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

by Deany Ray

  I groaned; I should have known she’d go overboard. “One new dress will be just fine.” Of course, I might need shoes, and the whole ensemble most likely would cost the equivalent of two month’s salary for me. My mother could make that kind of purchase without so much as glancing at the price. I’d just go with it, and I’d try to enjoy.

  As we browsed the shops, she was in her element, scooping up jewelry, silky dresses, and shoes for me to try. I insisted all the while that I was to be outfitted for the auction only, not for the rest of my life. I tried on about a million dresses, each one finer than the one before, but nothing seemed just right. My mind went to Kat, who looked good in nearly anything. I, on the other hand, had to try a little harder.

  “Here you are, darling.” Mom held up a gaudy, sparkling thing that would have looked at home in a drag show. “Try this one on.”

  But my eyes were locked on a beautiful creation right behind her shoulder. “Oh, my.”

  Mom turned around and gasped as she looked the dress over with her critical eye. “They better have that dress in your size, darling, because it is absolutely perfect.”

  And it really was. I loved the soft black fabric that would swirl around my legs as I walked; I loved the high slit on the side and the off-the-shoulder, beaded neckline. Everything about it screamed upscale-amazing. My heart fluttered as I reached out, my fingers brushing over the smooth fabric.

  I was in love.

  Luckily, they had the dress in my size. I took it into the dressing room, unable to keep my hands off the silky fabric. It fit like a glove. In this beautiful dress, I glowed, even in the ugly, halogen lights of the dressing room. It actually hurt my heart to take it off.

  “Mom, it’s perfect,” I told her as I came out to show her.

  We picked up a pair of glittering pumps that matched the beading, and I tried them on before heading to the checkout line. The price flashed up on the screen as the lady rang us up, and I nearly choked, feeling a little nauseous.

  “My pleasure,” my mother said, noticing my obvious discomfort. “Highlight of my week. I can certainly afford to buy my daughter a pretty party dress.” She took the bag and plastic-covered dress from the cashier and presented them to me. “See? You finally let me buy you something nice and the world did not explode.” She glanced playfully out the window. “Yes, it seems to me the world is still intact.”

  I laughed, taking the purchases from her. “I do appreciate it. I just feel like at my age I should be taking care of this myself.”

  “I get that. You have that from me. But no matter what your age, I am still your mother. I can take care of you as well.”

  I sighed. “I guess so. Thank you so much for the dress, Mom. Without your help, I never could have had it, and it’s stunning.” I wanted to reach between the plastic and touch the dress again just to prove that it was real, that it was really mine. I loved it more than any dress I’d ever owned, even more than the dress I’d picked out for my wedding.

  “Then let your mom buy you some furniture for that sad, empty apartment of yours. Every apartment needs to have an eye-catching coffee table. You need one piece of furniture that makes a statement, darling. I know just the place.” She took hold of my hand and dragged me away.

  “I did not agree to furniture.” I laughed as I let myself be dragged.

  In the end, we picked out a new dining room table for my mother along with eight matching chairs, several new necklaces, and another dress, all of it for her. There was no furniture for me, but it was not for lack of trying on my mother’s part.

  As we browsed dress racks and displays of jewelry, I managed to gather a little more information on the party tomorrow.

  “They have terrible taste over at Pearlrover,” my mother said. “You wouldn’t believe it. Despite the lists of bands that we provide, all of them excellent, they go with their own selections. Who knows where they dig up those people to assault the ears of the poor guests.” She rolled her eyes as she ran her fingers over a cashmere wrap. “And last year, the salmon they served was a disaster. Speaking of no taste, I think I’m going to fire my gardener.”

  “Is hot-guy Stephen not working out anymore?” I asked, eyeing a pair of particularly beautiful couch pillows.

  “He certainly is still hot. That’s for sure,” she answered with a wink. “But he’s simply not getting the job done. He spends more time lounging around my pool than he does working, and my poor garden is in pieces without any TLC.”

  I nodded, trying to make the proper sounds in response to my mom’s ridiculous problems. I decided my bank account could stretch to accommodate those pillows and picked them up as Mom continued to fill me in on every aspect of her life. Being with Mom was actually really nice when she wasn’t judging every single one of my life choices. I can’t believe I lasted that long on an outing with her.

  I paid for the pillows and hugged her goodbye with another profuse round of thanks. Then I headed to my car and drove to my apartment.

  Back at home, my feet were throbbing, and my back was aching from the marathon whirl of shopping. I reverently hung my new dress in my closet, setting the shoes down on the floor below it. I touched the dress one more time to exult in its glory before getting a shower and dressing for bed.

  Heading for my laptop, I did a quick search, typing in O’Connell’s name to see if something new popped up on the elusive treasure hunter. Apparently, the Gazette was leading with the coverage. A million other news sites cited the paper as their source, meaning in a way that they were citing me since some of the important info came from my firsthand account. In a strange and morbid way, I felt important.

  As far as I could tell, there was no news; no one had been arrested. Sighing, I turned off the laptop, unfolded the sleeper sofa, and climbed between the sheets.

