A few hours later Lou looked at his notes. His story didn’t add up to a pile of beans, and there wasn’t much in the way of new information. He rummaged through a pile of business cards. It would be a desperate call.
Chapter 40
An hour later Lou sat down at a table in a coffee shop on the other side of town.
“Thanks for meeting with me,” he said to Chrissy.
“No problem. What’s on your mind?”
Lou’s call caught Chrissy off guard. She was trying to regain her composure from just being fired, a secret she hoped to keep as long as possible.
Lou guessed she’d gotten the ax. One week she was headlined on the front page, and the next she’d sold a story to a big city tabloid. If she hadn’t quit, for sure she’d been fired.
Alternately, Chrissy thought Lou might be out of a job, something Bob assured her would happen when she told him about his nocturnal jaunt with Diana. Maybe Lou wanted her contact at the Metro Record.
“A few things,” he said cautiously. “First, congrats on breaking the ‘radiated lakes’ story. I like the spin. It took a lot of guts, especially since it can’t be verified.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you questioning the validity of my story? A story right under your nose you didn’t even know about?”
For a pretty girl, she looked downright ugly.
“Let’s not get off on the wrong foot here,” he said. “Yeah, I’m miffed. Worse, my job is on the line because of your story. Either everyone at ALLPower is lying to me, or they lied to you. I’m hoping it’s the latter.”
“They are backpedaling Lou, can’t you see that? They are trying to discount my story and want you to help them do it.”
“Did they show you anything? A map? Blueprints? Scientific records?”
She felt a sheer sense of power—she knew something about the power plant the great Lou Padera didn’t. Suddenly she got cocky.
“So how’s Diana?”
He froze.
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, come on. You love birds visit the most interesting places, especially one in Pennsylvania. The Bearded Iris, is it?”
So she was the one who was following him.
“The real question is why the hell are you following people around in the middle of the night? Is that your take on investigative reporting?” He fought to keep a lid on his anger.
“I was curious. And motivated. Not that I need the payback now.”
“Payback? Someone put you up to this for some kind of reward?”
“Maybe. But it doesn’t really matter now. I got what I wanted. A byline in the big leagues.”
You smug little bitch. “Well, if your deal was with that turd Bob Stalinsky, you’ll be happy to know he’s already squealed to my boss. I can just see him groveling at your feet, handing you a line as if you were the new high priestess of journalism, promising you anything and everything. Bet those promises are gone, now that you turned on him with your lake story. Just what were you expecting for your choice piece of gossip, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Your job.”
She sipped her coffee, eyes on him.
“Jesus. You’re way too young to be so cutthroat. I gotta tell you—your writing has come a long way, but Sweetie Pie, there’s a lot of room for improvement. A lot more.”
“Gee, you really think so? I’m writing for a big city tabloid now.”
“Yeah, a tabloid that’s known as a picture paper with copy geared for ten-year-olds. Just how much was rewritten by the editors? I’d love to see your original submission.”
Her words started before she could think.
“Don’t fuck with me. You’re just another puffed-up news guy, overconfident and oversexed. You may have years of experience over me, but that doesn’t mean you know it all. I may be young, but I’m not stupid.”
Lou leaned across the table, inches away from her face.
“There’s no reason for you to be so bitchy. Burning your bridges is ill advised in this business, but I suppose you’ll learn that eventually. As for me and Diana? No one really gives a shit.”
“I don’t have to listen to this.” She started to reach for her bag, but he grabbed her arm.
“And one other thing. The best journalists have a strong sense of ethics. It separates the men from the boys, or in your case, the professionals from the sleazebags. Don’t be surprised if it gets harder to look yourself in the mirror.”
She yanked her arm away as he slapped a five-dollar bill on the table and stood up.
“Keep the change. You’re going to need it,” he said and left.
Chapter 41
Lou sat at his computer and re-read his story. It was dismal. He had run out of time. The encroaching deadline made Owen frantic. He barked into the phone while editing Aunt May’s yolk-less deviled egg recipe.
Lou slouched over to Owen’s door and was waved in.
“Where’s your story?”
“I need more time on this ALLPower lake story, Owen. I’m just not getting anything from anyone.”
“Everyone upchucking denials?”
“Pretty much. They’re saying Dolan’s story is bogus, that they’re not lakes, just layers of bedrock surrounded by water.”
“So why can’t we print that?”
“I can’t verify it with geologists or the NRC. It’s a weak story, Owen. Give me more time.”
“You gotta be kidding. You’ve had the whole day! Can’t you build on Dolan’s information? You’re the venerable journalist here, right?”
“Right. But I’m coming up with stuff I can’t substantiate. I even checked in with Dolan to see what she knew.”
“You what?”
Uh-oh. Lou knew it was a cardinal rule not to connect with reporters working for other papers considered the competition. But his story was so flimsy that meeting with Chrissy seemed like the only way to save the story. Owen didn’t need to know that it turned out to be a disaster.
“Yeah, well, she wasn’t too helpful.”
“You must’ve made her day, Lou. You—of all people—caving to desperation. You—Mr. Experienced Reporter, and she, a rookie. How embarrassing. You’re unbelievable. Get out of here.”
“What about the story, Owen?”
“Give me what you’ve got. I don’t care how you spin it, just get it to me.”
Lou returned to his desk and tried again to reach Bob.
“Let me guess,” the PR man gloated. “You want to report on the underground plumes, right? Well no one here is going to give you a quote. Sorry.”
“I already spoke to Lipsey. He gave me plenty and never said it was off the record.”
“Guess again. Everything he told you is positively off the record. It all has to be rubber-stamped by me. You print what he said, and it could be the last thing you write. Ever.”
Lou cringed. What a complete scumbag.
“Wait,” said Bob, remembering his mother’s disdain the last time Bob had “no comment.”
“I’ll give you a quote, Lou. ‘There are no lakes.’ That’s your story. That’s all we’re saying—on the record.”
“Lipsey stays in. You can’t control what I write, that’s also on the record,” Lou seethed.
“You’re right. But my quote is all you have, and if I were you, I’d take it. Seems to me you have very little choice.”
“What?”
“We’re in pretty good with your publisher. We’ve taken out enough advertising to bankroll your paper for a year. Not to mention that little item about you and your girlfriend. That should zero out your credibility if certain folks find out.”