Small Town Spin (25 page)

Tony nodded, a tear falling from the corner of one eye.

Morris shrugged helplessly, then turned on his heel and fled. “I’ll get the sheriff,” he called over his shoulder. “I can’t sit here and look at her.”

Norma burst into tears.

“There’s a gun over there somewhere.” I waved.

Tony collected it and sat down next to me, holding the gun on Norma with a clear give-me-a-reason set to his jaw. He winced at my arm. “You all right?”

“I’ve lost more blood. And I even had a tetanus shot last summer. So I’ll live.” I held pressure on the gash. “Plus, I’ve got one hell of a story to send in when I get patched up. Unless the
Post
has bugged the school, it’s an exclusive, too.”

He flashed a half-smile. “I think you earned it. Thank you.”

“Happy to help.”

23.

Background check

Zeke brought the paramedics, offering me a grudging apology and refusing to look Tony in the eye as they extracted my sandal from Norma’s shoulder.

The tall, silver haired medic bent over Norma grinned. “I thought I’d seen it all, but this is a new one on me.” He offered my shoe to the sheriff. “You need this for evidence?”

“I don’t believe I’ll be prosecuting anyone over this,” Zeke said.

The medic turned to me. “You want it back?”

I stared mournfully, trying not to look too closely at the globs of...I didn’t want to know...that clung to the heel. “I love them, but I think they’re done,” I said. “Looks like I’ll just have to shop for another pair.”

Tony chuckled. “There’s a way to look on the bright side.”

A petite blonde medic examined my arm, asking me if I’d had a recent tetanus shot.

“I have,” I said.

“You’ll just need some stitches to close this up, then,” she said. “We’ll take you to the hospital in Gloucester.”

“Oh, yay. Needles.”

Tony grimaced. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“I’m sorrier TJ did,” I said.

He nodded. “I called Grant. He’s on his way out here. I’ll tell him to come to the hospital?”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said. “I’m a big girl.”

Parker was a good friend, but I wanted more than a friend right then. I couldn’t commit to Kyle because I had feelings for Joey. I couldn’t commit to Joey because he was a crime boss (well, that, and the fireworks that were Kyle’s kisses). Emily would have a field day. I reached for my phone and texted them both. “So, I nabbed the killer. It’s going to be a great story. Just a few stitches, and I’ll call you later. Thanks for your help.”

My Blackberry pinged back with “What? How many stitches?” from Joey and “Where are you?” from Kyle, one on top of the other.

“Don’t know yet. She got me with scissors,” I tapped back to Joey.

“I’m in good hands. Call you soon,” I told Kyle.

“Ready?” Tony asked, putting a hand under my elbow. “I told the medics I’d drive you. Didn’t figure you wanted to share the ambulance with Norma.”

“Thanks,” I said. “You know, you’re a nice guy. Why couldn’t you have played for the Cowboys?”

He laughed. “It’s all about money.”

“Or sex.” I cast a glance at Norma, strapped onto a stretcher and headed out the door with a silent stare on her face. “Almost always one of the two.”

I sent Bob a short report for the web on Norma’s arrest from the waiting room at the ER, where the triage nurse was less than impressed with my wound. Tony sat with me for half an hour, despite my objections. Parker ran in just before they called me back, and between his million-dollar grin and Tony’s superstar status, the poor nurse trying to enforce the “family only” visitor policy didn’t stand a chance.

“Just put him down as my brother,” I told her as she blushed and stammered about the rules.

She smiled gratefully and nodded, leading me to a treatment room. Parker followed, and Tony hugged me gently before he left.

“Thank you. If there’s ever anything I can do,” he said.

“Do you know Troy Aikman?” I asked, only half-joking.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“We’ll talk,” I said.

He waved as he walked out into the sunshine.

“So, can you write a story without sustaining mortal injuries?” Parker asked. “Bob is never going to let me hear the end of this.”

“You? How many lectures do you think I’ll get?” I pulled out my phone and checked my email. “See?” I asked, flipping the screen around to show off the “Excellent work. Now stop trying to get yourself killed,” in my email.

