Hot Off the Press (A Hailey Webb Mystery, Volume 1)

by Deany Ray

  “I love staying busy, and it’s been interesting so far.” I reached for one of the Styrofoam cups sitting near the coffee maker.

  Continuing their conversation, Billy ragged some more on Sue about some meeting from the night before. Apparently, she’d gone toe to toe with some city councilman and won. Billy gave me a wink. “You’d think they’d learn by now when Sue wants information, they’d better save themselves some time and just give her the info now.”

  “Good job. Congratulations.” I gave her a thumbs-up. I took note that if I wanted to get to know these busy people, I should stop by the coffee station more often. It seemed to be the only time they stood still long enough to have a little chat.

  I took a sip of coffee and scrunched up my nose at the first bitter taste of the weak brown liquid.

  Billy gave me a sympathetic smile. “Pretty bad, I know. But, hey, at least it’s got caffeine in it, right?”

  That coffee assignment immediately moved way up on my list of priorities. I’d already Googled prices at some of the shops nearby, but I was thinking I could get the kind of coffee that I made at home. My preference there was whole beans, so it wouldn’t be the same. There was no grinder here and no time to grind. Still, it would be a marked improvement over the horror show lurking in my cup.

  The rest of the afternoon was spent immersed in research. I compiled some basic facts about a historic area downtown slated for improvements. Then I compiled some stats on home invasions and assaults by zip code. I was feeling good. Some well-placed calls plus time on Google were yielding the precise results the reporters seemed to need. I was developing a knack for finding the right search terms to get me to the sites that were both credible and relevant to the task at hand.

  Plus, I’d listened a bit to reporters’ calls to understand the way to push—just enough but not too hard—to get a call returned. If you were too accommodating, you’d be put on hold until you’d forgotten what your question even was. On the other hand, if you were too demanding, you could all but forget about your sources jumping in to help. It was all about the balance and I found it highly fascinating.

  I was so much in the zone that I was shocked to see how late it had gotten when I looked at the time. I was contemplating leaving the office when I was startled by a voice coming from behind me, just over my shoulder. “Looking industrious today!”

  I wheeled around to see a smiling Mike.

  “It seems someone has been busy.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “I just paid a little visit to Pearlrover West, but apparently their PR man had talked to the Gazette already. Big surprise to me. The not-so-friendly watchdog guarding the front desk said to check in with my colleague, who had all the information.”

  My good mood instantly dissolved. “Um . . . That was me.”

  “So I’ve heard, but why?” Rather than being angry, Mike just looked confused.

  “Well, I may have a source with connections to Pearlrover. I thought I could help, but I see I’ve made a mess.” I gave him a weak, apologetic smile. “I’m still learning the new job.”

  He eyed me suspiciously. “Very interesting. So, can you share with me the things this source had to say?”

  “What he had to say was nothing. I’m afraid it was a bust, but I’ll fill you in for sure about the talk I had with their PR guy. Also no great shakes.”

  “Yeah, you rarely get the juicy stuff from a paid-mouthpiece guy like that. But did he give you all the basic facts about the victim and O’Connell’s last big haul?”

  Nervously, I closed my eyes and thought about what Willard Manchester said, hoping there wasn’t something super obvious I hadn’t thought to ask. That seemed to be my pattern—missing the obvious when it came to the ways this news business worked.

  Mike rolled a chair up to my desk, and he got so close, we bumped knees for a second. Something tingled inside of me, but I pushed that feeling away.

  After I’d filled him in, he looked halfway impressed. “There are a few other things I would have liked to ask,” he said, “but not bad for a newbie.”

  I blushed, so relieved. “Thanks. And again, I’m sorry.”

  “Well, it did make me look foolish, like I had no idea what was going on at my own newspaper.” A shadow crossed his face, but then he grinned and winked. “I have to keep up an appearance. I have to make them think I know what’s going on at all times, in all places. That’s what a reporter does.”

  I smiled. “I’m sure you don’t miss much.”

