Death of an Intern (14 page)

“M
ary Granger.”
“It's me. I'm in the lobby. What can I expect?”
“Lassiter wants you ASAP.”

“Does she know, eh, my, eh…?”

“She told me about your accident. I gather you're walking. Any damage?”

“Shaken up.”

I entered the newsroom and went to Mary's desk. “Let's talk.” I continued to my cubicle.

Mary gave me the once over. With two teenage boys, she had a discerning eye. “Please sit,” I asked her.

Mary gingerly sat on the edge of the chair. Our relationship is friendly, but not chummy.

“What I'm about to tell you, I found out only recently, but with the serial killings I didn't get around to telling you or anybody.” I took a deep breath and whispered, “I'm pregnant and I am fine. They sonogrammed me. Everything appears normal.”

“And you're going to call your doctor about this.”

“Yes,” I sputtered, surprised it was the first thing out of her mouth.

“Good. Give me the doctor's name, number, and address.”

“I'll call.”

“No, I'll call, and we'll take the first available time they give us.”

Mary was in charge. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She leaned forward and put her hand on my knee. “Sometimes it's a good thing to have other people worry over you. Accept it. Enjoy it.”

I put a hand on Mary's. “I appreciate it. It's just…”

“You have friends and a good husband. Have you talked with him?”

“Yes. He's in San Francisco for a conference. He'll finish up tomorrow night, come home on the redeye.”

“Why don't you freshen up and then go see the boss.”

“Thanks.” I wiped a tear from my eye

“No problem, I used to be a Den Mother.” She smiled, gave me another reassuring pat, and then left.

A few minutes later, I gave the ritual knock and entered the metro editor's office.

Lassiter seemed genuinely concerned for my wellbeing. “We can make a car available to you as long as you don't take any long trips.”

That was about as close to humor as Lassiter got.

I told her about my meeting with Ralph Morgan, without mentioning his name. “My contact had nothing to offer on the serial killings.”

“Or didn't want to say.”

“Possibly.” I fidgeted. “Ah, there's one other thing.”

Lassiter's expression changed to one of curiosity.

“Last week, the morning they found Thalma Williams' body, in fact, I was late coming in.” My boss sat stone-faced. “It was because I went for a checkup.” Not a crack in Lassiter's expression. “I'm pregnant. Not quite two months. They sonogrammed me at the hospital. Everything's okay.”

“And you wouldn't have told me except for the accident,” she said banally.

“I've had problems conceiving and was waiting to make sure.” I began fidgeting.

“Does this change anything?” she asked flatly.

“I hope not.”

“Good. Get some rest. I'll hold off on giving you an assignment until Monday.”

“What happens if there's another serial killing?”

“We'll see.”

“What does that mean?”

“What I said.” Her tone turned harsh. Lassiter's back was up.

“I thought we had an agreement. You're not being open with me.”

“Open? Look, young lady, I don't like being the last to know, I've—”

“Just because—”

“No!” Lassiter's rebuke was sharp. “You can dance yourself right out of here, all the way out if you want!”

“What's this all about? My not telling you—”

“You better learn who your friends are.”

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you, all right?” My anger was rising. “I was afraid you would pull me off this story. I wanted to prove to you I can handle it.”

“That why you look like crap, because you can handle it?”

“I'm a little washed out, that's all.” I felt my defenses weakening.

“I don't know what demons you're playing with, but keep them out of my office and out of your job. Yeah, I'm pissed you didn't tell me straight out. I put a lot of trust in you, but that doesn't appear to be a two-way street. Don't demand openness from me. You play it straight with me or you can get out!”

I couldn't believe my boss was dissing me. I felt awkward and unsure. I couldn't look at her. I was surprised at her taking this personally. I must have really pissed her off; she never gets personal.

“When you first came to us,” Lassiter said less abrasively, “you were full of yourself, which worked to a degree because you were a worker and eager to learn. You took garbage assignments and treated them as if they were page one. Yeah, I saw that. I saw the hard work. I saw your talent. I was happy you got married; it settled you down a little. But that obviously hasn't translated to your being more mature.”

“How can you say—look at my body of work.” My emotions welled up. “I go with my instincts. I go out there every day trying to prove me to me. I never got that approbation when I was young. Yeah, I push. I've always had to.”

“I can handle push. I can handle exuberance. I can't handle lack of loyalty, lack of respect to this office. You don't have to like me. In fact, its better you don't. Nevertheless, you had better damn well be respectful. Now get out of here before one of us says something that won't be retractable!”

I was shocked and scared. “I have respect for you and the office.”

“Maybe you need to show more respect for your baby too. Now go. Leave!” Lassiter asseverated. “Get some rest and reorient yourself, your thinking. And remember, I'm not your father.”

That was it. Lassiter turned her attention to something on her desk. I straggled out. I'd never been reamed out like that. My father never got angry, only pouted. I stopped alongside Mary's desk. I felt worse than after the accident.

Mary stood up. “What happened to you?”

“I just got my ass chewed.”

“For being in an accident?”

“No, for not being straight with the boss. She was pissed I hadn't told her about the baby right away. She feels I'm disloyal.”

“You need to sit. Let's get you to your cubicle, out of view. You've been through a lot today.” She got me to my desk.

“I have no new assignments until Monday. Maybe not even if there's another killing.”

“She said that?”

“No, more like
maybe
. That's what started it. I wanted to know what maybe meant. That set her off.”

