Cover Shot (A Headlines in High Heels Mystery Book 5) (27 page)

39.

Nothing but the truth

“Y
ou ready for this?” DonnaJo arched an eyebrow at me from across the polished cherry table, her blue eyes trailing to my sling.

I nodded. “I’m not even on painkillers anymore.”

She shook her head, pushing her chair back and standing. “I suppose you better get used to being on the stand if you’re going to keep ending up in the middle of your stories.”

“Not like I do it on purpose,” I said, rising slower than she had. The compound exposed fracture to my left ulna had required three hours of surgery, two plates, nine screws, and a lecture about my calcium intake. Joey’d been shoving milk and yogurt at me every seven seconds for three weeks. But it was nice, having him around.

I’d even mustered the nerve to ask a few questions.

His last name was D’Amore. Because the universe has a twisted sense of humor.

DonnaJo pushed the conference room door open and stepped into the hallway. “Your story this morning about that woman and her recovery was the best piece you’ve ever done, friend. I heard a rumor they have you to thank for more than the write-up.”

“Only because I quasi-blackmailed a doctor into helping them.” I winked. “Shhhh.”

Goetze had been only too happy to read up on Maynard’s protocol and test it on Amy Ellinger once the story about Shannon and Jeff and their involvement in the murders broke. Turned out Evaris had a city councilman in its back pocket. A councilman who’d leaned on the PD’s brass to arrest Tom and keep the case quiet, citing a desire to avoid bad press for the department. He’d also kept Shannon apprised of the investigation, putting Aaron’s life in danger. I’d taken great pleasure in helping Mel write up his resignation.

A honcho at the FDA who suspected Alan Shannon of playing dirty had Kyle assigned to the case. Though Kyle didn’t know that until Shannon was in a cell.

Goetze wanted less than nothing to do with any drug company these days—pay cut be damned, if his new Honda was any indication. I promised to lose the photos of his meeting with Shannon’s flunky, and he claimed no responsibility if the treatment didn’t work.

Amy would be back to driving carpool in another few weeks. Best story ever, indeed.

“I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”

“Where is that going?” DonnaJo asked. “I saw suspiciously little mention of Maynard’s miracle in the news.”

“I sent all the files to the NIH. They’re reviewing them, talking about setting up large-scale trials. Bureaucracy is a bitch, especially when there’re millions of dollars at stake. We’ll see how it turns out, but I’m beyond thrilled to know it’s there if anyone I love ever needs it.”

“Thanks to you and your computer geek friend.” DonnaJo winked.

“The funny thing is, when Kyle’s team searched Shannon’s office, they figured out that spreadsheet file I…um…borrowed…was a code for payoffs. A handful of doctors, plus a hacker collective in Finland that pulled off the search engine deletion with a virus designed to find and block Maynard’s name. He paid them three-quarters of a million dollars, but the research he wanted erased was never published in the first place. Kyle said he was trying to stop it before Maynard had a chance to put it out. In case Jeff chickened out or missed.”

DonnaJo whistled. “Such a tangled web. The courthouse grapevine says Maynard left his entire estate to Doctors Without Borders. Except a trust to put his assistant through medical school.” She winked. “Seems Mrs. Eason wasn’t his only girlfriend.”

“A revelation that pissed her right off.” I nodded. “That explains why the assistant was so protective of his stuff, though. She was in love with him. Hopefully she’ll be able to do as much good as he did.”

“I saw a file come through for your gunman yesterday.” DonnaJo patted my good shoulder. “The first one, anyway.”

Tom was out on bond, awaiting trial for the weapons charge.

“Something tells me the Ellingers can handle whatever y’all might throw at them.” I smiled. “The lack of a murder charge is a nice bonus.”

“For all concerned, believe me,” she said.

Benny’s mother had taken her last breath while I was breaking my arm trying to get away from Jeff, but Joey’s friend had pulled some nautical-rope-sized strings and gotten him a new hearing. One not in California. Can’t win ’em all, but at least Benny had a shot at staying with his wife and daughter.

A surveillance camera at the ATM next door to my mom’s shop had footage of the creep who took the photos of her—an online reporter, no less—but since he claimed he didn’t know what they were for, the threats were just added to Shannon’s list of infractions. The teenager across the street liked his binoculars, and had seen Crenshaw leave the envelope in my mailbox.

My BlackBerry was the only extra casualty of Jeff’s plot, because I’d crushed it along with my arm. An hour at the Apple store and a few hundred bucks wasn’t a huge price to pay when I thought about the explosion that didn’t happen.

Two defense lawyers waved as we turned the corner for the elevator. I smiled a hello and focused on DonnaJo’s recounting of more courthouse gossip. She was chattering to put me at ease, and I loved her for it.

“Who’s here for the
Telegraph
today?” she asked.

“Shelby.”

She laughed. “Miss obvious question? She knows not to talk while the trial is going on?”

“She’s not so bad these days.” I wanted to shrug, but knew it would hurt, so I shook my head.

“What ever happened to that blogger?”

“She thinks I’m on the PD’s payroll and covering up a police brutality story because Landers shot Jeff Moseley.”

DonnaJo hit the call button for the elevator and turned to me. “You’re not serious.”

“Sure I am. She doesn’t like me. And she’s not going anywhere. But I have more important things to worry about.” I traced the toe of one yellow Louboutin along the edge of a tile.

