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“But a couple of those officers, including Went, were at the party that night. I just figure if we have a record, we’re better off. And I can transfer it all to my whiteboard when we get back to the loft. We can password protect it so that only you and I can open it. I don’t want to think badly of any of the cops, but there was something really hinky about those files.”
“Hinky?” he laughed, opening the door. “Is that some kind of super sophisticated sleuthing word used by mystery writers?”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
* * *
FIONA
After an amazing lunch at Holy Grounds, they walked down to the local newspaper, Angel’s Rise Gazette.
“Fiona? It’s so good to see you.”
“Hi, Diane, good to see you too. Do you know Detective Slade Rafferty? Slade, this is Diane Bettis, she’s the fourth-generation editor-in-chief and publisher of the Gazette.”
“Only by reputation these days, although we ran in the same circles in high school,” said Diane. “I’m a little surprised to see you with this guy, Fiona. After all, didn’t he arrest you for that grisly murder? Any chance you’d sit down with me to give me an exclusive, Slade?”
“I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation. As for Fiona and I being together, no one is more surprised and happy about that than me,” returned Slade. “Although technically, I only took her into custody. But she’s decided to forgive my faux pas and give me a second chance.”
Fiona had to hide her smile. She and Diane had never been close friends, as Diane had been known to cut people to ribbons with her sharp tongue while she smiled benignly at them the whole time. But Slade was smooth as silk, and it was obvious he’d learned long ago to deal with the Dianes of the world. Maybe he could teach her.
“Any chance you’d let us do some research in your archives?” asked Fiona. “I promise we won’t make a mess, and we’ll stay out of your way.”
“Normally, I’d require a subpoena to let a cop into the paper’s archives—just on principle you understand—but as Fiona is an old friend, and she’s decided to forgive you, I suppose I’ll let it slide just this once. I can’t imagine what you’re hoping to find.”
“Not sure we’ll find anything. Just trying to be as thorough as we can be,” said Slade.
“Thanks, Diane. I can show Slade the way to the back.”
“I’ll need to unlock the storage area. Why the archives? Anything we have on the murder up at the Falls wouldn’t be there. It’s still an active and ongoing story.”
“We think the boy who fell to his death might be connected to Daniel in some way,” said Fiona, shutting up when Slade poked her.
“You mean that old story about the big party? That was so awful. Really spoiled it for the rest of us.”
“I rather imagine it spoiled it more for Mike Ray and his family,” said Fiona.
“Well, of course. I misspoke. It really was a tragedy.”
Sometimes Fiona thought that Diane saw herself as the heroine in some gothic southern romance novel. She could almost envision her holding up a handful of typefaces and saying, ‘I’ll print this tomorrow.’ Fiona had always wondered about how Diane had ended up back at the paper. As Fiona recalled, she had gone to the Columbia School of Journalism, but when her father became ill, Diane had come home, taken over the paper, and never left.
It was interesting to watch Diane watch Slade when he wasn’t looking. There was a kind of covetous, malevolent glint to her eye, quickly replaced by sparkling blue eyes when she thought she might be seen. Diane had also reminded her, when she was explaining how Fiona had misunderstood some kind gesture Diane had made, of a spider coming out from beneath a rock. Now that she thought about it, it was Diane who had all but dared her to attend the party.
“Fiona would never want to come to the party up at the falls,”Diane had said all those years ago.“She’s much too busy with her little stories and serious studying, aren’t you, Fiona? I wouldn’t want you to feel out of place and end up running home with your tail between your legs.”
Diane’s words had the effect Fiona figured out years later she wanted them to have—Fiona had taken the dare and attended—feeling every bit as out of place as Diane had intended, especially when she’d turned her venomous tongue on her. But Fiona had stuck it out, refusing to be cowed by the bullying beauty.
“I’m surprised these files seem so unorganized,” said Slade. “As I recall, when you were head cheerleader, you were always so meticulous about where things went.”
“Then you do remember me,” said Diane, preening.
Fiona was proud of herself. She wasn’t the least bit jealous. Slade was clearly only being kind to Diane, but more than that, he had done everything in his power to make Fiona understand he was focused solely on her and on developing something real and lasting. He not only had the hunky good looks of a romantic detective in a mystery book, he had the heart, intelligence, and soul of one, as well. He was her very own perfect book boyfriend brought to life.
“My father left things in quite a mess. It’s on my list of things to do, but with being editor-in-chief, publisher, and not finding reliable help, I just haven’t quite gotten around to it. I was so hoping Fiona might decide to give up her aspirations to being a top tier novelist and come to work for me.”
Fiona could feel Slade bristle beside her. Placing her hand on his arm, Fiona smiled sweetly and said, “That’s so kind of you Diane, and I promise you I did give it some consideration, but given that my latest novel has climbed into Amazon’s Top 100 as well as Barnes and Noble’s Top 25, and may well make the New York Times bestseller list, I think I’ll just keep plugging away.”
She felt bad about feeling a certain kind of glee as her words hit home.
