29. Maddie
Chapter twenty-nine
Maddie
Putting down my carryall bag next to an empty table, I breathe in deeply the café smells of freshly baked croissants and hazelnut coffee being ground.
I’m no closer to figuring out if Pommer or Galliano are also involved, although I don’t think Galliano is involved, based on his library visit.
As I wait for my coffee order, I check my phone.
Nick Devlin and Lucy Colgan an Item? screams a headline.
My heart stops. I click off my phone. It must be fabricated. It is The Squirrel . Nick wouldn’t cheat.
But will this last? He’s magnetic on stage; women must be throwing themselves at him.
Won’t he change? His mom asked me if I was worried about success going to his head.
He seems grounded. Still, I feel I need to prepare mentally and emotionally to be left alone, picking up the pieces of my shattered heart.
But how? It’s like when my dad was ill, and I thought I was prepared for his death.
But nothing can prepare you for that hole when your family suddenly shifts from a family of four to a family of three.
I’m envisioning a future with Nick, but I need to stay in the present and enjoy this for now.
My phone rings. It’s Nick. I pick up, eager to hear voice after so many days away.
“This is so early for you,” I say teasingly. No rumors can infringe on what we have.
“ The Squirrel released some photos of me with Lucy Colgan. I met her last night after our concert, and we hugged hello, all perfectly friendly, nothing more,” he says in a rush.
“She went in for the hug. I couldn’t help but reciprocate, but some paparazzi managed to make it look incriminating.
Luckily, I moved just in time, so when she tried to kiss me on the lips, she kissed my cheek. I wanted to warn you.”
It makes my heart melt that he is so concerned about my feelings. My eyes tear up. “It’s okay,” I say. “I know this comes with dating you.”
“I wish it didn’t,” he says. “I talked to this other guy on tour. He said it dies down when you show you’re committed to your girlfriend. And I am committed to you. I miss you.”
“I miss you too.” So. Much. I miss talking to him every night and snuggling with him.
“How’s the writing?” he asks.
“It’s going well so far,” I say. “How are the concerts going? I saw your latest single is climbing the charts on Spotify.”
“It’s amazing. The crowds are getting bigger and bigger. Word of mouth is spreading,” he says. “Still, I’m looking forward to seeing you Sunday. But I have another reason I called.”
“Another reason?”
“I met Ophelia for breakfast this morning. She applied to this musician-in-residence program that I’d recommended to her at our concert at the playground, and so she was here.
She was grateful to me, and I said something like, it’s so hard to get these opportunities.
And she said, yes, that she’d been offered a slot to play at the Chubby Cat, without her even asking, and that had seemed too good to be true.
She turned it down because it sounded like some quid pro quo and her dad’s a government official, so she has to be careful.
Her dad and his best friend—Pommer, apparently—were investigating. ”
“That’s interesting. Do you think she was trying to feed you that information?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “From what you said about his remarks at the interview, Pommer obviously knows we’re dating. But I honestly got the feeling that she was grateful and telling the truth.”
“It makes sense that they would work together, especially with the possibility of one commissioner being fired,” I say. “But it’s not conclusive. I’ll ask someone at the Chubby Cat if she ever played there.”
Nick has to go, and the barista calls out my name for my coffee order.
The photos on The Squirrel’s website do look incriminating, but I also can see how it could have been a friendly hug.
I’m not looking forward to running into Nemesis later.
She’s not going to be able to resist making a remark about this.
Still, my lips curl up in a delighted smile, remembering what Nick had said. “I am committed to you.”
I send him a gif that says, I like you.
I grab a table in the back. Paranoia may be my new friend, so I’m wearing a wig.
I switched into it by ducking into our offices on the way here.
I warned Bella. We’re meeting to discuss writing and bounce ideas back and forth.
I’m still not sure how to frame my article, and I love brainstorming Bella’s plots.
As I sip my coffee, I check Ward’s Instagram page.
No more libraries? His last post is a miniature New York City alleyway scene.
Are they planning to meet in an alleyway?
My miniature rat that I had made recently would be perfect for that scene.
Where is my rat, actually? I haven’t seen it since…
the break-in . I pull out my box of needle crafting tools that I carry with me in case I’m on stakeout and I have extra time.
My rat isn’t in the box. Was Ward the Hammer Man? And he couldn’t resist the rat?
They signaled the new book the last time via a note back.
But what about the library? I never searched to see if Beatrice has any type of account.
“Beatrice the Grandma” has a bookstagram account on Instagram where she talks about what she’s reading.
She’s reviewing a book—with a library as the background.
Is that how they are now signaling to each other the library location and the book?
I bet it is.
Bella comes into the café and looks around. Her glance passes over me twice. This wig is better than I even thought. But the third time, she tilts her head and then comes over.
“I didn’t recognize you,” she whispers.
“Good,” I say.
I show her the latest posts by Beatrice and Ward and explain how I think they’re now signaling the drop-off location.
My phone rings, and I click yes, thinking it’s Nick calling to respond to the GIF.
“Is this Maddie Hughes?” says a voice. It’s not someone I recognize. Great. Someone wants to sell me something.
“I’m afraid you have the wrong number,” I say.
