Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“You’re being ridiculous.”
I threw my hands in the air, frustrated. “Her son is probably the one who’s been threatening you. And you think you can just walk into the house where he lives, and nothing will happen?”
“I need this interview. And she would only do it in her home.”
Her stubbornness was maddening. I softened my approach.
“All I’m asking is that you let me sit there with you.”
She considered my request, but I felt like I wasn’t getting any further with her. “Let’s just get there and see how receptive she is.”
“I brought you a cake!” I said, out of other arguments.
“And I appreciate it, but it doesn’t mean I’ll do whatever you say.”
Her cheeks were rosy with anger. She looked like she was ready for an argument, but all I wanted to do was kiss some sense into her. Wrap her in my arms, take her to my house, and forget any of this was happening.
“Fine,” I snapped. “I’ll follow you there. But I am officially on a protection detail, and that’s going down the way I say it is.”
“Please don’t ruin this interview for me.”
I shrugged, unwilling to argue about it further. The drivers of passing cars were already giving me amused looks, like the big bad police chief couldn’t handle the feisty redhead.
She got into Bess’s ancient sedan and fired it up, dark smoke pouring out of the tailpipe. I followed her in my police SUV, hoping I wouldn’t need to dig Bess’s little car out of a snowbank with the shovel in the back of my vehicle.
The Meechams lived in a neat little home just a block from downtown. They’d been there for decades, despite Dale apparently being able to afford something more lavish with his cut of the laundered money.
I didn’t think it was possible that Margie Meecham hadn’t known something about her husband’s activities. As I followed Avon to the front step of their home, I stood back about ten feet and said nothing when the front door was opened.
“You’re Avon?” Margie said, her tone dripping with condescension.
“I am. Thanks for agreeing to this interview.”
“Let’s get it over with.” Margie opened the door wider, then spotted me. “What’s he doing here?”
I stepped forward. “Miss Douglas has a protective police detail because of threats she’s been getting over the story she published regarding misappropriated city funds.”
“Oh, that’s rich,” Margie said, glaring at Avon. “You brought your boyfriend?”
“I’m only here to make sure she’s safe,” I said.
She shook her head. “You’ve all made our family out to be a bunch of criminals. Come on in, both of you. Let’s get this over with.”
We followed her inside, the small entryway lined with glass-shelved cabinets. Each cabinet held a collection of glass figurines; there had to be thousands of them. Margie led us to a small living room with a sagging flower-patterned couch and two wingback chairs.
“We’re going to sue you,” she said simply as she sat down in one of the chairs.
“I’m sorry?” Avon said, flipping to a fresh page in her notebook.
“I said we’re going to sue you for the lies you printed. Dale is a good man, and you ruined him.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Avon silenced me with a wide-eyed look of warning.
“Mrs. Meecham, are you aware of the video footage state police obtained that shows your husband making deposits and withdrawals into accounts controlled by Leo Bardot?”
“That’s a bunch of hogwash,” Margie said. “Lies made up to smear my husband.”
Avon took notes as Margie spoke.
“You never even asked him for his side,” Margie said, her voice rising with emotion.
“I left three messages with his secretary at City Hall,” Avon said. “He never returned any of my calls.”
“You’re a lying little bitch.” Margie pointed at Avon.
I couldn’t listen to another word.
“Okay, that’s enough,” I said. “Avon, you can either get up and leave, or I’m arresting her for assault.”
“Assault?” Avon gaped at me.
“Yes. This is considered verbal assault.”
Avon nodded and stood up. “This interview is not going to be productive. I have to agree with you there.” She looked at Margie. “Mrs. Meecham, if you ever want to comment on the pending criminal case against your husband, you know where to find me.”
Margie laughed bitterly. “I do know where to find you. Don’t you forget it.”
I walked over to Avon and stood next to her, anger running hot in my veins.
“I could arrest you for that threat, but I’m giving you a break because of what your husband has put you through,” I said. “I won’t be so lenient next time, and you can tell your son the same goes for him.”
She walked over to a window, pain etched in the lines on her face. “Get out of my house.”
I put a hand on Avon’s back and she led the way back out the front door.