4 Shot Off The Presses (9 page)

Harriet was silent on the other end. I could hear some shuffling and then Carly was back on the line. “What did you say to her?”

“I told her to mind her own business.”

“You made her cry.” There was a bit of recrimination in Carly’s voice.

“So?”

Carly was quiet for a second. “Yeah, you’re right. She deserves it. You want to do something tomorrow?”

“I was going to check out Lexie’s yoga studio.”

“Okay, see you there at noon.”

Another crisis averted.

Sunday is my favorite day of the week – and that’s not just because new episodes of
The Walking Dead
and
Sherlock
are starting soon.  Mostly, just not entirely.

After a lazy breakfast with Eliot, I told him that I was meeting Carly at Lexie’s yoga studio. He looked more amused than anything else.

“I thought you hated yoga.”

“I’m not a big fan,” I agreed.

“Then why are you going?”

“I promised Lexie I would check out the studio,” I said, averting my gaze from Eliot’s. I wasn’t in the mood for another Lexie diatribe.

“And?”

“And Carly needs to chill out and there’s no better way to chill out than to go through intense pain.”

“Ah.”

“She’s just a little high strung right now,” I said.

“I thought she was always a little high strung,” Eliot sipped his coffee.

I narrowed my eyes in Eliot’s direction. “You can’t say that.”

“You say it all the time,” Eliot protested.

“I can,” I argued. “She’s my best friend.”

“Is that a girl thing?”

“No, it’s a loyalty thing,” I corrected him. “I can say whatever I want about her. You cannot.”

“That goes for Lexie, too, right?”

“Yes,” I replied firmly.

“Good to know.”

“It’s a learning curve, I understand.”

I got up to head to the bedroom and get dressed when Eliot stopped me with a look. “What?”

“I thought maybe we could take a quick shower together,” he said suggestively. “You know, loosen you up for yoga.”

“I’m not showering now.”

“Why? Aren’t you going out in public?”

“Yeah, but I’m going out in public to get all sweaty – without even the prospect of an orgasm. I’m not showering for that,” I explained.

“I could handle the orgasm end of that for you.”

I considered his offer for a second. “Okay,” I said finally. “I’m still not showering before yoga, though.”

I ROLLED
into Lexie’s new studio only fifteen minutes late. I had an excuse ready -- Eliot needed help at his store – but I found Lexie and Carly sitting at the juice bar gossiping when I came in. I guess an excuse wasn’t necessary.

“Hey.”

“You’re late,” Carly admonished me.

“Eliot needed help in his store.”

“That’s such crap.” I was surprised when I saw Derrick straighten up from behind the bar. He had a hammer in his hand, so I guessed he was doing some sort of manual labor.

“It’s not crap,” I argued. “He needed help.”

“Like Eliot would let you interact with the general public,” Derrick scoffed. “He’s a businessman. He knows better than that.”

I stuck out my tongue at Derrick and then hopped onto the stool next to Carly. “So, how did things go with Harriet last night?”

“She cried and complained and begged Kyle to take her side.”

“What did you do?”

“I told Kyle to call you and argue it out with you.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, well, if you make him cry I won’t feel as bad as I would if I was the one that made him cry.”

“Always glad to help.”

I glanced around the yoga studio, taking it in for the first time. When Lexie rented the space in a Roseville storefront a few weeks before, I had been dubious. I had to admit, though, she had done a lot of work and it was starting to look pretty good. Lexie had painted the walls in a pleasing plum color. There were shelves on the walls – currently empty – but Lexie had said she planned on putting a variety of teas and apparel on the shelves over the next few weeks. The juice bar had been something she had found discarded on the street, but she had taken it in, refurbished it and fancied it up with some unique decoupage that made the juice bar look like a work of art instead of discarded garbage. The stools had come from the family restaurant and they were in pretty good shape.

“I thought you were doing classes?”

“Nothing scheduled,” Lexie said. “We’re doing a soft opening in two weeks. I’m just doing classes right now to get the word out. They’re more spontaneous than anything else.”

“Meaning she’s doing them for free,” Derrick said darkly. “What a great head for business she has.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Carly interjected.

“You do?” Derrick looked doubtful.

“Yeah,” Carly said. “The whole point is to get people in here. To get people talking. The store isn’t open yet. If she starts building up a clientele before it opens, even if it’s by offering free classes, that can only benefit her later on.”

Derrick considered Carly’s statement. “I guess you have a point,” he said grudgingly.

“Of course I have a point,” Carly said dismissively. “My business degree isn’t just for show.”

I smirked as Derrick scowled. “Now I see why you two are friends.”

“Why?” Carly asked curiously.

“You’re both condescending.”

“Says the cop,” Carly said knowingly.

“Excuse me.”

“My dad is a cop,” Carly reminded him. “I know how it goes.”

“Cops are assholes,” I agreed.

Derrick rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“What are you doing here anyway?” I asked him.

“The floorboard is loose down here,” Derrick said. “There was no reason for Lexie to pay for someone to come fix it when I could do it for free.”

