Retirement Can Be Murder

CHAPTER 33

“I’m telling you, I just don’t think that this is how I should be spending my time.”

“Damn it,” Thompson screamed, “I’m the guy who’s paying you. You can’t spend all day at the buffet.”

He was in the car, driving to Sunset Cove. As soon as he came back from his meeting with Jerry, he’d called Gary and convinced him to set up a meeting with Sheryl. Jake would surprise her by going in Gary’s place. He wanted one more interview, even if they had to lie to get it. But his plans didn’t matter now. Now he had to deal with Thompson. And Thompson was angry.

“Just…just listen.” He sounded worse than usual.

“How’s the weather up there?”

“No time for small talk. You are going to drive to Orlando and get this story.”

He sighed.

“Fine. What is the story again?”

“What is it? Where’s your little notebook?”

“I told you, I’m driving.”

“Russo you…you disappoint me so much. I’d demand that you pull over, but you’d just go to a drive-thru. Now listen to me-you’re driving to Orlando.”

“You know Orlando is far away, don’t you? It’s not like New York here. This is a big state.”

“New York is a big state.”

“How many times have you been outside the city though?”

No answer.

“You’re driving to Orlando.”

“It’s a three hour drive.”

“I don’t care! Do you know how obsessed our readers are with Melinda Ginelli?”

“She’s just a celebrity.”

“Just a celebrity? She’s the biggest thing there is. And now, out of nowhere, Melinda Ginelli has moved to Orlando. Of all places! We’ll scoop the competition-they don’t have anybody in Florida. We’ve finally got our celebrity! And they have palm trees there, too!”

Jake sighed. He went down the off-ramp and stopped at a light.

“Don’t you think I could spend my time a little better than covering some celebrity? I’m not supposed to bother with movie stars.”

“She’s got a CD too!”

“I know, I heard. But I’m chasing a really big story.”

“What?”

He turned the wheel hard. He was starting to get frustrated.

“I was attacked the other night. For getting too close.”

“Attacked?” Thompson started laughing. Not a good sign. “Russo, was it a food fight?”

“Very funny.”

“I’m serious. Those…those can get messy! Carla, come here.”

“Don’t bring Carla in on this.”

He heard Thompson laughing and talking to Carla. He was almost at Sunset Cove, but he was stuck wasting his time on this.

“OK,” Thompson said. “I’m back. Now, you say you were attacked?”

“Yes.” Firmer now. Aggressive. “And I’m going to follow this story through.”

“What is it?”

“A woman was murdered here. And I’ve been trying to find out why.”

“Murder? Our readers don’t want to hear about that!”

“They have to.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Palm trees, Russo. Palm trees! And now we have a beautiful woman, Melinda Ginelli, waiting for her reporter!”

“I think she was murdered for a reason. There’s a radical environmental group. The one I told you about. I know that they were involved somehow. I just can’t put together all the pieces. But I’m starting to get close.”

“Russo.”

“Yes?”

“I didn’t listen to a word of that. It doesn’t matter. Cover Melinda in Orlando! You should hear some of the news we’re getting.”

“Like what?”

“It’s just a rumor. But…but I heard she died her hair brown. Melinda Ginelli as a brunette! Just imagine! It’s front page stuff.”

He parked the car and took the key out of the ignition. As he sat in the Sunset Cove lot, he wondered how far he could throw the phone. But he let it stay on the seat.

“Listen, I have to write this story. A woman was killed. Possibly by environmentalists gone wild. That doesn’t interest you at all?”

“Do you even know who Melinda is dating? Or the name of her newest movie?”

“A woman is dead. Nothing?”

“You need to get used to it. People die. They’re old. Our readers don’t want to be reminded of that sort of stuff. They want good news.”

“Like some celebrity?”

“Exactly! I didn’t think you understood. You know, she might even have a drug problem! Isn’t that wonderful?”

“I don’t get it.”

“Well start getting it. It’s not negotiable. I want you to start commuting there. Find out what Orlandonians think about her.”

“I don’t think they’re called Orlandonians.”

“Russo. Find out what they’re called then. Orlandonians, Orlanders, Orlandish. Just go there.”

“Fine. I’ll get you an article.”

“Not just an article. Be there. Nobody wants to read about murder in Sarasota. It’s…it’s depressing.”

“Sometimes the news is depressing.”

“Like when the cafeteria runs out of tater tots?”

Thompson started laughing. Jake heard him calling people over and repeating his joke. He squeezed the rubber of the steering wheel hard and felt it chafe against his palms. Just ignore it. It wasn’t worth getting into a fight. Thompson got back on the phone, wheezing.

“By the way, Mr. Newsman, you did a good job asking that developer the ‘Handling Handle’ questions. Let’s get more of that. And more pictures with the palm trees.”

“I didn’t want to ask those questions.”

“But you did.” Gruffer now. Not laughing any more. “Do you understand?”

“I understand.” He did understand. That didn’t mean he’d like it. And it didn’t mean that he’d do it.

“Good,” Thompson barked.

“Good.”

“Now go ahead and take lunch.”

“It’s 10AM.”

“That’s right. You’ve…you’ve probably already had lunch!”

Thompson kept laughing. Jake took the phone from the passenger seat and flipped it shut. The conversation was over. He wasn’t going to keep on debating. It vibrated in his hand a second later, but he didn’t answer. He just put it in his pocket and got out of the car. The path in front of him was blocked.

A line of people progressed along the path, led by someone who looked like a nurse. A morning walk. They were moving slowly as they looked attentively at the trees and grass. They looked happy. Some were in wheelchairs and some had canes. One man was leaning into a walker, light blue pants pulled up high on his waist, his socks taut around his ankles. They stopped and the nurse said something Jake couldn’t hear. He saw them nod their heads.

Another sunny day in Sarasota. He was used to it by now. Orlando was two and a half hours away. Who knew where this celebrity lived, or what he’d even find? Was he supposed to dig through Melinda Ginelli’s trash? If he saw her, was he supposed to ask her “Handling Handle” questions? Or maybe they’d talk about her latest movie-the one he hadn’t seen. If he was going to Orlando, he’d have to start driving now.

The last person in the line walked past. She smiled as she walked by. He took out his notebook and opened it to a fresh page. He had a story to write. He wasn’t going to Orlando. For once, the story was in Sarasota.