Dead Air (6 page)

“A
ll I can say is that Robert Ellison will be charged on counts of second-degree murder as soon as he awakens. That’s all I can tell you.”

Clark leaned closer as the local news showed Sheriff McGruder on the courthouse stairs. He stared at the television, which only displayed the sheriff’s retreating back. The news reporter rambled on, telling the good people of Mystique about the murder of Howard Alspeed and implying no one aside from Mr. Ellison could be guilty. After all, his fingerprints were on the murder weapon.

No comment was made how Mr. Ellison had received his own injuries.

Heat sprinted up the back of Clark’s neck. This might be a small town, but the sheriff was wrong in what he was saying, and the news station even more wrong to air his sound bite. Everyone in Mystique watched the news, and most people would believe every single thing said on air. Didn’t they realize they tarnished the jury pool with half facts?

Disgust pushing him, Clark shut off the television. Poor Mr. Ellison. Clark knew all about media hype and how what was reported often wasn’t the truth. Knew it firsthand and knew it
well. He hadn’t met Mrs. Ellison, but maybe it would put her mind at ease to know Clark would do what he could to help. He had the Ellisons’ home address—maybe he should visit Mrs. Ellison?

Lord, what do I do? I know I haven’t been obedient, but I’m trying to get back on track. I could use a little direction here.

Clark paced the worn wooden floors of the living room. Would Mrs. Ellison find him too forward if he showed up on her doorstep at such a trying time? Would it put her mind at ease? He’d have loved for someone, anyone, to have believed in him during his ordeal.

He grabbed his keys and wallet, checked the address for the Ellisons’, then headed to his car. Driving into the ritzier part of town, Clark found the house. He parked the car and knocked on the door. No one answered. Had he made a mistake in coming?

Finally the door opened, and a young woman appeared. “Yes? May I help you?”

“I’m Clark McKay. Mrs. Ellison?”

The leggy woman tilted her head. “Uh, no. I’m Sheldon Powers, a friend of Amber’s.”

“Is Mrs. Ellison here?” He hadn’t thought this trip through very well. Mrs. Ellison was probably at the hospital.

“Yes, but I don’t think she’s up for guests at the moment.”

“Shel, who is it?”

No mistaking that voice. Gabby.

She joined Sheldon at the door, displeasure lining her delicate features. “Mr. McKay, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see Mrs. Ellison.”

“What for?” She planted her hands on her hips, widening her stance. Pure defensive move.

Most definitely he’d made a mistake in coming. Nothing to do about it now. “I just heard the news.”

“And what?”

“And wanted to come by and see if I could help.”

Gabby’s expressive features sharpened. “Help? How can you help?”

He straightened up, amused at how her defensive stance faltered a bit at the reminder of his height. “I thought maybe it would put Mrs. Ellison’s mind at ease to know I don’t believe Mr. Ellison is guilty.”

“What?”

“I realize I don’t know him well, but…” How could he admit he knew exactly how Mr. Ellison was feeling?

He paused. “I’d like for KLUV to do a special tonight.”

“You’ve already told everyone you’re the owner.”

He caught Gabby’s eyes narrowing. “I want to come out in support of Mr. Ellison’s innocence.”

Gabby crossed the threshold, disbelief in her tone. “And you want to go on the air with that tonight?”

“I do. I think our listeners need to know we support Mr. Ellison and—”

A wail broke out behind them.

Sheldon grabbed Gabby’s arm, pulling her back into the house. “Mr. McKay, now’s really not a good time. Gabby will be at the station on time if you want to discuss further business. Right now, we have a friend who needs us.”

Before he could reply, the door was shut in his face.

Surprise gave way to resignation as he made his way back to his car. His idea was a good one, he knew that. But clearly he had more work to do before Gabby or any of the other good people of Mystique truly trusted him.

It occurred to him that he shouldn’t care what Gabby thought about him or his motivations. He was her boss.

But he knew better than to lie to himself. What she thought mattered. A lot.

