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and lifted it in front of James White‟s nervous face. “It‟s all here, Mr. White. Everything. How you
arranged a five-hundred percent profit out of that worthless land. How you set up Bryan Moreland,
you and your co-conspirator, to take the blame for it by sending him a check for his revitalization
project just in time to make it look like a kickback from the land deal. We know all about it. We even
know,” she added narrowly, “about Daniel Brown‟s role.”
White sat down, suddenly looking his age. He leaned back in his chair and wiped his mouth with the
handkerchief. His spare frame seemed to slump wearily.
“I engineered it,” he admitted quietly. “There‟s no sense in denying it any further.”
Peck pulled out a pocket tape recorder and turned it on. “I‟m recording, Mr. White,” he advised the
man, “and I think it would be in your best interests to give the truth.”
“Why not?” White sighed. “I‟m ruined now, anyway, you‟ll see to that. Yes, I engineered the airport
land deal. I got Ed King to present it to the City Council and convince his friend Moreland that it was
the best site available.” He nodded at Carla‟s shocked face. “Moreland had so much on his mind with
the sanitation strike and that downtown redevelopment scheme that he wasn‟t able to check into the
site too closely, so he left it all up to Ed, whom he trusted.” He laughed shortly. “Bryan and I have
been friends for a long time, he had no reason to distrust me or Ed. We had it made. We sold the land
to the city for five times its true value. Then I had Daniel Brown start making noises about Moreland
accepting a kickback, right after I sent my good friend a donation for his downtown redevelopment. It
was flawless. Absolutely flawless. Until you people came along and started poking around,” he
added bitterly.
“Who actually owned the land, Mr. White?” Carla asked.
“The deed says, Will Jackson,” he replied.
“But isn‟t it actually owned by Daniel Brown?” she persisted, smiling at White‟s shocked
expression. “Yes, I made some phone calls to Florida. Brown used Will Jackson as an alias when he
purchased that land, at your instructions.”
“At Ed King‟s,” White corrected gruffly. “Why the hell did I ever get mixed up with that little snip? If
I‟d handled it by myself…”
“If,” Carla sighed, closing her eyes momentarily as a wave of unbearable grief and tiredness washed
over her.
She turned away as Bill Peck moved to call the police. It was too much, too soon. All her suspicions,
all her digging, and it hadn‟t been enough to save Bryan Moreland from a public crucifixion. She‟d
finally gotten at the truth, and all it had cost her was the one man she could ever truly love. A single
tear rolled down her cold cheek, trickling salty and warm into the corner of her mouth.
“It‟s great,” Edwards laughed as Carla and Bill Peck played the tape for him and summarized
White‟s arrest.
“Just great! We‟ll scoop every paper in town with this, even the broadcast boys! We‟ll save face!”
Carla stared down at her black boots. “You‟ll print everything, including how Moreland was set up?”
Edwards looked at her with a compassionate smile. “Yes. And it might be enough to convince him to
drop the lawsuit. We‟ll run another banner headline. „Moreland Innocent of Kickback.‟ How‟s that?”
“Will it please you-know-who?” Peck asked, tongue-in-cheek, gesturing toward the ceiling.
Edwards frowned. “God?” he asked.
“The publisher!” Peck burst out.
“Oh, him.” Edwards shrugged. “Nothing ever has before. I‟m not sure it will. But it may save my job,
and Carla‟s.”
Peck grinned. “I‟ll settle for that.”
But, it appeared, Bryan Moreland wouldn‟t. Edwards called Carla into his office two hours after the
paper was on the streets, looking uncomfortable and vaguely ill.
“Sit down,” he said gruffly.
She perched herself on the edge of her chair and sat up straight, her hands clenched in the lap of her
burgundy plaid skirt. She could feel the ominous vibrations, like the growing chill of the weather.
“Get it over with,” she murmured. “I hate suspense.”
He jammed his hands in his pockets and studied his feet. “Moreland called me.”
Her heart jerked, but she didn‟t let the emotions dancing inside her find expression in her face. “Oh?”
“He‟s willing to drop the lawsuit, especially in view of our efforts—your efforts—to clear his name.
But I couldn‟t get across to him that it was your investigation that cleared him,” he added
apologetically. “When I mentioned your name, he blew up.” He sighed. “What it boils down to is this.
He‟ll drop the lawsuit if I fire you.
That‟s my only option.” He shuffled angrily. “Johnson says if I don‟t fire you, we‟ll both get the
boot.”
