Клэр Донелли - Hiss And Tell

Randall’s reply was a vigorous head bob in the affirmative as he took another bite of his burger. Once he’d swallowed, he said, “I got interested and did a little checking. Some of the people Izzie talked to have died by now.”

Sunny rolled her eyes. “That’s convenient.”

“And some of them wouldn’t talk to me.” Randall had a sip of beer before he went on. “But a couple did, and they told me the same stories they’d told him. I kept my ear to the ground, and I heard more.”

“Really?” Even as Sunny scoffed at this story, she had to admit that Randall had piqued her interest. He wasn’t some cub reporter out on his first rodeo. He was a professional.

“And all this brought you up here? Why—” She broke off. The answer was obvious: the big wedding prep. Big enough to be wedding of the year, if not the decade, around here, for sure. Two famous families about to face a media blitz. A very unfortunate time for some past indiscretion to surface. Perhaps a very profitable time for a blackmailer.

“So who’s got the dirty linen?” Sunny asked. “The Kingsburys or the de Kruks?”

“That’s the thing. The person I wanted to talk with was Eliza Stoughton,” Randall replied, almost causing Sunny to send a mouthful of iced tea out her nose. As she recovered, Randall went on. “Some of the people I’d talked with about the Taxman mentioned that she’d been poking around, too.”

Sunny coughed and took another sip of her tea. “You think she was being extorted?”

He shook his head. “About a year ago, she took a big financial hit. I think that was her making the payment. But she was trying to figure a way out of owing the favor. I think the Taxman made a demand she couldn’t or wouldn’t meet, and Eliza lost her life over it.”

Having someone threatening to ruin your life unless you did as they commanded—that might be a reason to drink too much and lash out. Sunny shook her head, trying to stir up some activity from her brain cells. She must be pretty tired to be taking any of this seriously. And instead of waking her up, the food was only making her feel more sluggish. Too much blood heading down to the stomach, not enough getting up past her neck.

She pushed her plate away. “Randall, this makes a pretty interesting story. But I’m really too tired to be having this conversation. Besides, I think it’s fiction, not journalism. After all, why would this shadowy blackmailer, who had the atomic option of ruining Eliza Stoughton’s life, kill her instead?”

“I think maybe she recognized him,” Randall said. “Or her. If so, that person may still be out on Neal’s Neck.”

Will’s locked-room mystery again, Sunny thought.

Randall pushed his plate away, too. “I know I’m rolling the dice, following up on this,” he said. “But what else can I do? I need a big story, Sunny. Something that can save my job—or make me more attractive to other news organizations. It was a real shock to see your name in print this morning. Where did you learn to take pictures like that? And when I went to their office and the kids there told me what you’d done to get the story—whoa!” He shook his head in wonder. “If this Taxman thing pans out, it could be a career changer. For both of us. That is, if we worked together on it. You’ve got all the local knowledge, and I’ve got all the background that Izzie collected. If we teamed up, it would be just like the old days.”

“Not exactly like the old days. How’s the family, Randall?” Sunny ruthlessly poured cold water over his enthusiasm. “Speaking of family,” she went on without waiting for a reply, “I’m in this small town to be closer to my dad. Maybe you remember I came back here to take care of him after his heart attack. He’s much better now, thanks for asking, but he still needs someone around. As for that photo you praised, I took classes to make myself a more valuable employee for the Standard . Funny how that worked out. At least some of the media stuff I learned helps me run a tourism website. That’s how I earn a living around here, along with doing the occasional piece for that little paper you mentioned.”

She paused, partly to draw breath but mainly because of the pained look on Randall’s face. Maybe it would have been better if I’d gone with my first plan and just smacked him, she thought. Instead, she stood up. “You stay and finish your food. I’m going home to sleep.”

Sunny got up and left the Redbrick, her steps a little wobbly, both from exhaustion and a little leftover adrenaline from what she’d just said to Randall. That made her laugh a little. Folks will think I had a liquid lunch.

She walked back to the MAX office, but no way was she going to try and drive the Wrangler home. Sunny made up her mind. “You’ve been covering for me all day as it is,” she said to Nancy. “I’m going to make it official and head home to bed.”

Then she called the number she’d known since childhood. Mike answered the phone.

“Hi, Dad,” Sunny said. “I need some help. Do you think you could drive me home?”

Mike came to pick her up on the double, his eyes anxious as he came through the office door.

“Don’t worry,” Sunny told him. “I’m just tired.” She yawned. “Really tired.”

Sunny kept yawning the whole way home, bigger and bigger until she was afraid she’d dislocate her jaw. “Maybe that hamburger for lunch wasn’t a good idea.”

“Not when you’ve got a drive ahead of you,” Mike agreed. He ought to know, having been a trucker who’d delivered road salt to over half of New England.

He escorted her into the house and up the stairs. “Do you want to take a shower?”

“After I wake up,” she replied. “Maybe in a day or two.”

Sunny kicked off her shoes and sat on the bed fully clothed. The sheet and light blanket lay in disarray. She hadn’t had time to make the bed after Ken had called. Swinging her legs up, Sunny pulled the sheet over herself. Her dad’s face loomed over her and he bent down to give her a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll take care of supper. You just rest.”

He left, and for a moment Sunny seemed to float on her mattress. Yes, eyes closing, just sink into the darkness . . .

All of a sudden, she felt a weight on her chest. Sunny’s eyes popped open, and she found herself nose to nose with Shadow, who sniffed very determinedly at her.

“If you start talking again,” Sunny murmured, but she didn’t finish the sentence. Her eyes closed again, and she was asleep.

*

From his vantagepoint over Sunny, Shadow tried to inhale every nuance of scent off of her. One of the things he liked about living with Sunny and the Old One was how orderly things usually were, with few surprises. Oh, sometime the Old One’s She would come over with that foolish, yellow-colored Biscuit Eater who’d woof and knock things over, but Shadow could deal with him.

But when people started leaving the house in the middle of the night and not coming back even after the sun had been up for a long time, that was not a good thing.

At least he didn’t smell smoke on her breath, or that pungent stuff the two-legs drank to act silly. He got a whiff of meat and some other kinds of food, and rising from her clothes was that salty aroma she’d come home with the other day. There were a couple of other scents Shadow couldn’t identify, but they didn’t smell like trouble to him. It had taken him a while to remember it, but he’d finally realized that the fragrance he’d noticed on Sunny when she came home yesterday could mean difficulty ahead.

He’d stayed with several sets of two-legs, couples that he’d thought of as mated pairs. Then one of the humans began coming home at odd times, or leaving during the night. And when they came home, Shadow would find traces of made smells on them, sometimes odd, sometimes nice. Then, sooner or later, the humans would end up making loud noises at one another.