Authors: Jennifer Cruise
Charlie All Night (11 page)
* * *
Charlie's next evening began well. As far as he could tell in hispoking around the station during the
day, there was absolutely nothing
illegal going on. The closest thing he had to a clue was that the
college kids collected "Turn Us On" stickers. As a lead to an
in-station drug ring, it was pretty flimsy, about as likely as a lead
to an in-station prostitution ring. Still, he'd checked out the
bandstand Joe had talked ' about before and all he'd found were
mosquitoes and mud. No
drugs.
He was beginning to suspect that the letter had been a hoax. He was
also beginning to suspect that Bill thought it was a hoax, too. At
least, he didn't seem to be particularly interested in how things were
going. Beattie caught Charlie in the hall and grilled him on his living
arrangements, his eating habits
and his plans for his show, but Bill
didn't even ask him what he was doing about the letter.
It was all highly suspicious, and Charlie intended to pursue it, but
first he had to get his radio act
together so he didn't make a fool of
himself on the air. He shouldn't have cared about that, but he did.
He
also found himself caring about the people at the station, with the
exception of Mark, and feeling
relieved as he became surer that he wasn't going to have to bust
anybody there. Joe combined the
virtues of real friendship and great
cooking, Karen was cheerful and extremely grateful, Grady was
quiet and
kind, Beattie looked at him with approval since she liked the city
building and was now doing daily editorials on saving it and even Bill
seemed to be warming to him. At least he hadn't called Charlie
a moron
again, even after the front-page story on the city building showed up
in the
Tuttle Tribune
.
Charlie particularly liked Harry, who, when not
howling, was intelligent and, on this particular Thursday night, in a
great mood.
"You're not going to believe this," Harry told him as soon as Charlie
was in the booth. "Some woman called in and said she was having an
argument with her boyfriend over leaving the car parked in neutral
or
in first, and asked my opinion."
"That's great," Charlie said, confused.
"No, it
was
." Harry's face
was lit with excitement. "I explained it to
her, and then about five minutes
later some guy called in to talk about
it, and then a little later some other woman called in with a
carburetor problem, and then a couple of other people, and it was
great." He leaned back in his chair, suffused with happiness. "I can't
believe it. People called my show."
"Hey, if I had a car problem, I'd call you," Charlie offered. "You know
what you're talking about."
"Yeah, but now
Tuttle
knows.
This has been great." Harry got up and
clapped Charlie on the back. "Really glad you're here, man."
"Oh." Charlie blinked. "Well, I am, too."
"
Five
people," Harry stood up
and stretched. "
Great
show."
Charlie sat down in the vacated seat. The memory of the bumper stickers
came back. Dumb idea,
but... "Harry?"
Harry turned in the doorway.
"If you were going to buy drugs in Tuttle, where would you go?"
Harry's face sobered instantly. "I don't know. I hear the handstand's
the place to score."
Charlie nodded. "I'd heard that, too, but it's deserted most of the
time."
"Drugs'll kill you in radio." Harry said. "Bad for your voice. Hard to
concentrate."
"Right." Charlie gave up and turned to the console.
"Charlie."
He looked back over his shoulder at Harry.
"Don't ask anybody else about the drug thing," Harry told him
seriously. "This isn't that kind of
place. People wouldn't understand."
Charlie nodded. "Right. Thanks."
"No problem." Harry hesitated and then left the booth.
Great. Now Harry thought he was a druggie. The things he did for his
father and his father's friends.
Oh, well. At least he had the show. It
was a weird thought, but after only two nights, he was beginning
to
look forward to the show. It was fun, but it was more than that. It
made him feel good. He didn't
want to think about it too much because
then he'd start cooperating with Allie, and he'd end up a star, after
all.
That would be bad.
Of course, tonight's show about old grocery stores should pretty much
kill that possibility.
Charlie put on the headphones, made sure "River of Dreams" was in one
of the CD slots for Sam's
dinner later, and watched the digital readout
so he could slide in when the news was over. --
Tonight was going to be one dull night on radio.
* * *
Four and a half hours later, Allie sat propped up against her headboardand watched as Charlie sat
down on the side of the bed and buried his
face in his hands. He really was upset, and she really did sympathize,
but she really was ecstatic. Two scandals in three days. His ratings
were going to go
through the roof.