She grimaced. “How’s Bob?”

I blew out a heavy sigh. “Rick Andrews is a bastard of the highest order.”

“He can’t just fire Bob Jeffers. The man is an institution.”

The elevator doors opened and I stepped inside. She pushed two and shook her head.

“He can’t fire Bob without the board’s approval,” I said. “He’s still pushing for an early retirement. To the tune of nine hours trying to wear him down. With the two board members he’s managed to convince there for show.”

“How many votes does he need?”

“Three more. But he’s making Bob miserable. This exclusive backed him down half a step, but nothing like before.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Rally the troops. Stay on my game. Try not to screw up.” I stepped off the elevator. “All while helping Mel plan a wedding. Word of advice: don’t play Cupid—people make you their maid of honor when it works out.” I grinned and DonnaJo laughed.

“Sounds like a full plate.”

I nodded. “But today, I’m focused on helping you put this asshat away.”

She squeezed my hand. “Just tell your story. His lawyer will do a lot of fancy talking. You stick to simple phrases and the truth. He tried to kill you. He confessed to killing a Commonwealth’s Attorney and culpability in the deaths of two cops. That’s what the jury needs to know.”

I squeezed back, turning to the courtroom. “Let’s do it.” The words faltered on my lips as my eyes met Kyle’s.

He closed a hand around the door pull and nodded. “Ladies.”

“Agent Miller.” DonnaJo looked back and forth between us and bit her lip. “I think I should step into the ladies’ room before they call us back to order.”

She scurried down the hall.

“Kyle.” I smiled, but it felt tight.

“Nicey, I have to talk to you.”

“I don’t think I want to hear what you have to say.”

“You couldn’t know that, you won’t return my calls.”

“You’re nosing around in my personal life. I’d like you to knock it off.” I’d spotted Kyle sitting across the street from my house more times than I cared to count lately, and he’d tailed Joey twice: once to the grocery store and once to the bank.

He didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic. “I’m worried about you,” he said.

“I didn’t ask you to be.” There was more bite to the words than I intended, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Look, you’re my friend.”

“And I’m happy. Leave it alone, Kyle.”

“Coffee?”

“Not until you back off your little solo investigation.” I shook my head. I missed him, too, but I was terrified of what might happen to the happy bubble I’d spent the past few weeks in if he kept digging. I knew he couldn’t have enough to prove anything. If he did, he wouldn’t be bugging me, he’d be getting an arrest warrant. Kyle was very black and white when it came to his work.

He held my gaze and shrugged. “I can’t do that.”

“Then I’m not talking to you.” I put my own hand on the door. “On the record or otherwise. Excuse me, Agent.”

“Everything okay?” DonnaJo asked, her heels clicking across the marble of the floor.

“We’re done here,” I said brightly, pulling the door open as Kyle let go and took a step back.

I took a seat in the back of the gallery, and DonnaJo parked behind the Commonwealth’s table. The bailiff announced Judge Vargas, and my new iPhone buzzed in my pocket as his honor walked to the bench.

I pulled it out to turn it off, glancing at the text alert by force of habit.

Kyle.

Closing my eyes, I swiped a finger across the screen, the little blue bubble twisting my stomach into a pretzel.

We are not. But it’ll keep.

About the Author

LynDee Walker’s award-winning journalistic work has appeared in newspapers and magazines across the U.S.

Her debut novel,
Front Page Fatality
, was nominated for the Agatha Award for Best First Novel.
Cover Shot
is the fifth in LynDee’s Headlines in High Heels Mystery Series. The sixth is due out in Fall 2016.

LynDee adores her family, her readers, and enchiladas. She often works out tricky plot points while walking off the enchiladas. She lives in Richmond, Virginia, where she is either playing with her children, working on her next novel, or admiring beautiful shoes she can’t wear.

In Case You Missed the 1
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Book in the Series

FRONT PAGE FATALITY

LynDee Walker

A Headlines in High Heels Mystery (#1)

Crime reporter Nichelle Clarke’s days can flip from macabre to comical with a beep of her police scanner. Then an ordinary accident story turns extraordinary when evidence goes missing, a prosecutor vanishes, and a sexy Mafia boss shows up with the headline tip of a lifetime.

As Nichelle gets closer to the truth, her story gets more dangerous. Armed with a notebook, a hunch, and her favorite stilettos, Nichelle races to splash these shady dealings across the front page before this deadline becomes her last.

Read all about it and/or grab the book from Amazon

CLICK FOR FRONT PAGE FATALITY

In Case You Missed the 2
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Book in the Series

BURIED LEADS

LynDee Walker

A Headlines in High Heels Mystery (#2)

When an Armani-clad corpse turns up in the woods, crime reporter Nichelle Clarke smells a scoop. A little digging, and Nichelle uncovers a web of corruption that stretches all the way to Washington, D.C. Politics. Murder. And a dead lobbyist. It’s everything Nichelle’s ever dreamed of.

The cops are playing it close, the feds even closer, and Nichelle’s afraid her boss will assign the story to the political desk any day. Her sexy Mafia boss friend warns her off the case, her TV rival is hot on her designer heels, an ambitious copy editor wants her beat, and victims are piling up faster than she can track them down. As Nichelle zeroes in on the truth, it’ll take some fancy footwork to nab this headline before the killer nabs her.

Read all about it and/or grab the book from Amazon

CLICK FOR BURIED LEADS