Parker chuckled. “Thanks for helping them.”

“Happy to.” I took a deep breath, remembering Randy helping me learn to roller skate and smiling.

The stitches didn’t even hurt as much, and the needles looked less scary. I wondered if I was becoming an old pro and didn’t want to think about what that meant, so I dismissed it. Parker took me back to the school to get my car.

“I’m headed to Tony’s,” he said. “You want to come? Mel’s already there. I left her with Ashton on my way to the hospital.” His tight smile made me wonder what was going on there, but I didn’t have the energy to ask right then. It couldn’t be too serious if she’d tagged along to the Okerson’s. I hoped.

“I’d love to, but I have work to do and sleep to catch up on,” I said, ignoring the fifteenth text from either Joey or Kyle that had buzzed my Blackberry in the past hour. I also had men to juggle. “Give them my best. Maybe next time. Especially if Troy can come hang out.”

“He’s a good guy,” Parker said with a wink.

“Sure, rub it in, Mr. Celebrity.” I grinned and waved as I climbed into the car.

I went back through my Mathews family tree file and found that Norma’s uncle owned the auto body shop, and the triple-X white lightning still. A visit from Kyle, who showed up in the newsroom and refused to leave ’til he could escort me home, netted me the rest of the story.

“The ABC police have been working a sting on the three big stills in Mathews for over a year, like the agent said last night,” he said, pulling Mel’s chair into my cubicle. “I called him this morning to tell him what you’re writing about, and the busts will all go down this weekend. They’ve got two sales fronts, three businesses that are serving it, plus manufacturing and interstate commerce cases. It’s a huge bust.”

I scribbled notes as he talked, already planning a sidebar story on the busts. And a call to Bobbi. It might not do any good, but it would probably help if she didn’t get caught with it in the club. Joey hadn’t known enough about it to be traceable, so I wasn’t worried about him, for once.

I thanked Kyle and opened my laptop to start typing.

Mathews County Sheriff Zeke Waters arrested Norma Earlinger, 47, Saturday in connection with what the sheriff is now calling the double murder of Tony Okerson, Junior and his girlfriend Sydney Cobb, both juniors at Mathews High School.

“Obviously, the case has been reopened in light of recent developments,” Waters said as he accompanied Earlinger to the emergency room after she was injured while trying to stab a
Richmond Telegraph
reporter on Saturday.

Waters said the toxicity screen report on Okerson’s blood came back from the state forensics lab Saturday, showing that the star quarterback for the Mathews Eagles died of liver failure caused by an overdose of Glucotrol, an insulin-stimulating medication used for management of type 2 diabetes.

Earlinger, a secretary at the school, confessed to stealing the medication from a student’s gym locker. Lucas Bosley, a baseball teammate of Okerson’s, was diabetic. He was found dead in his home Saturday morning, of an apparently self-inflicted gunshot wound. Waters said the death will be thoroughly investigated.

“There’s nothing about this that doesn’t suck,” I told Kyle, sitting back in my chair as I finished the story with a plug for the suicide helpline. “Norma went off her rocker and killed TJ and Syd—and almost got away with it—using Luke’s medicine. Which no one would have known if you hadn’t pressed the lab to test his blood for something besides Vicodin and booze, so thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“But then Luke, who has parents who push him to the breaking point and a battle with depression he hides very well, buys the sheriff’s suicide story. He figures if TJ and Syd did it, maybe it’s not a bad idea. The medics said his mother told them he started a new antidepressant last week and was having wild mood swings. Crazy highs, like we saw at the dance last night, and lows...like this.”

“Why didn’t she tell anyone?”

“Afraid he’d get kicked off the baseball team. Which I don’t doubt. Sad, sad situation.”

“Amen.” He brushed his fingers over the gauze dressing on my arm. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

“Me, too. Thanks for coming in. And for everything else.”

“I’m always here,” he said.

“That’s good to know.” I leaned the chair back and kissed him, then sent my story to Les and stood. “I think I’ve earned a day off.”

