“Who are—?” she began in a smoky voice. She stopped and no longer looked bored. “Hell, you’re Oliver Ward’s new girlfriend, aren’t you? I recognize you. Your picture was in Silver Screen Secrets.”
“Will you direct me to your editor’s office or shall I just start opening doors?”
Trish gave her a hard look. “I’m the society reporter. If you’ve got any news from the Burning Cove Hotel, I’m the one you should talk to.”
“Sorry,” Irene said. “I’m out of the gossip business.”
“In that case, Paisley’s office is down there,” Trish said. She waved a hand toward an office at the back of the room, stuck the cigarette back in her mouth, and returned to her typing.
Irene made her way past a few more desks. The typewriters went silent. Everyone in the room was watching her now.
She ignored the stares and rapped smartly on the door marked Edwin Paisley, Editor in Chief.
“Door’s open.”
Irene opened the door, marched into the room, and closed the door very firmly. The room reeked of cigar smoke. She went straight to the window and opened it.
Edwin Paisley was balding, middle-aged, and portly. He looked like the washed-up journalist he no doubt was. Maybe, at one time, he had dreamed of becoming a crack reporter, Irene thought. But somewhere along the line he had given up on his ambitions. He had probably spent too many years putting out a small local paper that focused on garden parties, diet fads, society luncheons, and discreet hints about various stars who had been seen arriving or departing from the Burning Cove Hotel.
“Who the hell—?” he began. He stopped and squinted at her over the top of the glasses perched on his nose. “Wait, I recognize you. You’re Ward’s new girlfriend.”
“I’m Irene Glasson, a reporter. I’m here to apply for a position on your staff.”
“No job openings,” Edwin said. He scowled. “Tell Ward if he wants me to hire you, he’ll have to come up with the money for your salary. He’ll also need to supply a desk and an office. And a typewriter.”
“You’d hire me if Oliver Ward insisted on it?”
“He owns the Burning Cove Hotel, and Luther Pell is his best friend. Between them, those two control a big chunk of this town. I’m just the editor of the local paper. Not like I’m William Randolph Hearst. So, yeah, if Ward applies pressure to hire you, I’ll do it.”
“But you won’t like it.”
“Would you?”
Irene smiled. “Relax, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Mr. Ward is not going to push you to hire me. In fact, I think he’s rather hoping that you won’t.”
“That’s supposed to reassure me? Look, I don’t need another reporter on the local society beat, which is about the only beat this paper covers unless you count births and obituaries.”
“I’m well aware of the narrow focus of the reportage one finds in the Burning Cove Herald.”
Edwin snorted. “Reportage?”
“Never mind.” She planted her handbag on his desk. “What you need is a good crime beat reporter. That’s the job I want.”
Edwin stared at her as if she’d turned a peculiar shade of purple. “We don’t get much crime in Burning Cove. At least, we didn’t until you arrived in town. I’ll admit things have gotten a little more exciting lately.”
“Good news, Mr. Paisley. I’ve decided to stick around.”
“I am, of course, overjoyed that you have chosen to settle down here in our little corner of paradise. But I’m not giving you a job unless Ward threatens to break my arm. Or make me disappear. Sometimes I forget he was a magician.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Oliver doesn’t apply any pressure. And I’m not asking you to give me a job, by the way. I’m going to earn it. Starting with my first story.”
Irene opened her handbag and took out the pages she had typed that morning on Elena’s typewriter.
Edwin eyed the pages. “What’s this?”
“The story that will be all over the front pages of the L.A. press tomorrow. It will be in one of the Seattle papers, too. I made some promises. But it’s yours to break tonight.” She handed him the first page.
“Who’s Claudia Picton?”
“A crazed killer who murdered four women, including Daisy Jennings, a local resident. What’s more, Picton would have kept right on killing if not for the heroic actions of Nick Tremayne.”
“Tremayne? The actor?”
“Right. Turns out he plays heroes not only on the silver screen, but in real life, too. Miss Picton is now in custody at the Burning Cove Police Station. The cops expect an insanity plea.”