and write the sucker.
'Some guys got real tough jobs,' Hallock said.
Colin was startled. 'Hey, you scared me, creeping up like that.'
'Didn't creep. I walked. You were in a dream world, buddy.'
'Yeah, I guess.'
'Who is she?'
'Hmmm?'
'Man's dreaming like that, it's gotta be a woman.'
'Matter of fact, it wasn't. I was just wondering how to write this story about the murders.'
'Funny thing. That's why I'm here.'
Colin waited for him to go on.
'We need to play it down.'
'I can't do that, Chief. I mean, I have to tell it like it is. A murder's a murder. Especially two. How can I play that down?'
'You know what I mean. Is it going on the front page?'
'Probably.' He knew it was.
'See, that's just what I'm talking about. Why do you have to feature it?'
'I think you'd better talk to Mark.'
'Will you come with me?'
'If that's what you want.'
'That's what I want. I don't expect to win this one, but I've gotta try.'
'Okay.' Colin buzzed Mark, told him they were coming up.
Hallock followed Colin past the offices and front desk to the stairs. Griffing's office was on the second floor. When they came in Mark shook Hallock's hand.
'Nice to see you. Sit down, make yourself comfortable.' He crossed to his tape deck and turned off David Bowie.
The room looked more like a living room than an office. There was a fireplace, two blue easy chairs facing it, and a gray denim couch with colorful throw pillows on the right wall. Griffing's desk was a white parsons table, his chair soft tan leather. He sat on the couch while Colin and Hallock took the chairs.
'What can I do for you, Chief?'
Colin watched Hallock pull on his long nose, stalling. It wouldn't be so easy to tell Mark he wanted to downplay the story.
'Well, the thing of it is, Friday's the start of Memorial Day weekend, and I don't have to tell you what that means.'
Griffing looked at him blankly. 'Maybe you do, Chief.'
Hallock glanced at Colin as if he were asking for advice. Colin felt for him but didn't know how to help.
Hallock continued. 'It's the start of the season. Our merchants got twelve weeks to make enough to carry them through the year.'
Griffing nodded.
'The real estate people, too,' Hallock amplified.
'And?'
'Well, hell, what I'm trying to bring out is that if you go splashing those murders all over the front page on Thursday, it's gonna hurt this town. Real bad.'
Griffing ran a hand over his gray hair, then lit a Camel as he assessed Hallock. Colin noted something cold in Mark's brown eyes.
'I'm not saying you should suppress it or anything. I know you can't do that. Just don't make a big deal out of it,' Hallock suggested.
Griffing laughed mirthlessly. 'But it is a big deal, Chief. You of all people should know that.'
''Course it is. That's not what I meant.'
'So what did you mean?' he asked, an edge to his voice.
Hallock pressed his lips together. An aureole of white appeared around his mouth.
'The chief doesn't want it to get front-page coverage,' Colin explained.
Mark shifted his gaze to Colin, the baleful look still present. 'Really?'
'That's right,' Hallock said.
Eyes still on Colin, Griffing inquired drily, 'And you agree with this?'
'I didn't say that.'
'Well, do you?' The tone was frosty.
As Colin had noticed many times, there was almost a feminine quality to Mark's good looks. The features were small, delicate. But when he was angry or challenged his face took on a hard edge, making him almost ugly. 'You know I don't,' he answered. For a moment he felt guilty, as though he were betraying Hallock. But he was a newspaperman and certain values were ingrained. You didn't bury a hot story because someone outside the paper wanted you to.
'Thanks, pal,' Griffing said sarcastically. He turned back to Hallock. 'Two people have been found murdered, Chief. We're not talking about somebody catching a big fish, or winning the annual foot race, or giving some money to the hospital. We're talking about murder. That gets the front page and no two ways about it.'
Hallock had begun to sweat. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, wiped his neck and forehead. 'I don't think you understand what kind of repercussions that story's gonna have.'
'Like you losing your job?' Griffing asked.
Colin didn't like the small smile that played around Mark's mouth.
'Me losing my job is only a drop in the bucket. It's everybody. You want to see a ghost town, you print your story up big and bold, you'll see what happens.'
Griffing leaned forward. 'I have no desire to screw up the merchants of Seaville, Chief, but I have a duty to report the news.
'I don't think you understand that if you put that story on page fifteen, nobody in Seaville would bat an eye. They'd be grateful to you.'
'I'll live without their gratitude.'
Hallock stood suddenly, as if he were snapping to attention. 'Ah, hell, what do you care? This isn't your town.'
'Oh, shit,' Griffing said, 'now we're going to get the outsider routine.' Even if you lived in the town for fifty years you were still considered an alien of sorts. To be accepted you had to be born in Seaville. 'No matter what you think, Chief, I feel that Seaville is my town, and I have a moral obligation to tell the truth. What you're asking me to do is immoral.'
Colin could see that Hallock was shaking, hands at his sides in fists.
'I'm asking you to think of the town, is all.'
'You're asking me to bury an important story.'
'Why do you keep saying it like that?'
'Like what?'
'Burying it.'
'Because that's what it would be. If I put that story anyplace besides the front page, where it belongs, then I'm burying it. And that's immoral.'
Hallock stiffened; a vein in his temple throbbed. 'You calling me immoral, you preppy twerp?'
Griffing stood up. 'I think we've said everything we need to say to each other.'
'Hey, come on, guys,' Colin pleaded.
Griffing whirled on him. 'You stay out of this!' Then back to Hallock. 'And maybe if you got down to the business of finding the murderer instead of trying to get me to compromise my ethics, maybe then the town would be grateful to you.'
Hallock stretched his lips tight across his teeth. A sound came out, like a horse neighing. Then he pushed past
