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“SHHHHHH!” he hushes so loudly, the woman at the next table frowns at us. For all his paranoia, Benji doesn’t seem to notice, holding my gaze as he leans even closer across the table. His breath reeks of coffee but I’m more focused on his words. “There’s a new psychedelic on the streets. Real hot commodity. Whoever gets control of distribution will win the war.”

I jot down some notes in quick hand that only I’d understand. “And they’re using meat plants to disguise this?”

“Follow the shipments. They come in weekly.”

“Who else knows about this?”

“Nobody… only those who need to know. And now you. But remember… if you wind up in a tight spot, you didn’t get this from me. You’ve never even met me, toots.”

“Why are you doing this?” I ask plainly. “What’s your motivation, Mr. Sigler?”

Benji flashes a bittersweet smile, showing off a mouth of overcrowded front teeth. “I lost my brother to these fucks. He messed up once and that was all it took. You think Il Diavolo spared him? He gets everybody in the end. Probably you and me too. It doesn’t matter how pretty you are either, toots.”

His parting words stay with me on my subway ride back to the other part of the city. I show up to work half distracted but aware my absence has been noticed. The crew have already started loading the action van up with their equipment.

“James!” Baron shouts. “Where have you been? We were supposed to be on location five minutes ago. Fatal car accident on Twenty-Fifth street.”

“Right, I’ll get changed.”

“Don’t bother, you’ll report like this. Keep the coat on.”

I nod, climbing into the van with the others. I have no intention of letting Baron know why I’m a few minutes late to work. If he knew I was doing unofficial investigative work for the recent shooting, he would flip out. He’d shut down any leads I have and insist I use the proper channels for investigating the story.

But if I listened to Baron and followed the rules, I’d never have gotten the scoop on the Kaminski story that eventually led to the police making an arrest. It would’ve remained a mystery who murdered Josef Kaminski, adding to the mountainous pile of unsolved cases in Newport City.

Once I have a lead, there’s no stopping me. I’ll get to the bottom of the matter. Even if crime lords like Il Diavolo don’t like it.

* * *

“Portia, thank god you’re here! I was worried for a second,” Cheryl cries out the moment she sees me. She shuffles over in heels she seems to have difficulty walking in, her auburn ringlet curls shimmying with every movement.

I’m given a brief hug and cheek-to-cheek kiss before she pulls back with a wide smile.

“Isn’t it fortunate we landed this place? I still can’t believe the luck.”

I glance around at the polished hall we’re in. “Very lucky.”

Cheryl goes on to tell me how she and the foundation managed to book the banquet hall at the Newport Plaza, the most upscale hotel in the city. Apparently, the original event that was scheduled canceled last minute, creating a convenient opening for Rise and Thrive.

It’s impressive how immaculate everything is considering tonight’s gala dinner was put together in a week’s time.

I walk with Cheryl into the formal dining room where every table has a beautiful floral centerpiece and tasteful name placards in loopy print. More floral arrangements fill up the rest of the room, matching the indigo and violet toned drapes hung over the windows.

At the front of the room is the stage, where there’s the podium for the speaker and a huge bronze sculpture of the foundation’s crest.

“I trust you’ve reviewed your script, Portia?” Cheryl asks. “The gala’s starting!”

She abandons my side to scurry toward the doorway and greet some of the donors as they trickle in.

The answer to her question is no.

Between work and my side investigation, I haven’t had much time to look over the emcee script. But I’ve emceed for these events before. The script is almost always the same. My extensive experience speaking into microphones and in front of audiences for live TV helps. I’m comfortable enough that reviewing the script isn’t really needed.

Carefully climbing the steps to the stage, I take my place behind the podium. I’ve borrowed Jayla’s favorite emerald dress that has off-the-shoulder sleeves and a tight bodice that eventually flows into a draped skirt with a front slit.

It shows just enough skin to be sexy but remains classy enough for an event like this.

Within minutes, the banquet hall fills up. Guests take their seats and the room buzzes with cordial chatter.