“Do you think it’s possible Sheriff McGruder is right?” Rayne settled into the passenger’s seat. Her total logic sometimes annoyed Gabby. This could very well be one of those times.

Gabby started the engine and put the Expedition in Reverse. “I don’t know. It’s possible, I guess, but I just can’t believe it.” She glanced at her friend. “What do you think?”

Rayne shrugged. “I just don’t know.”

Sheldon stuck her head between the two captains’ seats. “Logically, I can see where McGruder would come to such a conclusion.”

“But we know Robert.” Rayne lifted her shoulder.

Gabby’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I just can’t believe this is happening.”

“I won’t believe Robert’s involved,” Imogene huffed from the backseat.

Sheldon tapped her fingernails against the armrest. “But his prints on the gun…Maybe he was struggling to get the gun away from the killer before he was knocked out?” Her insight was probably inspired by the suspense novels she read—claiming it was all part of a librarian’s duty—but Gabby had to admit that her suggestion made sense.

“Okay, if Robert didn’t kill Howard, then who did?” Tonna crossed her arms over her chest.

Wasn’t that the loaded question?

Sheldon broke the silence. “I just don’t know what to make of it all.” She caught Gabby’s eye in the rearview mirror. “With Mr. McKay owning the station now, what does this mean for your job, Gab?”

“I really don’t know.”

Rayne shook her head. “Don’t you go worrying about that now, girl. I’ll hire you in two shakes of a sheep’s tail if something happens.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” But she wouldn’t take that job. No, she hadn’t gone to Ole Miss and gotten her degree in communications to work at a bed-and-breakfast, no matter how high in cotton it sat. And she wouldn’t leave her field—it’d be like proving to Blake Riggsdale that he’d beaten her. After their disastrous relationship, she’d given up journalism, but wouldn’t give up on broadcasting.

“We won’t let you lose out on buying that house. We know what it means to you,” Immy said in a quiet voice, understanding Gabby’s dream.

“Well, when I drove by, there was a Sold sign on it and the grass had been mowed. So, it might not even play into the equation.” She let out a sigh that nearly choked her heart.

“Sold?” Immy’s eyes widened. “There has to be a mistake. The Realtor swore she’d give you a heads-up if a bid came in on the place.”

“I forgot to call the Realtor.” Gabby shrugged. “With everything else happening, I guess this will wait.”

“Don’t worry about things you have no control over.” Immy gave Gabby’s shoulder a squeeze. “This didn’t catch God by surprise. He’s still on the throne and still in control.”

Gabby couldn’t fight the smile tickling her lips. “I know. It’s just hard right now to remember that.” She parked the SUV in the apartment complex’s lot. “Thanks, y’all. I guess I’d better get ready for work. My new boss is coming in. Again.” Gabby opened the driver’s door and stepped out.

Tonna dug her keys from her purse. “I’ll be praying for Robert. And you.”

The others echoed their agreement.

“Do we want to meet at Minnie’s for supper tomorrow and see where things stand?” Rayne asked Gabby.

“Sure. Seven-thirty?”

“I’ll be there,” Sheldon stated.

“Me, too,” Immy agreed while Tonna nodded.

“Great.” Gabby smiled, sending a silent prayer of thanks for having such loyal and loving friends in her life. “I’ll call y’all as soon as I can to update.”

And she prayed she’d have good news to tell.

Two hours later, Gabby was in the studio. “Thanks for tuning in tonight, Mystique. Tonight we won’t be taking calls. Most of you have heard that our former longtime owner, Robert Ellison, was named today as the sheriff department’s leading suspect in the murder of Howard Alspeed.” Gabby swallowed back the lump in her throat.

Clark smoothly filled the gap her emotions blocked. “I haven’t known Mr. Ellison nearly as long as you folks in town, but from what I do know and from the way he conducted the business of selling KLUV, I firmly believe in Mr. Ellison’s innocence and am confident the truth will come to light.”

