On Deadline & Under Fire Read online

  Ugh. Now he was just being mean. “I’m looking forward to it,” I lied. “In fact … .” I trailed off, my eyes traveling to the shared byline piece that Marvin put together after I’d finished with the initial work. “Huh.”

  “Huh, what?” Eliot asked, straightening. “You couldn’t have possibly come up with a reason you can’t spend time with my mother on such short notice. Even you’re not that good.”

  “It’s not that, although I will have an excuse by the time we meet for dinner,” I replied. “It seems someone died in that fire yesterday after all.”

  “The one you covered even though you were on vacation?”

  “That’s the one.” I furrowed my brow as I read. “His name was Jay Truman. He was seventy-five. Found on the seventeenth floor. Crenshaw thinks he was overwhelmed by smoke.”

  “Who is Crenshaw?”

  “The annoying chief I told you about.”

  “The one you want to make cry?”

  “I have a huge list of people I want to make cry before I die,” I answered. “He is definitely on it.”

  “Well, you have plenty of time to make that happen.” Eliot gave me another kiss before grabbing his keys. “Aren’t you going to wish me luck?”

  “For what?”

  “Picking up my mother.”

  “Oh, that.” I briefly lowered the paper. “Just treat her the way I treat my mother.”

  “I don’t want to kill her.”

  “Hey, you’d be surprised how entertaining a deranged mother can be.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  I WAS ON VACATION.

  It was a strange feeling to be alone with my thoughts, nothing to do but pace. I wasn’t used to it. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more uncomfortable I became.

  When Eliot first floated the idea of a vacation, I embraced it. I pictured lazy days by the pool, sweaty nights and nonstop margaritas in the downstairs basement. We’d taken a vacation before, although it wasn’t something I ever wanted to repeat. He wanted to go camping and I surprised him with a trip to Michigan’s thumb so we could partake of the great outdoors. It turned out to be a nightmare. I am not an outdoors girl unless cabana boys and indoor plumbing are readily available. I came to that conclusion swiftly and would never change my mind on the subject.

  This vacation was different. Not only would I have time off – and Eliot, too, which was a relief because otherwise I would probably lose my mind – but his mother would be staying in our house. I didn’t like people infringing on my space. Sure, she was most likely a perfectly nice woman. She would probably need to be entertained, though, and I hated entertaining people.

  On a whim, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed my cousin Derrick’s direct line at the Macomb County Sheriff’s Department. He was a high-ranking deputy and the only person I knew who could answer questions about the fire without being overly suspicious. Okay, he would probably be suspicious. But he had bigger things to worry about besides how I was spending my vacation.

  Derrick picked up on the fourth ring, sounding harried. “You’d better be in imminent danger and in need of police assistance.”

  I rolled my eyes, thankful he couldn’t see me through the phone. “Is that any way to greet your favorite cousin?”

  “I didn’t realize you’d suddenly turned into Mario.”

  I made a derisive sound in the back of my throat. “Mario isn’t your favorite cousin.”

  “Neither are you.”

  He sounded as if he was in a terrible mood. I should probably ask him about his day or something, at least feign that I cared before I hammered him for information. “Well, you’re my favorite cousin.”

  “Lexie is your favorite cousin.”

  Right. He knew that. She was his sister, after all. I should’ve probably worded my lie differently. “You’re my second favorite cousin.”

  “Mario is your second favorite.”

  “Only sometimes. He can be a pain in the butt when he wants to be.”

  “As opposed to you, who is a pain in the butt every second of every day.”

  Yup, he was in a craptastic mood. That meant he was going to be even more difficult to deal with than usual. I would have to approach him with a soft touch. “What crawled up your butt and died?”

  “Nothing.” Derrick’s tone shifted to one of feigned patience. “Why would you ask me something like that?”

  “Because you’re being a real pill, and not the kind anyone wants to take because it makes them feel better.”

  “I’m being normal.”

  “You are not.”

  “I am so.”

  “You are not.”

  “I am so.”

  “Not, not, not.”

  “No matter how many times you say that, I know exactly what sort of mood I’m in and I’m fine,” Derrick snapped. “Now, is there a reason you’re calling? You’re supposed to be on vacation, which means other than family dinner I’m supposed to get a break from the Avery Shaw Train of Terror for the entire week.”

  I was quiet for a moment as things coalesced in my head. “Is this about knocking up your girlfriend and being forced to get married?”

  “No one is being forced,” Derrick snapped. “Everyone is happy about the turn of events.”

  I’d met the future mother of his kid. Devon Lange, a royal pain in the posterior of the ultimate magnitude. There was nothing happy about that woman. Of course, she was nicer to Derrick than she was to me – we had some animosity brewing that was likely never to dissipate – although that wasn’t saying much.

  “If you’re still frightened of being a father, I suggest adopting a dog so you can practice your skills,” I supplied. “By the time you master a puppy, a baby will seem easy.”

  “How do you not fall down from the weight of your own empty head more often?” Derrick challenged.

  “I have excellent balance.” I drummed my fingers on my knee as I turned to business. “What can you tell me about Jay Truman?”

