In Plain Sight by Fern Michaels Page B

struggled to say something. “What do you people want from me? I told those two men everything I know.”
    “What two men? Be specific. Did they have ID?” Nikki demanded.
    “Lady, men like the two who came here do not need to show ID. They are their own ID. Their looks, and their demeanor, said it all. They talked into their goddamn sleeves. Who does that? Secret Service, that’s who. They looked like twins. Brush-cut hair, aviator glasses, Hugo Boss suits, polished shoes, and a bulge under their jackets. They were packing heat. They simply and politely asked for the file and for the name of the tipster. I gave it to them after they told me they could shut this paper down in the blink of an eye. Let me tell you something, dark glasses or not, I knew they meant it; I didn’t have to see their eyes.
    “Why are you here? Don’t you people talk to each other? What else can I tell you?”
    “Did you give them Miss Petrie’s name?” Kathryn asked.
    “Yes, but I called her the minute they left. She’s given me some good stuff over the past few years. I figured I owed her that much. I told her to split,” Goodwin said defiantly. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
    “You paid her sixty-six thousand dollars for the picture and whatever she told you, right?”
    “Since you already know all that, why are you asking me again? The answer is yes. The check cleared the moment we confirmed the info was legit. She was . . . is to get another sixty-six thousand dollars if we managed to get the after-surgery picture. She said she was almost positive she could get her hands on it. No, I do not have it, no, she did not get it. At least as far as I know, she did not get it. That’s all I can tell you.”
    “You said the two men were Secret Service. Are you basing that on anything other than the fact that Secret Service agents wear sleeve mikes?”
    Goodwin thought about it for a moment. He shook his head. “Just my own personal opinion. Maybe I watch too much TV. Look, everyone in this town knows that guy Lincoln Moss is married to the model on the front page. He didn’t want her picture splashed all over a tabloid, so he sent the President’s goons here. That’s my feeling. Can I prove it? Hell no I can’t. It’s done, the retraction is ready to go.
    “Oh, wait a minute, there is one other thing. The day after those men were here, a messenger came by with a letter. Inside was a check for sixty-six thousand dollars drawn on the Royal Bank of Scotland. Pam told me earlier the check cleared this morning.”
    “So, you’re good with all this?” Nikki asked, the lawyer in her surfacing. “By that I mean you’re okay with someone’s dictating to you what you print in your paper. Aren’t you up on your First Amendment rights, and all that freedom-of-the-press stuff, Mr. Goodwin?”
    “I think I value peace of mind and nights that I can sleep and not worry about someone out there possibly, I say possibly, trying to do me harm. In the scheme of things, that model, and did she or didn’t she have plastic surgery, mean nothing to me compared to my own well-being. Call me selfish. I don’t care. Does that answer your question about First Amendment rights and freedom of the press?”
    Nikki and Kathryn stared at Goodwin with cold, unblinking eyes. Nikki toyed with the gold shield she was holding in her hand. Seeing what she was doing, Kathryn spit on hers and then proceeded to shine the shield on her pant leg.
    “You have nothing to do with those two guys, do you?” Goodwin asked nervously.
    “That would be correct,” Nikki said.
    “Does that mean you’re ah . . . legal and they aren’t?”
    “That would be correct,” Nikki lied.
    “Well, in that case, I guess I might as well turn over what I kept, which is a copy of everything. I’m not a complete fool. But, I want a receipt. No receipt, no nothing.”
    Nikki waved her shield in the air. Kathryn dropped hers on the desk. It landed with a solid thunk. They waited