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“They are crooked crooks. A bunch of money hungry, unscrupulous, nasty, lying, selfish—”
It was my turn to interrupt him. I couldn’t report slanderous comments in a story. “Mr. Cratchett, I was hoping you could tell me a little bit about how long you’ve lived here.”
He waved his hand in the air. “No one wants to hear about that. What they need to know is about underhanded business deals happening in their own back yards.”
“I think our readers would like to hear your story.” I could tell this interview was going to be a struggle. “How did you organize the anti-development rally?”
“What they need to know is this island is being destroyed. Pretty soon the only piece of sand that’s going to be left is from what the wind blows in here. They’re tearing down the whole place.” His cheeks turned a deep crimson color. “This land is nothing like what it used to be.”
I tried to smile. “How many people would you say are a part of your organization?” I clicked the tip of my pen, waiting for his response.
He touched the plastic cup to his lips and I tried not to make a face when I heard him spit.
“I don’t keep track. Whoever is mad as hell like I am can join us.”
“But, Mr. Cratchett, you said you were going to organize a march through the island all the way to City Hall. Surely you have some idea if people are going to show up.”
“The problem here is greed. The filthy rich are doing what they always do.”
I sighed. Arnie rambled on about the atrocities of big business, never stopping to actually answer my questions.
After thirty minutes of listening to him explain how corrupt the developers were, I made an excuse of needing to return to the office to meet my deadline. There was a tiny bit of truth there.
I sat in my car, letting the air blow directly on my face. I was never going to get used to this kind of heat. I fished my phone out of my bag and called the office.
“Hey, Hannah. Is Alice in?”
The News & Record receptionist patched me through without responding.
“Alice,” my editor answered quickly.
“It’s Sydney. The development story isn’t really panning out. Mr. Cratchett is a cranky lunatic. We can’t use him. There’s no set date for a rally or march to City Hall.”
She huffed, “Then find another angle. Your deadline is coming up.”
I chewed on my lip. “I don’t know if there is a story here. I don’t know who the developers are yet. Maybe I should wait until the deal goes through, and then I could write about that.”
“You are the reporter. Find out who is making the bids. Talk to some of the developers. We need both sides of this. Go get the story.”
“Right. Ok, I’m on it.”
“Good. Don’t come back in the office until you have something. Your deadline is five. Today.”
“Got it. Don’t worry, Alice. I’ll bring in something we can use.” I
hung up and looked at the phone in my hand. Instead of getting guidance, the conversation bordered on a lecture from my new boss.
It wasn’t anything like working for the Longmire Daily. There we supported each other. Helped each other find sources. We even brainstormed story ideas. Granted, we did eat too much pizza. At the Record it was a fend-for-yourself kind of newsroom.
Arnie Cratchett was supposed to be the ringleader for the anti-development supporters. I didn’t have a single quote from him I could use that wouldn’t put the story at risk. I could incorporate Shawna’s story, but she didn’t have the background or the leadership information I needed to explain the two positions. Her struggle would make a great feature down the road, but right now I needed facts. I needed something newsworthy.
I pulled out of the trailer park with little information I could use for a story and a deadline I had to meet by tonight. My stomach growled, and I knew before I could do anything I had to eat lunch.
3
Mason
I looked at my watch again. It was Italian, handcrafted after my trip to Milan in the spring. The leather was soft but strong. The hands were thin blades of platinum that kept perfect time with the gears. It didn’t matter where the damn thing came from—he was late. I didn’t like waiting for anyone. Commissioner or CEO—I didn’t wait.
