Part of Crystal’s brain latched onto Scott’s expression that started ‘destroy the reputation of someone’ and another part of her brain was starting a slow burn at being embarrassed in front of Barry the mechanic.
“I am not causing anyone grief; I am trying to determine who ran down a six year old girl!” she said heatedly.
Barry blanched. “This car was involved in that hit and run over on Birch Avenue?” He turned to Scott. “You told me you hit a dog.”
Crystal frowned. Why did Barry think Scott owned the car? Well, she had the information she wanted; she had the name of the owner and likely the driver of the car. She needed to go home and check something in the original story again.
“Thanks for the tour,” she said as she waved to Barry.
Scott grabbed the back of her shirt. “Wait a minute there new girl. I am ordering to stop your snooping or your little job at the newspaper will be over. My Boss is the owner of the paper not the City Editor so I would suggest that you…”
“Bug off!” Crystal yelled as she twisted out of his grasp. “How rude are you? I would suggest you look at what you just did. You grabbed my shirt to try to stop me from investigating. Are you really that threatened by me?” She turned and continued walking her bike out of the garage.
“That’s it,” she said as she started pedalling, “I’m going home and figuring this out. I don’t care what Scott says.”
It was an interesting ride. Crystal could not get Barry’s face out of her mind. He was a pleasant looking fellow; but the way he looked at her when Scott said that Crystal was trying to add to the woman’s troubles was very unpleasant.
“Great. So Barry thinks I’m preying on a woman with poor nerves.” He was the first man in a long time that Crystal had checked out his left hand for any sign of a ring or the lack of a tan line. Crystal was lost in wondering if an auto mechanic would wear his wedding ring or take it off because he didn’t want to get it covered in grease, when she heard a crunching sound; the sound tires make when they hit gravel.
An ugly beige car was slowly following her. If she had asked Scott the color, he would have scoffed at the beige reference. He would have told her it was ‘Prairie Tan’; a perfectly fine color for a 1964 Ford Fairlane.
Right now, she didn’t really care about the color, she just knew the car was getting closer and Scott was laughing like a maniac behind the wheel. He bumped her on her back fender.
“That better not leave a mark!” she yelled.
He continued to push her with his bumper.
Crystal drove her car into a hedge and fell over.
Scott roared off spraying Crystal with gravel.
The tremor in Crystal’s hands amused her at first. “Why are my hands shaking like that?” she asked her newly scratched and dented blue bicycle.
Crystal’s whole body was shaking. She started to laugh. “What? I didn’t just walk out of a freezer; this is crazy.”
Finally the penny dropped. She was frightened. Her ride home seemed to take forever. She had to stop every time a car drove up behind her. It was either stop or fall off her bike because she was shaking so violently.
When she got home, she hauled out the newspapers and found what she was looking for.
“Ah ha!” Crystal said. She stood up and got her list that she had made last night.
Crystal was still shaking, even though she had cranked up the heat in the cabin. She looked over at the cat on the wall. “First order of business; I need a nap.” So she put her pyjamas on and went to bed and would have stayed there but her phone rang.
“Come on over for lunch; I want to hear all about Day Two of your job!”
“Mom; I’m a little under the weather.”
“CeeCee, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing and everything. I’ve been doing some thinking…”
“Crystal; you live ten seconds away. Come and talk to me face to face. I’ll put the coffee pot on.”
***
“Well, did you track down Crystal?” Marjorie asked when Scott came in after lunch.
“I had to go to three other garages before I found her. She had the nerve; well never mind. I’m going to call it a day.”
“Got under your skin did she?”
Scott picked up his briefcase then seemed to remember something.
“Let me see her column.”
“If you think I’m going to walk over there, you’ve got another think coming. March your butt over here or don’t. I’m working.”
Scott walked over and started to read the letters Crystal had printed out earlier for Marjorie. When he reached the second letter, he dropped the copy on Marjorie’s desk.