She felt every drop of color draining out of her face, but she forced a smile to her lips. “I expected it,
you know,” she said gently. “I was looking for a job when I found this one.”
“Yeah,” he said curtly. His eyes studied the expression on her pale face. “I‟m sorry as hell.”
She shrugged. “It‟s been an experience. How long have I got to clean out my desk?”
He sighed bitterly. “Until quitting time. I‟m giving you two weeks‟ pay, maybe that‟ll get you through
to another job.”
She tried to mask her apprehension with a smile. “I‟ll be okay. If things get too tight, I can always go
home to Georgia,” she reminded him. “The editor of Dad‟s old paper would give me a job on the
spot. All I have to do is ask.”
That, at least, was true. But how was she going to leave this city, and Bryan Moreland behind, when
the picture of them would haunt her until she died? If only she could see him once more, touch him…
“I said, you might have a shot at the radio station,” he repeated, interrupting her melancholy thoughts.
“I hear they‟re looking for a leg person.”
She smiled and rose, offering him her slender hand. “Thanks, Eddy. I‟ve enjoyed working here.”
“You‟re one hell of a reporter,” he said with grudging praise. “I hate to lose you. If it weren‟t for that
damned lawsuit—the truth is, our budget won‟t stand it, and he‟s got every law in the books on his
side.”
“It was my fault…”
“And mine,” he said firmly. “Nobody held a gun on me and made me print it. The evidence was there.
I didn‟t know it was engineered any more than you did. By the way,” he added, “there‟s every
indication that Ed King is going to be recalled even before his case comes up,” he grinned. “That
ought to make you feel a little better.”
She returned the smile. “It does. See you around, Eddy.”
Bill Peck sat, perched on the edge of his chair, watching Carla clean out her desk, an enigmatic
expression on his face. He ignored the phone that was screaming insistently beside him.
“Where will you go?” he asked gruffly.
She shrugged. “Back to my apartment to wallow in self-pity.”
He chuckled in spite of himself. “Hell, does anything get you down?”
“Crocodiles,” she murmured as she put the last of her notepads into a brown bag with her other
possessions. “I never go near swamps for that reason.” She closed the bag and turned, her eyes soft as [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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and lifted it in front of James White‟s nervous face. “It‟s all here, Mr. White. Everything. How you
arranged a five-hundred percent profit out of that worthless land. How you set up Bryan Moreland,
you and your co-conspirator, to take the blame for it by sending him a check for his revitalization
project just in time to make it look like a kickback from the land deal. We know all about it. We even
know,” she added narrowly, “about Daniel Brown‟s role.”
White sat down, suddenly looking his age. He leaned back in his chair and wiped his mouth with the
handkerchief. His spare frame seemed to slump wearily.
“I engineered it,” he admitted quietly. “There‟s no sense in denying it any further.”
Peck pulled out a pocket tape recorder and turned it on. “I‟m recording, Mr. White,” he advised the
man, “and I think it would be in your best interests to give the truth.”
“Why not?” White sighed. “I‟m ruined now, anyway, you‟ll see to that. Yes, I engineered the airport
land deal. I got Ed King to present it to the City Council and convince his friend Moreland that it was
the best site available.” He nodded at Carla‟s shocked face. “Moreland had so much on his mind with
the sanitation strike and that downtown redevelopment scheme that he wasn‟t able to check into the
site too closely, so he left it all up to Ed, whom he trusted.” He laughed shortly. “Bryan and I have
been friends for a long time, he had no reason to distrust me or Ed. We had it made. We sold the land
to the city for five times its true value. Then I had Daniel Brown start making noises about Moreland
accepting a kickback, right after I sent my good friend a donation for his downtown redevelopment. It
was flawless. Absolutely flawless. Until you people came along and started poking around,” he
added bitterly.
“Who actually owned the land, Mr. White?” Carla asked.
“The deed says, Will Jackson,” he replied.
“But isn‟t it actually owned by Daniel Brown?” she persisted, smiling at White‟s shocked
expression. “Yes, I made some phone calls to Florida. Brown used Will Jackson as an alias when he
purchased that land, at your instructions.”
“At Ed King‟s,” White corrected gruffly. “Why the hell did I ever get mixed up with that little snip? If
I‟d handled it by myself…”
“If,” Carla sighed, closing her eyes momentarily as a wave of unbearable grief and tiredness washed
over her.
