brew.
“Thanks,” she said. “I feel much better. I still don’t like Daniel.”
“Me, neither,” Phil said. “Sh! Jim’s coming back.”
Helen pretended to watch the TV on the waiting room wall. Then a red banner crawling along the bottom of the screen caught her eyes. “Missouri Tourist Killed at Riggs Beach,” it said. “Details on Channel 54 at 4.”
“Phil!” she said. “Look!”
“I saw it,” he said. He glanced up at the ER clock. “It’s three fifty-five.”
Jim saw the bad news, too. He sat down heavily in his chair and put his head in his hands. “Oh, no,” he said. “Riggs Beach will use this to get me.”
“You don’t know that,” Phil said. “We know Valerie Cannata at Channel Seventy-seven. She’s won a slew of Emmys, and she did some good stories about us. That’s probably how you learned about Coronado Investigations in the first place.”
“You wait and see,” Jim said.
The trio spent a tense twelve minutes. The top news stories seemed endless and pointless. Helen thought there were stories about a high-speed car chase and a robbery at a strip mall store. Then an anchor with a blond bubble of hair assumed a professionally sad expression and said, “A thirty-year-old tourist from Kirkwood, Missouri, was killed while stand-up paddleboarding on Riggs Beach.”
A photo of Ceci smiling adoringly at her husband, Daniel, flashed on the screen. It must have been taken a while ago. She wore a white ruffled top and was forty pounds slimmer than the woman Helen had seen. Ceci and Daniel looked deeply in love.
“Where the hell did they get that photo?” Sunny Jim said. “She’s only been dead an hour.”
“Her husband could have e-mailed it to them,” Phil said. “That means he’s going to sue. He’ll try the case in the court of public opinion first.”
Jim groaned. None of them could tear their eyes away from the news story.
Now a police spokesman was talking on-screen. “The victim was identified as Cecilia Odell,” he said. The spokesman looked like he was facing a firing squad instead of a camera. “Mrs. Odell was with her husband, Daniel Odell, on Riggs Beach this morning. Mr. Odell was sunbathing on the beach while his wife was stand-up paddleboarding. Mrs. Odell fell off her board and was found unconscious in the water. She was transported to Riggs Beach General Hospital and died at the hospital without regaining consciousness.”
The blond anchor said, “The company that rented Mrs. Odell her paddleboard was Sunny Jim’s Stand-Up Paddleboard Rental, based in Riggs Beach and owned by Mr. James Sundusky. Mr. Sundusky did not return our phone calls.”
“What?” Jim said. “They didn’t call.”
“Is your phone on?” Helen asked.
Jim fished it out of his pocket and checked the display. “The station called five times,” he said. “I should call them back now.”
“No,” Phil said. “Let’s see where this story is going.”
A blurred, shaky video clip was rolling. Helen could see the two lifeguards carrying Ceci out of the water on the rescue board. “A Channel Fifty-four viewer took this exclusive video of the rescue,” the blond bubblehead intoned. “Remember, if you see news and can safely do so, send your photos and videos to your Fifty-four news station. If we use your video, we’ll give you fifty-four dollars.”
Professional video replaced the snippet of amateur work. It showed a hefty man with a comb-over and a dingy white short-sleeved shirt.
“Oh, no,” Jim said. “That’s Commissioner Charlie ‘Want More’ Wyman. He’s always got his hand out for a bribe.”
Charlie earnestly folded his chubby hands over his paunch while the blond anchor said, “Police say the incident is under investigation. But here’s what Riggs Beach city commissioner Charles Harrison Wyman told us.”
Commissioner Wyman had a reedy voice for a big man. “I have repeatedly called for more regulation for water sports companies,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said. “I feel much better. I still don’t like Daniel.”
“Me, neither,” Phil said. “Sh! Jim’s coming back.”
Helen pretended to watch the TV on the waiting room wall. Then a red banner crawling along the bottom of the screen caught her eyes. “Missouri Tourist Killed at Riggs Beach,” it said. “Details on Channel 54 at 4.”
“Phil!” she said. “Look!”
“I saw it,” he said. He glanced up at the ER clock. “It’s three fifty-five.”
Jim saw the bad news, too. He sat down heavily in his chair and put his head in his hands. “Oh, no,” he said. “Riggs Beach will use this to get me.”
“You don’t know that,” Phil said. “We know Valerie Cannata at Channel Seventy-seven. She’s won a slew of Emmys, and she did some good stories about us. That’s probably how you learned about Coronado Investigations in the first place.”
“You wait and see,” Jim said.
The trio spent a tense twelve minutes. The top news stories seemed endless and pointless. Helen thought there were stories about a high-speed car chase and a robbery at a strip mall store. Then an anchor with a blond bubble of hair assumed a professionally sad expression and said, “A thirty-year-old tourist from Kirkwood, Missouri, was killed while stand-up paddleboarding on Riggs Beach.”
A photo of Ceci smiling adoringly at her husband, Daniel, flashed on the screen. It must have been taken a while ago. She wore a white ruffled top and was forty pounds slimmer than the woman Helen had seen. Ceci and Daniel looked deeply in love.
“Where the hell did they get that photo?” Sunny Jim said. “She’s only been dead an hour.”
“Her husband could have e-mailed it to them,” Phil said. “That means he’s going to sue. He’ll try the case in the court of public opinion first.”
Jim groaned. None of them could tear their eyes away from the news story.
Now a police spokesman was talking on-screen. “The victim was identified as Cecilia Odell,” he said. The spokesman looked like he was facing a firing squad instead of a camera. “Mrs. Odell was with her husband, Daniel Odell, on Riggs Beach this morning. Mr. Odell was sunbathing on the beach while his wife was stand-up paddleboarding. Mrs. Odell fell off her board and was found unconscious in the water. She was transported to Riggs Beach General Hospital and died at the hospital without regaining consciousness.”
The blond anchor said, “The company that rented Mrs. Odell her paddleboard was Sunny Jim’s Stand-Up Paddleboard Rental, based in Riggs Beach and owned by Mr. James Sundusky. Mr. Sundusky did not return our phone calls.”
“What?” Jim said. “They didn’t call.”
“Is your phone on?” Helen asked.
Jim fished it out of his pocket and checked the display. “The station called five times,” he said. “I should call them back now.”
“No,” Phil said. “Let’s see where this story is going.”
A blurred, shaky video clip was rolling. Helen could see the two lifeguards carrying Ceci out of the water on the rescue board. “A Channel Fifty-four viewer took this exclusive video of the rescue,” the blond bubblehead intoned. “Remember, if you see news and can safely do so, send your photos and videos to your Fifty-four news station. If we use your video, we’ll give you fifty-four dollars.”
Professional video replaced the snippet of amateur work. It showed a hefty man with a comb-over and a dingy white short-sleeved shirt.
“Oh, no,” Jim said. “That’s Commissioner Charlie ‘Want More’ Wyman. He’s always got his hand out for a bribe.”
Charlie earnestly folded his chubby hands over his paunch while the blond anchor said, “Police say the incident is under investigation. But here’s what Riggs Beach city commissioner Charles Harrison Wyman told us.”
Commissioner Wyman had a reedy voice for a big man. “I have repeatedly called for more regulation for water sports companies,” he said.
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