“Just as I said, plebeian drivel. You know, Ben should really rethink this idea. I don’t know how Matt convinced him to let a girl, barely out of her teens, to hand out advice. She’ll tank the whole column and then what are we going to do? There is no way Betty’s returning.”
“And thank God for that. Crystal’s advice is fresh and sometimes sassy. I think it will go over well when the paper comes out tomorrow. Say Scott, did you phone Fay to see who is going to sub in for her?”
Scott snapped his fingers. “Right.” He walked over to the phone on his desk and prompted by a list taped to the wall, dialed Fay’s number.
“Fay? Scott here. Who’s going to come in and stuff flyers tomorrow morning? Oh? You think she can handle it? Yes, Fay; I know it’s not rocket science. Fine; I’ll let Marjorie know. Have fun at the reunion.” Scott hung up and informed Marjorie. “Marlene’s friend’s daughter said she wanted to do the job. She’s a junior in high school; but Marlene vouched for her.”
“What’s her name?”
Scott combed his luxurious moustache with his fingers. “It started with M…her name might be Mary or Marlene. Yeah, I think it’s Marlene.”
“No Marlene’s name is Marlene. Scotty-boy, you should really consider paying closer attention. Why don’t you use your little tape recording machine more often.”
“It’s a Dictaphone. And I do use it during important interviews; however stuff that isn’t germane to my life just goes in one ear and out the other.”
Marjorie laughed. “Just like a bullet!”
Scott started searching for a file and when he couldn’t find it, he left.
Marjorie got out her compact. Her orange hair stuck out like cactus needles and with her painted on eyebrows, she looked constantly shocked. Marjorie added to her image by applying a fresh coat of orange lipstick. Pleased with the finished result, she clicked the compact shut and turned the radio back on. A popular song filled the newsroom. Marjorie sang along with it for about two lines then started singing a completely different song. It was just the way her brain worked.
***
Joanne’s brain was working overtime. She could usually figure out what was bugging her daughter; but Crystal was being unusually secretive about her day.
“My darling daughter, what is going on? You’re not even eating.”
“I think it’s something I have to work out myself, Mom.” She tried the coffee her mom had put in front of her. It was awesome. “This is great Mom. Look, I’m trying to figure out if I really should continue investigating this hit and run accident. I found a bunch of clues today; but I also found…”
Joanne tried not to overreact. “You’re investigating? How resourceful of you. What was it that you also found?”
“A conspiracy.” Crystal slumped. “There, I said it. I think there is a big conspiracy going on at the Harrogate News.” She looked up at her mom. “And I think Matt is involved.”
At that moment, Matt walked in the kitchen.
“Hello beautiful Schmidt women! So nice to see you both? How are you and what’s for lunch?” He stopped and squinted his eyes. “Why do you both look so glum? Should I have knocked?”
Joanne went and gave him a quick kiss. “Of course not, fiancé mine; after all, we’ll be sharing a home soon.” She stopped talking and looked guil
ty.
“It’s okay folks,” Crystal said, “I know Matt is going to move in at the end of the month.”
“How do you know that?” her mom demanded.
“Mom; no need to act indignant. Fact one, you guys stop talking as soon as I walk in the room; so I know you’re up to something. Fact two, Matt’s lease ends May 30th, 1988; don’t ask me how I know this, I just do. Fact three, I could hardly miss you rearranging the furniture in your bedroom Mom.”
Joanne blushed. “Surprise!” she said meekly.
“I’m glad we got that out in the open; I hate secrets,” Matt added.
“Secrets? Are there quite a few at the paper?”
Joanne frowned at her daughter, but Crystal kept going.
“Secrets surrounding a certain Gloria Fielding? And the fact that she was driving a black Mercedes on Birch Avenue about three weeks ago?”
It was Matt’s turn to look indignant. “I feel like I’m getting the third degree. What’s this about, Crystal?”
“As if you don’t know!”
“Crystal!” her mom shouted.
“It’s okay, Jo, she’s got a bee in her bonnet. We’re going to be living together as a new family unit soon; it’s good to get things out in the open. Tell me what’s bothering you, Crystal.”
