in those sorts of taboo activities. Any mention of minorities will include references to forced degradation and sex workers. Is that the sort of thing you’re going for? Fits in with the splashy, click-bait-y headlines,” Caleb said.
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Devin said.
“Oh, COME ON! Devin, that’s bullshit and you know it. Now you’re just trolling me. Are you trolling me?” Caleb asked.
“Well, I mean, it would be an interesting read. And you did have a point. Latex masks and all the toys probably aren’t cheap,” Devin said.
“Have you been out there, pricing these things, Devin? Should I do the story on how BDSM has infected journalism?” Caleb asked.
“Can you just do something that won’t require me to spend days dealing with hate mail? We don’t have money to spend on extra security. Okay? Maybe do something on stray cats. Or forest fires. Caleb, prisoners are fighting most of the fires in the west. And it’s coming up on fire season.* It’s a big, complex problem with lots of moving parts. And I know you’ll love the fact that any position you might take is virtually guaranteed to piss everyone off. Saying that prisoners are being exploited for cheap labor won’t score you many points with the right. Saying that states might be better able to manage forests and mitigate the risk of fires won’t win you many points with the left. Doesn’t that seem like a great idea? You could find some hardcore Republican rancher from eastern Oregon who had their home saved by some car thief or bank robber or something. It’d be right up your alley. Or maybe do something on wolves, at least?” Devin asked.
“What about stray cats being eaten by wolves as a result of wildfires? Seems like some wolves might get displaced if their habitat is on fire, right? Great. I’ll get right on that,” Caleb said.
“Caleb, seriously. Homelessness epidemic? Anything. Just lay off the nursing home. And try not to piss off the richest person in the state. Can you do that for me?” Devin asked, his tone practically pleading.
“Yes, Devin. I’ll try to do something tame. You know, I actually kind of like the whole firefighting thing. I don’t know if I’ll take the prisoner angle, per se. But maybe. Seems like something worth at least looking into,” Caleb said, ready to do anything that would get his boss off the phone.
“Migraine averted. See, that’s all you had to say, Caleb. Thank you. Now, I’m going to go down a bottle of ibuprofen with some cheap vodka,” he said.
****** Please note, this is an unedited excerpt of Grandma’s Last Wish, by Maxwell Miller. If you enjoyed the story, you can pre-order a copy now at a special promotional price. Visit https://www.amazon.com/Grandmas-Last-Wish-Conway-Mystery-ebook/dp/B082K7L8T5 now.