Authors: Kaye Morgan
Ghost Sudoku (16 page)
She turned to Alvin. “You’re a lawyer. What do we need to put on these petitions? Do we have to file papers?”
His round face looked befuddled as he blinked up at her from his seat on the couch. “I’m a criminal lawyer,” he began. “I don’t know—”
“Well, can’t you get on Google or something and find out? We need to be ready to start tomorrow morning.” The older woman softened her tone slightly as she asked Liza,
“Dear, could we use your computer to do the research and print things out?”
“Um,” Liza replied, feeling almost as befuddled as Alvin at this sudden whirlwind of political energy. “Sure.”
So, instead of working at her computer, Liza spent the evening constructing some sudoku by hand while Alvin did research and then Michael printed out the necessary forms and created a few dozen blank petitions.
“These will be used for originals,” he explained to Liza. “Mrs. H. has people going to all the copy shops in the county. She’s really burning up the phone lines.”
“What has she got Buck doing?” Liza asked with a grin. “Licking envelopes?”
“No, he’s making up the lists of who’s doing what. Mrs. H. gave his cell phone as the callback number. Apparently she’s got all these calling trees for church events, prayers—”
“Gossip,” Liza put in.
“Anyway, when she put her mind to it, she was able to recruit a pretty impressive volunteer organization.”
“Now all they need is a name,” Liza joked.
“How about Killamook Freed from Corruption?” Michael suggested.
“KFC—very funny.” Liza paused for a second. “I think it should be something like the League of Little Old Ladies.”
“If you use the preposition, you’d get LoLOL for an acronym,” Michael said. “Isn’t that computer-speak for Laugh Out Loud?”
“By the time Mrs. H. gets done with them, the Killamook machine will be laughing out of the other side of their mouths,” Liza predicted.
By ten o’clock, the storm of political activity died down. Nominating petitions for both Ray Massini and Bert Clements stood ready for reproduction, Mrs. H. had given the marching orders for the next morning, and she and her troops had hit the hay in preparation for a strenuous day of campaigning.
Michael asked Liza if he could turn on the television. “There’s a mystery series my agent wants me to keep an eye on—I’m not sure whether he’s hoping to get me a scripting gig or a novelization.”
Liza didn’t pay much attention. The plot had holes, the dialogue was pretty silly, and anyway, she was deep in sudoku-land.
After checking out her latest effort, she made a clean copy.
By the time she’d finished, the late news had come on. This was a Portland station, but they had picked up footage of Oscar Smutz being ribbeted into silence on the campaign trail. They also had Orem Whelan talking about the new tack by the elections commission, and then for good measure threw in Cy Langdon and his complaints about outsiders.
“Big news day for Killamook,” Michael commented.
“I guess that’s their idea of balanced coverage.” Liza slumped on the sofa, frowning at the screen.
Michael put an arm around her shoulders. “However this goes, Liza, we’re in it together.”
“You don’t think this is going to turn out well?” she asked in a small voice.
“I don’t know,” Michael admitted. “We’ve got two high-powered criminal and investigative types next door, and the best thing they’ve been able to come up with is a petition drive. We’re short on information, and given the political climate around here, we don’t seem likely to get any.”
“ ‘A riddle wrapped in an enigma,’ ” Liza quoted. “Who said that?”
“Churchill, about the Soviets.” Michael gave her a rueful smile. “But they don’t seem to hold a candle to your Killamook machine. This doesn’t seem to be just about personal secrets like your other cases. You’ve got a whole bunch of people with a vested interest in not letting information get out. And without that—”
“Without that, some good people are going to get hurt.” Liza ignored the sportscaster’s chatty comments, looking up at Michael.
“Sometimes that’s life,” he told her. “Bad things happen to good people.”
They sat in silence for a while as the news ended and this network’s late-night show came on. This was the big competitor to the show they’d caught last night.
Liza just about zoned out through the monologue until she heard, “Well, things are heating up in the election campaign up in Killamook County, Oregon.”
The host paused to give the audience his patented inane smile.