"Price-fixing," Charlie said, his voice muffled by his hands.
"I didn't know," Allie said. "I swear, I didn't know."
6
"Price-fixing drove the mom and pops out of business." Charlierepeated, and Allie tried to distract him.
"Maybe if we had some food—"
"It's illegal." He fell back onto the bed so that his head landed in
her lap.
Allie loved the weight of his head on her thighs, so she began to
stroke his hair so he'd stay there. What
a wonderful night it had
turned out to be. The callers alone had been spectacular.
Charlie kept his eyes closed, obsessing over the show. "That one old
guy said they didn't do anything about it five years ago because they
couldn't get enough evidence. Did you hear him say that?"
"Yes, Charlie." Allie said. "I can't believe all those people called
in. Who would have thought so many
of those little-grocery owners would
have been listening at midnight like that?"
"Who would have thought?" Charlie turned his head to glare up at her.
"Did you have anything to do
with that?"
"Well..."
Charlie sat up. "Did you call them?"
"No!" Allie tried to look outraged, but it was hard since she was at
least partially guilty. "I didn't know them. How would I have known
them?"
"What did you do?" His tone brooked no babbling.
"What makes you think—"
"Because you play those phones the way Glenn Gould played die piano."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "You called Harry's show and asked about
carburetors and gears today, didn't your
Allie glared at him. "Don't you dare tell him that. I only called
twice, all the others did it on their own."
Charlie glared back. "Well, that was swell of you. Now, what did you do
to me tonight?"
She took a deep breath, and he said, "Allie? The truth."
Allie winced and surrendered. "Well, I did mention to the first guy who
called in that if there were
others like him, it would be a lot more
effective if they called in, too."
"Terrific." Charlie collapsed back into her lap again. "Why don't you
just shoot me? I have to play
'River of Dreams' every hour because of
you and now this."
"You don't want Samson to die, do you?"
"Sam now eats like you do. I don't think death is an option anymore
unless he ODs on formula."
Allie was already pursuing another train of thought. "You know that
lawyer who called in about racketeering charges was something."
Charlie moaned, his face hopeless.
Allie took pity on him. It was cruel to be happy when he was in hell.
"Well, people called in about
other things, too, remember. There was
that guy who wanted to know what poem of Tennyson's you quoted. And the
lady who called in when you made fun of the way I eat and said all
women should
look like the ones in Rubens' paintings." Then she gave up
and grinned in triumph. "And Johnson
from the
Tribune
. I can't
believe
the paper is sending out an investigative reporter. Isn't it amazing
how many people are listening to your show? It just shows how popular
you are."
"I don't want to be popular," Charlie said through his teeth.
Allie shifted on the bed as she prepared to move in for the kill. He
was becoming a household word against his will; if she could talk him
into helping her, she could take him national. "You know, Charlie. This
may just be God's way of telling you that you're destined for success.
I mean, there are DJ's who would kill their mothers to get this kind of
publicity, and you're just doing it by luck. After this, your ratings
are going to go through the roof." He groaned and she stroked his hair
again. "Just lie back and enjoy it, love. This is a free ride."
Charlie closed his eyes and tried not to relax under her hand. He
didn't want publicity. He didn't want
high ratings. Those waves he
wasn't supposed to be making were at his knees and climbing.
But Allie wouldn't understand unless he told her everything about why
he was here.
And he wasn't going to tell her everything. If he did, she'd join the
investigation and they'd end up right where Bill didn't want them, on
the front page of the Tuttle Tribune.
He opened his eyes and looked up at her. "We have to keep this as quiet
as possible."
Allie glared down at him, exasperated. "Why? This is great. I just
don't see the problem." Then her expression grew wary as she thought of
something. "Well, come to think of it, I might see one problem."
Charlie felt cold. "What?"
"Well, gossip has it that the FoodStops are mob-connected."
Charlie sat up. "In Tuttle?"
Allie patted his shoulder. "It's probably just gossip."
"Oh, no. The mob would be just my luck." He heaved himself off the bed
and started for the door.
"Where are you going?"
"To drown myself in the bathtub."
"Hey!" Allie protested. "Where's the food? You said you'd stop at
McCarthy's on the way home."
"I didn't get any."
"Well then, where's the sex?"
Charlie opened the door and turned back to her. "You're not getting
any, either. I'm depressed."
