Free Buried Leads (A Headlines in High Heels Mystery) by Lyndee Walker Page B

Commonwealth of Virginia.
    “That is way too much of a coincidence to actually be a coincidence,” I said aloud to no one in particular.
    “What is?” Bob’s voice came from behind me and I clicked the browser window shut and turned around. Technically, every story I’d written was rightfully mine. But digging for something more on Grayson was definitely a gray area. If I found anything else, I’d take it to Trudy. Really. But I didn’t want him to tell me I had to yet.

“Not sure,” I said. “I have one more story for you today, because people aren’t going to be sick enough of my byline by noon tomorrow. There was another burglary in the Fan last night.”
    “I know,” he said. “That’s what I came to see you about. Charlie Lewis has a teaser for the early broadcast, and it’s already on the web at Channel Four and Channel Ten. I’m not fond of hearing from the TV folks that the home of a United States senator was robbed less than two miles from this building. How the hell did you miss that, Nicey?”
    “I didn’t miss it,” I protested, trying hard to keep the annoyance out of my voice. “I’ve been busting my ass since six o’clock this morning, running on caffeine and Pop Tarts. I’ve turned in three stories already and am waiting for Aaron to call back about my fourth. That’s not missing anything.”
    “They had it first,” he said. “But if you can get him to talk to you, you’ll have it better.”
    “He didn’t give Charlie anything?” I asked.
    “No comment from police officials,” Bob said. “But Charlie doesn’t have your in at the PD. Work it.”
    “I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve worked it almost to death,” I sighed. “But I’ll give it everything I’ve got. That piece on the hearing I covered this morning has Charlie beat, right?”
    “Seven hours ago,” he said. “Look, I love having the print exclusive for tomorrow, but it doesn’t change the fact that you slipped on this.”
    “I was writing my feature.” I caught his eye and smiled. “It came out really nice. That kid is a National Merit Finalist. He’s coming in to shadow Parker on Monday. Wants to be Rick Reilly when he grows up.”
    The tight line he’d stretched his mouth into softened slightly.
    “I’m sure it is,” he said. “I’ll read it with my coffee on Sunday morning. But you’re not a feature writer. Your job is to stay on top of cops and courts. And Les is still pushing Shelby at the guys upstairs. The piece on the hearing is good, but if you want to keep covering both, they all have to be good.
    “The suits wouldn’t dream of just handing Shelby your job after the year you’ve had, but with the recent uptick in readership and ad revenue, your friend the managing editor is pulling for them to split your beat and give half of it to his girlfriend. He says we can afford it now. So just watch it.”
    “He’s trying to get them to steal half my beat because we can afford another reporter thanks to me almost getting killed?” I shook my head. “Only Les. Balls of steel, that guy. Big ones. It’s a wonder he can walk upright.”
    Bob patted my shoulder. “I’d like to not have that picture in my head this close to dinnertime, thanks. Just get me something Charlie hasn’t had on the robbery before you go home. Trudy’s trying to get an interview with Grayson. He’s not commenting, so far, but I swear she has a little black book on those guys. Grayson’s campaign is hollering Watergate, and the other guys are denying any part of it. This is leading the front in the morning, and I need it. Right now.”
    “You got it, Chief.”
    I clicked the bookmark for the Channel Four website and pulled up Charlie’s story.
    Damn. She had clearly spent every minute she wasn’t at the demolished jewelry store working this robbery, and she’d pretty much knocked it out of the park, for a crime story the police wouldn’t comment on. There was footage of RPD uniforms checking every inch of