“How’s that?” his sidekick inquired from off-camera.
“I suppose you’ve seen in the news how one candidate ended up looking like a bullfrog,” the host went on.
“Ohmigod,” Liza muttered. “That went national?”
“It seems this has stirred up a storm of protest—from PETA. They feel it’s not ethical to involve another animal in the political process.”
“Yeah,” the sidekick cracked, “they should stick with elephants and jackasses.”
What I want to know is what animals the head writers on these shows were cavorting with—and how Michelle got hold of pictures,
Liza thought.
Liza thought.
Michael was apparently thinking the same thought. “That woman is scary.”
“Anyway, that’s the news from Killamook County. Killamook,” the host repeated the name as if he were tasting each syllable.
Of course, the audience roared.
13
When Liza came downstairs the next morning, she found that Michael had vacated the couch—in fact, he’d vacated the house. Instead of the husband and bedding she’d expected, Rusty lay in the middle of the couch.
He arched his back and stretched his jaws in a big yawn when he saw her.
“Sure,” she said to the dog, “spread your dander right where Michael will put his head.”
She evicted Rusty from his place, got a leash on him, and took him for a walk.
When they returned, she fed the dog. Then, leaving Rusty in the kitchen, she sat at her computer and input the sudoku stuff she’d done by hand the night before. After all, she had to inflate her column’s cushion. And God only knew what demands Mrs. H. and her newborn campaign might be making on her computer later in the day.
The combination of those thoughts sent Liza to the telephone to call Ava Barnes. Part of it was her publicist background—Mrs. Halvorsen deserved to get some ink for her efforts, and Ava was sure to consider it an interesting story.
But Liza had another reason. “So how is Murph coming along with the banks?” she asked as soon as she finished discussing the nominating petition campaign conducted by the little old ladies.
“So far, all Murph has gotten had been a general round of ‘No comments,’ ” Ava replied. “For some perverse reason, that encourages him. He’s convinced that they wouldn’t be stonewalling him unless there was a big story behind it.”
“How does he figure that?”
Ava smiled. “If they had nothing to hide, somebody would have talked to him. In addition, a few of those somebodies got nervous when he started asking questions.”
“Well, I hope he gets a Pulitzer, so long as he finds out what’s going on,” Liza said.
“Bite your tongue,” Ava reproved her. “If Murph got a Pulitzer, he’d be working in Portland—or even worse, New York.”
“Have it your way,” Liza told her. “By the by, I also asked Buck Foreman and Alvin Hunzinger to work some of their contacts.”
“I expect you to share if you hear anything interesting,” Ava said. “Remember, you’re part of this newspaper, too.”
“You’ll get the exclusive,” Liza promised.
“Good,” Ava replied. “I expect we’re going to need it.”
An excited voice in the background interrupted their conversation.
“Gotta go,” Ava growled. “Another fire to put out.” She hesitated a second before hanging up. “When you get a chance, I’d like to hear what you think of today’s rag.”
With that, she cut the connection.
Liza replaced her phone’s receiver just as Michael appeared, knocking at the kitchen door.
“I volunteered your car to ferry some of Mrs. H.’s minions,” he explained when Liza opened the door. “Whatever she told them, she sure as hell got a lot of people pretty fired up. One of the ladies in my car has a husband who does some Party work—mainly canvassing neighborhoods with nominating petitions.”
“And?” Liza asked.
“Well, hubby’s not going forth for the boys from Killamook this time around—unless he wants to do without cooked meals.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Not to mention other considerations.”
Liza made a face. “Ewwwww.”
Michael got more serious. “I have to say, I was impressed by those old folks going out there to do battle for what they considered the right thing.” He gave her a rueful look. “Maybe you and I have gotten a little jaded, living down in La-La Land.”
She cocked her had and grinned at him. “Maybe we have.”
He held out a paper sack. “Anyhow, since I was downtown, I stopped off at the bakery and picked up some fresh sweet rolls. Got the newspaper, too.”
Liza reached for the
Oregon Daily
. “Ava told me there was something to see in there.”
