“I’m kind of his unofficial deputy during the summer when he’s taking vacation.” Tyler twirled a pen between his fingers.
Wes glanced at the empty desk in the I-team’s zone. He needed to take advantage of every opportunity, and he knew Tyler, for all his loudness and other faults, was trusted by Jason. After all, he was the one who’d been chosen to join theSpear’s investigative team.
“I might have something that came out of a tip from Dot Voline,” Wes said, lifting his brown leather portfolio. “I think—”
“Isn’t she dead?” Tyler looked only politely interested. “There wasa mess about her obit, right? If that’s what you’re working on, I can tell you that’s not what JJ is looking for.”
Tyler’s long-winded interruption as well as his slight mocking tone was enough to get Wes’s back up. This was a good story, and he’d prove it to Tyler.
“Apparently, one of her characters is based on a real person active in politics.”
“Oh?” Tyler’s expression didn’t change. “Who?”
“A senator,” Wes said. “Who could have been prime minister.”
“Seems thin, Wes.” Tyler rubbed his chin, fingers digging into his thick beard. “JJ’s going to want more than this. Some book character? Where’s the immediacy? It’s an arts piece. Get Becky to run it.” Tyler shrugged. “I wouldn’t bother JJ with this one.”
“It’s not about some book character. It’s a significant story, and you’d know if you let me finish.” Wes kept his voice calm as Tyler put up his hands in awhoa, buddygesture. “He may have been involved in some unprofessional dealings.” No need to go into the details.
“Yeah, that’s politics. Everyone knows that.” Tyler drank down the rest of the Coke. “Let me give you some advice. You need to think impact. Who cares? Every politician has a few deals in the closet that we all know but won’t bother doing a story about because it doesn’t hit hard enough. Look at my hockey story. Everyone can relate to hockey. We all watch it, or we’ve had a coach who we knew was shady. See? There’s universality.”
“That’s not universal at all,” Wes said. “And you’ve misunderstood the importance of what I’ve found.”
“Sounds like that’s part of your issue, isn’t it? You can’t explain it.”
Frustrated and feeling beaten, Wes turned away without answering. Tyler didn’t seem to care.
Nor did anyone else notice when he went back to his desk and grabbed his bag with his middle fingers conveniently but subtly pointed in the direction of the I-team.
Thirty-two
Nadine deliberately and immaturely planned her arrival at theHeraldfor when Lisanne had a standing meeting with Hetty. There were a few texts on her phone that she couldn’t bring herself to answer. She was still upset after their last exchange about Nadine’s byline but also not willing to address it like an adult, making evasion her current MO. She went straight to the Crypt, hoping to find her quarry alone.
She did.
“What do you want?” Irina asked, looking over the rims of her glasses.
“Monica Olway,” said Nadine, getting right to it. She put the clipping of theHeraldstory denouncing Monica on the table.
“I don’t know her.” Irina kept typing.
“I think you do,” said Nadine. “I spoke to her yesterday, and she told me about your conversation and that although you weren’t able to run her story, this one by a staff writer was published soon after. Was that you?”
Irina looked up and maintained eye contact as she kept her fingers moving on the keyboard. Nadine didn’t blink. She was going to findout what Irina knew if it killed her, which Irina’s Medusa gaze might.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Irina’s question came as a surprise.
“Yes.” It might be an exaggeration—Nadine had only the faintest idea what she was doing and more than a few unanswered questions—but those were things to talk over with Wes. Not Irina.
Irina gave her a considering look. “I don’t think you do.”
“I’m the judge of that.” The steel in her voice must have convinced Irina, who finally stopped typing.
“Ten years ago, Monica Olway came into the office yelling that John Wilson was a worm and someone had to do something about it,” Irina said, folding her hands in front of her. “I happened to be walking by.”
“Then what?”
“She told me John Wilson wanted her to spy on someone and fired her when she refused. There was no corroborating evidence, no proof of any kind, and Olway was driven by a personal vendetta. But I was curious and called Wilson’s office for a comment. No reply.”