“Do I?” the voice says. It’s a squeaky, high-pitched AI voice. “I know that you met Demoraux and you’re working on a story about corruption in the Infrastructure Department. I have more information than Demoraux. I can tell you which deputy commissioner was responsible for paying Demoraux.”
My eyes widen, and I put the phone on speaker so Bella can hear it as well. The voice is jarring compared to the message.
“I also have your fake-dating contract,” he says.
The contract!
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think meeting you would be safe for me,” I say. Nick would be so proud of me. Even if it does sound like I’m talking to a three-foot-tall cartoon character that I can definitely take.
“I thought you would risk all for a story,” he says.
Chills go through my body. I once said that. Did he google me? Is he tracking me? I survey the coffee shop, but Bella and I are the only customers here this morning.
I don’t reply. I don’t know what to say. Turns out I’m not willing to risk it all? I can’t say the truth: Not when I don’t have to, because I know Ward is taking corrupt payments from Beatrice .
“Kill the story, or I’ll publish your fake-dating contract,” says the squeaky voice.
“What will that get you?” I ask.
“People won’t believe your article. They’ll know you’re a liar.”
I’m not a liar. I’m a journalist.
“Because I signed a contract to date Nick for a few months? I doubt it.” My voice sounds stronger. Sure. More certain than I feel. “Why haven’t you published it already?”
“To exchange the fake-dating contract for your article,” the voice says. “We can’t have the Infrastructure Department tarnished with a story about corruption.”
But I need this story even more now if the fake-dating contract is about to be published.
“Is it a deal?” asks the squeaky voice.
“I need to think it over,” I say.
The line goes dead. There’s silence at the other end.
Bella and I stare at each other.
“I bet that was Ward,” I say. “He must have figured out that we intercepted that letter.”
“You should tell the police about this call.”
“I need to talk to our paper security first, because this is definitely connected to my investigation,” I say.
“I need to get my article out before the fake-dating contract is published and to meet with Ward to ask him if he has any comment on the story. It’s ready to go, except for whether he has a comment.
And I still don’t know if the others are involved.
But if I talk to him, maybe I can get him to reveal that. ”
“You’re going to meet him in person?” Bella asks.
“Yes,” I say. “I have to let him know that I’m working on an article and ask him if he has any comments in response.
If we publish without giving him a chance to comment, we have legal liability.
And I need to talk to Nick because I promised him that I would be careful.
But Ward might reveal if Pommer and Galliano are in on it and who Hammer Man is. I want him behind bars.”
That afternoon, as I curl up on my couch, Sherlock purring next to me, I replay the conversation over in my head. He has the contract. There’s nothing I can offer him that will stop him from revealing it. I will publish this story. That means our fake-dating contract will be public.
It’s going to be horrible. I can see the comments now: “I knew he wasn’t really interested.
” And they’re not going to believe us now when we say we’re dating.
But if we break up now, MusEn is right that it will be less of an event.
How can fans get too excited over the revelation that Nick fake dated me if we have broken up?
It’s already over. Why would they bother attacking me?
And of even more importance is my career as a reporter.
The trolls are going to have a field day with the fact that I am supposed to tell the truth.
We should break up now and preempt the attack.
I should do it for my career. I’ve worked so hard, and this story should be the ticket to the promotion.
I feel sick to my stomach. But I like Nick so much.
More than like. I love Nick . I will never love anyone like I love Nick.
I can’t break it off with him. Not when he’s doing his best for us.
I need to meet Ward and get this article published.
I call Nick.
He picks up the phone. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. I can’t wait to see you.”
I explain about the call I received and that I’m going to meet Ward, hopefully at his office, so I can get his comment on the story.
“Do you have to meet with him?” Nick asks, his voice laced with concern.
“Yes.” I explain why.
“But isn’t he already going to publish the dating contract?”
“I think he will wait to see if I take the deal he is offering,” I say. “I’m going to call him right now and suggest a meeting. He’ll want to keep that dating contract in his back pocket until he meets with me and figures out exactly what I know.”
“Don’t set up a meeting until I’m back and can be your backup. Just in case. Let me also check if Luca is back.”
“Okay,” I say. We talk for a few minutes longer about how the tour is going, and hearing his voice on the other end of the line makes me feel like it will work out. He makes me laugh, and as I imitate Squeaky Voice for him, it suddenly feels less threatening.
I call my boss, Felicity, and we confirm the plan. She has the article ready to go, but it will be held for any final information from this interview.
The next morning, I call Deputy Commissioner Ward’s office number, and he picks up.
“Hi, this is Maddie Hughes from The Intelligencer . I’m writing a story about the Infrastructure Department and would like to discuss it with you today. We’re planning to publish this evening. Would you be free to meet at your office today as soon as possible?”
There’s silence on the other end. Good. I’ve taken him by surprise. I don’t want to give him too much time to prepare.
“Just me? What about Commissioner Johnson?” he asks.
“I think you will be particularly interested in what I have to say, but I should discuss it with him too. I want to talk to you in person first.”
“Yes, today, noon. Here. That sounds like a good idea. I’m sure I can help you out and give you some insights you may be lacking.”
“Excellent. I’ll see you soon.”