Page 61 of Pied Sniper

“Why do you want to help?” I asked, sidestepping to block Flavia’s view into the boardroom where Jonathan now leaned back in the chair, drool stringing from his mouth.

“I heard about your tip line and I have cash to throw into the pot. That will get people talking, right? Everyone wants money. You need a big reward and I have the means to raise it.”

“But why doyouwant to help?” I persisted.

“Tiffany is my best friend. I would do anything to help her. She needs me.Youneed me.”

“Take a seat,” I said, pulling Fletcher’s chair from his desk and parking it next to mine.

“Why is Jonathan asleep over there?” asked Flavia, looking over my shoulder.

“He’s had a long day,” said Solomon, signaling that she should park her butt in the chair I procured.

“He doesn’t even like Tiffany. I’d point to him as the number one suspect only he’s too much of a weak, little flower to successfully pull off a kidnapping.”

“How dare you!” said Grace. “Jonathan’s amazing. He’s great! He’s…”

“No prizes for guessing you’re his new squeeze,” said Flavia, flopping into the chair and dropping her purse on the floor. Incidentally, it narrowly missed my foot. “Tiffany said she thought you two were having an affair.”

“It’s not an affair if you’re both single,” hissed Grace.

“The whole Jonathan storyline was too boring anyway. I told Tiffany that. She needs to be single. I could get her a date with a hot male model just like that! Maybe even two. Polyamory is super hot now.” Flavia snapped her fingers. “That’s the kind of publicity Tiffany needs!”

“It’s a pretty big claim to say that you’re friends when all the evidence suggests otherwise,” I said. “Can you prove it?”

“Sure I can. Look!” Flavia tapped her phone, then handed it to me. “Scroll through the photos,” she said.

I did just that, scrolling through one photo after another of Tiffany and Flavia cozied up. Most of the photos were taken in their apartments but there were scads of them and the dates confirmed they went back a couple of years. “I’ll admit we didn’t start out as friends,” she continued when I returned her phone, “but we just got to talking in an elevator one day about how ridiculous the press were. You see, there was a mix-up with our seats at a fashion show once and the clash just started to blossom on its own. Our managers thought it was pure genius. We did too, kind of. We had fun coming up with the silliest fights. We expected someone to call us out but they never did. We had a big reconciliation planned in a few months’ time. One hundred percent girl power! I’m pitching it as a sitcom to all the networks.”

I looked at Grace, who simply rolled her eyes and shrugged.

“Of course we couldn’t let anyone in on the ruse,” continued Flavia. “It had to be top secret and we couldn’t afford any leaks. We had to control the storyline. Just me, her, and our managers. Oh yeah, and that asshole.” She pointed at Jonathan.

“Is everything you do online scripted?” I wondered.

Flavia lifted and dropped one shoulder, the most nonchalant shrug I’ve ever seen. “Pretty much. We’re content creators. We’re telling a story when we let the viewers into our lives. They have to be hungry for what happens next.”

“Like a kidnapping,” I said.

“Thatwas never in our plan. You know what’s ironic though?” Flavia raised her eyebrows at me, then darted a glance at Grace. “The enemies really are friends, and the friends are actually enemies. Tiffany planned to fire you, you know.”

“I already quit so…whatever,” said Grace.

“She knew about you and Jonathan too.”

“We told her!”

Flavia blinked, apparently stumped into silence.

“That’s enough,” I said, raising my voice. “No more fighting… fake, real or whatever. Regardless of what happened in the past, Tiffany appears to be in a very real, very dangerous situation right now. Can you both put any ill feelings aside and just help us find her? Please?”

Solomon pulled over another chair and gestured to Grace. Grace pouted before she flopped into it. “Fine,” she said.

“Fine,” agreed Flavia. “I don’t dislike you, by the way. Tiffany said you were a good assistant.”

“High praise,” snorted Grace.

“It is. It got hard always sneaking around so you didn’t suspect anything.”

---