Bylines & Skylines (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 9) Read online

  “And that’s why I’m lucky to have you,” Eliot said. “You’re the only woman I know who would be completely thrilled with carnival food and a planetarium show.”

  “You just don’t know the right women.”

  “I know one of them,” Eliot said. “You have to eat your dinner before you get the cake, though. Those are the rules.”

  “Despot.”

  “Life is hard, Avery,” Eliot said. “We’ll get through it, though.”

  I believed every word. “I’ve got twenty bucks that says I can get that cake out of you before we finish the regular food.”

  “You’re on.”

  12

  Twelve

  “What’s your schedule today, Trouble?”

  Eliot stood next to the kitchen counter, sipping his coffee as he watched me look for my new Jaws boat shoes. He looked amused at my frustration. He wakes up fresh and happy most mornings (although there are notable exceptions). I wake up muddled and irritated with life.

  “I have to go to the office.”

  “Ooh, someone is grumpy,” Eliot teased, flicking my ear as I walked by. “I thought you would be in a good mood after last night. I certainly am.”

  “Yes, it was a nice change of pace to not find a body after doing the deed. I will be forever thankful.”

  Eliot scowled. “You sure know how to suck the fun out of a morning. You know that, right?”

  “I’m sorry.” I honestly meant it. “Last night was great. I’m just … waking up.”

  “I know,” Eliot’s frown flipped in the other direction. “I enjoy messing with you in the morning because you’re slower. By mid-afternoon you’re usually hopped up on caffeine and I can’t keep up. Your mind is working a mile a minute and mine only works a mile every five minutes.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” I admonished. “Your mind works a mile every two minutes. I’m only twice as smart as you.”

  “Ha, ha.” Eliot gripped my arm to still me and pulled me in for a hug. Generally I’d be happy to return the embrace, but I was already running late and I really wanted to wear those shoes. “If you hug me back I’ll tell you where your shoes are.”

  I narrowed my eyes. He was playing with me. “Do you know where my shoes are?”

  “I’m the one who puts everything away around here,” he reminded me. “That’s going to change when we have a bigger house, by the way. I cannot wander around putting everything in its proper place when we have three floors to contend with. You’re going to need to be responsible for that.”

  “I thought we were getting a maid.”

  “We are.” Eliot squeezed me closer, practically demanding I give in and embrace him. “Maids do the heavy cleaning, though. It’s not their job to pick up clutter. You’re a borderline hoarder. You’re going to have to put your own things away.”

  “Fine.” I let loose with an exasperated sigh. “You win.” I hugged him, even going so far as to give him a peck on the cheek. “Where are my shoes?”

  “They’re in the shoe rack in the other room.”

  “Why are they there?”

  “That’s where they live.”

  “Sometimes I think life was easier when I didn’t have someone telling me where to put my shoes,” I grumbled.

  “Yes, but it was messier and not half as much fun,” Eliot said, smacking a quick kiss on my lips before releasing me. “Are you going to be at the convention center later?”

  “I’m assuming that’s the case,” I replied, knitting my eyebrows together as I debated whether or not to tell him I had no idea where the shoe rack was located. “The other room” was vague enough to confuse me. I didn’t even have a shoe rack until he started spending most of his nights here. “It might switch up if Jake decides to hold today’s update at the department.”

  “Okay. Just text me when you know what’s going on. If things work out, we might be able to catch lunch together.”

  “Okay.” I licked my lips and forced a bright smile. If I played this right I could send him off to work without him realizing I had no idea where the shoe rack was. “You should get going. I don’t want you to be late.”

  “That’s very sweet of you,” Eliot said. “I’m going.” He moved toward the back door and then paused. “Hey, Avery?”

  “Hmm.”

  “You don’t know where I put the shoe rack, do you?”

  Drat! He’s ten times smarter than me in the morning. “I do know,” I lied. “I just … forgot because I’m so worn out from your amazing performance last night.” That sounded plausible, right?

  “Oh, that was so close to being a compliment I’d almost let you slide if I believed you,” Eliot teased. “I moved the shoe rack into the office closet.”

  I was relieved he told me. I’m not sure I would’ve thought to look there. “Why did you move it there?”

  “Because in the next few weeks we’re going to start packing and there are going to be boxes stacked everywhere,” he replied. “I wanted the shoes out of the way. It’s going to be tough enough when we start packing up your Star Wars stuff. That will take up half of the dining room.”

  “Oh, well, good thinking.”

  “Uh-huh.” Instead of chastising me, Eliot merely shook his head. “Be good and call me when you know where you’re going to be.”

  “You’re not my father. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  “Yes, but if you’re going to get in a life-threatening situation I would rather know where so I’m not worried if I haven’t heard from you before the evening news,” Eliot said. “Do not forget to text me.”

  I kicked my heels together and mock-saluted. “Yes, sir!”

  “And despite the sarcasm, I’m looking forward to seeing you later,” Eliot said, gracing me with one more kiss. “Make sure you have some caffeine in you so the attitude is mitigated, though. I can only take so much.”

  I didn’t blame him.

  “WHAT’S up?”

