“Summer, you bring the printer his check, but do it right at 1:55 p.m. They probably won’t deposit it until tomorrow. I will handle the loan payment after three. We should gain at least two days before the checks hit our bank account. Print out a collections report, and I will try to make a few calls to our customers.”
“Your call list keeps getting longer and longer,” said Summer. “You know, you are making me an old woman fast.”
I said, “What’s old to you? Thirty-one?”
Summer laughed nervously. Before she hung up, I asked her to call Bree and tell her that I would meet her that evening.
As I approached the corner of Intendencia and Palafox streets where our offices stood, I saw the lunch crowd still packed Frank’s Pizzeria, which leased the ground floor. The entrance to our office was in an alley that opened on Intendencia Street, an unremarkable gray metal door with a small red “IN” sticker on it. We prided ourselves on being hard to find. Fewer nuts walked in that way.
Upstairs the staff had begun work on next week’s issue. Teddy and Mal, who had been with the paper the longest, five years, had an old rug under their work areas that clearly marked their territory. It had a real homey feel, and it always felt good entering their workspace.
As a practical joke, the couple had placed duct tape on the floor around Jeremy’s workspace to mock his constant haranguing for privacy. Empty Starbucks cups and Diet Coke cans were tossed all over his area.
Jeremy was on the phone finishing his music interview for the next week’s issue. He was telling the musician about his days working for VH1, MTV, MSNBC, and Entertainment Tonight. We had no proof that he actually had, but Jeremy enjoyed the storytelling so much that no one questioned him about it. No one cared anyway.
Big Boy strolled to Mal’s desk, stretched out on the rug under it, and shut his eyes. He was taking his afternoon nap.
“Mal, the cover story is a go,” I said, amazed at how quickly Big Boy could doze off. “I’m getting the records from Frost his afternoon.”
She looked at Teddy and asked, “Do you think that will give us enough time to load the information into the database and test it before next Thursday?”
Teddy removed his headphones. You might have thought he listened to heavy metal while he worked, but he didn’t. He liked jazz and played it soft enough that he could still follow the conversations around him when he wanted to hear them. He always perked up when Mal spoke.
“As long as we get the information in a digital format, preferably a spreadsheet, Kyle said it wouldn’t take him long to upload the data,” he replied.
“Well, that is how I requested the payroll data be given to us, but Frost might screw with us,” I acknowledged.
“What’s the backup plan if he hands you a bunch of printed reports?” Mal queried.
“We split up typing the data into a spreadsheet for Kyle.”
No one was happy about that option.
Roxie signaled for me to join her in the conference room. I shut the door behind me and sat next to her at the table.
“Walker, I’m really worried,” she said. “This possible suicide is freaking out some of our most reliable advertisers. AmSouth Bank and Hankin’s Toyota have asked us to hold off on their upcoming ads. They haven’t cancelled, but they didn’t give me dates when they wanted to restart their advertising.”
Their contracts had penalties for early termination but none for suspending ads. They could stay out of the paper indefinitely.
“Do you think it would help if I made an appointment to see them?” I asked.
Roxie shook her head. “We’ve been telling them to trust us; the trial will reveal the truth. Now the advertisers don’t want to be collateral damage in the escalations of this fight between Bo Hines and you.”
“This isn’t some personal vendetta. The guy’s a crook.”
“You can tell yourself that, and I want to believe you. I really do, but the general public and our advertisers are losing faith. Walker, we’re hemorrhaging cancellations and I can’t stop the bleeding.”
I reached out and touched her forearm. “Roxie, we handled this before when we reported on deputies misusing Tasers on nearly every traffic stop when they first got the stun guns. Their union called our advertisers and bullied our distributors. When the grand jury issued its report and Frost was forced to rewrite his policy manual, the advertisers came back.”
“This is different,” she protested. “Sue Hines was popular. Her death is working against us. I’m having trouble making appointments for sales calls to replace the advertisers we’re losing.”
I got up and walked to the window. Two blue jays were attacking a squirrel trying to cross Jefferson Street. He dodged them as they repeatedly swooped down and cut off his path to either side of the street. The squirrel made a dash for a power pole and was hit by a car. The driver didn’t stop.
I said, “Be patient. The sales will come back.”
“No, Walker, this is not the same as before. A woman took her life because of your reporting.”
“Her death is not my fault,” I maintained.
“Keep telling yourself that while you destroy this paper,” said Roxie. “The Insider is more than Walker Holmes. We all depend on this paper for our livelihoods.”
She began to tear up. “Dammit, if my commissions dry up, I won’t be able to pay for my wedding. Brad is already getting cold feet.”
Brad, her fiancé, made pottery that had yet to attract much artistic praise or commercial success. Roxie had met him at Peg Leg Pete’s on Pensacola Beach. She was a waitress, Brad a bartender. The two opposites were attracted to each other and began dating. She helped him sell his pottery at arts and crafts
