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

and he’d get a little free with his hands. And he was really mean to one of the other interns,” she added quickly. “He made fun of Nick behind his back but where he could hear, you know what I mean? Nick’s nice but kind of goofy looking, and he stammers when he’s nervous.”

A faint blush was creeping up Grace’s neck. I could guess who Dexter was harassing. Joanna would have gone through the roof. She was not the type to tolerate abuse of power in any fashion.

“Did you tell the police?”

She shook her head.

“No one asked me anything, and there was always someone from the station around.”

“And you didn’t want to cause trouble because you need the internship.”

“It’s only another month, and I’ll have done all my hours.”

Welcome to the working world.

“Joanna might have told someone in HR,” I said.

Grace shook her head.

“It was right before she died. She and Dexter had a big blowout late Monday, and she wasn’t here on Tuesday.”

And on Wednesday she was dead. But this was one mission of Joanna’s I knew I could complete.

“The police need to know. They’ll want to talk to both you and Nick.” I considered Mary Alice’s trust in O’Donnell’s discretion, and Webber’s ability to give away nothing by either word or expression. The kids might feel better talking to a woman.

“You know the blond woman who was here?” I asked Grace. She nodded. “I’ve talked to both her and her boss. I’m sure they can look into this, and let the station know what was going on without letting on it came from you. Other people saw it happening, right?”

“Lots of people.”

“All right. I’ll tell Officer Webber to get in touch with you. I’ll say you were helping me look for a file about the library fundraiser and you told me you heard Joanna and Dexter having a fight, but you weren’t sure anyone else knew. Will that work?”

“Okay. I’ll talk to Nick, too,” she said and wrote down her number. “I should go,” she said, “but if I find anything I’ll call you. I have your card.”

“Thanks, Grace. You’ve been a big help. Hang in there.”

As I stood in the lobby fishing for my car keys, Ed Dexter walked in, takeout coffee in one hand and cell phone in the other. Dory was right—he was positively scrawny.

Pretending to be engrossed in hunting through my tote bag, I drifted into his path.

“Oops, sorry!” I said as I narrowly avoided impact. I widened my eyes. “Oooh, aren’t you Ed Dexter?”

He dropped his phone into his jacket pocket and stuck out his hand, flashing a megawatt smile.

“At your service.”

“I’m SO glad I bumped into you,” I said, doing my best to sound breathless with excitement. “You were one of the people I most wanted to meet while I was here.”

“Then I’m the one who’s glad. It’s always great to meet a fan. I’d be nowhere without you.”

A rehearsed line, but he delivered it well.

“Oh, that’s so kind of you to say. I don’t want to take advantage, but I was wondering—”

“No problem,” he cut in, gesturing at the receptionist, who dutifully produced a glossy photo and a Sharpie.

“Um, Greer, thank you. But I was also wondering if you could answer a couple of questions for some research I’m doing. It will only take a minute.”

“I have a few minutes. Who do you work for? Local paper? Radio? Rival station?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I have to warn you—I can’t comment on any rumors you might have heard about me moving to a major network!”

He gave another big smile and a conspiratorial wink.

“Oh, no,” I protested, giggling, “I’m hardly cut out for television.”

I was making myself sick.

“Not true,” he said, “you’ve got the right look and even women your age do well in smaller markets.”

The pompous twit undoubtedly considered that a flirty compliment. Fervently hoping he’d choke to death on his pricey veneers, I plowed on.

“You flatter me, Mr. Dexter. I’m here on behalf of a community organization. The Village of Raven Hill. You’ve heard of it?”

“Heard it’s nice. Never been there. And requests for appearances or interviews go through my agent.”

His interest had plummeted now that he realized I was not a source of the kind of publicity that would further his career. He looked at his watch.

“We’re putting together a webpage to honor one of your co-workers, and it wouldn’t be complete without a contribution from you.”

I had a mental image of Joanna making a gagging motion.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the death of Joanna Goodhue?” I asked.

Dexter looked taken aback for an instant, but rearranged his face into an attitude of deep sorrow.

“Of course. Such a tragedy. A terrible accident, I understand.”

Interesting that he went straight to the accident theory. What had Pete’s grandfather said? When an accident is too convenient for someone else, it’s no accident. And from what Grace told me, Joanna’s death was very convenient for Ed Dexter.

“Something like that,” I said, and explained about the memorial page.

Dexter was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his eyes going repeatedly to the lobby exit.

“Why don’t I e-mail you something? Tomorrow?”

“That would be fine, thank you.” I handed him my card. He pocketed it and bolted down the hall.

When I started my car the warning light flashed again, and the engine made a funny noise. I hoped it remained a funny noise, and not an expensive noise. I let it run for a few minutes, and used the time to call Officer Webber. I told her about my conversation with Grace and her fears about rocking the boat. I stuck to the story I’d told Grace I’d give to the police, and suggested that some careful nosing around might unearth more witnesses to the harassment, if not the fight between Dexter and Joanna. She listened to the whole story, verified a few details, told me she’d speak to Grace and Nick at school, and be discreet around the TV station. She thanked me for calling, and