Читать книгу Dead Girl - Craig Nybo - Страница 13

Chapter 7

I speed dialed Ernie Sanidoro as I drove toward town. The phone emitted only a half-ring before Ernie answered. I could practically smell the sen sen and Aqua Velva as Ernie’s voice boomed through my cell phone.

“Where in the hell are you, Block?”

“I told you yesterday, I’m following up on a hot story; and I gotta say, you’re going to like it. It has everything, love, intrigue, violence--”

“Spare me the Jimmy Olsen pitch. For starters, where’s my Micheal Bay review?”

“I emailed it to Barb, It should have hit your desk this morning.”

“Something hit my desk, but it stinks, Block.”

“What do you mean? I hit my deadline.”

“Did you even see the flicker? I mean, come on, you didn’t even bother to mention the names of any of the actors.”

“What’s in a name, anyways? I nailed the gestalt view of the film. It’s an action joint with plenty of testosterone, a dish of a broad, scantily dressed for most of the shots, and hotter-than-hell action sequences. Sure it suffers in character development and plot, but that’s not why you go to a Micheal Bay joint.”

“You didn’t even see the movie, did you?”

I hesitated.

“Admit it, dammit.”

“No, I didn’t see it, but wait ‘til you see the story I’m whipping together. It’s a scorcher, I’m telling you.”

“The Wilshire paint warehouse burned to the ground today. Did you think to check your messages? I could have used you on that one. Word is, it was arson.”

“Look, chief, I’m sorry, but--”

“Sorry don’t cut it. You’re a reporter, Block. You write for a legitimate paper, not some tabloid rag. I had to put Sharp on the arson story.”

“Sharp? Come on, boss, He’s a lifestyle-writing hack.”

“That may be true, but he’s here. I can count on him. What are you writing on now anyways? Aliens? Vampires?”

“I can’t say yet.”

“That’s because you’re wasting my time and money up in butt-crack, Utah with a bunch of hayseed idiots. This is your final chance, Block. Be here tomorrow at 8-in-the-AM-sharp to cover the follow-up of the arson story. I don’t need your science fiction tripe. I need your flair for intrigue and sensationalism. Now get in here tomorrow or it’s your job.”

I drew a breath to respond to Ernie’s threat, something witty and cutting. But he knew me too well. He hung up. I tossed my cell phone on the dashboard and put both hands on the wheel. Maybe Ernie was right; maybe I was chasing a rainbow here in Ridgewater. I was interested, sure; but in what, a bunch of odd characters in a backcountry bio dome of absurdity? I could get that in any podunk town. I decided that if DeeDee couldn’t win me over at 10:50 PM with whatever it was she aimed to show me, I’d blow Ridgewater and get back to the grind.

As it turned out, DeeDee would more than win me over.