Chapter 5
We?
J.J. widened his eyes in disbelief and looked sideways at Garland, the proud patriarch. It would take a superhuman amount of self-restraint to not bust out guffawing at this point.
We knew next to nothing. We might be a Newberry, but we had never worked a day at the Bugle and wouldn’t know a news story if it bit a big hefty chunk out of our nicely shaped ass. We just rolled into town in a scrap heap of a car and ridiculously impractical shoes and plopped our tight skirt into the publisher’s chair without so much as a howdy-do.
J.J. took a deep breath as he sat down, reminding himself that there was a reason she was here, and he now had a role to play. At least he hadn’t blown everything by kissing her.
J.J. managed a patient smile. “First off, we know it’s Barbara Jean Smoot’s car. There’s a match with the plates and the vehicle make and model. Turner said there are remains inside, but they are in such disintegrated condition that any forensic investigation will take longer than usual.”
Cheri drummed her fingers on the tabletop, frowning. “That’s just a technicality. Really, who else could it be?” She looked around the table. “Is anyone else missing in this town? Why can’t we just put her picture on the front page and say the Lady of the Lake’s car has been found and the body inside is hers and that she was obviously murdered?”
A sharp pain sliced into J.J.’s right temple. “Because that’s not good journalism.”
“Fine. I understand your point. I’m not an idiot,” Cheri said. “What I’m suggesting is that we find a way to spice up the ‘good journalism’ so we can take advantage of this story and sell some papers.”
Cheri waited for someone in the room to agree with her, but no one did. “Isn’t that what we’re trying to do here? Isn’t it about time the Bugle got its sexy back?”
Mimi Grayson, J.J.’s only general assignment reporter, snorted in disbelief, then covered it up with a fake sneezing attack. Jim Taggert, the Bugle’s seasoned city editor, stared blankly ahead, the gray stubble on his upper lip glistening with sweat.
J.J. turned slowly to Garland for some guidance. The old man gave him a helpless shrug and a wink.
Oh, shit. What had they done?
“Madam publisher,” J.J. began, wondering how the hell he could give Cheri a refresher course in journalism without making it sound belittling. “You are well aware, growing up as a Newberry and all, that the primary responsibility of a newspaper is to report the news as accurately and fairly as possible while making our home-delivery edition deadline, which is midnight, about eight hours from now.”
“I know that.”
“Then, of course, you know that the Bugle can’t publish something without the facts to back it up.”
I’m starting to sound like Turner, he realized with a shudder.
“I’m not asking you to,” Cheri said, her voice growing snippy. “I’m asking you to make the most of the facts we do have.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s Barbara Jean Smoot’s car, right? So that’s fact number one.” Cheri said this with authority.
“Okay,” J.J. allowed.
“Is Barbara Jean Smoot still officially missing?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Is Barbara Jean Smoot the woman behind the ‘Lady of the Lake’ legend?
“Well, if you believe that stuff, yeah.”
“Then that’s fact number two,” Cheri continued. “And from that flows some logical possibilities that we can use to attract readers. The body in Miss Smoot’s car is probably Miss Smoot, so we’ll just get the sheriff to say that. And she was probably the victim of foul play, because how else does a woman end up at the bottom of a lake, trapped in her car, forced to haunt the site of her hideous murder until justice is done?”
J.J. bit down on his bottom lip so it wouldn’t land on the floor with a thud.
Taggert cleared his throat. “She coulda gotten lost and driven into the water.”
“Maybe she was under the influence and thought the dock was a road,” Mimi suggested.
Cheri frowned. “Who wants to read that? We need something juicier, something that will make people gasp and gossip to their neighbor and not be able to fall asleep at night!” She gestured toward her grandfather, her golden eyes shining with excitement. “Am I right, or what?”
J.J. squinted at Cheri, deciding that her enthusiasm greatly outweighed her grasp of reality. This imbalance might allow her to pass for the redheaded love child of Sarah Palin and Glenn Beck, but it had no place at a principled little Southern news outlet like the Bugle.
Someone knocked on the conference room door, putting an end to Cheri’s fevered sales pitch. Whoever it was, J.J. wanted to hug and kiss them for their timing.
“Am I interrupting?” The perpetually pickled Purnell Lawson headed toward Cheri before anyone could answer, his arms outstretched and his smile wide. The finance and advertising director’s belly pushed against his shirt buttons with such force that J.J. feared his red suspenders would snap off, poking somebody’s eye out.
“The prodigal daughter has returned! Give ole Uncle Purnell a hug!”
J.J. watched Cheri stand politely and tap the old guy on the back as he embraced her.
“How are you, Purnell?” Cheri asked.
“Busier than a cat covering crap on a marble floor!” Purnell kissed her cheek. “How’s my sweet Cheri?”
Garland looked embarrassed and cleared his throat. “There’ll be plenty of time for a nice visit over at the house, Purnell,” he said. “Right now we’re in the middle of an editorial meeting.”
“Getting her feet wet already?” Purnell laughed loudly, sending a breeze of Beefeater through the enclosed room. “Something big, I hope. We need a spike in street sales to stimulate advertising. What y’all got?” Purnell looked to Garland with his reddened eyes wide.
“Well, seems Barbara Jean Smoot’s car was just pulled out from Paw Paw Lake.”
Purnell sucked in air like he wanted his Beefeater fumes back. The old man’s bloated face paled and his body stilled.
“You don’t say?” Purnell asked, still smiling.
“Wim Wimbley drained the lake so he could start construction and they found the car this morning,” Mimi said. “They got a winch and a crane out there right away.”
Purnell nodded. “Well now, that is a good story.” He chuckled. “I’ll leave y’all to your business.”
Suddenly, he was gone.