Free Double Cross by James David Jordan

News of the missing money was bound to become public soon anyway, and she might have information about who was blackmailing Simon. The upside of the interview could outweigh the downside. “I can meet you for a few minutes when I’m finished working out, but I can’t promise any information that will matter to you.”
    “That’s fine. The worst that happens, then, is that we get acquainted. Where do you want to meet?”
    “I’ll come to you.” As boring as Kacey and I were, the gossip photographers wouldn’t give up on us since Simon’s death. I didn’t want them to get the idea that anything was brewing.
    “I live in Coppell and I’ve got a meeting near my house at lunch. Can you come out here and meet me at around ten o’clock this morning? There’s a Starbucks just north of Sandy Lake Boulevard.”
    “Fine, I’ll see you there at ten.”
    “I’m five feet five and have auburn hair.”
    “We must be related. I’m five nine and have auburn hair.”
    “Maybe there’s another story here.”
    I chuckled. “One thing I’ve learned in the past year is that where Simon Mason is involved, there’s always another story.” I had to admit, she seemed likable enough.
    As soon as I hung up, I called Michael at the FBI. He had a lot of experience dealing with local reporters. As usual, he picked up the phone before the third ring.
    “Michael, I need to pick your brain about something.”
    “That shouldn’t take long.”
    I laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m going to use a lobster fork.”
    “Do they make a utensil smaller than that?”
    “Not for use by adults.”
    “That shouldn’t limit you, then, should it?”
    I laughed again. “You’re on today. Did you have a second cup of coffee, or what?”
    “I’m on my third.”
    “That explains it. You’re high.”
    “Buzzing.”
    I grabbed my toes and stretched. “Have you got a minute?” I made an effort not to grunt as I tried to touch my nose to my knee.
    “Yes.” I heard him tapping on his keyboard. “I’ve got a meeting coming up in, let’s see, eight minutes.”
    I sighed. “I’ll try not to go more than seven.”
    “It’s fine. My meeting can wait.”
    I held the phone out and squinted at it. His meeting could wait? Had I dialed the wrong number? “I’m supposed to meet a Morning News reporter in about an hour. Her name is Katie Parst. Do you know her?” I let go of my toes and pushed myself to my feet. A woman with biceps bigger than my thighs dropped to her back on the mat next to me. She started doing crunches at a furious pace, emitting something between a moan and a growl each time she came up.
    “Are you jogging or something? You sound out of breath.”
    “I’m at the fitness club.” I took a few steps away from crunch lady and lowered my voice. “There’s a woman here who’s trying to work off the steroid shake she had for breakfast. You’re probably hearing her roaring. I’m not quite that dedicated.”
    He laughed. “Nevertheless, you’re making me feel guilty. I just ate a sausage biscuit from McDonald’s.”
    “Why do you think I do this? You’ve seen me eat.”
    “Now that you mention it, I have seen you eat. You must have some great genes to put away food like that and stay as svelte as you are.”
    “Was that a compliment? It sounded like a roundabout way to say that I eat like a horse.”
    “There’s no upside for me on this subject, so let’s get back to the point of your call. You were talking about Katie Parst?”
    “Yeah, do you know her?”
    “Best reporter at the paper, as far as I’m concerned. Does that help?”
    “It depends on what you mean by best reporter.”
    “She’s honest, gets her facts straight, and if you tell her something’s off the record, you can be sure you won’t see it in print. For reporters, that’s the trifecta.”
    I walked over to the hamstring machine and lay on my stomach on the bench. “Well, well. Is there more to this story about you and Ms. Parst?” I