  “Who is Jay Truman?”

  “The guy who died in the fire in Chesterfield Township yesterday,” I answered without hesitation. “I want to make sure he died of natural causes.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Derrick’s irritation was on full display as he swore under his breath. “Are you really calling about a dead guy when you’re supposed to be on vacation? I thought you were meeting Eliot’s mother.”

  “She doesn’t arrive for a few hours. I’m just killing time.”

  “By chasing a story?”

  “I … well … yes. What’s wrong with that?”

  “You’re crazy. That’s what’s wrong with that.” Derrick added a colorful string of curses to his end of the conversation before continuing. “I’m going to do you a favor.”

  “Really? That’s great. Just email the autopsy report to my personal inbox. I really appreciate it.”

  “That’s not the favor. The favor is that I’m going to give you nothing and end this call.”

  “You can’t do that,” I protested. “I’m a representative of the media. You can’t hide information from me.”

  “You’re a reporter on vacation. You’ll thank me for this one day.”

  “Don’t you dare hang up!”

  It was too late. The call ended, and I was left with nothing but my agitation to keep me company.

  “Well, so far I’m not liking this vacation thing,” I muttered. “This just bites.”

  6 Six

  I spent another twenty minutes prowling around the house before giving up and grabbing my keys. I had a few hours to burn. That meant I could either waste time playing video games – which was only fun when I was supposed to be acting like an adult – or head back to the apartment complex to ask questions.

  I went the mature route and headed for the apartment complex. I was nothing if not diligent and wise beyond my years.

  I parked in the back of the lot, surprised to find it buzzing with people. Several faces I rec
ognized from the fire department were on hand, but they all looked to be from the investigative arm, so I made a mental note to hit them up for information before leaving.

  The first person I stumbled across was Gina Dobbins. She was back in her spot, what looked to be an iced tea from Starbucks in her hand, and she was eagerly watching the show.

  “Hey.” I stopped beside her and offered a smile. “Any new gossip?”

  “Other than the fact that you didn’t quote me in the newspaper yesterday like you promised?” Gina challenged.

  Hmm. I hadn’t even noticed that she was left out of the piece. Oh, well, it wasn’t as if she was a major player. “Sorry. I filed my story early and then had to leave for the day. Another reporter took over.”

  “And … what? Are you saying he didn’t find me interesting?”

  “I’m saying that news of the body being discovered didn’t break until later in the afternoon,” I clarified, biting back a hot retort. I didn’t like the woman. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t pump her for information. “That was clearly the biggest part of the story. I apologize that a man’s death bumped you from your moment in the sun.”

  Gina ignored my sarcasm, or it simply didn’t register. “I know. It was such a bummer.” She sipped her tea. “I’ve been watching them out here for the past hour. They don’t seem to be doing much.”

  “Have they gone inside?”

  “Oh, yeah, a couple of times.”

  “Have they discussed letting residents in to try to salvage what they can from their units?”

  “I haven’t heard them say anything like that,” Gina replied. “I guess it’s possible, but a couple of the guys who were hanging back yesterday said they’re worried about the roof collapsing.”

  “I doubt they’ll let anyone inside the building if that’s a possibility.”

  “No. I’m hoping they condemn it. The sooner that happens, the sooner they’ll tear it down and I won’t have to look at it. If they let people in to grab stuff, it will simply take longer. I don’t want it to take longer.”

  “You’re all heart.”

  Gina adopted an innocent expression. “I am. If it’s too dangerous to go inside, people shouldn’t risk it. Items can be replaced. People can’t.”

  “Fair enough.” I didn’t believe she had an altruistic bone in her body, but she wasn’t my primary concern. “Have you seen any of the residents hanging out? I’d like to talk to a few of them.”

  “They’re over there.” Gina inclined her chin toward the lot at the far side of the building. “They’ve got the Red Cross over there helping people. If you ask me, it’s ridiculous that my hard-earned tax dollars are going to something like that.”

  “The American Red Cross is a charity organization,” I informed her.

  “So?”

  “So they don’t take tax dollars. Private citizens donate. That’s how they get the money they use for incidents like this.”

  “Oh, well, that’s neither here nor there.” Gina shifted from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m sure that people donating their money don’t want it to go toward helping others after a fire.”

  “That’s exactly why people donate to that particular group.” I offered up a half wave as I stepped away. If I spent more time with her I would lose my legendary cool and add her to my list of people I wanted to see cry. She was hovering next to a very dangerous line as it was. “I need to talk to them. I’m sure I’ll see you around later.”

  “Absolutely.” Gina bobbed her head. “You can quote me again for your story if you want.”

  “I’ll consider it.”

  I scuffed my Nike slides against the pavement as I made my way to the second lot. The group of people I found there looked ragtag and perhaps as if they were still in shock. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for them. One minute they were enjoying a nice day in their apartments and the next they were homeless with no way to reclaim their personal property. It was beyond sad.

  I picked an older woman out of the crowd – she looked to be in her sixties – and headed toward her. She stood away from the crowd, a bottle of water clutched against her chest, and her eyes roamed the façade of the building. From this vantage point, it looked largely untouched.

