Thirty-one
Nadine stretched in bed. She’d decided to go to the Herald later in the morning when Irina was sure to be there, and Wes had mentioned leaving early for some errands before checking in at the Spear . She had Dot’s house to herself.
Correction, to herself and the cats. Wes must have fed them before he left because Octavia was only dozing on her bed instead of meowing as if being cruelly starved. She rolled over to stroke the sleek fur as she tried to process what was happening.
It was a lot.
She thought better when she was moving, so Nadine climbed out of bed. Walking slowly through the house, she greeted Sir Latimer and Cheetah Janice as well as the smaller, more lively, and less taxidermied animals before letting herself outside. She went a bit red as she passed the grotto and hoped Dot didn’t have security cameras. Last night’s swim had been abruptly stopped and taken to the lounge chairs when she’d seen Wes dripping with water.
After putting out a wicker basket to remind herself to harvest the ripe tomatoes in the garden for the pasta Wes liked making, she took the path past the ornamental herb garden and around to the back. Dot’s property was deep rather than wide and depended on cunning design to reveal the space step by step. They thought they’d explored the whole place, but as she walked, Nadine caught sight of another secret path, an intricate and almost lacy design of patio stones with grass poking up through the gaps in a way that looked cultivated and not simply overgrown.
It led to a pagoda. An open-air Chinese pagoda painted in cucumber greens and pale pinks that had been hidden by the trees. Nadine imagined Dot had once covered the wooden benches circling the interior with colorful silk cushions. She took a photo, captioned it Dot’s world of mysteries , and sent it to Wes, who replied with a series of wide-eyed emojis. She stepped over the tiny moon bridge—the pagoda was surrounded by a miniature moat with water lilies—and went inside, where she lay full length on the bench.
Then she proceeded to ignore the fairy-tale view, including a group of turtles sunning themselves on a log in the moat, and fretted. First up was Wes. They’d had sex, and more than once. That part was incredible. What wasn’t was the doubting, fearful part of her that suspected he had some sort of ulterior motive for getting along beyond simply getting laid. Although they’d settled their differences, it was hard to get over knowing they’d been rivals for a decade and worked for competing companies. Worse, a darker part of her wondered if, after all those years of competition, he viewed this as winning in some way, perhaps subconsciously.
This was not a healthy perspective, and it did her no good to dwell on it. Nadine sat up to mentally present the next slide in her worry deck: work.
The conversation with Wes last night had forced her into the actions-have-consequences phase of the Dot Voline project. She didn’t have a lot of grace left at the Herald , and as Lisanne pointed out, there were always journalists waiting for their chance. Good ones too, brave in the way she used to be, before she got burned. Except this story was much bigger than she anticipated, and Wilson’s response to the threat to his reputation and career would be exponentially worse than a reader who was upset she covered a policy he disagreed with.
She left the pagoda and continued on the path, not surprised to find a small Japanese Zen garden at the end, because anything was possible when it came to Dot’s house. A few large rocks sat in the middle of clean light gray gravel washed flat from the rain. A bamboo rake leaned against a bench, and Nadine grabbed it. She used to have a miniature desk version and loved it. This would be perfect for not thinking, which was what she needed.
The gravel gave a pleasant crunch under her sandals, and despite the previous day’s rain, the garden had drained dry under the bright morning sun. She dragged the rake over to the middle rock and began to trace concentric circles around it, focusing on getting each movement perfect.
The thoughts didn’t slow. What did she want from work? Weirdly, it was her old job in the obits beat she thought about more often than the politics side. There was so much she could have done to make the obits more interesting, more reflective of the people they memorialized, in all their humanity. She thought of the collection Dot had hidden, as if to remind her that people were there to explore. But politics was politics. It was important. It was where change happened, where the big stories occurred, like this one. It was what she’d always wanted to do.
Nadine sighed, feeling as if she was on the verge of some breakthrough but not knowing what, then checked her phone. She could do a couple of hours of searching before she needed to leave. Better to focus on what was in front of her. She crunched back across the garden to return the rake, leaving a line of footprints in the gravel. She’d spent the entire time thinking instead of trying to let her thoughts pass.
Later she would come back and try again. Right now, she was going to find some clues.
Rebecca’s head shot up when she caught sight of Wes. “You’re on vacation,” she reminded him, as if he’d forgotten.
“I had to pick up a few things.” He’d hoped Rebecca would be working from home so she didn’t see him talking to Jason.
“One more day and then I’m off to the cottage,” she said. “Think of it, Wes. Two weeks of lazing on the dock with a stack of books and no cell access.”
“You forgot the bugs.”
She held up her arm. “You’d think the heavy pollutants in my bloodstream would have turned them off, but they do love feasting on my soft, sweet city flesh.”
