The Unkindness of Ravens by M. Hilliard (readera ebook reader .txt) 📗

and upset by her death. They knew Vince as well, but the response to him was lukewarm. The consensus was that Joanna was both talented and hardworking, Vince considerably less so.

“That’s why I don’t buy the idea that he killed her,” said a man who had introduced himself as John. “He couldn’t run that documentary business of his without her. He likes to think of himself as a ‘big picture’ guy, but as far as I could tell it meant he didn’t like to do the grunt work. Joanna was like the Energizer Bunny with an amazing head for detail.”

“I don’t know what the police think. It’s all so unbelievable,” I said. “The talk in the village is that maybe she was working on a story that upset someone, or she angered someone in the course of her work. You know, that sort of thing.”

I didn’t have a clear idea of what Joanna did on a day-to-day basis, but I was hoping to get some kind of reaction. If there was friction with a co-worker or someone she came into contact with in the course of her job, someone would know, but all I got were non-committal noises. The only exception was the intern, Grace, who looked up quickly at my question, glanced at the others, and went back to studying her fingernails.

With no information forthcoming, I handed out my card and invited people to send any anecdotes or photos they thought should be included on the memorial webpage. All promised to do so. I thanked them and turned to Grace as they left.

“I know you must be busy, but there is one other thing I’m supposed to follow up on. Joanna was working on several projects for the library, and we can’t find the files. Would it be all right if I took a quick peek at her desk to see if they’re there? Some of it was pretty important for our fundraisers.”

There was enough truth in this to give me cover if any questions were asked. I was after anything related to the notes she’d made on the article. If she wanted to keep something under the village radar, her office would be the best place to work on it.

“I don’t see why not,” Grace said. “The police have already been through it. They took her computer, and her husband was here looking for a flash drive. I’ll probably be the one cleaning out her office anyway. I worked with her a lot.”

She turned and headed down a hallway. I fell into step beside her.

“I don’t think the police or Vince would be interested in what I’m looking for,” I said, mentally crossing my fingers behind my back. “I know Vince was looking for a drive. Did he find it?”

“Nope, and he wasn’t very nice about it. He went through her desk last week. I got put in charge of him, too. He’s called twice since to see if it’s turned up. Guy sounds desperate.”

“I appreciate your help. I’m sure a small station like this can’t function without interns.”

“Depends on who you ask.”

There was a definite tone to that. I’d need to follow up, but the set of her jaw suggested a delicate approach was required.

We arrived at the end of the corridor and Grace flicked on a light. I looked into what appeared to be a tarted up broom closet. There was barely room for a small desk, two file cabinets, and a visitor chair.

“Wow,” I said, “television is so glamorous.”

Grace laughed. “And high-paying,” she added.

“Free labor? I did that in grad school.”

“I get school credit if I complete a certain number of hours. And I get minimum wage, which is more than most of my friends.”

“I’m sure you earn every penny.” I looked at the jumble of papers and files on the desk.

“I’ll help you,” Grace said. “What are you looking for?”

“Anything that says Raven Hill or library I guess. I’m not sure how she’d label it.”

Truthfully, I wasn’t sure. I’d have to try to snag anything that looked even remotely related. If the mysterious flash drive had been here Vince would have it, so that was out, and who knew what the police had taken.

Well, Grace might.

“Did the police take anything other than the computer?”

“Not that I saw, but I wasn’t in here. Some blonde woman was here for a while. She talked to HR before and after, but that’s all I know.”

We sorted and stacked methodically, chatting about internships and Grace’s career plans. We found nothing related to the village or the library. I had written off the search from a detecting standpoint when Grace spoke.

“You know,” she said, affecting a casual tone, “there was someone who really didn’t like Joanna. I’m not saying he’d kill her or anything, but, you know, since you asked.”

She stopped sorting and looked at me.

“You never know what’s important,” I said. “People do crazy things sometimes.”

“Especially when they’re high, and think they’re important enough to get away with it.”

The tone I’d heard earlier was back. Grace’s hands were clenched around the files she was holding.

“What happened?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

Grace looked out the door. Assured there was no one around, she leaned forward. “Ed Dexter, the anchor, you know?”

I nodded. He was one of the people Dory had seen at Luigi’s the night of the murder.

“Well, he’s got a pretty pricey cocaine habit. Bad and getting worse. I’d say most of his paycheck is going up his nose. Nothing you’d notice on air, yet, but starting to affect production. People cover for him—he’s really popular with the viewers. They don’t know what a scumbag he is. But Joanna had finally had it. She threatened to get him fired.”

Grace let her breath out in a whoosh. It sounded like she’d wanted to get that off her chest for a while. But she hadn’t. Why?

“What was the last straw for Joanna?” I asked.

“It was a couple of things, I think. He started to use at work, for one,