  Tomorrow was a big day. While my job had started out as a kind of nothing job, I had stumbled (literally) into the biggest story they had going. I felt alive again and I felt like doing something that was worth something. Now I had a pricey ticket into an exclusive party where I could discover the juicy tidbit I needed—while looking fabulous.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next morning, I took another sip of coffee, not able to shake off the vivid dreams from the night before. I dreamed I was out at sea alone, in a boat I couldn’t drive, and I was terrified. Suddenly, spears came flying at me left and right. I ducked, fearing for my life. The cabin door swung open, and it turned out I was not alone. Which made things even worse. I turned around and saw Connor coming at me with a spear. He walked toward me with stern determination. He said something about wanting to kiss me, while raising the spear up in the air. I couldn’t move my feet and felt a panic attack coming on that jolted me awake.

  I groaned and got out of bed. It was still way too early in the morning, so I opened my laptop and checked my emails, and also looked at some calendars of free events in town. I found a concert that looked good, but I still felt distracted. The weird world of my dreams seemed more real to me than my couch and the still-bare walls around me.

  After I felt sufficiently caffeinated, I tried to focus on the day ahead and headed to my closet. I put on a pair of jeans and a cute short-sleeved top, thankful for the warmth that was returning to the air. I fluffed my curls, chose some low-heeled slingbacks, and spent some time carefully making sure my makeup was just right.

  On the way to work, I grabbed a bagel. In the midst of all the chaos, groceries—guess what—had not appeared like magic on my kitchen counter. I figured very soon I should find some time to shop.

  At the Gazette, I wished Sandra a good morning as I passed her desk, noticing the place was already buzzing. Her good morning—big surprise—was less than enthusiastic. It was almost as if the woman was trying hard to wear me down with her relentless lack of cheer. Little did she know that a downer of a greeting was minor league in the list of challenges this girl was capable of getting through. Try finding a dead body then seeing your loser ex with the
bimbo that he kissed at your rehearsal dinner. Frown at me all you want. Lady, I can take it.

  First, I stopped in to see Jerry. “Hey, boss,” I said.

  He stared down at his computer, a scowl on his face.

  “Jerry, hey.”

  He looked up. “Webb. You need something?”

  “Guess where I’ll be tonight.”

  He looked at me, flustered. “Tonight? Did you say tonight? Don't tell me I forgot about something that's tonight.”

  “No. I wanted to tell you I managed to score tickets to an auction put on by Pearlrover.”

  A bemused smile crossed his face. “An auction did you say?”

  I nodded and my curls bobbed up and down. “I’ll keep my eye out for anything we can use.”

  It was only just past nine, but his ruffled hair and tired eyes made him look like he’d put in a full and very stressful day already. My boss looked at me, puzzled. “Webb, you understand you’re not required to work tonight,” he said.

  “Of course, I know. But I want to go.”

  “You want to work tonight?” He looked more confused.

  “The party should be fun, and I thought that it could only help for us to have someone there.”

  He smiled. “And that someone would be you?”

  “Right.” Plus, maybe I could make up for the things that I’d done wrong.

  He shrugged. “Well, now, I’m not in the habit of telling people not to dig and snoop. But what I’d really like to do is have Mike at this soiree. This contact of yours, can they get him in as well?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Hopefully. My mother said they loved her!

  “That’s impressive, Webb. Good job. Still don’t want to share your source?”

  I paused and gave him a smile, thinking this is another source than the one I had through Connor. “Let’s just say it’s someone with whom I have a long and close association." That sounded considerably more impressive than "I got tickets from my mother.”

  He nodded. “Just to be absolutely clear this time, if you see some funny business, you let Mike know right away.”

  “Absolutely. Will do.”

  With that, I headed out, nodding at some of the people who I passed, people who I knew by now did not have time for small talk, but they did have to smile. See how easy that is, Sandra? I know you can do it.

  At my desk, I texted Mom about the extra ticket. If she asked who it was for, I’d just say someone from work. She was a PR person, and this was the Gazette. She’d consider it a win!

  Then I’d keep my eye out for Mike to give him the good news, which, for some reason, made me nervous. I looked down to check my top for crumbs. I anxiously scrunched my hair, wishing for a mirror. Then I instantly felt silly. Why fuss like that over Mike?

  I turned on my computer. Some tasks were already in, some of which had already been accepted by Cecil or Cassandra. I had to make a point of finding this Cassandra so that we could meet. I slotted myself in to get lunch for some writers, pick up some dry cleaning, and do some work online—but first those coffee beans.

  Feeling like I was off on some vital task (It was coffee, right?), I headed to my Jeep. I enjoyed the warm breeze that swept my curls against my forehead, happy not to have a job that chained me to a desk. In my Jeep, I turned up the music and headed out into the traffic, fairly light today.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was pulling in to Liza's, the place where I bought my own exquisite beans, which were roasted on the premises; their rich, delicious flavor was the only luxury I’d held on to stubbornly during the little financial apocalypse I’d recently gone through.

  Just the aroma perked me up when I walked into the place, which was all exposed brick, comfy chairs, and quiet, classic music. The owner, a middle-aged blonde with gray woven into her ponytail, gave me a friendly smile. “Well, hello. It’s good to see you. Time to restock on your beans?”