Oregon Daily
. “Ava told me there was something to see in there.”
Opening the newspaper on the kitchen table, Liza began paging through. She found what she was looking for in the center spread. Instead of the several editorials the paper usually ran, one long piece stretched the length of the column.
The headline told it all: ARE INSIDERS BETTER?
Killamook District Attorney Cyrus Langdon has recently taken several opportunities to express his concern over the satirical portrayal of a local electoral candidate on national television. As he put it, “Outsiders shouldn’t decide our elections.”
The
Oregon Daily
agrees. In our opinion, however, neither should political insiders.
Oregon Daily
agrees. In our opinion, however, neither should political insiders.
The piece went on to chronicle all the members of the Killamook machine who had gotten caught with their hands in the cookie jar over the past twenty years. The charges ranged from bid rigging, to sweetheart deals, to out-and-out solicitation of bribes and extortion.
These are just the small fry,
the editorial ended,
the occasional fi sh netted out of many, many more in the sea—or in this case, in a corrupt political ring that has operated for a generation in Killamook. If we want an election to mean anything in this county, we have to go after the big fi sh and make sure they become true insiders—preferably in the state penal system.
the editorial ended,
the occasional fi sh netted out of many, many more in the sea—or in this case, in a corrupt political ring that has operated for a generation in Killamook. If we want an election to mean anything in this county, we have to go after the big fi sh and make sure they become true insiders—preferably in the state penal system.
Liza shook her head and let her breath out in an audible “Whew!” Then she glanced up at Michael, who stood reading over her shoulder.
“Well,” she said, “I guess that tears it. We’re officially at war.”
Rising from the kitchen chair where she’d sat down, Liza went into living room and to her computer. She inserted a CD and started copying files onto it.
Michael trailed after her. “What are you doing?”
“I was going to e-mail some files over to Ava.” Liza hit a button, ejected the disc, and put it in a case. “But I think I’ll deliver them by hand instead.”
The satellite office of the
Oregon Daily
always had a sort of space-age tinge, as if she’d need a ticket on the space shuttle to commute to work. Reality, unfortunately, was definitely a lot more earthbound, even drab. The newspaper had office space on the second floor of a strip mall on the edge of Maiden’s Bay.
Oregon Daily
always had a sort of space-age tinge, as if she’d need a ticket on the space shuttle to commute to work. Reality, unfortunately, was definitely a lot more earthbound, even drab. The newspaper had office space on the second floor of a strip mall on the edge of Maiden’s Bay.
If the boys in Killamook had their way, this offi ce would probably be outside the county altogether,
Liza thought with an ironic smile as she pulled into the sparsely filled parking lot.
Liza thought with an ironic smile as she pulled into the sparsely filled parking lot.
The office was only a short drive from Liza’s house but a bit of a trudge up a fairly steep set of outdoor stairs to the unmarked metal door above. Liza needed a sharp tug to get the door open, and then she stepped into the reception area—not that you could hold much of a reception in a space barely large enough for a couple of plastic chairs.
The newspaper’s logo had recently been added to the wall over the Plexiglas window where Janey Brezinski seemed more harried than usual as she fielded incoming calls.
“Hey, Liza,” Janey said, putting a hand over the pickup on her earpiece. “Just a sec.”
Liza had already noticed that the inner entrance door, which usually stood propped open, was closed. Janey had to buzz her in.
Looks as if security is on high alert.
She had to hide a smile as she walked down the hallway. What were they expecting? A commando attack from Oscar Smutz with an AK-47?
She had to hide a smile as she walked down the hallway. What were they expecting? A commando attack from Oscar Smutz with an AK-47?
The bull-pen area where the local reporters worked up their stories had several empty desks. No Murph. Liza had hoped to buttonhole him and get a little more on how his story was going. If he told her which of the bankers had been nervous, maybe she could sic Buck and Alvin’s friends on them.
Continuing on, she came to the plate glass walls of Ava’s office. Ava forestalled Liza’s knock on the doorframe with an upheld finger while she spoke on the phone.
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