  Fish looked me up and down when I appeared at the edge of his cubicle shortly before nine. I wasn’t used to being up this early – even when I had to work days – and he apparently found my exhaustion amusing.

  “What?”

  “You have a sock stuck to your shirt,” Fish replied.

  I glanced down and realized he was right. That’s what happens when you grab a shirt straight out of the dryer and don’t look in the mirror before leaving. Of course, Eliot must’ve seen it and said nothing. He would pay for that later. His sense of humor rears its ugly head at the oddest of times. “I want it there.” I refused to remove the sock even as Fish arched a challenging eyebrow. His were shot through with gray so it looked like a geriatric caterpillar coming out to play when he moved his brow. “I think it adds to my ensemble.”

  “Yeah, you’re not fooling anyone,” Fish said. “I know the second you’re out of here you’ll remove that sock.”

  That shows how much he knows. I’m stubborn enough to leave it there all day to make a point. Hey, I didn’t say I was always a genius – just most of the time. I am obstinate twenty-four hours a day, though. I blame my mother. She’s that way, too. Wait, did I just admit to being somewhat like my mother? Someone shoot me now. “The sock is part of the outfit. Live with it.”

  “Whatever,” Fish muttered, shaking his head. “You’re a pill. You know that, right? That’s what we called difficult women back in my day.”

  “I thought you were old enough to call them dames.”

  “Keep it up,” Fish warned. “I can still take the convention away from you and give it to Duncan.”

  “You won’t do that,” I scoffed. “No matter how mouthy I get, you hate him more.”

  “I wish I could argue with you about that, but he’s a royal douche,” Fish said. “We had more than anyone on the Reardon murder, by the way. Good job.”

  “Marvin was a big help,” I said. I’m not one for sharing acclaim, but in this case, Marvin earned kudos, too. “I wouldn’t have been
able to do it without him.”

  “That’s why I’m splitting you guys today,” Fish said. “Farrell moved today’s news conference to the sheriff’s department. I think it was on purpose. If I had to guess, I think that the other media complained about you getting the scoop early. He’s trying to head off that accusation this time.”

  “So you want me at the sheriff’s department?” I was mildly disappointed.

  “No, I want you at the convention,” Fish replied. “I’m sending Marvin to the sheriff’s department.”

  Wait … what? “You’re taking this story away from me?” I was already in bully mode. No way was I going to let this happen. “This is my story. It’s literally my story because I discovered the body. You can’t take this away from me!”

  “Calm yourself,” Fish chided, annoyed. “I’m not taking the story from you. I want you at the convention finding out more about the victim. We both know the sheriff’s department isn’t going to give us anything good to move on.

  “Farrell is basically going to get up at the lectern and say they’re still investigating,” he continued. “Then he’s going to ask everyone not to associate the convention with danger and reiterate that everything is safe. This convention is a big deal to the area because it’s bringing in a lot of people and money.

  “He’s banking on the fact that you’ll be stuck going to a conference at the sheriff’s department in the middle of the afternoon so you won’t be able to get ahead again,” he said. “I’m sending Marvin to the conference. He knows the proper questions to ask. Then he can text you if he gets anything. We’re keeping you at the convention to work the employees.”

  I hated to admit it, but it was a good idea. Still, it wasn’t my idea. “So … what? Do you want me to cover the convention like it’s a regular day? We’re still going to need a story on the convention itself.”

  “I’m well aware of that.” I didn’t miss the subtle stiffening of Fish’s shoulders. “You’re going to need help.”

  I knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. There was no way I was going to accept this without putting up a fight. “Wait a second … .”

  “We don’t have a choice, Avery,” Fish said, waving his hand to cut me off. “You need someone there to cover the convention. That’s the most routine task. We can’t risk ticking off the advertisers, so we need a fluff piece. That’s not generally your forte.”

  He’s got that right. “I don’t want Duncan down there.”

  “I know you don’t, but we’re out of options,” Fish said. “He’s the only other person here today with enough working knowledge of these things to write a coherent piece. It is what it is.”

  “No, it’s annoying. That’s what it is.”

  “Well, suck it up,” Fish said. “You need someone to serve as backup and I need you to question the workers and get more background on this victim. What you got yesterday was a nice start. We need more, though.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose to ward off an oncoming headache. How did my happy week turn to this? “Have you told him yet?”

  “I have.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That he’s looking forward to seeing the comic books,” Fish replied, averting his eyes. That was obviously a blatant lie.

  “He crowed like a rooster cockadoodling his little doo, didn’t he?”

  “I’m not comfortable with the way you phrased that, but yes,” Fish said, bobbing his head. “He’s rather pleased with himself.”

  “I’m going to put my foot so far up his … .”

  “You’re going to avoid him,” Fish said, extending a warning finger. “You have a job to do and he has a job to do. I told him he has to coordinate with you and that you’re to decide what he covers while there.”

  I stilled, the meaning of Fish’s words washing over me. “That means I’m still in charge, right?”

  “Lord help us, but yes.”

  I snickered. “Oh, well, things aren’t as bad as I originally thought,” I said. “I’m in charge and he has to do my bidding.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not what I said,” Fish argued.

