Page 133 of The Girl Who Knew Too Much

“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. Wardis 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 theBurning 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.”

“You’ve got a story featuring Nick Tremayne and a deranged female killer? Why aren’t you taking this to your paper,Whispers?”

“Because I was fired.”

“Oh, yeah. Heard about that.”

“Don’t worry,Whisperswill have the story along with every other paper in L.A. for their morning editions. Nick Tremayne’s studio will make sure of it. But I’m offering you an exclusive today. You can run with it in your evening edition tonight.”

“We don’t have an evening edition.”

“Make it a special edition. All I ask is that I get a byline.”

“And a job?”

“Read the story, Mr. Paisley.” She put the typewritten pages on the desk. “I’ve got quotes from Nick Tremayne, himself, not to mention Oliver Ward and Luther Pell.”

“Ward and Pell never grant interviews.”

“They made an exception for me. Go ahead, read the story, and then tell me you’ll print it.”