Extra! Extra! Dead All About It (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 12) Page 2

  “Is that wrong?”

  I shook my head. “Get moving. I don’t have all day to fight your battles. I have some wrestling of my own to do.”

  Grandpa’s smile slipped. “You said that to make me uncomfortable.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then mission accomplished.”

  Grandpa heaved out a sigh. “Do you know what your problem is?”

  “Yes. You won’t move fast enough, and I’m starving.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m going.”

  1 One

  Present Day

  “Will you look at this place?”

  I wrinkled my nose as I studied downtown Mount Clemens while my boyfriend Eliot Kane locked his shop and pocketed his keys. It was early August, the doldrums of summer hanging like the humid haze. I wiped the back of my hand over my moist brow.

  “What’s wrong now?” Eliot was used to my drama, so he barely reacted to my complaints.

  “The entire downtown is shut down for the festival,” I pointed out. “You can’t park in front of the courthouse … or the coffee shop … or even the diner. If I want to visit downtown I’ll have to walk.”

  “Somehow I think you’ll survive a few days of walking,” Eliot said dryly. “It might even be good for you.”

  I didn’t like his tone. “Are you insinuating I’m fat?”

  Eliot and I had been dating long enough that he had no intention of falling for that. “Absolutely not. In fact, I think you might be too thin. I was thinking we might stop at Don Pablo’s and get margaritas and Mexican food on the way home to fatten you up a bit.”

  Hmm. That was a really good answer. “I could eat Mexican.”

  “Good.” Eliot linked his fingers with mine as we walked the sidewalk, his eyes shifting to the busy workers toiling to set up for the upcoming festival. “Do you ever think it’s weird that Mount Clemens has like, eight festivals in the summer?”

  The question caught me off guard. “No. Should I think that’s weird?”

  Eliot shrugged. “I can’t stop myself from thinking about it because I have to park so far away from the shop. It’s annoying.”

  “You just said walking was good when I complained.”

  “Yes, but you always complain … and walking is good for you. I don’t need to walk. I go to the gym four times a week. Your idea of going to the gym is dragging out that old Wii game of yours and bowling. That’s not the same thing.”

  Oh, well, that was insulting. “I also play that Star Wars game where I get to pretend to have a lightsaber and jump around while saving the world from Sith lords. That’s exercise.”

  “Barely. Besides, you’ve figured out a way to make the motion sensor register your movements while sitting on the back of the couch. That doesn’t count.”

  Oh, well, now he was being insulting. “It does count … and I only do that if I’ve had a big dinner.”

  “When don’t you have a big dinner?”

  “And we’re back to me being fat.”

  “Oh, don’t do that.” Eliot rolled his eyes. “You know I hate it when you do that. You’re not fat. I would never say that. I happen to love you exactly as you are.”

  Even though I knew it was girly and weak, my heart did a little dance. “Thank you.”

  Eliot grinned. “You’re welcome. You still should get into a workout routine. As you get older you won’t be able to eat like you do and stay as slim as you are without helping your metabolism.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “So, you’re not saying I’m fat now but you are saying I’m going to get fat and you’ll be out the door when that happens. I see how it is.”

  “Oh, geez.” Eliot pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “You make me tired.”

  “Perhaps you should work out more and build up your stamina.”

  “I’m considering deafening myself instead and going through life without being able to hear you.”

  “Whatever floats your boat.”

  We lapsed into comfortable silence as we walked the street. Even though most people would assume the conversation we just had meant we were fighting we both knew better. That was simply how we communicate. I kind of liked it.

  As if he were thinking the same thing, Eliot changed the subject. “So tell me about Tuesday’s primary,” he instructed. “You’ve been busy with other stuff of late and haven’t screamed and yelled about Tad Ludington in at least a week. I figure that streak won’t last with the election coming up.”

  Ugh. Tad Ludington. If there was ever an answer on Jeopardy that read, “The world’s most annoying douchebag,” the question would be “Who is Tad Ludington?” He was my ex-boyfriend from college – an era when I spent more time drinking and smoking pot than thinking – and now he was my arch nemesis. I got him booted from office months ago and thought he was out of my hair. Okay, technically his ineptness and a shrinking county board pool got him booted, but I enjoyed believing I was at least partially to thank for what turned into a political plane wreck.

  One of the county board members – a lifer who showed no signs of ever retiring – got sick, and a special election was in order. Tad, of course, jumped at the chance to make himself relevant again. He was running for the seat and told anyone who’d listen that he would be back to exert his influence over Macomb County’s unsuspecting populace before the end of the year. It was a crowded primary field, though, and I had my doubts he’d emerge victorious.

  “I’ve been watching the election,” I supplied, my mind busy. As a reporter for The Monitor – Macomb County’s lone daily newspaper – I was up on all the election stuff even though my editor was on a vindictive streak and made me write human interest pieces for two weeks straight. For me, human interest stories were akin to watching a Kardashian try to act. It was a painful and fruitless endeavor bound to crash and burn.

  No, really. I’m not being dramatic.

  “And what do you think about the election?” Eliot prodded.