She smiled her appreciation. “Thank you for your support, Mr. McKay. Robert Ellison is a pillar of our community, a good man. I stand behind him and will press for the truth to be revealed. The truth about what happened to another member of the KLUV family, Howard Alspeed.” Again, emotions held her voice in check.

“Tragedy has fallen on the station, but we believe Mr. Ellison’s arrest is just that—a tragedy.” Clark straightened, his hands in tight fists on the desk. “We will cooperate with the police in any way possible to clear Mr. Ellison’s name.”

If she weren’t on the air, she might very well have swooned right then. As it was, her stomach did little flips. “I’ve looked up to Mr. Ellison for years. Some of you know Robert personally,
some of you only in passing.” Tears clouded her vision. “I won’t rest until the truth is revealed, the real murderer is behind bars and Robert’s name is fully cleared.”

“And I’m authorizing use of the station’s resources to assist Gabby in this noble endeavor.”

Oh, now she could really kiss him. “So, Mystique, you heard what happened to poor Mr. Alspeed. If you have any information, regardless of how insignificant you may think it is, about the morning of the murder, please call Sheriff McGruder. I’m sure he’ll appreciate your help.” She queued off her mic, chuckling, and looped a commercial set.

“Bet the sheriff isn’t going to be too happy with you.”

“No, I doubt it.” She shrugged. “But maybe, just maybe, somebody will have seen a car or something. We’ve gotta help where we can because McGruder sure isn’t looking any further for suspects than Robert.”

“Oftentimes, truth is the first casualty when an investigation begins.”

She detected something in his voice. Sadness? Gabby narrowed her eyes, studying him. “Speaking from experience?”

“Well…”

She held up a finger. “Hold that thought for just a second.” Gabby leaned over her mic. “Instead of taking calls tonight, I’ll be playing some songs from Robert’s and Howard’s favorites list. To remember and honor these members of the KLUV family.” She flipped off her mic and queued up a music loop.

Leaning back in her chair, she gazed at Mr. McKay. “You were saying?”

He held that thought…and saw no reason to volunteer the information about his past. The smear campaign that had been waged against his paper, the friends he’d lost when he’d refused
to back down from the truthful, if controversial, article—all of that was part of his past he’d be just as happy to forget.

The bitter taste of betrayal still scorched his tongue.

Gabby cleared her throat, still waiting for a response.

“Nothing.”

He looked at Gabby, the studio light highlighting the nostalgic tears in her eyes and the soft smile on her face.

Yes, he was more than willing to forget the past when the present and future seemed so bright.

C
offee was a little bit of heaven on earth.

Gabby sniffed deeply, then savored the strong flavor. Nothing started her day like coffee. Especially when her day started earlier than normal. But sleep had eluded her after her show, teasing her until she’d finally fallen into a restless slumber.

Until ten-thirty.

Unheard of for her to be up at such an hour after working until six. But something had jerked her from her fragmented dream state. So she sat at the kitchen table sipping coffee, about to read the morning paper. She took another sip of coffee and unfolded the newsprint.

Her heart clutched as she read the headline.

Former Radio Station Owner Accused of Murdering Employee.

The coffee soured in her stomach as Gabby read the article, which went on to imply there was a divorce looming for the Ellisons, putting a dark slant on the argument between Robert and Howard in Ms. Minnie’s café and casting suspicion upon the recent sale of KLUV to Mr. McKay.

How dare the reporter print such unfounded claims? “According to a source close to Robert and Amber Ellison, a divorce sits on the horizon.” What kind of hogwash was that? She’d just seen Amber, who hadn’t even hinted at an impending divorce.
And Robert hadn’t indicated anything of the sort. Talk about unethical reporting.

“Robert Ellison and Howard Alspeed argued publicly about the sale of KLUV, multiple eyewitnesses claim.” Gabby tightened her grip on the newsprint. It crinkled in response. Even the mildest of disagreements in the café would sound like a war after the gossips finished their tale. “Multiple witnesses”—Gabby had learned back in college that eyewitness accounts were the most unreliable. How irresponsible of the reporter, not to mention the editor, to give them such credence.

