a
mind-shattering concept! Everyone, even the simplest people in society, being
able to come to a place like this and transform themselves, fulfill themselves,
live life as the person they always wanted to be!”
Savannah returned the
too-bright smile and adopted the carnival barker tone of voice. “And they only
have to take out a second mortgage on the house, sell the kids, and hawk the
family pooch to pay for it all! Ya-a-y-y!”
Devon’s grin vanished,
replaced by an aggravated, suspicious scowl. “Emerge offers payment plans for
the underprivileged... upon credit approval, of course.”
“Oh, of course.”
After several moments of
awkward silence, Savannah decided to make a bad situation worse. “I hear that
Suzette Du Bois has gone missing,” she said.
Yes, every vestige of Devon
Wright’s faux smile evaporated. “Where did you hear that?” she snapped.
“I overheard that police
detective over there asking your receptionist about her.” She shrugged. “Hey, I
am a reporter, after all. I keep my ears open. Of course, I could be
persuaded to keep what I heard off the record for the time being....”
Devon opened and closed her
mouth several times as she seemed to search for the right words.
“That would be... um...
nice. I mean, there isn’t really anything to report now anyway.”
“And in return for my...
waiting... you might give me the first phone call when you do have something
substantial to report?”
Devon looked doubtful, but
she said, “Okay. Give me your business card, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Business card?
Savannah paused, thinking
fast. The cards in her purse represented her as a private investigator, not a
newspaper reporter.
“I don’t have any with me
right now, but I’ll leave my number with your receptionist at the desk.”
“You don’t have a business
card, Ms....?”
Savannah’s mental gears
whirred. “McGill. Savannah McGill.”
Devon’s eyes narrowed. “And
do you have your press pass with you, Ms. McGill?”
“Darn. No. It’s in my other
purse... with my cards... you know, changed pocketbooks last night to go out to
dinner at this fancy-schmancy place, forgot to put everything back into my
everyday purse. Do you ever do that? I just hate it when I do that.”
“Maybe you should leave for
now, Ms. McGill. Emerge isn’t really open to the public today. You can come
back when we have our press conference.”
“When they find Suzette Du
Bois, you mean. When they figure out what’s happened to her.”
The publicist’s eyes
narrowed even more, and Savannah saw a light shining there that made the
hackles on her back rise. Devon Wright might be dressed as a bebopping,
hip-hopping fluff-head, but underneath the frivolous facade was a dangerous
woman.
“You should go now.
Really,” she said. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
Savannah glanced over at
Dirk, who was still hanging out by the desk, questioning the aging, floozy
receptionist. “Thanks, but I can find my way to the door,” she said, “since
it’s only twenty feet away. I’m quite resourceful that way. Toodle-ooo. See you
later.”
Devon didn’t reply. Or walk
her to the door. But she did stand there and stare after her, boring eyeholes
into her back. Savannah half-expected her sweater to burst into flames
somewhere between her shoulder blades.
Savannah willed Dirk not to
call out to her, to inquire about her untimely exit. And he didn’t. They had
worked together long enough to know that they should save potentially
embarrassing questions for behind closed doors.
Once outside, she returned
to her car and waited for him to join her.
It didn’t take him long.
Five minutes later, he rounded the side of the building and walked across the
lot to her Mustang. She rolled down the window. “Let’s go somewhere else to
talk.”
He nodded. “The pier?”
“Sounds good. Follow me
over.”
“Nope. You follow me .”
“Eh, bite me.”
She knew he would break at
least five
mind-shattering concept! Everyone, even the simplest people in society, being
able to come to a place like this and transform themselves, fulfill themselves,
live life as the person they always wanted to be!”
Savannah returned the
too-bright smile and adopted the carnival barker tone of voice. “And they only
have to take out a second mortgage on the house, sell the kids, and hawk the
family pooch to pay for it all! Ya-a-y-y!”
Devon’s grin vanished,
replaced by an aggravated, suspicious scowl. “Emerge offers payment plans for
the underprivileged... upon credit approval, of course.”
“Oh, of course.”
After several moments of
awkward silence, Savannah decided to make a bad situation worse. “I hear that
Suzette Du Bois has gone missing,” she said.
Yes, every vestige of Devon
Wright’s faux smile evaporated. “Where did you hear that?” she snapped.
“I overheard that police
detective over there asking your receptionist about her.” She shrugged. “Hey, I
am a reporter, after all. I keep my ears open. Of course, I could be
persuaded to keep what I heard off the record for the time being....”
Devon opened and closed her
mouth several times as she seemed to search for the right words.
“That would be... um...
nice. I mean, there isn’t really anything to report now anyway.”
“And in return for my...
waiting... you might give me the first phone call when you do have something
substantial to report?”
Devon looked doubtful, but
she said, “Okay. Give me your business card, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Business card?
Savannah paused, thinking
fast. The cards in her purse represented her as a private investigator, not a
newspaper reporter.
“I don’t have any with me
right now, but I’ll leave my number with your receptionist at the desk.”
“You don’t have a business
card, Ms....?”
Savannah’s mental gears
whirred. “McGill. Savannah McGill.”
Devon’s eyes narrowed. “And
do you have your press pass with you, Ms. McGill?”
“Darn. No. It’s in my other
purse... with my cards... you know, changed pocketbooks last night to go out to
dinner at this fancy-schmancy place, forgot to put everything back into my
everyday purse. Do you ever do that? I just hate it when I do that.”
“Maybe you should leave for
now, Ms. McGill. Emerge isn’t really open to the public today. You can come
back when we have our press conference.”
“When they find Suzette Du
Bois, you mean. When they figure out what’s happened to her.”
The publicist’s eyes
narrowed even more, and Savannah saw a light shining there that made the
hackles on her back rise. Devon Wright might be dressed as a bebopping,
hip-hopping fluff-head, but underneath the frivolous facade was a dangerous
woman.
“You should go now.
Really,” she said. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
Savannah glanced over at
Dirk, who was still hanging out by the desk, questioning the aging, floozy
receptionist. “Thanks, but I can find my way to the door,” she said, “since
it’s only twenty feet away. I’m quite resourceful that way. Toodle-ooo. See you
later.”
Devon didn’t reply. Or walk
her to the door. But she did stand there and stare after her, boring eyeholes
into her back. Savannah half-expected her sweater to burst into flames
somewhere between her shoulder blades.
Savannah willed Dirk not to
call out to her, to inquire about her untimely exit. And he didn’t. They had
worked together long enough to know that they should save potentially
embarrassing questions for behind closed doors.
Once outside, she returned
to her car and waited for him to join her.
It didn’t take him long.
Five minutes later, he rounded the side of the building and walked across the
lot to her Mustang. She rolled down the window. “Let’s go somewhere else to
talk.”
He nodded. “The pier?”
“Sounds good. Follow me
over.”
“Nope. You follow me .”
“Eh, bite me.”
She knew he would break at
least five
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