  I shrugged, noncommittal. “I’m not sure what to think about it. I don’t want to get ahead of myself – that’s not the way I roll, after all. Besides, Fish has me writing human interest articles as some form of punishment for a crime I didn’t commit.”

  Eliot snorted, genuinely amused. “A crime you didn’t commit?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Come on. You purposely signed up that sports dude for three hundred email newsletters – all of which went after his political sensibilities – and then sat back and watched him melt down. He freaked out, threw his computer through a window and had to go to anger management classes … on the newspaper’s dime, I might add. That’s why you’re being punished.”

  “They have no proof I did that,” I sniffed. “In fact, I’m a little hurt that you’d think I was responsible for that.”

  “You admitted it when we were drinking piña coladas in the pool two weeks ago.”

  I averted my gaze. “I think you’re mistaken.”

  “No, I remember it very distinctly. You were naked and you sat on that huge pink flamingo while telling the story. It’s seared into my brain.”

  We’d recently bought a house together – one with a pool – and we were still getting used to sharing a roof. Eliot adjusted more seamlessly than me. There had been a lot of naked drinking in the pool since we moved in. “Are you sure I said that? I think you might’ve confused me with someone else.”

  “I’m sure you said it and I know you did it,” Eliot said. “You were cackling like a wicked witch when it happened. You took video at work and showed me on your phone when you got home.”

  Hmm. Sadly, that sounded like something I would do. “I simply thought that he would want regular updates on the National Organization for Women, Planned Parenthood and PETA.”

  “He hunts. Why would he possibly want information from PETA?”

  “It’s always good to be informed.”

  Eliot chuckled as he gripped my hand tighter. “Your pe
nchant for revenge is one of the reasons I fell for you. Did I ever tell you that?”

  “And here I thought it was my nurturing personality.”

  “Yeah, that’s one word I’d never use for you.” Eliot flicked his eyes toward a busy tent as we passed. “That’s Aiken’s tent, right?”

  I nodded as I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah. All the political candidates are working out of the same tent for the festival. I recognize his aide. He’s the one with all the brochures in his hand.”

  Eliot pursed his lips. “He looks like a tool.”

  “They all look like tools.” I rolled my neck. Richard “Dick” Aiken had become something of a thorn in my side. I couldn’t explain it, but I disliked him even more than I hated Tad … and that was saying something because I thought nothing would ever eclipse my hate for Tad. “I’m starting to think that Aiken will win the primary.”

  Eliot cast me a sidelong look, intrigued. “And you don’t want that, right?”

  “I’m not allowed to pick and choose political candidates. I’m a reporter, not queen. All I can do is write about the news. I can’t influence it.”

  “Since when?”

  I dragged my eyes from the tent and focused on Eliot. “I’m a good reporter. That means I don’t manufacture the news.”

  “You’re the best reporter I’ve ever met,” Eliot agreed, serious. “You definitely don’t manufacture the news.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That doesn’t mean you don’t influence it.” Eliot refused to back down despite my glare. “Oh, don’t look at me that way. You can’t help yourself from getting involved. You’ve got a nose for news – and freaking trouble – and you stumble over stuff that flat out amazes me.”

  I didn’t know if I should be flattered. “That doesn’t mean I care who wins the election. I merely care about reporting on it.”

  “Oh, don’t run that load of bull on me,” Eliot shot back. “You don’t like Aiken. He makes you nervous.”

  “Nobody makes me nervous.”

  “He does.” Eliot knew when to pick his battles. I couldn’t help being surprised that he was pushing this matter to the extent he was. “You don’t like him. I don’t know why you won’t admit it. That’s not like you.”

  “If I want to be able to cover the election I can’t have favorites.”

  “Ah.” Realization dawned on Eliot’s handsome face. “Now I understand. Fish is punishing you with human interest stories, but you want to be involved in the election coverage. So you’re putting on a show. Even though you know it’s not necessary to do it for me, you’re a method actress trying to convince yourself that you don’t care.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “That’s good. I almost believe you.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t care who wins that seat.”

  “And I almost believe you again.”

  I scowled. “Fine. I care. I hate Aiken. I’m pretty sure he’s a closeted racist. I want Fish to unleash me the last few days of the election cycle so I can dig … and dig deep. Is that what you want to hear?”

  “I always want to hear the truth.” Eliot stilled in front of a diner, his gaze intent as it snagged with mine. “You don’t have to hide who you are from me.”

  “I wasn’t hiding who I am,” I insisted. “I don’t care who wins. There are amusing aspects in each direction, so … I could have great stories with any outcome.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Well, Aiken is a racist.”

  “You don’t have proof of that,” Eliot pointed out. “You’re basing that supposition on one conversation – which just happened to occur at another festival – and a lot was going on at the time. He could have misspoken.”

  “Oh, it’s a good thing you’re handsome.” I ruffled Eliot’s shoulder-length hair. “You’re so oblivious sometimes I want to kick you in the nuts to force you to wake up.”

  Eliot widened his eyes. “Don’t ever do that.”

  “Don’t worry. I like you. If I’m going to kick someone in the nuts, it won’t be you.”