  “Hi.”

  The woman jerked her head in my direction. “I … hello.” She cleared her throat and collected herself, doing her best to shove that momentary flash of surprise I saw flit through her eyes to the back so she could appear welcoming. “Are you with the Red Cross?”

  “No. I’m with The Monitor.”

  She knit her eyebrows. “Is that a help organization?”

  “It’s the county newspaper.”

  “Oh.” She laughed to herself as she fanned her face. It was late August, which meant the oppressive Michigan humidity was on full display. “I’m sorry. I actually knew that. My mind is a bit scattered today.”

  “That’s okay. You clearly have other things to worry about.” I extended my hand. “I’m Avery Shaw.”

  “Are you really?” The woman leaned forward as she shook my hand, searching my face for signs that I was lying. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you.”

  Oh, yeah. I’m famous in certain circles. It’s not for anything award-worthy or anything, in case you’re wondering. Usually I’m just splashed all over the television because I’ve managed to somehow insert myself into a story. That’s frowned upon in media circles, by the way, but I’ve never met a rule I didn’t want to break.

  “I’m really her.” I smiled as I pulled back my hand and wiped the transferred sweat on my shorts. “Did you live in the building?”

  The woman nodded, her expression turning sad. “Yeah. For ten years.”

  “That’s a total bummer.”

  She chuckled. “To say the least. I’m hopeful they’ll allow me inside to get my photographs. They’re the most important thing to me.”

  I’d never really considered it before. Younger people would never have to worry about losing memories if a box of photographs burned because everything they snapped was safe in the Cloud. “I’m sure they’ll make arrangements to at least allow you to look. What floor did you live on?”

  “Seventeen.”

  Hmm. Now we were getting somewhere. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I got your name.”

  “That’s my bad.” She was back to chuckling in her nervous and worn way. She reminded me of a rubber band readying to snap. “I’m so flustered that I can’t keep anything straight today. My name is Shirley Trombley.”

  “It’s nice to meet you. I wouldn’t worry about keeping things straight. This is a lot for anyone to deal with.”

  “Yeah. I can’t believe it happened to me.”

  I made a big show of staring at the building before shifting a bit closer to her. I wanted her to see me as a nice person, not a threat, but Eliot wasn’t wrong about me being a poor actress at times. Usually when it came to digging for a story, though, I was on top of my game.

  “Have they told you anything?” I asked after a beat, gesturing toward the fire inspectors with my thumb. “I mean … do you know how it happened?”

  “I don’t,” Shirley replied. “They haven’t said. They’re reasonably sure that it started on one of the higher floors, but they haven’t narrowed it down yet because they say it’s not safe to head up there.”

  “I can see that.” I tilted my head to the side, considering. “I know you won’t feel lucky no matter what because this is a true tragedy, but things could’ve been worse. If the fire started on a lower floor, odds are that a lot of people on higher floors would’ve been trapped. The body count could’ve been much higher.”

  “I never thought about that. You’re right.”

  “Yeah. Still, someone died.”

  “I heard. Jay.” Shirley looked sad. “It’s such a terrible thing. I was shocked when I heard people whispering about it. I heard that he was found on the seventeenth floor, my floor. I have no idea what he was do
ing there because he lived one floor above me.”

  “You knew him?” That was a stroke of luck. “How well did you know him?”

  “Oh, not all that well. Jay wasn’t exactly the friendly sort.”

  “No? Was he mean?”

  “I don’t think that’s the word I’d use,” Shirley hedged. “He was more, um, curmudgeonly.”

  In my book, those words meant the same thing. Still, I didn’t want to alienate Shirley because she was proving to be a fountain of information on a hot day. “Did he not like noise or something?”

  “He didn’t like noise … or children … or pets. Penny Bishop swears up and down she once saw him trying to shove a dog down the garbage chute.”

  However mean and nasty I fancied myself, even I was appalled at that visual. “Why?”

  “It was Chico. He’s Marge Debney’s dog. He’s one of those little Chihuahua things and he makes a ton of noise at all hours of the day. I never knew it was possible for such a little dog to make so much noise.”

  “That sounds … lovely.” I shook my head. I wasn’t much of a dog person. It’s not that I dislike them so much as they seem like way too much work. Even though I don’t have a cat, I always figured I was more inclined to get along with a cat than a dog. They’re little tyrants, too, which means we had something in common. “Did Jay have any family?”

  “I don’t think he got a lot of visitors, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “He was found on the seventeenth floor,” I pressed. “You said he lived on the eighteenth floor. Is there any possibility that he was visiting someone?”

  “I don’t think he had any friends in the building. Everyone hated him. If he had a lawn, he would be the sort of guy who sat in a chair and yelled for kids to get off it.”

  I smiled at the visual. “Someone must’ve cared enough to spend time with him.”

  “I can’t say I ever saw him with anyone,” Shirley countered. “Sometimes he’d sit out on his balcony and drop things on people in the parking lot, but that was the most stimulation I saw him getting most days.”

  I had to ask. It was just sitting there. “What kinds of things did he drop?”