“Your mom made you come,” I corrected him.

“It was strongly suggested,” Derrick agreed.

“And he loves his baby sister,” Lexie teased.

“That must be it,” Derrick deadpanned.

I ignored him and turned to Lexie. “So, have you decided on a name?”

“Yeah,” Lexie said excitedly. “I’m going with Yoga One That I Want.”

Derrick groaned while Carly and I considered. “I like it.”

“I do, too,” Carly agreed.

“It’s cute,” I added.

“It’s memorable,” Carly chimed in.

“It’s lame,” Derrick grumbled.

“You are just a ball of bright sunshine this morning,” I goaded him.

“That’s what happens when my mom calls at seven in the morning and tells me to get my ass over to Lexie’s yoga studio and act as a slave for a day,” Derrick replied. “As if the other six days I worked this week didn’t count for anything.”

“Translation: You wanted to get lucky with Devon all day,” I smirked.

“Like you wouldn’t have done the same thing with Eliot,” Derrick shot back.

“She already got lucky today,” Carly said knowingly.

“How do you know that?” I asked suspiciously.

“You have a glow,” Lexie interjected.

“Why couldn’t the freeway shooter just shoot me?” Derrick lamented.

I glanced over at him. “Speaking of, anything new on that front?”

“No.”

“No? Really? Or just no for me?”

“No for everyone.”

“For Devon?”

“There’s nothing new!”

“You liar,” I challenged him. “There is something new, you’ve just been ordered not to tell anyone.”

“Says you.”

“That’s why you didn’t put up much of a fight when your mom made you come over here,” I continued.

“Really?” Derrick looked nonplussed. “Have you ever said no to your mother?”

“All the time.”

“Well, I’m a good son,” Derrick replied.

“That way you don’t have to put up with her trying to cajole information from you,” I pushed on. “And I bet her methods of information extraction are a lot more . . . personal than mine would be.”

“Let’s hope,” Carly agreed.

“You’re such a know-it-all,” Derrick muttered. “It’s really annoying.”

“Especially when I’m right.”

“You’re never right.”

“So, I’m wrong?” I mused evilly. “So, I guess if I called Devon and left a message for you with her, you know, thanking you for the news tip, then things would be just hunky dory with the two of you?”

“Things are never hunky dory when you use the term hunky dory,” Carly pointed out.

“I’m tired,” I apologized. “I’m not at my best.”

“I hate you,” Derrick grumbled as he moved away from the juice bar.

“There’s another loose board in the other room,” Lexie sang out. “Can you fix that before you go?”

“I hate you, too.”

Whoever said spending time with your family on a lazy Sunday wasn’t fun had never spent time with my family.

“Mondays suck.”

“You have a way with words,” Eliot chuckled, sliding a mug of coffee across his small kitchen table in my direction.

“Seriously,” I grumbled. “How do you wake up looking so pretty?”

Eliot shook his head. “The word pretty makes me feel less manly. I told you to go with ruggedly handsome.”

“Are you torturing me this morning for any specific reason?”

“I just like watching you in the morning,” Eliot shrugged. “You’re so cute when you’re disheveled.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t think the word disheveled does much for my self-esteem.”

“We’ll file it next to the word pretty.”

“In what? Our file of things we’re not supposed to say to each other in the morning?”

“Pretty much.”

“Great. We’ll put it between ‘the condom broke’ and ‘are you bloated for a reason.’”

Eliot barked out a laugh. “So, what’s on your agenda today?”

“Press conference at the sheriff’s department,” I grumbled. “It’s the first briefing from the new task force.”

“You say task force like there should be air quotes around it.”

“Derrick is on it. There should be.”

“I think you’re too hard on Derrick,” Eliot said. “He’s your family. You should be nicer to him. He’s got a good reputation.”

“You don’t feel that way about Lexie,” I reminded him.

“Lexie isn’t family. She’s a fluke.”

“Her yoga studio is looking really good.” I decided to change the subject.

“That’s good.” Eliot’s tone was airy.

“It is,” I agreed. “You should go see it.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

A FULL
hour later I made my way into the sheriff’s department. The deputy behind the bubble was new – and he looked fresh off the police academy truck. I thought about messing with him, but I didn’t have the energy. If it had been any other day of the week, I probably would have made sure I made an indelible impact on him. As it was, I just flashed my press pass and winked at him as I made my way into the inner sanctum.

Since I was running late, I headed straight for the conference room. I noticed, upon entering, that I was the last media representative to arrive. The television drones were grouped around the donut table chatting. The weekly reporters were doing
their best to stay out of their way. A print reporter from one of the big Detroit dailies was also there, and he was doing his best to pretend he was above all of this while a woman in a black pencil skirt and matching blazer stood in the aisle and talked to him. I didn’t recognize her. She didn’t look like a reporter. Her ebony hair was swept back in a tight bun and her high cheekbones were colored with just a smidgen of makeup. She obviously wasn’t with the television crews.

The woman saw me looking at her and took a step towards me. “And you are?”

“Who are you?”