  “What a relief,” Eliot deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “I was in fear for my life before that. Back to Aiken, though. I’m not saying he’s not a racist. I’m simply saying you can’t be sure he’s not a racist. He says all the right things.”

  “He does,” I agreed, bobbing my head. “That means he’s a good politician, not a good leader. I would rather have a human gaffe machine who says the wrong thing than a practiced politician who lies without anyone being able to detect it.”

  Eliot stared me down for a long time. “See, I can’t decide if you actually believe that or if you’re merely frustrated because you can’t control Aiken.”

  “That’s a horrible thing to say. You make me sound like a control freak.”

  “You are a control freak.”

  “I am not. I’m sunshine on a cloudy day.”

  Eliot chuckled. “Yes, that’s exactly how I describe you to people when they ask about my girlfriend. I say, ‘She’s like sunshine on a cloudy day, all warm and comforting and never a pain in the ass.’”

  I scowled. “You’re trying to bait me into a fight. Why is that?”

  “On the contrary, I’m not in the mood to fight,” Eliot countered. “That’s the last thing I want. The thing is, you’re acting cagey and I can’t quite figure out why. Part of me thinks you actually want Ludington to win this election so you can continue messing with him. The other part thinks you’re legitimately worried about Aiken … and maybe for a reason you’re not sharing.”

  As much as I love Eliot – and I do – he drives me nuts at times. He’s intuitive and reads me better than most people. I hate that. I enjoy being an enigma … or, at the very least, someone to fear. “I don’t care who wins.”

  “I believe that to some extent because you’re going to mess with whoever takes the seat, but you were dead set against Tad getting that seat until Aiken started showing up all over the place,” Eliot noted. “Now it’s obvious that you hate Aiken and you’ve backed off Ludington.”

  I wanted to argue, but Eliot wasn’t wrong. “Let’s just say there are different things to worry about with each candidate,” I hedged. “I only think a few of them have a legitimate shot.”

  “And you think Ludington and Aiken are the frontrunners?”

  “They have recognizable names,” I clarified. “They have visibility. That means they’re legitimately in the game.”

  “So one of them will win.” Eliot stroked his chin. “That’s interesting.”

  “I don’t know that one of them will win,” I corrected. “Elizabeth Justice and Rupert Rayne have a shot, too.”

  “Justice is a former judge, right?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. She got a lot of mileage out of that ‘Justice for Judge’ slogan when she was running for a circuit seat. She retired from the bench and is aiming toward bigger political endeavors. I think she’s gunning for county executive or even governor at some point, but she’s starting with county commissioner.”

  “Do you like her?”

  “I don’t really know her. I sat in on a few cases in her courtroom. She seems fine.”

  “You don’t like fine,” Eliot mused. “You like someone easily rattled. You like someone who has a bunch of skeletons in his or her closet. You don’t seem excited about Justice in the least.”

  “I’m not. She’s boring. She has grandchildren and has been married to the same man for thirty years. She’s not much fun as a candidate.”

  Eliot snickered. “I love the way you look at the world. Have I ever told you that?”

  “Not today.”

  “What about Rupert Rayne?” Eliot queried. “What’s the story on him?”

  “I don’t know much about him. Local business owner with lots of contacts. I’m not sure if he’ll be entertaining or a drag.”

  “But you are sure that Ludington and Aiken will be entertaining. You’re also sure that they’ll mean trouble.”


  My natural instinct was to debate that point, but I merely shrugged. “I think the next few days will be interesting.”

  “I think you’re probably right.” Eliot looked back to the tent, where more and more people were congregating. “You want to watch to see what they’re doing, don’t you?”

  The question caught me off guard. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because you’ve positioned yourself where you can see everything those aides are doing … and you seem interested.”

  Rats. He knew me too well. “I was merely thinking that instead of driving to Hall Road and eating dinner – which is like an hour out of our way – we could eat here and save ourselves some time.”

  Eliot made a face. “We eat here like, four times a week.”

  “That’s because the food is good.”

  “That’s because you’re a human vacuum and will eat anything placed in front of you.”

  He wasn’t wrong. “I simply thought we could save time by eating here. That will give us more time for swimming naked after dark.”

  Eliot’s eyes lit with interest. “Now you’re talking. What are you offering?”

  I balked. “I just said I would be naked.”

  “I want more than that.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, suspicious. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I want you to get the pink flamingo out again and ride it around.”

  I was instantly on alert. “Why?”

  Eliot shrugged. “I have no idea, but it really does it for me.”

  “You’re a sick man.”

  “I am.” Eliot leaned forward and kissed the corner of my mouth. “Those are my terms.”

  I risked a glance back to the political aides and frowned. “Fine. I want to walk past them again before we leave town, though.”

  “We’re going to eat greasy food that sits in our stomachs like bricks, so I think that can be arranged.”

  “Great. Sign me up.”

  2 Two

  “So, tell me about your day, dear.”

  Eliot’s interest in a “normal” relationship popped up at the oddest times. Like now. He waited until we were seated in a booth, our orders placed and drinks delivered, and then he fixed me with a pointed look. My antenna instantly went up.