“Yeah, we need to make sure our reporters can emotionally distance themselves from their reporting. Optics, you know. Journalistic integrity.” Jason shrugged his thick shoulders. “Plus, you’d probably get scooped again.” Jason took his foot off Wes’s chair, the force causing him to spin slightly. “Hey, Becky. How’s it hanging?”
Rebecca ignored him. “Wes, as I was going to say earlier, I want you to do a how-to on packing the perfect summer picnic.”
Jason snorted as he left, and Wes reopened his laptop so violently that the screen almost hit the desk, then shrugged in apology when Rebecca raised her eyebrow. “Picnic ideas,” he said to make up for showing his temper. “Let’s do three versions and base it around different tablecloths people can use to sit on. Gingham for vegetarian, French Provençal for meat, and chintz for dessert.”
She beamed at him. “Love it. Add matching nonalcoholic wines too.”
“Bien sûr.” He turned to his computer and caught sight of Nadine’s profile from theHeraldwebsite. She had a slight smile and was looking at the camera with her body angled to the left and arms crossed over her chest. He cheered slightly as he shut the page down. At least his day wasn’t as bad as Nadine’s.
***
Two hours later, he’d finished interviewing a local decorator who had launched a new website to help people choose wall paint based on their pets’ personalities and decided it was time for coffee.
In the office kitchen, waiting for the water to boil for the instant coffee he kept for emergencies, he pulled out his phone and found Dot Voline’s obituary, which someone had copied and posted on theSpear’s internal message board so they could collectively gloat over it. Within two lines, he knew it wasn’t Nadine’s work. Over the years, he’d become familiar with the cadence of her writing and the turns of phrase that were wholly hers. Sometimes he thought he’d be able to recognize her hand faster than his own. This had a dry, academic tone and none of Nadine’s usual flow.
Although the comments section was usually something he avoided, this time, he scrolled through to see if there was anything useful. Most were about Voline’s contribution to the literary landscape or all-caps exhortations to hold politicians accountable for issues that had nothing to do with the story. Then he found one that made him pause.
Wasn’t there some scandal about 30 pieces? They never teach the good stuff in school.
A scandal. Wes stirred the brown powder into his hot water. Scandal was good. That it was probably from forty years ago was bad. But it could be interesting. He did a quick search, but Voline’s profiles all told the same story about a small-town teacher who made it big in the literary world with her razor-sharp insights into human nature and an acid perspective on social mores. Nothing about a scandal. Who could he ask? Wes was about to take a tour of the office to see who might know something when his colleague Eliza came in to grab a yogurt from the fridge. He liked Eliza, who was from the breaking news desk and won the pumpkin-decorating contest each year. Last October, she had carved out small divotsand inserted radishes formed into eyes, then put the whole thing on top of a mannequin with tentacle limbs. It still popped up in Wes’s nightmares.
More importantly, Eliza had been in the business for a long time and knew where a lot of bodies were buried.
“Hey, Eliza, did you see the Voline obit?” he asked.
She looked at his cup and quietly handed him a few creamers that he accepted with gratitude. “I did. What a mess.”
“There was a comment about a scandal, but I can’t find anything online. Do you know what it is?”
“I thought the only scandalous thing about Dot Voline was her fashion sense.”
“No, it was about one of her books.” He handed over his phone so she could read it.
Eliza looked thoughtful. “You know, there was something from early in my first job. One of the many stories that never get covered, and it was barely a scandal. More of a scandalette.”
This was a good start. “Do you remember the details?”
“God, it was decades ago.” Eliza paused. “MaybeThirty Pieces of Silverwas based on someone? I’m not sure, although that’s the most likely story.”
He thought. “Could it have been plagiarized?”
Eliza laughed. “Then I don’t think it would be on the school curriculum. Sorry, Wes. That’s all I have.”
She left. Wes took his terrible coffee back to his desk to generate a listicle on the best plant-based ways to get rid of ants for the picnic piece, then did some more research on Voline. Nothing. This frustrated him beyond belief. Growing up in the internet age meant he refused to believe a fact existed that would not be available for him to find online. This Voline scandal, however, might be the exception.
He messaged Rebecca.There might be a scandal about one of Voline’s books. Thirty Pieces of Silver.
Rebecca’s reply was fast.I had to do that in school. Forget the scandal. I want a nice puff story about Voline and her non-brush with death. Do it that way or the jelly beans get it.
She was joking, but Wes knew there was no point fighting.Fine, just leave the jelly beans alone.The way his day was going, he was going to need them.
He stared at his laptop. He’d give Rebecca her story, but it wouldn’t hurt to do some checking on that scandal. He knew it would bother him until he figured it out. Since he needed a quote from Voline anyway, he could ask her about the rumor at the same time. It might also further screw over Nadine, which would be a bonus. If it was truly juicy, it might be worth pitching to Rebecca or Jason. Double bonus.
He smiled. It felt good to investigate something that wasn’t about whether crochet walls were the next big trend.
Which of course they weren’t. Crochet banisters, however, had a chance.
Three
