Free Stay Tuned for Murder by Mary Kennedy Page A

smiles, and I thought she would swoon.
    Irina reached for the intercom, never taking her eyes off Rafe. “Vera Mae Atkins, please to be coming into the lobby,” she said. “Is urgent. Please to be coming now.” She grinned at Rafe. “Ten-four!” she added in a burst of ingenuity. “Is correct, yes?”
    “Yes, that’s correct.” His breath quickened beside me, and I knew he was fighting a laugh.
    “Ten-four, ten-four,” she chanted into the intercom. She was flushed and giggling, high on Rafe’s approval.
    Then, like a Chatty Cathy doll who never shuts up, she started to repeat the entire message. “Vera Mae Atkins, please to be coming to the lobby—”
    “Oh, for heaven’s sake, cut that thing off, girl!” Vera Mae said, bustling into the lobby. “Can’t you see I’m standing right here? You don’t need to get your panties in a twist.”
    Vera Mae was carrying a clipboard and looked frazzled. A few strands of carrot-colored hair had escaped from her towering beehive and were curling down the back of her neck.
    “I’ve cleared out the break room. We can talk in there,” she said to Rafe. “And if you need a second interview room”— she glanced at Opie—“you can use my office.” She turned to me. “Maggie, I’ve left a few messages on your desk. Nick Harrison called. He’d like you to call him back at the Gazette as soon as you can.”
    “Thanks. I’ll do that.” I was looking forward to hearing Nick’s take on the murder investigation, especially since it was pretty obvious I wasn’t going to get anywhere with Rafe Martino.
    Vera Mae moved closer and lowered her voice. “And I think I should warn you, Chantel is here. She’s in the ladies’ room, getting all gussied up.”
    “Why did she come in here today?”
    “Why do you think?” Vera Mae muttered. “She wants to channel poor Althea’s spirit for today’s show. She thinks her pal Michael can arrange it.” The expression on Vera Mae’s face told me what she thought of the wacky idea.
    “What? That’s outrageous!” I said, horrified. “Of all the cheap, tawdry, sensationalistic—”
    “Don’t worry, sugar. It’s not gonna happen.” Vera Mae had a steely look in her eyes as she touched me lightly on the arm. “Not in a million years. Ratings may be important, but we’re talking about one of the town’s favorite citizens. Cyrus knows better than to offend the ladies in the historical society. He knows a lot of them are married to some of our most valuable sponsors. He’d never hear the end of it.” She gave me a shrewd look. “The ladies in the society wouldn’t want to see Althea being used as part of Chantel’s parlor game.”
    “I hope you’re right about that.” I had my doubts. I could see dollar signs dancing in front of Cyrus’s eyes as he pictured Althea appearing live—or rather, dead—in the WYME studios today.
    “I know I’m right on this one.” She jutted her chin, tucked a few strands of loose hair back into her beehive, and used a bobby pin to hold them in place. “I’ve already talked to Cyrus, and he said he wouldn’t allow it. Every once in a while, that boy surprises me,” she said with a hint of a smile. “I think he’s grown a backbone.”
    Vera Mae was much calmer than she’d been on the phone. I was sure she was still upset over Althea’s death, but now that she was caught up in the details of her workday, she had to put sentiment aside. She had a show to produce.
    “So what are we planning for On the Couch today?”
    We all were squeezed together in the narrow hallway as we made our way down to the break room. Big Jim was trailing behind us, probably hoping to get an inside scoop on the investigation, but I knew Rafe would figure out a way to get rid of him.
    Vera Mae glanced at her notebook. “I think we’ll let the callers share some stories about how they knew Althea. The old-timers probably have some good memories to share. And I’m trying to get someone from the