“You could not go,” he said.
Rebecca waved that away. “Complaining about bugs is a cottage tradition. I’ll bathe in citronella and reconcile myself to itching. Also I bought a mesh hat.” She put it on and struck a pose, making him laugh.
He made a fuss of going through his desk until Rebecca left for a meeting. Then with an unhurried pace—nothing to see here, folks!—he walked to the I-team’s turf.
Tyler saw him. “Hey, Wes. Where you been hiding?”
Wes might not like Tyler, but he knew the value of maintaining a positive relationship. “Vacation. I’ve been doing some research.”
“What a workaholic. You got to learn to relax.” Tyler’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Anything interesting?”
Wes knew better than to spill the beans to Tyler. “I think so.”
“Mysterious.” Tyler yawned as Wes looked around him.
“Is Jason in?”
Tyler shook his head. “JJ took a couple days off. Why? You need to talk about your story?”
Shit, he hadn’t thought Jason would be away. He usually took time off in the winter. “I wouldn’t mind hearing what he thinks of it.”
“What he thinks of it? Doesn’t he know?”
“It’s something I’ve been working on,” said Wes, doing his best to keep casual.
Tyler shook his head slowly. “I don’t know, man. Jason doesn’t appreciate the rogue thing—you should know that from when you were here as a temp. He hates not knowing what’s going on.”
A temp? “It’s nothing on the team’s radar.”
The other man stretched, showing deeper blue patches under the arms of his light blue shirt. “Your funeral. I thought you wanted to join us, but that’s no way to go about it. JJ’s not going to be happy with you coming in to say you know his section better than him.”
“I’m not doing that at all,” said Wes in frustration.
“Sure, I know that, but he might not see it that way.” Tyler unscrewed his bottle of Coke and drank half of it down, releasing the gas out the side of his mouth. “How about you give me an idea of what it is so I can help you with the pitch?”
“No, that’s fine,” said Wes immediately. “I’ll take my chances.”
Tyler laughed. “Listen to this guy. I’m not going to scoop you. I’m working on a hockey coach who bribed students to play on his team. That’s why they brought me on, for the broad-appeal stuff.”
“That does sound right up your alley,” said Wes. “I’ll wait to talk to Jason though. It’s not urgent.”
“Whatever,” said Tyler carelessly. “He’ll ask if you talked to me anyway.”
Wes frowned. “Why?”
“I’m kind of his unofficial deputy during the summer when he’s taking vacation.” Tyler twirled a pen between his fingers.
Wes glanced at the empty desk in the I-team’s zone. He needed to take advantage of every opportunity, and he knew Tyler, for all his loudness and other faults, was trusted by Jason. After all, he was the one who’d been chosen to join the Spear ’s investigative team.
“I might have something that came out of a tip from Dot Voline,” Wes said, lifting his brown leather portfolio. “I think—”
“Isn’t she dead?” Tyler looked only politely interested. “There was a mess about her obit, right? If that’s what you’re working on, I can tell you that’s not what JJ is looking for.”
Tyler’s long-winded interruption as well as his slight mocking tone was enough to get Wes’s back up. This was a good story, and he’d prove it to Tyler.
“Apparently, one of her characters is based on a real person active in politics.”
“Oh?” Tyler’s expression didn’t change. “Who?”
“A senator,” Wes said. “Who could have been prime minister.”
“Seems thin, Wes.” Tyler rubbed his chin, fingers digging into his thick beard. “JJ’s going to want more than this. Some book character? Where’s the immediacy? It’s an arts piece. Get Becky to run it.” Tyler shrugged. “I wouldn’t bother JJ with this one.”
“It’s not about some book character. It’s a significant story, and you’d know if you let me finish.” Wes kept his voice calm as Tyler put up his hands in a whoa, buddy gesture. “He may have been involved in some unprofessional dealings.” No need to go into the details.
“Yeah, that’s politics. Everyone knows that.” Tyler drank down the rest of the Coke. “Let me give you some advice. You need to think impact. Who cares? Every politician has a few deals in the closet that we all know but won’t bother doing a story about because it doesn’t hit hard enough. Look at my hockey story. Everyone can relate to hockey. We all watch it, or we’ve had a coach who we knew was shady. See? There’s universality.”
“That’s not universal at all,” Wes said. “And you’ve misunderstood the importance of what I’ve found.”
“Sounds like that’s part of your issue, isn’t it? You can’t explain it.”
Frustrated and feeling beaten, Wes turned away without answering. Tyler didn’t seem to care.
Nor did anyone else notice when he went back to his desk and grabbed his bag with his middle fingers conveniently but subtly pointed in the direction of the I-team.