And that the article all but implied Robert had murdered Howard because they’d argued about Mr. McKay buying the station. That was just ludicrous.

Even worse, the article cited the forensic evidence. Like Robert’s fingerprints on the gun left at the scene. The gun that ballistics affirmed had been used to fire the killing shot. How had Robert’s fingerprints gotten on the firearm? Was Sheldon right—could he have wrestled with the killer for the gun?

But the evidence also posed more questions. If Robert shot Howard, how did Robert get hurt? The newspaper article implied he and Howard had struggled for the gun, and after Robert shot Howard, he fell backward, hitting his head and knocking him unconscious. Gabby couldn’t buy that. While both men were physically fit for their age, Howard was clearly the stronger man.

What, exactly, had really happened?

Gabby slung the newspaper across the kitchen table and shoved to her feet. She’d get to the truth. She’d prove Robert innocent. And then she’d take the reporter, and his editor, to task for such sloppy reporting.

She gathered her purse and headed to the grocery store. Maybe if she got enough pints of ice cream, it’d cool her temper.

Then again, maybe not.

Steaming mad, Gabby stormed through her grocery shopping with the force of a class-4 hurricane, hoping her friends and neighbors who she passed as she shopped would have the good sense to keep their distance. For the most part, they did. Right up until she sped around a standing display of Tony Chachere’s and smacked right into Clark McKay.

“I take it you read the article,” Clark said.

Gabby’s face turned a brighter shade of red and the muscles in her jaw twitched and jumped. “It’s disgraceful. The paper all but convicted him without even waiting to hear his side!”

He bet she didn’t have a clue how cute she was when flustered. Clark studied the flames flickering in her eyes. Probably wouldn’t be the smartest move to comment on that Gabbyism right now. “One thing I’m curious about. They mentioned Mr. Ellison’s fingerprints on the gun. I’ve heard nothing about if they found gunpowder residue on his hand.”

She snorted—a subtle, ladylike snort, but a snort just the same. “You know, they probably didn’t even check.” Her head jerked right, then left, her gaze scanning the aisle. “Or they did and didn’t find any. I wonder if they let his attorney know.”

“So Amber’s hired an attorney even though the charges haven’t officially been filed?”

“They’ll be as soon as he wakes up. Why wait? But the lawyer—he’s nice and all, but I don’t know how well he’ll do. Honestly, I don’t think there’s ever been a murder in Mystique. At least not one that went to trial.”

“So he’s not familiar with criminal defense?”

“No.”

Clark let out a long, tired sigh. “That doesn’t bode very well for Mr. Ellison. Is there anyone else we could hire? The station would pay for his legal fees.”

Her beautiful eyes widened, and he thought he caught a glimpse of respect and gratitude shimmering in the irises. “It’s a kind offer, but there’s no one else here.”

There it was again—the challenge in not only her words, but her eyes, as well. That look made him want to be the man he thought he’d left behind. The man who fought the battles that needed fighting, no matter what the odds. “Then we’ll have to help.”

That stopped her in her tracks. Those expressive eyes of hers widened. Her hands dropped from her hips and hung loosely at her sides. She shifted her weight from one heeled foot to the other. “You really
do
believe he’s innocent.”

“I do. And I meant what I said—we’ll use all of KLUV’s resources to uncover the truth. Mr. Ellison might have already sold the station when Mr. Alspeed was murdered, but Mr. Alspeed was an employee. I want to get to the bottom of this.”

“Me, too. Where do we start?”

“Let me do some digging and see if I can find out about the gunpowder residue. That’d be a good starting point.”

Her mouth dropped open, hung agape for a long second, then her lips clamped shut. “I need to get these groceries home.”

“Why don’t I meet you at the station when you’re done? We can put together a game plan of sorts.” He held his breath, then argued against his own logic. Why did he care a flip what she thought? She was an employee. He was her boss.

“I’ll finish up here, then meet you at KLUV. Eric should be there now. Talk with him. He’s been station manager for several years. Even though he’s a little young and cocky, he seems to have a good head on his shoulders.”