  “That’s the goal, at least.” He stood. “Thanks for the info, Hailey. I’ll see you around.”

  As he walked away, I couldn’t help but notice his broad shoulders as well as the easy confidence with which he moved. Too bad I’d sworn off any men until I had recovered fully from the last one.

  Noticing the time again, I decided to pack up. I had survived one more day on the job. Now could I survive a little mother-daughter time?

  Chapter Ten

  My mom, as usual, was right, at least about the traffic. It took me more than twenty minutes to make it across town to her favorite mall. It was a sprawling collection of high-end shops nestled along pristine sidewalks with bright bursts of seasonal blooms everywhere you looked. Most of the stores were so crazily overpriced I wondered how they stayed in business. Yet they had drawn so many shoppers I thought I would never park. I finally squeezed my Jeep into a spot that felt like it was a hundred miles away. Didn’t these people have somewhere else to be?

  My mother was waiting for me by one of the massive, dramatic fountains scattered about the grounds. For some inexplicable reason, this one was my mother’s favorite. She found the design and sound to be especially soothing; to me, it just looked like a swamp waiting to happen. The giant concrete basin was supposed to be painted to resemble marble, but it just looked fake and cheap. It had decorative fish and frog statues all the way around it, many of them half-hidden by lush plants.

  My mother was lounging on one of the many concrete benches, studying herself in a little hand mirror, probably checking to make sure her lips hadn’t magically reinflated.

  “Hello, Mom,” I said, looking around. Considering the number of cars parked outside, there didn’t seem to be a whole lot of people wandering around. There was a frozen yogurt place and a Banana Republic to the left, and an oversized store featuring what looked like dresses for hippies beside a Dior boutique. “Can we do dinner first?” I asked. “I’m starving.”

  My mother glanced at me over the glittering, purple rims of her sunglasses, her brown eyes running over my outfit, down to my pink sneakers. She frowned but didn’t say anything. “That would be lovely, darling, but you couldn’t have dressed up just a little for your mother?”

  I sighed. “Not really. The new job has been a little hard on some of my nice things. Some of them are at the cleaners.” It wasn’t quite a lie. I’d been planning on getting the skirt and blazer I’d worn when finding Derek dead, to the cleaners. Someday.

  Mom stood up, resettling her Versace bag on one arm. I stared at the sleek red shoulder bag with a little bit of envy. I thought how nice it could be to buy whatever caught your eye and made you fall in love a little when you saw it in a window. Then I frowned. A designer purse might say to the world you had an eye-popping balance at the bank, but that was all it said. In my own way, I was making it. The research I’d done today would go into some stories that would be widely read, and they were about the things that mattered, like crime rates and responsible development. I shook my head; could it be that I’ve become this boring after only two days on the new job?

  My mother, in her flawless pink suit, cut to fit her perfectly, smiled and said, “Let’s get Italian.”

  What my mother considered Italian was in fact a ritzy Mediterranean place with a variety of authentic Italian, Greek, and Spanish dishes. Most of the names were completely unpronounceable. Truth be told, I think my mom just liked the expensive, posh vibes the place gave off; I couldn’t remember her ever ordering any
thing from here that she didn’t complain about.

  Now that she didn’t have her swollen lips to worry about, she could give me her full attention. “So, darling, tell me about this job,” she said immediately after ordering us a bottle of wine and some water.

  “I work for the Gazette, Mom. I do research on all kinds of things, and sometimes I go out and talk to people.”

  “All kinds of things” sounded better, I decided, than “I bring lunch and shop for coffee.”

  My mother wrinkled her nose. “That doesn’t sound anything like what you were doing before.”

  The handsome, young waiter brought us a bottle of something delicious and poured us each a glass.

  “Doing something different is pretty much the point,” I replied when he had gone. I took a slow sip of the wine. It really was delicious, but I didn’t want to think about how many hours of errand-running and research that one sip would cost if it were up to me to pay. I tilted the wine glass in my hands, staring through the deep, burgundy-red liquid without really seeing it. “Why would I want something that would just remind me of what I had before?” I asked.

