Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Ulysses
“Please tell me you weren’t here all night.
” Spring Dixon sauntered into our newsroom—if it could be called that—at five minutes after nine.
As always, her long black hair swung loose and her pale-blue eyes sparkled.
Not the palest of the eight Dixon sisters—that was Rainbow.
Still, nearly translucent. She wore a huge grin and carried a takeout bag and drink tray from Tim Hortons.
My cub reporter dropped the bag on her desk.
She handed me an extra-large black coffee and put her double-double on her desk.
I couldn’t abide either milk or sugar in my coffee. She liked two of each.
Gross.
Then she tossed me a bran muffin.
My appreciated treat. I’d buy lunch today for the two of us.
Fridays were always office days. The paper came out Thursdays, and we strategized our upcoming week and celebrated the arrival of the weekend—even if we both usually had things to do.
Underfunded community papers kept dedicated reporters stretched thin with too many stories to tell and not enough resources to get it done.
I removed the wrapper from the muffin. “Another fire last night.”
“No shit.” She plopped into her chair. “I can’t even keep track. Surely this isn’t normal.”
“Chief McInerny told me the same thing he has been saying since I arrived in town—long, dry summer. No rain. Last night, he pointed out we were in the first week of October and still haven’t had any decent rain.”
“Yes, but there’s a nip in the air. That should help with the tinder-dry conditions, right?” She sipped her coffee. Then sighed.
“Something to investigate, I guess. Last night was the second fire this week.”
“Sheesh. Which firefighters worked it?” She yanked her laptop out of her messenger bag and hooked it up to her docking station.
“I didn’t get a chance to ask. Seth held me back.”
“Good old Seth.” Spring chuckled.
Seth Jacobs was an RCMP officer working out of the Mission City detachment of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. “Yeah, he’s a good guy.”
“Better than Colton.” Spring shivered.
Colton Pritchard. Corporal with the Mission City detachment. Also, Spring’s ex-brother-in-law.
She’d never been entirely clear why she held such animosity toward the man—just that she did.
I knew better than to pry. “Colton doesn’t work the streets, right?” I already knew the answer, but hoped this time she might elucidate.
“Nope.” She stared at her computer screen. “Great for the average citizens of Mission City. Not so good for the accused criminals.”
“I thought catching criminals was a good thing.” I bit into my muffin.
“I said accused and in custody. He can be…tough. If the person turns out to be innocent, he in no way apologizes.” She eyed her breakfast sandwich.
There’s a story there…I just don’t know what it is. Something I should research? I couldn’t be certain if I’d be going down a useless rabbit hole or ferreting out important information. “That smells good.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You know I’ll bring you one.” She gestured to my bran muffin with her chin. “Because really…”
A common refrain from her.
Alas, I wasn’t twenty-five anymore. “I had my poached eggs this morning.”
“With whole wheat toast and a dab of peanut butter.” She wrinkled her nose.
After three months, we knew each other well.
A few times, she’d been over to my place first thing in the morning.
Or, in at least one case, last thing at night.
Depended on one’s view of six a.m. after a long night.
She pursed her lips. “Back to the topic at hand.”
“I didn’t know we had a topic.” I took another sip of coffee. Nectar of the gods.
“The fires.” She pulled a strip of bacon out of her sandwich.
My salivary glands kicked into high gear.
She waved it around. “Chief made excuses again?”
I nodded. Please don’t pursue this. I don’t need your help. I had enough with my investigation—I wasn’t ready to share my theories at this point. “I believe him—for what it’s worth.”
“He’s…weird.” She ate the bacon.
“I probably shouldn’t ask—”
“Just…I don’t know. He’s been around as long as I can remember.”
“That’s normal. It’s not like there’s a higher position in Mission City. I suppose he could try to move somewhere with a bigger department. I suppose that might bring a higher salary. Or he stays here because he likes his fiefdom.”
“Harrumph.” She sipped her coffee again. “I just don’t see it. But then maybe I wasn’t meant to. Being just content with that?”
“You came home to your small town after finishing your degree. You certainly could’ve gone to a major city.”
She shook her head. “Have you met my sisters? You think they wouldn’t have hounded me to death about coming home?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You’re pretty formidable yourself. I can see you holding out—despite any pressure seven other women might apply.” I sipped my coffee.
One eye closed. She did this when she concentrated really hard. “Maybe. Possibly because Autumn, Zephyra, and Rainbow wouldn’t nag.”
The college student, the veterinarian, and the ranch manager.
“That’s fair. I don’t see Kennedy nagging.” The eldest of the Dixon sisters. She founded Healing Horses Ranch, a therapy and counseling center. As a psychologist, she ran the place with adroitness.
“Well, Kennedy might not nag. She would just make pointed comments about how much I’m missed.” Spring yanked out another strip of bacon. “I really wouldn’t want to disappoint her.” She flapped the bacon around. “Although Torah would probably be understanding and Summer’s pretty self-absorbed.”