Crystal had always liked Matt. He was kind and usually smiling and in a very safe job. Her mom was really happy. It tore Crystal up inside to think that he was hiding the truth about the hit and run.
“You’re number one reporter, Scott Avery, said that the driver of the car that hit little Lisa and killed her, was on new medication that day and she had a bad reaction to it.”
“Speaking of Scott; I wanted to discuss your working relationship with him. It seems that you two have gotten off on the wrong foot.”
Crystal didn’t say anything.
“In fact, I’ve heard you and Scott, despite writing that nice piece about the Filipowitz’s together, are positively adversarial. Why do you think you’re creating such a ruckus?”
Interesting, Crystal thought dispassionately, Scott tries to run me down with his car and I’m the bad guy?
Joanne put her hand on Matt’s arm. “I know this face; Crystal is not telling us the whole story. She’s worried and thinks the world will come to an end if she tells what she knows. This is the face she wore when she was six and she overheard people saying her Dad should have never interfered with the domestic abuse case. This is the face she wore when she was eight and thought that when I donated her Dad’s clothing she was supposed to forget about him. Crystal; let’s dish up and you can tell us what’s you think is going on.”
“Oh, I know what’s going on; I just think you don’t. Or if you do, you’re hiding the truth.”
“Or, we could just start talking about it now,” Joanne said.
Crystal glared at Matt. “You know that Gloria Fielding was not having a bad reaction to a new medication; she was drunk!”
Matt started nodding. “This is good. Get it out; keep going.”
That response stopped Crystal in her tracks. Not what she was expecting at all. “Well, she was drunk. I found an empty bottle of vodka in her car. That was before Scott tried to run me over with his.”
“I have to go back to the bank this afternoon; otherwise I’d pour myself a drink. You said Scott tried to run you over?” Joanne asked.
“Yes, but that’s not the important thing. I went to Barry’s Motors, out in the industrial park and saw the big black car with the right front fender smashed in. The same kind of car Rosa Filipowitz said hit her daughter. When I climbed in the car, I found the registration. Mom, really, I don’t think your eyebrows can get any higher. I’m okay. I wasn’t hurt.”
“Let’s sit down. I need you to outline how you got from point A to point B with your, detecting.” Matt reassured Joanne, who was almost gasping as she looked over each limb of her daughter. “Jo, she’s in front of us; she’s okay. Crystal, I know you’re angry with me, but please explain your reasoning to me.”
“Fine. I talked to Jennifer; that’s Lisa’s older sister and then I talked to Peter and Rosa when I took them out for coffee yesterday. Actually, they took me out; but I told you that before. They were so upset at Scott; he was disgustingly atrocious to them. Anyhow, I figured that since Scott told me there was a bigger story at play, I figured that you Matt, as the City Editor of the Harrogate News would know all about the details of the bigger story. Every time I turn around, Scott is telling me I’m not a journalist. I know that. But I figured that since Winston Fielding was chums with Ben Franzen’s number one reporter, it followed that Winston would use one of the paper’s mechanics to fix the car.”
Matt rubbed his temples. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about. Who is Winston Fielding and why do you think he knows Ben?”
“The more important question is why did Scott try to run you over?” Joanne asked.
“I think he’s being paid to bury the real story; and because Ben knows all about it, I think you do too Matt.”
Matt sighed deeply. “I can see why you and Scott aren’t getting along. Crystal; you have to deal in facts, not throw accusations around willy-nilly. Fortunately, I have thick skin, but you have to be careful. You have made some really inflammatory statements that border on slander. I think a lot of them may not have any basis in reality.”
“What?”
Joanne interceded. “You know CeeCee, that sometimes your imagination gets the best of you and you think things have happened and they’re not. Remember that time when…”
“No,” Crystal said firmly, “I do not want to take a trip down memory lane. Thank you for the lunch invite, but I’m going for a bike ride.” She strode out of the house.