  My mom was quiet for a long time as she studied me.

  I looked down at the menu, not really wanting to have this conversation.

  After a minute, my mom clicked her tongue at me. “You’re better off without Connor, my darling,” she said softly. “His treatment of you was abysmal, and that man did not deserve the honor of your presence in his life. So there’s no need to look wistful over things that used to be. Good riddance, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Can you imagine if right now I was Mrs. Whitacre?” I sighed. “There are just some things about the old life I’d love to get back—minus the man, of course.” At Griffingate, I’d known what I was doing; at the Gazette, the whole process still seemed like a puzzle. I really felt, however, that I could excel at that type of work—and that it could be work I loved.

  I wanted to tell Mom about seeing Connor, but I kept that to myself. I had good wine in my glass; I could browse around some shops a little later with a nice buzz, perhaps. I wanted to focus on the positive, and Connor Whitacre deserved no more of my attention.

  My mother leaned forward, patting me on the wrist. “Darling, the future is uncertain. Even if that half-wit hadn’t cheated on you and you had gotten married, anything could have happened. He could have died; you could have died. You could have grown apart. You both could have lost your shiny, lucrative jobs.” She picked up her menu as she leaned back in her chair. “And you never know. Connor wasn’t too hard on the eyes, but there are nice-looking single men all around you, Hailey.” She said that last part a little too loudly for my comfort.

  I put my face down in my hands as the waiter came by. I was embarrassed at my mother’s . . . well . . . at the very Sheryl Selway-ness of my mother. I ordered some fettuccini Alfredo and a side salad as my mother winked at me from across the table.

  Although I wish she wouldn’t advertise my singleness, I knew she was right. There were indeed other fish in the sea, even if I wasn’t ready to go swimming yet after my encounter with a barracuda. I was so not ready.

  “Tell me more about this new job of yours,” my mom said. “What exactly did you do there this week?”

  “Yesterday was my first day at work.” I paused. I wasn’t sure if I should tell my mother about my great find but decided to go for it. “There was this treasure hunter who’s been in the news. He brought up a massive haul of relics from a shipwreck but unfortunately died soon after that.”

  “Oh, my. What happened to him?” Mom asked.

  “Someone stabbed him.” I took a sip of wine.

  “He was murdered?” Mom looked incredulous.

  “Yep. I found him. I went to his boat to ask some questions, and well, obviously, he was way too far gone to answer and—”

  “You what?” Mom interrupted with her glass in midair. “You found him? You found a dead man?”

  I nodded.

  “OMG, you found a murdered dead body?” her voice rose a couple of octaves.

  People were starting to turn and stare.

  “Mom, it’s okay, please don’t make a scene.”

  “What am I supposed to do after hearing my baby FOUND A DEAD BODY?” my mother wailed, her words breaking down into blubbering incoherent nonsense. “A murdered dead body!”

  “Sheesh, Mom, please get a grip. I’d like to show my face here again.” My mom finished her glass of wine in one big gulp, and I saw our waiter cringe. I tried to calm her down, smiling at the other patrons, who kept staring, wide-eyed.

  After what seemed to be an eternity, Mom calmed down. The wine bottle was almost empty, and I felt a headache coming on.

  “Okay, I had a bad first day at work,” I said. “Can we please move on now?”

  My mother straightened her shoulders. “I’m okay now. I’m okay.” She reached into her purse. “I have this new therapist. She has this genius way of getting to the heart of any—”

  I held up my hand. “I’m fine. But thank you for the offer. Grilled cheese and Haagen-Dazs seem to do the trick most days.”

  Mom nibbled on the end of one of the slabs of garlic bread the waiter had just dropped off at the table. “Do they know who killed him?”

  “No, they don’t. I spent some time today at the company the diver worked at. The operation’s huge. But so far there are no leads on who stabbed him or why. But it is suspicious that he died right after he struck gold on that final expedition.” I ran my fingers over my water glass, catching the condensation that was slipping down the sides. My mind flashed back to the gruesome scene on O’Connell’s boat and the photos that I’d found of him on the internet.