“I’ll drive you home.”

Monday morning dawned bright and pollen-free. After a Sunday of sleeping in and letting Joey pamper me (his foot massages are almost as good as his kisses), I felt nearly good as new.

And ready to have myself a little chat with my favorite copy editor. I didn’t find Shelby in her cube, or in Les’s office. My head was on the verge of exploding when I walked past Bob’s door and heard her shrill voice, patting herself on the back for doing such a stellar job filling in for Les while he was out. He chimed in to agree often.

I stopped outside the door and listened.

“And Nichelle wasn’t even here most of the week, plus she leaked an important piece of information to the
Post
,” Shelby said. “I think Les is right. She’s overworked, Bob. Look how sick she got last week. It was a bad idea to give her the courthouse back last fall when we can afford another beat reporter’s salary. Put me on the courthouse. You know I’m good enough to handle it, and we’ll stand a better chance of staying on top of Charlie Lewis, too.”

She had some nerve, that Shelby.

“Shelby, who takes care of your flying monkeys when you’re here bothering me?” I asked, stepping through the door and smiling when she and Les both dropped their jaws on the tacky brown seventies carpet.

“I’d almost agree with you, myself,” I continued, “except I had a very nice chat yesterday with Greg Lidner at the
Post
. Name ring a bell?”

Shelby’s eyes widened for a split second before she arranged her face into a clueless expression.

“Why would it?”

“Well, it seems he called here last week, looking for a comment about my story on TJ. Someone answered my phone. On Monday, at eleven. When I was on my way to TJ’s funeral with Parker. A woman with a high-pitched voice who said she was me, and told him all about how I thought the sheriff was lying, reminding him three times to tell his editor where he got the information. Subtle, Shelby.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she huffed, folding her arms across her chest.

“Sure you do. You hung around outside when Bob asked Parker and me to stay after the meeting.” I didn’t bother to inflect a question mark on the end of the sentence. “I’m just surprised you waited for him to call here instead of calling him. He got my cell number from Sheriff Waters and called me at home yesterday, quite surprised that I don’t sound like a cartoon character on my Blackberry. Nice guy.”

“I would never—” Shelby turned an imploring look to Les, but the look on his face said he didn’t believe her any more than Bob did.

“There’s a line, Shelby,” he said quietly, turning on his heel and walking out of the office. She tore after him and I dropped into a chair and grinned.

“I never believed it,” Bob said. “But Andrews will be very interested to hear this.”

“I’ll let you tell him,” I said. “He apologizes like a politician. It creeps me out.”

“So, the
Post
called you?”

“For an interview. Not the job kind. Though the guy did say his editor was impressed.”

“You can’t leave. You love me.”

“And I love Richmond. Right now, anyway.” I smiled.

The rest of the section editors filed in and Spence stopped next to my chair, eyeballing the dressing on my bicep.

“That looks nasty.”

“I’m sure you could handle it, just like everything else about my job, right?” I said.

“I could have written the suicide coverage,” he snapped.

“I think you ought to stick to your stat sheets and leave the criminals to the crime desk.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but Bob’s warning glare made him snap it shut.

He could stay mad ’til I left my house in garden clogs for all I cared. I sat back in my chair and pulled out a notebook as Bob started the rundown.

The meeting sped by in alternating throes of spirited discussion and laughter.

Halfway through, my scanner squawked. I turned it down, pressing it to my ear. Hostage situation in a bank building. “Holy Manolos.” I jumped to my feet, waving the scanner when Bob gave me a raised eyebrow. “I have hostages today, Chief. Save me some space.”

“Have fun,” he called as I ran for the elevator.

I got out of the garage and my phone binged a text. “Coming, Aaron,” I said, stopping to glance at it.

Kyle: “Dinner tonight? I’m dying to know why the ABC’s undercover guy says he met with a pretty brunette last week. Who looked just like you. And came and went with a Mafia big shot he met through a transport contact the moonshiners use.”

Holy. Crap.