But the truth was, she deserved everything she’d gotten—and more.
He took another sip of beer while Crip and Suds continued the conversation.
And maybe she’d get it.
Maybe there’d be an Act II to today’s performance.
It was certainly worth thinking about.
How ironic that she’d been the one sent to cover the Eve Reilly drama for tomorrow’s paper.
Carolyn Matthews stepped out of her shoes and picked up the TV remote. Late as she’d worked on her article, there wasn’t much chance she’d catch any of the TV coverage—but with a breaking story like this, there could be an update at the end of the late-night news.
She tuned out the sports and wandered into the kitchen. A glass of wine would be an excellent end to the evening. Her story was finished and turned in—and Eve Reilly had to be running scared.
Carolyn smiled and pulled a bottle of chardonnay out of the refrigerator. Uncorked it and poured a generous glass. Took a sip.
Perfect.
The announcer’s voice drifted into the kitchen from the living room, and she tuned in as he returned to the lead story.
“At this hour, the police say they don’t yet have any suspects in custody for the fake bomb that was planted on radio personality Eve Reilly’s porch late this afternoon. They’re continuing to work the case, and they’ve asked anyone who may have information about the perpetrator to call the tip line.” He gave the number as it flashed on the screen.
So there was nothing new. No leads.
Nor would there be, if fate was kind.
Carolyn took another slow sip of wine, letting the taste linger on her tongue as she shut off the TV.
Whether the incident would spook Eve enough to make her rethink the risk of hosting a controversial radio show remained to be seen.
But she had to be scared. You’d be stupid not to be.
And Eve Reilly wasn’t stupid.
Carolyn’s lips curved up.
Whatever the outcome of today’s little caper, she and Doug would have much to talk about at their lunch on Monday.
Al
Fri., Aug. 24, 10:50 p.m.
Have u seen the news?
Dan
Fri., Aug. 24, 10:56 p.m.
Yes. I was going 2 contact u. The window is open.
Al
Fri., Aug. 24, 10:56 p.m.
Agreed.
Dan
Fri., Aug. 24, 10:57 p.m.
This will take careful coordination. Are u in?
Al
Fri., Aug. 24, 10:57 p.m.
Yes.
Dan
Fri., Aug. 24, 10:58 p.m.
I’ll be back n touch with further direction. Stand by.
4
THAT’S A WRAP, EVE. Great show.”
As Ryan’s voice came over her headset, Eve gave the technician behind the large window that separated the studio from the sound booth a thumbs-up. “Thanks. I’ll be out of here in thirty seconds.”
“No hurry. Joe went to get a cup of coffee, and the eight o’clock news break is just starting to roll.”
“I’m ready to call it a morning anyway.” She removed the headset, slipped her notes and background material into a tote bag, and stretched her back before exiting the studio.
Doug was waiting for her in the hall. “Busy morning. Ryan said the phones were ringing off the hook.”
“Did you catch the whole program?”
“Yeah. I think it was smart to tackle the bomb threat up front and open the show to discussion.”
“No sense ignoring the elephant in the room. What did you think of the comments?”
“Your supporters were out in force—a bunch of them pretty worked up.”
“I know. What surprised me more were the calls from a few of my regular critics offering their support. I know the police think one of them could have left the bomb, but I’m sticking with my conviction that they’re more words than action.”
“Speaking of the police, I spoke with your detective twice over the weekend. They already have a court order for a phone trap on your call line, and Ryan tagged the regular callers for him this morning. He also wants to come by as soon as Meg can pull together a file of negative correspondence.”
As if on cue, the door at the end of the corridor opened and the station’s newest administrative assistant hurried down the hall.
Eve lifted a hand in greeting as she approached. “Were your ears burning?”
“You were talking about me?” She joined them.
“All positive comments.”
“I have to deal with several urgent emails.” Doug took a swig of coffee. “Meg, let’s talk once you’re settled in for the day.”
“Sure. I’ll be there in five.”
As the program director continued down the hall toward his office, Meg touched her arm. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
“Any news from the police on possible suspects?”
“No. I haven’t talked to the detective since Friday night. I’m assuming there’s nothing to report. But he’s planning to come in and review the negative correspondence I’ve gotten recently. Doug’s going to ask you to pull the latest nastygrams.”
“I’ll give it top priority. You heading out now?”
“Yes.” She waved at Joe as he passed on his way to the studio for his two-hour show to finish out the drive-time programming. “I have a blog post to write and a talk to prepare for an upcoming event. I also want to get in a spinning class today.”
Meg sighed. “I admire your dedication to exercise. I wish I could fit in workouts too. I think I put on three pounds at Bob Evans on Saturday.”
“I thought you were dieting.”
“I’m trying.” Meg fiddled with the strap of her shoulder purse and shifted her weight. “But Steve was in the mood for a splurge, and he doesn’t like to indulge alone.”
No, he wouldn’t.
She’d only met Meg’s husband on a couple of occasions—including the station’s annual barbecue in July—but he didn’t strike her as the flexible type. More like the kind of guy who would put himself first.
In other words, the polar opposite of the detective who’d spent most of Friday evening in her neighborhood, making her feel like her welfare mattered to him. Could just be part of Brent Lange’s professional persona—but it felt like more than that. Some people were caring by nature.
From her few brief encounters with Meg’s husband, he didn’t seem to be one of them.
“Maybe you can mitigate the splurge this week with diet lunches.”
Meg hefted the small insulated carrier in her hand. “Salads are on the menu every day.”
“That will help—and if you ever want to dip your toes into spinning, I’d be glad to schedule an evening session and introduce you to it. The workout is amazing.”
“I’d like that . . . but I try to keep my evenings free for Steve. Other than Wednesdays, when he bowls and I go to a Bible study class.”
“Would a Saturday morning work?”
Meg chewed on her lip. “We like to stick close together on the weekends.” She summoned up a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We’re still kind of newlyweds.”
“Doesn’t he have any other outside activities besides bowling?”