  “Actually, I’m here for the Palm Shores Gazette. I’d like to talk to you about ordering in bulk.” I smiled. “The setup in their break room could use a little upgrade.”

  “Excellent,” she said. “We’ve got some deals in place at quite a few of the offices in town, and people have been pleased.” She called someone from the back to come up and work the counter, and she told me to have a seat. It was lucky I’d hit her up after the morning rush.

  Soon she reappeared with a mocha latte, which she knew was one of my frequent orders. We compared plans with different price points, went over the varieties of flavors that had proven to be most popular, and talked about the quantities most offices went through per person every month. Forty-five minutes later, I walked out with a proposed contract to show at the Gazette. If they okayed the terms, they could sign and—voila—scrumptious coffee in two varieties would be delivered weekly to the paper. I had gotten a good deal, and my personal connection seemed to help.

  I swung by the dry cleaners on the way back and delivered the plastic-covered clothes to some reporters, who seemed appreciative, although they were too busy to take their eyes off the screen for more than a quick thanks. The movie reviewer gave me a grateful thumbs-up when I walked in with a short sky-blue dress that glittered through its plastic sheath. I took note of her plain brown skirt and blouse, the kind of thing she seemed to wear almost every day. I returned the thumbs-up, happy to know that she had embraced the need to sparkle every now and then.

  Then I stopped by the office of a scowling Jerry. I waited patiently while he finished up a phone call with the latest person who had failed him in some way. I waved the contract at him with a grin. “Coffee deliciousness is hopefully on the way from a place I know in town. I worked out a nice deal.”

  “Hallelujah,” he said. “I have too much aggravation to deal with every day to drink nasty-smelling sludge.” He winked. “I like your energy.”

  His phone rang, and he picked up. “Gambill here,” he barked. From the cloud that crossed his face, I could tell another outburst was incoming, so I gave him a little wave and got out of there.

  Back at my desk, I saw the guys from sports had sent in their lunch selections. Man, those guys could eat. Once again, I’d have a massive order to carry in from Banyon’s. I wasn’t looking forward to squeezing into that packed line again. The place seemed to be a zoo at lunch, and now it appears I would be going there quite often. Having Mike in place to pull me ahead in line did not seem like a solution I could count on more than once. So I thought about a better plan. I called in the orders and was told it would be half an hour before I could pick them up.

  “Excellent,” I said, pulling up another task. They seemed to be coming in a steady stream, and it made a girl feel good to know that people really needed the kind of help that I could give. I pulled together some statistics for a traffic story, taking careful notes. Then I moved on to the next task, which was putting together a little background for an education piece. I navigated to the website of the Palm Shores City Schools to gather some phone numbers of official sources.

  That's when I felt a shadow looming over me. In what felt like déjà vu, I wheeled around and there was Mike.

  I jumped just a little, causing me to giggle. “Okay, you have to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

  He grinned. “No sneaking on my part. You just get so focused when it comes to all your projects.” He peered at my screen. “And I can see why. School districting statistics. Scintillating stuff.”

  “Oh, get out of here,” I teased. “Not all of us get to be engrossed in crime and violence every day. Not enough bodies to go around, you know.”

  “Speaking of our bodies, I hear you and I will both be all dressed up and partying this evening.” He leaned back to make himself at home at the edge of my desk.

  I brushed a stray curl from my eye. “You strike me as a guy who doesn't like to miss a party.”

  “Depends on the party, I suppose.”

  “I hear the food is good at this one every year.”

  He seemed to stud
y me. “Tell me something. What’s the fascination with this dead guy and the place he used to work?”

  “It’s not a fascination. It’s a story. I just thought I could help.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  I grew quiet for a moment. “It stays with you, you know . . . seeing someone in that state.”

  I gave a little shiver.

  He sighed. “Yeah, it was an awful way for the poor guy to make his exit.” He cocked his head and studied me some more. “So, this source you've mentioned got you into the auction?”

  “Actually, a second source.”

  “Yeah?” He laughed. “You’re making me look bad.”

  I grinned. “Well, kick it up a notch.”

  He paused, and his manner changed. “Is one of those sources, maybe your ex?”

  I was struck silent for a moment.

  “Your ex-fiancé?” he prodded.

  “W-what?” I managed to spit out. My heart began to pound. “How . . . do . . .?” I could barely speak.

  “You know it’s my job to know things.”

  “But . . .”

  “Knowing the right questions and knowing who to ask.” He winked. “It's what I do.”

  “But . . .” I was too shocked to say anything.

  His voice turned gentle. He could see that I was rattled. “They pay me to be nosy, which can make me kind of a pain. So, sorry to bring it up.”

  It wasn’t his ability to find out things that had left me so confused. What I couldn’t understand was why he would spend his time looking into me and who it was that I might know. I blushed and instinctively glanced toward Jerry’s office.

  “Your secret’s safe with me,” Mike said.

  I sighed. “I owe you big for that.” I wondered exactly what kind of info he had obtained on me and Connor, but I was too afraid to ask. Better to just leave it like that.

  “You don't owe me a thing. Except perhaps an auction ticket . . .”