Except she wasn’t aware of his conversation with Eric, where the station manager had all but told him to back out of buying KLUV. What would she say if she knew?

Turning away from him, she headed to the registers, her step still brisk and purposeful, but thankfully no longer as anger-fueled as it had been.

Clark watched her go, questioning himself. Just why, he railed against his stupid emotions, did it matter so much what opinion Gabby Rogillio had of him? He couldn’t answer.

He only knew it did.

After completing his shopping, checking out, then running the staples to his house, he headed to KLUV. He whipped into the parking lot, taking note that Gabby’s SUV was already parked in its familiar place.

He strode into the coolness, grateful to be out of the early afternoon’s unforgiving sun.

“Hello, Mr. McKay.” The part-time receptionist, Ellen, smiled a little too brightly as she stood and handed him several slips of paper. “Here are your messages. I’m glad you got here before I left so I could give them to you personally.”

“Thank you.” He gave her a curt nod and took the slips. He’d have to see about hiring an afternoon receptionist soon. “Are Eric and Gabby in his office?”

“Yes, sir.” She grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “With the door closed,” she whispered.

What did that mean? What was she implying? Maybe he’d just hire someone else as a full-time receptionist.

He didn’t bother to reply, just strode down the hall to the station manager’s office. The door wasn’t closed, not really. There was a crack. He tapped on the door. It swung open.

Gabby sat in the chair in front of Eric’s desk. Both bolted to their feet, but neither looked uncomfortable at his interruption. His heart thudded a little faster.

“Would you like to go to your office?” Gabby asked.

“No. This is fine.” He took the other seat in front of Eric’s desk, and Gabby sat back in her chair.

Eric sat, as well. “I spoke with Kevin. He’s covering Howard’s time slot for the time being.”

“Thank you.” Clark noticed the bead of sweat on the station manager’s upper lip. “We’ll need to consider hiring someone on a permanent basis for the position.”

“We usually run an ad in the Natchez paper.” Eric glanced at Gabby, then tiptoed his gaze back to Clark. “Unless there’s someone you already have in mind.”

Ah, so that’s why the station manager was so nervous—worried he’d be firing people to replace them with his own crew. Maybe this was what had prompted Eric’s little talk with him before.

Clark smiled and leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk. “I have no one else in mind.” He cleared his throat. “Let me go ahead and get this straight—I have no intention of clearing house to bring in my people.”

Eric smiled. “That’s a relief.”

“I mean it. I don’t want to disrupt a good team.” He curled his palms into fists. “Now, we will have to hire someone to take over the morning slot. I’d prefer to hire locally if at all possible.”

“I’ll get an ad together and get it in the paper.” Eric nodded.

Clark cut his eyes to Gabby, who sat stiff, staring at the undecorated wall. What was going through that quick mind of hers? “Gabby, your thoughts?”

She jerked her attention to him. “Me? Why ask me? I’m just a deejay.”

“The best one this station has, according to the numbers. I’m asking your opinion.”

Her cheeks tinged pink. “Then I agree with what Eric suggests. Ads. Interviews. Whatever.” She flicked her wrist and waggled her fingers.

“But we’re a team, and I want to make sure everyone gets along. Can’t have feuding.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Clark wished he could pull them back. Feuding…that’s what put Robert Ellison in the sheriff’s crosshairs for murdering Howard.

Gabby’s eyes bugged and moistened, pushing Clark’s regret even further.

He swallowed against a dry mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—”

She shook her head. “No reason to apologize. I get what you’re saying. I do.” She blinked furiously. “It’s just hard.”

“I know.” His own voice thickened.

“How about I run the ad and do preliminary interviewing, then when there are only a few good candidates, I bring them in to interview with you, Mr. McKay, and you can introduce them to any of the staff? Would that work?” Eric held a pen over a pad of paper.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Gabby smiled at the station manager. “Eric, you rock.”

Clark’s breathing hitched.

What would it take for Gabby to think
he
rocked?