  “But that’s what I heard.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s what I said.”

  “It will be fine,” I said, brightening when I saw Duncan round the corner and lock gazes with me. He looked both smug and frightened. It was an interesting feat. “You made sure he understood that I was in charge, right?”

  “Even a little power goes straight to your head,” Fish complained. “If this gets out of hand, I’m leaving you to deal with the fallout. I just want you to know that.”

  I was only half listening. “It won’t get out of hand.”

  “Yes, well, I don’t believe that for a second,” Fish said, cringing as Duncan closed the distance between us. “Duncan, I was just informing Avery that you’ll be attending the convention with her.”

  Duncan’s cocky attitude was on full display as he puffed out his chest. “And how did she take it?”

  “Surprisingly well,” Fish replied. “She was especially happy when I told her that she would be responsible for assigning you a story after looking over today’s events and that she was still in charge.”

  Duncan deflated a bit. “Yes, well, I thought we could have a talk about that.”

  “The talking is done,” Fish said, shaking his head. “Avery is in charge of interviewing workers regarding the murder. You’re to keep your nose out of that. She’ll tell you what to cover when you meet there.”

  “I’m not sure I’m okay with that,” Duncan countered. “I think … .”

  “I don’t care what you think,” Fish snapped. “I’m your boss. I tell you what to think.”

  I sucked in my cheeks as I worked overtime not to laugh. That’s not how I saw things at all.

  “Oh, don’t make that face, Avery,” Fish chided. “I’m the boss.”

  “He’s the boss,” Duncan repeated.

  “I’m still your boss,” I said, earning a murderous look from Duncan. “Don’t forget that, slave!”

  “Fish, I don’t like her attitude,” Duncan whined.

  “I don’t like the attitude of either of you,” Fish said. “Suck it up. She’s your boss and I’m the boss of both of you. That’s the way the world works.”

  “Fine,” Duncan said. “What do you want me to cover?”

  I graced him with a broad smile. “Don’t worry, Duncan. I’m a great boss. You have nothing to fear.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  I knew exactly what he was asking. “I promise. You’re going to love it.”

  Duncan didn’t look convinced, but he was trapped. “Fine!”

  Seriously, this boss thing is really starting to work out for me.

  13

  Thirteen

  By the time I got to the convention I was in a markedly better mood. The idea of bossing Duncan around was exactly what I needed to lift my spirits. I defiantly left my sock on my shirt until parking and then removed it. There was no way I was going to let some of my idols see me in anything less than the best Star Wars finery. I mean … come on. That’s not how it works in Avery World.

  Eliot stood by the door when I entered, a pretty young brunette talking his ear off as he tried to get a word in edgewise. I had no idea what they were chatting about, but I took a moment to watch him and noticed that his body language was closed off. He wasn’t inviting her to talk. She just wouldn’t shut up. He really is a good guy. Of course, I already knew that.

  “And then I told her that my body was just better than hers because of genetics,” the girl said. “I mean … sure … I got breast implants and a nose job, but that’s not really genetics. Look how hot I am now. Do you see?” She gestured toward her ample breasts, which Eliot steadfastly refused to stare at. “Why aren’t you looking?”

  I wasn’t annoyed with Eliot, but I was certainly annoyed with the chick. “Because he’s waiting for me.”

&nbs
p; Eliot almost looked relieved when I made my presence known while the girl – who couldn’t be older than twenty-two – with an IQ about room temperature – wrinkled her nose.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I’m Avery Shaw.” I announced it in the same manner I would’ve adopted if I was Harrison Ford introducing himself as Han Solo. “Who are you?”

  “This is Champagne,” Eliot said, tugging on his lower lip to keep from smiling when he saw my dubious look. “She’s one of the convention workers.”

  “I’m new,” Champagne said. “Who are you? I don’t remember an Avery Shaw on any of the lists.

  “Oh, and I didn’t know you could even read,” I said. “Wow. I’m impressed.”

  “Avery.” Eliot gave a small shake of his head. “Don’t.”

  “I’m not doing anything,” I protested.

  “You’re about to do something,” Eliot argued. “Champagne, this is my girlfriend.”

  Champagne looked me up and down, as if Eliot was telling her a joke she didn’t quite get. “This is the girlfriend you were telling me about? You’re moving in with her?”

  Well, at least he was talking me up. Of course, she was looking down on me, which made me instantly dislike her. That was on top of the fact that her name was “Champagne.” No one names their kid that. She had to be making it up.

  “That’s her,” Eliot said, smiling fondly as I made an exaggerated face behind the girl’s back. “Now that she’s here I need to talk to her a few moments.”

  “Okay.” Champagne didn’t catch on to Eliot’s obvious hint and instead remained at his side.

  “We need a little privacy,” Eliot prodded.

  “Okay.” She remained rooted to her spot.

  “He means we want to be alone, Betty Boop,” I snapped, earning a stern glare from Champagne and a headshake from Eliot.

  “There’s no need to be rude,” Champagne huffed, giving me another angry look before flouncing in the other direction. “I’ll finish my story later, Eliot.”