respond, like he was trying to decide whether or not to believe me.
âMaybe you should warn your investigators about the perils of releasing unauthorized information to the media,â I said, smirking a little.
Such an admonition would be pointless. Sources have their own reasons for leaking stuff. Sometimes itâs to curry favor with a reporter. Sometimes itâs to screw a boss. Occasionally their rationale is more noble; they believe itâs for the public good. Iâve broken stories with insider information for all those reasons and more. The best physical features for a source are keen eyes and a sharp tongue. If the chief caught this latest leak, somebodyâs career in law enforcement would be over.
I gave my thanks and left to go find sound and cover for my economy filchers story. Because gas stations have surveillance cameras, their thieves are generally easier to catch, unlesstheyâve duct-taped over their license plates. The lunch larceners are the bigger challenge.
My afternoon turned out to include a fun interview with a restaurant owner complaining about dining-and-dashing miscreants who order steak instead of soup and wishing, if they truly were broke, theyâd at least have the dignity to offer to do dishes.
I tried to firm up whether, like the cops suspected, one criminal might be responsible for many of the meal thefts, because one big bad guy is always more newsworthy than a bunch of little bad guys. But it was still too fuzzy, though I did get several food managers to promise to call me if Mr. Dine-and-Dash came back for seconds.
I stuck around after the news to run through my gossip suspect list again, loading the names into a spreadsheet. Bad haircuts. Party flirts. Cheating in the carpool lane. Those accusations were probably true. But that didnât mean the victims couldnât still be pissed at being outed by Sam.
I made a subcategory of more-subjective smears. A politician who yelled at her misbehaving toddler while shopping. Another politician who didnât yell at her misbehaving toddler while shopping. A department store Santa who hiccuped instead of ho-hoing.
I grouped others together whoâd obviously been treated unfairly by the media, even though I hated to disparage the media by lumping Sam in with the rest of us.
A young actress belittled for leaving a meager tip when it was a case of mistaken identity. A world-renowned transplant surgeon about whom Sam repeated rumors concerning a hospital nurse and a supply closet. A judge whose reputation was hurt after his crazy ex posted doctored photos online. While the columnist didnât actually publish them, he directed readersto the website that did and reportedâtruthfully, heâd noted as justificationâthat the judge was embarrassed about his inability to get them yanked off the Internet.
And this list didnât even count folks Sam had publicly teased with âI know what youâre up to but Iâm not telling.â That stunt was a regular feature in his weekend âPiercing Eyesâ column.
I finally gave up trying to see through all the clutter. Nobody seemed to have a more compelling reason than anybody else for silencing Sam.
Glancing at my watch, I realized I was late meeting Garnett. Then I remembered what he had said about the killer hating me as much as the gossip writer and trying to frame me for the crime. Then it occurred to me that Samâs killer might not necessarily bear me malice but simply see me as a convenient scapegoat to deflect suspicion. Without even thinking, my eyes found the mystery womanâs note, still pinned to my wall.
âThanks Alot, Riley, Give Everyone The Disturbing Information Regarding That Bad Ass Gossip.â
CHAPTER 11
Clay was also working late.
On my way out, I tried to coax the name of his informant by complimenting his coverageâone reporter to another. He just laughed and insisted a good journalist never reveals
âMaybe you should warn your investigators about the perils of releasing unauthorized information to the media,â I said, smirking a little.
Such an admonition would be pointless. Sources have their own reasons for leaking stuff. Sometimes itâs to curry favor with a reporter. Sometimes itâs to screw a boss. Occasionally their rationale is more noble; they believe itâs for the public good. Iâve broken stories with insider information for all those reasons and more. The best physical features for a source are keen eyes and a sharp tongue. If the chief caught this latest leak, somebodyâs career in law enforcement would be over.
I gave my thanks and left to go find sound and cover for my economy filchers story. Because gas stations have surveillance cameras, their thieves are generally easier to catch, unlesstheyâve duct-taped over their license plates. The lunch larceners are the bigger challenge.
My afternoon turned out to include a fun interview with a restaurant owner complaining about dining-and-dashing miscreants who order steak instead of soup and wishing, if they truly were broke, theyâd at least have the dignity to offer to do dishes.
I tried to firm up whether, like the cops suspected, one criminal might be responsible for many of the meal thefts, because one big bad guy is always more newsworthy than a bunch of little bad guys. But it was still too fuzzy, though I did get several food managers to promise to call me if Mr. Dine-and-Dash came back for seconds.
I stuck around after the news to run through my gossip suspect list again, loading the names into a spreadsheet. Bad haircuts. Party flirts. Cheating in the carpool lane. Those accusations were probably true. But that didnât mean the victims couldnât still be pissed at being outed by Sam.
I made a subcategory of more-subjective smears. A politician who yelled at her misbehaving toddler while shopping. Another politician who didnât yell at her misbehaving toddler while shopping. A department store Santa who hiccuped instead of ho-hoing.
I grouped others together whoâd obviously been treated unfairly by the media, even though I hated to disparage the media by lumping Sam in with the rest of us.
A young actress belittled for leaving a meager tip when it was a case of mistaken identity. A world-renowned transplant surgeon about whom Sam repeated rumors concerning a hospital nurse and a supply closet. A judge whose reputation was hurt after his crazy ex posted doctored photos online. While the columnist didnât actually publish them, he directed readersto the website that did and reportedâtruthfully, heâd noted as justificationâthat the judge was embarrassed about his inability to get them yanked off the Internet.
And this list didnât even count folks Sam had publicly teased with âI know what youâre up to but Iâm not telling.â That stunt was a regular feature in his weekend âPiercing Eyesâ column.
I finally gave up trying to see through all the clutter. Nobody seemed to have a more compelling reason than anybody else for silencing Sam.
Glancing at my watch, I realized I was late meeting Garnett. Then I remembered what he had said about the killer hating me as much as the gossip writer and trying to frame me for the crime. Then it occurred to me that Samâs killer might not necessarily bear me malice but simply see me as a convenient scapegoat to deflect suspicion. Without even thinking, my eyes found the mystery womanâs note, still pinned to my wall.
âThanks Alot, Riley, Give Everyone The Disturbing Information Regarding That Bad Ass Gossip.â
CHAPTER 11
Clay was also working late.
On my way out, I tried to coax the name of his informant by complimenting his coverageâone reporter to another. He just laughed and insisted a good journalist never reveals
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