I sat in my desk chair with Mary hovering over me.

“I didn't know she had a heart. Where's your water? Take some deep breaths.”

“What do you mean heart?” I asked surprised.

“She was hurt. You can't be hurt if you don't have a heart.”

I took a water bottle out of my bag and took a couple of swallows.

“Maybe you should take a day or two off. She told you that before the blow up, right?”

“Yes.” I was sapped. I may have lost everything for which I had worked so hard. Tears welled up. I couldn't control myself.

Mary pulled some tissues from somewhere and handed them to me. “You've been through too much today. You need to rest. You go your own way a lot. Maybe you've let that get a little out of control.”

From anyone else, I would have objected, but not with Mary. Conceivably, I could have hurt the boss.

“But more,” Mary went on, “it could be Ms. Lassiter is letting you know you were acting too self-important.”

I had to think about that.

“You know,” she went on, “it's not beyond imagination that she is saying you need to take stock in yourself. Even stars have to be team players.”

“Do you think I've been haughty?”

“That's not for me to say. But you should listen to her.”

“She's a tough one.”

“Funny, I know somebody just like her.”

Bless Mary. I guess I am hard to figure out. I had deliberately created the Lone Ranger persona that had always proved to be a good one. My cell phone rang. I decided not to answer. Mary picked it up and looked at the display. “It's your captain. You want—”

“No.” I took it. “Hi.”

“I just talked with your friend Sergeant Shansky. He said Alexandria PD had jurisdiction and have your car and an abandoned one. Seems that car's driver never claimed it after the accident.”

“What does that mean?”

“Don't know. Could your recorder have fallen out of your car?”

“Both windows were closed when I tipped.” I felt blah.

“How about your other stuff? You have your phone. What about your wallet?”

“It's all there.”

“Tell me about the guy who helped you.”

I gave him a thumbnail sketch.

“You don't sound too good.” There was genuine care in his voice.

“I'm out of gas.”

“I don't like any of this. I will pick you up and take you home. No argument. Be downstairs at five. I have an appointment at six.”

“What about Janet's phone?”

“Right. Two calls from the same number and one other. Good call. We'll get the names soon. See you at five.”

I looked up and found Mary watching me expectantly.

“He's concerned about the accident and my missing recorder. He's picking me up and taking me home at five. Jer's in San Francisco for another day.”

“You need some rest.”

“Everybody says that.”

“Why do you think that is? I think, for the most part, you work well with the metro editor. She may have gotten a little closer to you than she thought. She, too, keeps everyone at arm's length. You two are different, but act similarly in some ways. Think on what she said. Now I've got work to do. Will you be all right?”

“Now, yes. Thanks. Do you think I ought to go…?” I indicated the rest with a nod towards Lassiter's office.

“Not today. Besides, I don't think telling her will be as effective as showing her. Know what I mean?” She left.

I tried wading through the material Mary had given me on the Graysons. I couldn't concentrate. My phone rang. “Wolfe.”

“It's Marsha. You called?”

I explained I wanted to talk with Kat, but didn't think I should call her directly.

“Kat called me earlier. It was about Janet's personal stuff at the office. She plans to ship them home soon. I left Janet's personal things from the townhouse on your boat. I suggested we ought to get together.”

“Right, the sooner the better.”

“I'll call her back and see what's up.”

“Don't mention my name. Oh, and call me on my cell. I'm leaving here. Once we know when we can meet, we'll figure out how to handle it.”

It was nearly five when I walked out of the main entrance to the
Washington Daily Star
to meet Max. He's amazing, caring for me when he has so much else going on. He arrived a hair after five. Other than a greeting, he said nothing. Not even a quip about my driving. I'd certainly provided him with an abundance of ammunition. I broke the ice. “Did you learn anything about the calls to Janet?”

“Two were from a wireless belonging to K.A. Turner. The other may have been a throw-away wireless or a marketing call.”

“Turner is Kat, one of the two we saw at the Terrace Restaurant. Janet was planning to visit her Saturday night. Of course, you already know that.” Something must really have hold of his mind. “Anything from Alexandria PD?”

“Their forensics is going over the cars. The abandoned car may have been stolen.”

“You don't believe this was an accident, do you?”

“Stolen car. Missing driver. Missing tape recorder. Could be a coincidence, but then again it might not be,” he said tersely.

“How did they know where I was? Why go after me? I haven't written anything inflammatory recently.”

“No. However, maybe you or Mr. Morgan were being followed.”

We crossed over Rock Creek Parkway on the Duke Ellington Bridge and stopped at the traffic light where Connecticut intersected with Calvert Street.

“If you don't take care of yourself, I'm going to put a guard on you.” His tone had softened.

“There's no way to predict an accident would happen or that someone was out to get me.”

“You know it is possible now,” he said sternly.

“It could have been a drunk. A kid out for a joy ride in his stolen toy. Anything,” I said hoping to assuage him.

“Yeah right. And I'm a white man.”

“You're a wonderful friend. I appreciate your concern. I'll be careful.”

“Why does that not make me happy?” he quipped.

The traffic began moving. My history of daring trapped me. “You worry too much. Besides, I'm worrying for two, three counting Jerry.” Yet while I say those words, I am waiting on a call from Marsha that might take me back out tonight. “I know with Jerry out of town you are overly concerned for me, but I think there is more on your mind than you are letting on.”

He stared straight ahead. “And it will stay that way.”

“My situation or another case?”