“Make sure you change out of your pyjamas!” her mom called after her.
Chapter Thirteen
Crystal didn’t immediately hop on her bike after she changed into casual clothes. She wanted to look at the papers again.
“Here it is. Winston Fielding; of Fielding Industries, new board member of the Arbutus Drug and Alcohol Treatment Center for Women. And, here is a photo of him shaking hands with the Director.”
She inspected the photo. A portly man dressed in a business suit was staring almost smugly into the camera as he shook hands with a formidable looking woman.
“Ooh, there’s a dragon lady if I ever saw one!”
Crystal tapped her finger at the lower end of the photograph. “And those would be purple snakeskin boots Mr. Fielding is wearing. I’m sure this was the same fellow that Marjorie said stormed in the office; met with Scott and came out of that meeting happy as a clam.” She looked at Duffy MacDufferson. “Surely there is only man in Harrogate who could pull off purple snakeskin boots? And the car was registered to a Gloria Fielding; there must be a connection.”
But facts; Matt mentioned facts. Crystal wrote ‘get a book on journalism’ as item number seven on her list. While she was waiting for her toast, she pulled out her big dictionary and looked up the word slander.
“Oh.” She had indeed been slandering just about every one in her immediate vicinity. Character assignation. Crystal was appalled. What if nothing she thought was true; it was just her imagination, as Matt had said? She had said Matt and Ben were in cahoots with Scott in protecting Gloria Fielding; what if that wasn’t true? For that matter, what if the Gloria the car was registered to wasn’t the same Gloria that had signed the photo in Ben’s desk drawer?
What if there was no conspiracy? What if Gloria didn’t even know Winston; they could be cousins, three hundred times removed? And what if that empty vodka bottle wasn’t even hers?
Crystal paced. “Someone stole this Gloria’s car; took it for a joy ride, smashed into a pole and fled but left their booze bottle behind. Gloria phoned Scott because he was a good guy…” She nearly gagged on the thought but had to talk through this alternate theory of events.
“So, Scott brings the car to Barry’s; said he hit a dog,
ugh, to hide the theft; I mean, Barry could have known the car thieves? And the repair needed to be delayed for three weeks, because the cops had to take photographs and collect evidence from the car.” Crystal had an uncomfortable thought which she immediately discussed with Duffy. “What if I destroyed evidence by jumping in not only the front seat but the back seat as well?”
She slathered her toast with butter and jam and took a big bite. “Let’s say Gloria Fielding’s car wasn’t involved in the hit and run; could it be that the person who was driving the car involved really did have a bad reaction to a new medication? What if I’m like Don Quixote and ‘tilting at windmills’?
Still, she couldn’t let go of another thought that kept bouncing around in her head. She thought Scott had sent the letter to ‘A Bit of Advice from Betty’ that was signed ‘now a man of means.’ But that was just guessing on her part. Slander, even, if she spoke it out loud.
Facts? Matt wanted facts? He wanted her to connect the dots? Well, she would.
“Arbutus Street, here I come!”
Armed with a map Crystal put on a jacket and got on her bike then immediately dismounted. She went into the workshop and rooted around until she found the masking tape then went back into the cabin and grabbed a small mirror from the bathroom vanity. She taped the mirror onto her bike.
“There! Let Scott try and sneak up on me now!” she said as she rode off.
The Treatment Center was on a quiet residential street with large maple, not arbutus, trees lining each side of the street.
Crystal looked up at the large blue home.
“Well, I found it,” she whispered to herself. “Now what?” She walked up the steps and thought about the bike ride she just experienced; she started shaking every time a car passed her. Crystal knocked on the door just as she thought, ‘I hope I can shake off this reaction off’, then started giggling. “Shake off my shaking!” she said as the door opened.
A woman dressed in jeans and a t-shirt opened the door. “Oh you poor thing! We don’t normally take walk-ins, but at least you can come in and sit down. I’m just a house mom here, but I’ll go see if I can find someone to talk to you.”
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