He closed the door behind him.
Allie sat and listened through the wall until he turned the water on,
and then she went in and seduced
him in the tub so he wouldn't drown
himself.
* * *
Charlie was still down the next morning. He did snort at breakfast whenhe heard Mark on the radio introduce himself as "Mark All
Morning"—"Well, he's trying," Allie told him—but then Joe passed him
the
Tuttle Tribune
and the
headline "Disk Jockey Sparks Investigation
Into City Building" depressed
him so much he only had two helpings of
Joe's yeast-raised pancakes.
"I suppose this isn't the best time to tell you that you're doing a
promotional appearance tomorrow,"
Allie said when he'd wiped the last
of the syrup from his plate with the last of his pancake.
"In a pig's eye." Charlie stayed bent over his empty plate. "I told
you—"
"You were interested in the college," Allie said as persuasively as she
could. "Harry's going—"
Charlie's head came up. "The college?" He thought for a moment. The
college kids were joking about
the stickers. It was a lousy lead, but
it was something. "All right. I'll do the college."
The phone rang and Joe went to get it, while Allie stared it him in
surprise. "
You'll
do it?"
"Don't push your luck," he told her. "I'm not going to make a habit of
this."
Allie nodded, obviously cheered he was going. Then Joe came back and
said, "That was Bill. He'd
like to see both of you this afternoon at
four."
"Oh, hell," Allie said. "Very probably," Joe said.
* * *
Alie winced as Bill glared at them both with equal disgust. "What Iwant to know is who died and
made you two Ralph Nader?"
"Ralph Nader's still alive," Allie said.
Charlie kicked her on the ankle. "It was an accident, Bill. We didn't
know..."
"Well, then
shut up
," Bill
roared at him.
"Now wait a minute." Allie stood up, determined not to give in. She had
a show to save, and for once,
she was in the right morally, too. "That
FoodStop person bought up half a dozen grocery stores and
then cut
prices below cost just to ruin the little stores. And when they were
all gone, he raised prices
and he's been gouging Tuttle ever since. For
five years. Anybody knows prices are cheaper in
Riverbend, but only
people with time and money can get there to stock up. He's preying on
the
poor
and—"
"Sit
down
," Bill said and she
sat.
"Do you know who the FoodStop person is?" Bill asked her with deceptive
gentleness.
Allie stopped, sure she wasn't going to like finding out who the
FoodStop person was. "No."
"Roger Preston."
Oh, terrific
. Allie's chin
came up. "Well, I hope you've won a lot of
money off him in those poker
games, because he's a crook."
Charlie slumped back in his chair. "You're kidding. Another poker
player?"
"I'm gonna be playing solitaire if you two don't knock it off." Bill
snarled. He stabbed a finger at
Charlie. "This is
not
what I
hired you
for."
"Well, of course it is." Allie went back into action, protecting her
star. "This is exactly what you hired
him for. I can't wait to see the
ratings."
"Young lady-"
"And Beattie loved it," Allie said, saving her killer shot for last.
"Absolutely loved it."
Bill closed his eyes. "I wish she'd go back to the garden club."
"She's going to do an editorial on the news tonight," Allie said.
Bill's eyes flew open. "No, she is not."
"Well, you better tell her, then," Allie said.
Bill leaned forward, scowling at them so hard his eyebrows meshed into
one white strip of fur across
his forehead. "You let me handle Beattie.
And from now on,
don't answer the
phone
."
"But Bill—" Allie stopped midsentence when Charlie took her hand and
jerked her up out of the chair.
"You got it," he told the older man. "No phones. Well tell people
they're down for the night. By
Monday, everybody will have forgotten.
Come on, Al."
"
Wait
a minute," Allie said,
but he pulled her out of the office still
protesting.
''We've got a great show here," she fumed at him. "And you're shooting
it in the foot. Why can't you—"
"Repeat after me," he said as he dragged her down the hall past Marcia,
the afternoon DJ, and Mark
who were arguing about something.
"Controversy is bad."
"Great show, Charlie," Marcia called back to them. "Everybody's talking
about it."
"Terrific," Charlie muttered and picked up speed.
Allie looked back over her shoulder at Mark. He did not look happy. She
tried not to feel good about
that but it was hopeless, so she beamed at
Mark as Charlie towed her away.
Life just kept getting better and better.
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