The dog trainer and another college student—twin to Autumn.
I did the math in my head. “That just leaves Sunshine.”
Spring sighed dramatically. “The nagger-in-chief. She’d never let me alone.”
“Isn’t she Colton’s ex-wife?”
“Yep. What’s your point?”
“Well…I suppose you could bring him up with her whenever the conversation got weird.” Even as I said the words, I regretted them.
I had no idea what had gone on in that marriage.
For all I knew, he might’ve been abusive toward Sunshine.
The woman’s disposition absolutely matched her name.
And she was also a clerk in the local bookstore which was, likely with her assistance, the hotbed of Mission City gossip.
“Mentioning Colton around Sunshine is never a good idea. She gets…oddly concerned. I mean, the guy’s a jackass. And she was right to divorce him…but she just feels like she needs to defend him.”
“Unlike the rest of you.”
“Well, Kennedy and Autumn would never say anything bad about anyone—Colton included. Torah would never, under any circumstances, hold her tongue.”
My head spun. You asked for this. “Okay, so don’t mention Colton. For that matter, stay in Mission City—you’re my best reporter.”
“I’m your only reporter.”
“Well, there is that.” I grinned.
She arched an eyebrow. Then she took an inelegant bite of her sandwich.
“I was just about to ask about your plans for the next few days.” I tapped my desk with my finger.
She motioned for me to go first.
“The pediatric oncology department at the Abbotsford Hospital just got a huge donation. From an anonymous donor. They want to show their appreciation by getting some publicity.”
Spring swallowed. “In hopes of getting more donations?”
“Possibly.”
“Someone knows who the donor is. There’s paperwork. Tax receipts. Someone knows. I mean, unless someone dropped a bag of cash at the door.”
“Surveillance cameras.” I tapped my blotter with my finger. “And one wouldn’t just carry around ten million dollars.”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Holy shit.”
“Right? So they would appreciate an article. Of course, we won’t publish the name if there’s not something underhanded about where the money comes from.”
“Why Mission City?”
“That was my question. Why not the Abbotsford paper?”
“And?”
“Best I could figure—and this was reading between the lines—the donor is believed to have come from Mission City. Abbotsford’s newspaper will do a follow-up story later.”
“So a bit of a scoop.” She took another sip of coffee.
I nodded.
“You going or do you want me to?”
“You’re doing the profile on the figure skater, right? The one who hopes to make the national competition this year?”
Spring nodded. “Yeah. The kid’s visiting home from Toronto where he’s been training. I managed to get him to agree to an interview. He’s so damn shy. I pointed out he needed to get used to the attention if he was going to be on the team and why not start easy with the hometown paper?”
“No manipulation whatsoever.” I smiled.
“None.” She took another bite of sandwich.
“That’s a good story. I’ll take the hospital one.”
“You need to hire another reporter.” She examined the last bite of her sandwich—clearly debating.
I snagged it from her and shoved it in my mouth.
Her cry of indignation was half-hearted at best.
I swallowed. “I can’t afford another reporter. And if the paper didn’t have to cover our ad guy and all the folks it took to pick up and deliver to shops and front doors…” I winced. “We have five freelancers.”
“Three of whom haven’t come up with a good story in weeks.”
“So put out feelers. You know this town.”
She scowled. “You’ve been here three months.”
“The Dixons have been in Mission City for how many generations?” I checked my phone. “I have an hour before I have to be at the hospital.”
“Anything else you need from me?”
I shook my head. “Not that I can think of. Will you take the city council meeting on Monday?”
She rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”
“I’m covering the weekend—it’s only fair I get Monday off.”
“Again, if we had another reporter…” She twirled her finger in the air.
“I’d get more time off?”
“We’d have someone else to send to city council meetings.” Her grin lit the room. All bright white teeth and a hint of mischievousness.
Or was that deviousness?
“You’re up to something.”
“I am not.” She gave me a mock scowl. Faux indignation.
I laughed.
She tossed the paper bag at me.
I caught it easily, tossed it into the recycling bin, grabbed my coffee, and stood. “I’ll have my phone if you need anything.”
“Hey, it’s your turn to buy lunch.”
“Right.” I glanced toward the ceiling—making some calculations. “I should be done by noon. Say Fifties at twelve-thirty?”
“Done.” The megawatt smile was back. “You on the bike today?”
I shook my head. “Nah. There’s a chance of rain and the roads will be extra-slick after such a prolonged drought. Plus, cars will have forgotten how to drive in the rain.”
“I don’t think cars forget.” She waggled her eyebrows.
I rolled my eyes. “You get the point.”
She nodded. “I’ll be extra-careful.”
“See that you do.” I saluted her with my coffee and headed out.