  My mother shrugged. “Maybe there was some dispute over which hunter had the right to dive down to that site. Perhaps he was a gambler who got in too deep with the wrong kinds of people, or perhaps he was just a jerk who cheated on his wife or girlfriend and she wanted to get even. Perhaps she’d been humiliated by him one too many times.”

  “You watch too many crime-shows on TV, Mom.” I rolled my eyes.

  “There’s no such thing, darling. Say, what was the company you said he worked for?” She held up her water glass and waved it at the waiter, signaling for more.

  “I didn’t, but it’s called Pearlrover West.”

  My mother laughed out loud. “Really?”

  “What’s so funny about that?”

  “It’s just such a coincidence,” she said, a big grin spreading across her still somewhat puffy lips. “I’m doing PR for an event Pearlrover is putting on tomorrow. When you said diver, I thought it could be them.”

  I sat up a little straighter, staring at my mother as she drank her wine. “You are?”

  “Yes. Well, my people are. I’ve not been involved in this one very much. My second-in-command is managing this particular event. Melinda. She has the makings of a very fine PR executive. She just needs to learn to stand up straight and be a little louder about the things she wants.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You mean just like you?”

  “Nobody is just like me.”

  I laughed. “Just checking.”

  “I mean, Melinda is very good, but there’s a reason I’m the boss, and on top of that—”

  “Mom, what exactly is this event you’re doing for Pearlrover?”

  “It’s a party. I think it’s an auction.” She paused. “Great. I’m throwing a party for a company with a member of their staff killed. And nobody bothered to tell me. I’m going to have a talk with Melinda.”

  “An auction?” I asked. “Hmm . . .”

  “Would you like to attend?” My mom brightened, seeing my reaction.

  I nodded vigorously; my mind was whirling now. “Can you get me in at this late notice?”

  She looked surprised that I would ask. “Why of course, I can. They love me!”

  “With a plus-one?” I asked.

  My mom stared at me.


  “No, it’s not a guy,” I said.

  I swear I could see my mom’s lips deflating.

  This was amazing. I wondered if the items from O’Connell’s haul would be in the auction. That made me think of questions that I should have asked during my talk with Willard Manchester. He was sneaky too, not even mentioning this upcoming auction.

  Grinning, I pulled out my phone and typed out a quick text.

  Hey, Kat. Do you have anything really, really nice to wear?

  I got an almost immediate response. I have that green and glittery off-the-shoulder thingy.

  That’s perfect, I wrote back, a smile on my face despite the memory of Kat in sparkling green ushering me out of my rehearsal dinner.

  For what? Are we gonna PARTY!?

  Yes! An auction. Tomorrow. At Pearlrover West. I sent back a thumbs-up before tucking my phone back in my purse.

  I realized that my mother’s mouth was moving as she poured the last of the wine into her glass. “. . . dress is formal and, of course, as a guest of Sheryl Selway, I expect you to look beyond impeccable.” She gave me the kind of look that I assumed sent Melinda and company scrambling to do her bidding. “Dress code is important, Hailey.” A light came on in her eyes. “We’ll buy you something here this evening. There’s a darling new boutique you will absolutely love.”

  I could feel pressure building in my chest. “Mom, I was out of work awhile, and I don’t think that I . . .” My voice trailed away as I mentally went through my closet to assess my options, which were slim.

  “Nonsense, it’s my treat,” my mom said.

  I had a few things that would work if the cleaners could do a rush job, or Kat could even have an extra formal dress.

  My mother was eyeing me. “Hailey, I insist.”

  I knew she would insist until I said yes. I sighed. “Fine. And thank you, Mom.”

  My mother was excited. “Let’s get you a whole wardrobe, darling. I saw the most exquisite shoes while I was waiting for you.” My mother was never happier than when she was pulling out a credit card as the aroma of fine, expensive leather wafted through the air.