The woman pursed her lips at my evasion but then extended her hand towards me. “My name is Christine Brady. I’m the new media liaison for the sheriff’s department.”

“Which sheriff’s department? Oakland’s?”

“No,” Christine shook her head. “I was just hired by Sheriff Farrell.”

“Why?”

“To be the face of the department,” Christine said blankly.

“He’s the face of the department.”

“Yes, but he can’t handle every little inquiry, can he? That would be just silly.”

He had so far. “I don’t understand.”

“The county board feels that Sheriff Farrell is spending too much time with individual media representatives, time that should be focused on his job,” Christine continued. “I’m here to make his job easier so he can focus on actual law enforcement.”

“So the county actually hired you,” I said knowingly. I had a feeling I knew which county board members had made this decision – the ones that Jake was constantly butting heads with. She was a spy.

“The county made the decision to hire me,” Christine said primly. “Sheriff Farrell agreed on my selection.”

“I just bet he did.” Whoops. Did I say that out loud?

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Christine was eyeing me curiously.

“Avery Shaw,” I said succinctly. “I’m from the . . .”

“The Monitor, yes,” Christine frowned. I had a feeling I was one of the media representatives the county commissioners had been worried about.

“I see my reputation precedes me,” I joked lamely.

“It certainly does,” Christine agreed.

“Why? What have you heard?” There was an edge to my voice. I heard it. I knew she did, too.

“I’ve heard that you’re tenacious,” Christine said. “That you’re a hard worker and you always get your story.”

Well, that wasn’t so bad.

“You’re also known for getting yourself personally involved in stories and your personal relationships with Sheriff Farrell and another deputy have become cause for concern.”

And that was more akin to what I expected.

“You mean my cousin Derrick? And I don’t have a personal relationship with Jake. We went to high school together.”

“And yet he’s often seen in public with you,” Christine pressed.

“Define seen.”

“Okay,” Christine said primly. “On occasion, Sheriff Farrell has been seen at your home.”

“Only when I’ve been threatened.”

“And does that happen a lot?”

Too often for comfort. “Not really.”

“There have also been times when local police have been called to assist you and Sherriff Farrell has shown up and infringed on local investigations,” Christine continued.

“He just wanted to make sure I was okay,” I protested.

“He doesn’t do that for any other media in the area,” Christine pointed out.

“I guess I’m special.”

“That is one of the problems, yes,” Christine agreed. “You seem to need a lot of Sheriff Farrell’s special attention – and that’s not really fair to the other media, now is it?”

I didn’t give a shit about fair. “Now you listen a second . . .”

I felt a hand on my arm pulling me away from Christine. I didn’t have to look to know it was Derrick. “Why don’t you come over here and have a donut,” he warned.

“Deputy Johnson,” Christine nodded at Derrick. “Why am I not surprised that you’re stepping in?”

“I don’t know,” Derrick said coldly. “Why don’t you go and discuss that with Commissioner Ludington.”

“Oh, I knew it,” I groaned. “I knew Tad was behind this.”

Tad Ludington was a guy I dated briefly in college. He was brief about everything, just FYI. He had been elected to the Macomb County Board of Commissioners about a year before – and he had been irritating me on the political front ever since.

“Commissioner Ludington is a great man,” Christine said. “You could learn a lot from him.”

“Thanks, I don’t need to know how to brush my hair to cover up a bald spot,” I shot back.

Derrick choked back a laugh. As much as I irritated him, he got a kick out of watching me irritate others. That is the way of family, after all.

“You have a bad attitude,” Christine said.

“That’s going to be engraved on my tombstone,” I replied.

I glanced up at the conference room door when I saw Jake enter the room. He didn’t look happy. When his glance fell on Christine, Derrick and I his jaw set grimly. He moved towards us purposefully.

“Christine,” he said ominously. “I thought you were going to wait to introduce yourself to everyone at the press conference?”

“I thought I would get a jump on it,” Christine replied airily. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

“Well, have you met everyone?”

“Mostly,” Christine said. “I was just getting to know Ms. Shaw here.”

“It’s always a pleasure,” Jake said sarcastically. “Unfortunately, it often ends with prodigious swearing and veiled threats of physical harm.”

“I don’t swear,” Christine said.

“I wasn’t talking about you.”

Christine took the hint and moved away, making her way to the television reporters. Shelly greeted her with a fake smile and faux enthusiasm, while Devon looked a little unsure of herself. Once she was gone, I swung on Jake. “What the hell?”

“I don’t have a choice,” Jake said stiffly.

“Flipping Tad,” I muttered. “I’m going to FOI every single campaign contribution document in his file.”

“Do you think it’s good to poke the angry bear?” Jake asked.

“If it gets the angry bear ousted, what do you think?”

Jake considered the statement for a second. “Go nuts.”

“Really?” I watched him suspiciously. “You usually try to dissuade me when I go all vengeful.”

“Yeah? Well Ludington has it coming. I figure he deserves you on his ass.”

“Like a really big pimple,” Derrick chimed in.

“Thanks.”

“Just trying to be helpful.”