Jack Cavanaugh - Death Watch

Sydney took her hand. “You’re not alone. We’ll work something out. I promise you.” She meant it, though she had no idea how she could complete the promise. It didn’t matter. The way she felt right now, she’d lead a crusade to see that Cheryl’s children were taken care of.

“I should make airline reservations for after the show tonight,” Cheryl said. “No offense, but I don’t want to die in LA.”

“Can you fly this late in your term?”

“I lied to get out here. I can do it again.”

Sydney said, “Let me take care of getting you back to Chicago.”

“Evanston, actually,” Cheryl said. “And I should call my obstetrician. If I’m going to die, I’m not taking this baby with me.”

Billy Peppers sat beneath a tree with an open Bible on his lap. The sky was clear and blue, the grass was green. A beautiful sight even though Billy was surrounded by death.

His angel shoe box beside him, he read while keeping an eye on the Santa Monica Boulevard entrance to Hollywood Memorial Park Cemetery. In the distance he could see the Hollywood sign in the hills. Behind him was the historic Paramount Studios back lot.

Billy was waiting for a beige Volvo to pass through the gates.

He read:

But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God—having a form of godliness but denying its power.

He heard a car approaching. He looked up. A dark blue Bonneville.

The reporter from KSMJ was late. He’d emailed her to meet him here an hour ago. He’d wait another thirty minutes. She might have been delayed. After all, she was an important person with a lot of responsibilities. But then, so was he. At least it was pretty here.

Billy placed his Bible in the shoe box, careful not to bend or wrinkle any of his angel pictures. He took out his favorite ceramic piece and held it. The angelic figurine didn’t seem out of place here, not like it did in the trashy alleys. Maybe it was because this place was frequented so often by angels.

Oh-oh. Trouble.

The driver of the Pontiac Bonneville had gotten out of his car. He was talking to two groundskeepers. The driver was pointing at Billy and talking. The groundskeepers did some head nodding, then came walking toward him.

It always amazed Billy how people could ignore paper and plastic trash in streets and alleys, but couldn’t pass by a man in ragged clothes and not try to do something about it.

Billie knew the drill. He gathered up his box. He’d save them the trouble and leave.

Something interrupted him.

“Chicago?” he exclaimed. “How am I supposed to get to Chicago?”

The two groundskeepers slowed, eyeing him like he was crazy.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t go,” Billy said.

“Then go, already,” one of the workers said.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Billy said. “Can’t you see I’m busy? I’ll be with you in a minute.”

The groundskeepers exchanged glances.

“Impossible!” Billy said to the air. “It’d take me a couple days at least.”

“Listen, buddy,” one worker said.

“Fly?” Billy shouted. “In case you haven’t noticed, not everyone in this conversation has wings!”

“Hey, buddy! “the worker shouted. “I don’t know what you’re on, but we don’t want any trouble here.”

“I said I’d be with you in a minute,” Billy replied. Then, picking up his first conversation: “All right, I’ll get there. Are you going to tell me why I’m going to Chicago?”

Billy threw up a hand in frustration.

“That’s enough, fella!” the worker shouted.

Billy didn’t hear him. Pressing past the groundskeepers he said, “Sorry, guys. Can’t talk now. I have to get to Chicago.”

The first thing out of the receptionist’s mouth when Sydney arrived back at the station was a clipped, “Helen wants to see you.” The message wasn’t totally unexpected.

She knocked on Helen’s door and entered.

“What happened?” Helen said the instant she entered.

Sydney took a deep breath. It would be a mistake to presume Helen’s friendship, such as it was. The woman was a professional; Sydney’s job was to get the story.

“The poor girl thought the death watch notice was part of the game show experience. When I told her the truth, she took it hard. She was in no condition to give an interview. She’s pregnant and frightened.”

“No condition to give an interview? Since when is that a requirement for a news story? We cover people immersed in tragedy every day, pregnant and otherwise.”

Sydney made no effort to reply.

“And what are we going to fill that fifteen seconds with?”

It was a rhetorical question. At least Sydney hoped it was a rhetorical question.

“Cheryl is still going on the show. Then she plans to return to Evanston, Illinois. She wants to induce labor and have the baby before her time runs out. Let me follow up on it. There’s still a story here.”

Helen punched a button on her phone. “Get Cori in here,” she said to her assistant on the other end.

“There’s a problem,” Sydney continued. “It’s doubtful the airlines will let her fly considering how far along she is.”

“Irrelevant. They won’t let her on the plane once they find out she’s received a death watch notice.”

Cori Zinn and Josh Leven entered the office.

“About that,” Sydney said. “Cheryl wants to keep her death watch notice quiet. She doesn’t want people to know about it until after she’s been on the game show. I told her we’d honor her wishes.”

Helen slapped her pen down on the desk.

“You’re a reporter, not a social worker,” she snapped. “Your job is to get the story, not to cater to everyone’s wishes!”

Sydney could feel Cori’s pleasure over witnessing this scene. Josh looked like he didn’t want to be here.

“You’ve lost your objectivity,” Helen said, “and your focus, which is understandable if what I suspect is true.”

The conversation had just taken a left turn, which made Cori and Josh’s presence all the more mysterious.

“Cori came to me earlier today,” Helen said. With a nod she indicated that Cori should take it from here.

“We know about your death watch notice,” Cori said.

“What?” Sydney cried.

“This morning I received a confirmation call,” Cori said. “Josh was with me at the time. The caller identified you as the recipient of a death watch notice.”

Cori Zinn turned to Josh. He backed her up with a slight nod.

“This is ridiculous,” Sydney said. “I haven’t received a death watch notice.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you off this assignment, Sydney,” Helen said.

“Helen, on my honor, I have not received a death watch notice!”

“Have you checked your home mailbox lately?” Cori said. “Maybe it’s there. You’re familiar with the pattern. A written notice followed by a confirmation.”

“Along with a verbal confirmation to the victim,” Sydney added. “I haven’t received a verbal confirmation either.”

She was fighting for her life here. Sydney could guess why Cori Zinn was doing this to her, but Josh?

“Take the rest of the day off, Sydney,” Helen said. “Get your affairs in order. Cori, you’re now officially on the death watch story.”

That was it! That’s what Cori wanted! She’d orchestrated this whole thing to wrestle away the death watch story from her. And she’d gotten Josh to go along with it. What had she promised him? It had to be good.