She turned away as Bill Peck moved to call the police. It was too much, too soon. All her suspicions,
all her digging, and it hadn‟t been enough to save Bryan Moreland from a public crucifixion. She‟d
finally gotten at the truth, and all it had cost her was the one man she could ever truly love. A single
tear rolled down her cold cheek, trickling salty and warm into the corner of her mouth.
“It‟s great,” Edwards laughed as Carla and Bill Peck played the tape for him and summarized
White‟s arrest.
“Just great! We‟ll scoop every paper in town with this, even the broadcast boys! We‟ll save face!”
Carla stared down at her black boots. “You‟ll print everything, including how Moreland was set up?”
Edwards looked at her with a compassionate smile. “Yes. And it might be enough to convince him to
drop the lawsuit. We‟ll run another banner headline. „Moreland Innocent of Kickback.‟ How‟s that?”
“Will it please you-know-who?” Peck asked, tongue-in-cheek, gesturing toward the ceiling.
Edwards frowned. “God?” he asked.
“The publisher!” Peck burst out.
“Oh, him.” Edwards shrugged. “Nothing ever has before. I‟m not sure it will. But it may save my job,
and Carla‟s.”
Peck grinned. “I‟ll settle for that.”
But, it appeared, Bryan Moreland wouldn‟t. Edwards called Carla into his office two hours after the
paper was on the streets, looking uncomfortable and vaguely ill.
“Sit down,” he said gruffly.
She perched herself on the edge of her chair and sat up straight, her hands clenched in the lap of her
burgundy plaid skirt. She could feel the ominous vibrations, like the growing chill of the weather.
“Get it over with,” she murmured. “I hate suspense.”
He jammed his hands in his pockets and studied his feet. “Moreland called me.”
Her heart jerked, but she didn‟t let the emotions dancing inside her find expression in her face. “Oh?”
“He‟s willing to drop the lawsuit, especially in view of our efforts—your efforts—to clear his name.
But I couldn‟t get across to him that it was your investigation that cleared him,” he added
apologetically. “When I mentioned your name, he blew up.” He sighed. “What it boils down to is this.
He‟ll drop the lawsuit if I fire you.
That‟s my only option.” He shuffled angrily. “Johnson says if I don‟t fire you, we‟ll both get the
boot.”
She felt every drop of color draining out of her face, but she forced a smile to her lips. “I expected it,
you know,” she said gently. “I was looking for a job when I found this one.”
“Yeah,” he said curtly. His eyes studied the expression on her pale face. “I‟m sorry as hell.”
She shrugged. “It‟s been an experience. How long have I got to clean out my desk?”
He sighed bitterly. “Until quitting time. I‟m giving you two weeks‟ pay, maybe that‟ll get you through
to another job.”
She tried to mask her apprehension with a smile. “I‟ll be okay. If things get too tight, I can always go
home to Georgia,” she reminded him. “The editor of Dad‟s old paper would give me a job on the
spot. All I have to do is ask.”
That, at least, was true. But how was she going to leave this city, and Bryan Moreland behind, when
the picture of them would haunt her until she died? If only she could see him once more, touch him…
“I said, you might have a shot at the radio station,” he repeated, interrupting her melancholy thoughts.
“I hear they‟re looking for a leg person.”
She smiled and rose, offering him her slender hand. “Thanks, Eddy. I‟ve enjoyed working here.”
“You‟re one hell of a reporter,” he said with grudging praise. “I hate to lose you. If it weren‟t for that
damned lawsuit—the truth is, our budget won‟t stand it, and he‟s got every law in the books on his
side.”
“It was my fault…”
“And mine,” he said firmly. “Nobody held a gun on me and made me print it. The evidence was there.
I didn‟t know it was engineered any more than you did. By the way,” he added, “there‟s every
indication that Ed King is going to be recalled even before his case comes up,” he grinned. “That
ought to make you feel a little better.”
She returned the smile. “It does. See you around, Eddy.”
Bill Peck sat, perched on the edge of his chair, watching Carla clean out her desk, an enigmatic
expression on his face. He ignored the phone that was screaming insistently beside him.
“Where will you go?” he asked gruffly.
She shrugged. “Back to my apartment to wallow in self-pity.”
He chuckled in spite of himself. “Hell, does anything get you down?”
“Crocodiles,” she murmured as she put the last of her notepads into a brown bag with her other
possessions. “I never go near swamps for that reason.” She closed the bag and turned, her eyes soft as [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]