Page 72 of Caper Crush
Penelope gives us paper-plate awards that announce that we are the winners of theSpring Wet Capture the Flag Games.Winking at me, she makes the three of us gather together for a picture.
Tessa says, “Let me grab my camera.”
Penelope says, “Okay. I’ll take a picture of the two of you in the meantime.”
William puts his arm around me, and I put my arm around him. He squeezes my waist.
“We make a good team.” He glances at me.
“Yes,” I say.
William insists on driving us to our apartment door rather than letting us take the subway up from Tribeca. As he slows down in front of our brownstone, I spot a lone figure.
“Shit,” I say. “It’s thatSquirreljournalist.”
“Are you sure?” Tessa asks. “He hasn’t been around in ages.”
“He’s still wearing that fricking fedora hat. He seems to think it gives him the air of a real journalist. And he’s right in front of our door.”
“Do you want me to go first and tell him you’re away for the week?” Tessa asks.
“No,” I say. “It never helps to lie. Then they find out the truth, and they think you’re covering up something. Maybe I should go stay with a friend.”
“Why should you hide?” William asks. “Just tell him you’re not answering questions if you don’t want to answer questions. But it might be interesting to hear why he’s here.”
“It’s probably just a slow news day,” I say.
“This reporter is kind of obsessed with Miranda,” Tessa says.
“His big break was the Weeping Willow story,” I say.
“I’ll find a parking space and come with you.” William pays for a parking spot on Columbus Avenue, and we exit the car.
We walk around the corner, and I can tell the minute Fedora Hat spots me. I feel clammy and cold. Memories of when the article headlinedWeeping Willowbroke and all the camera flashes blinding me when I left my friend’s house that evening make my mouth go dry.
As we near, he yells out, “Miranda, I got a tip-off that you stole your own painting. What do you say to that?”
What?I freeze. William places his hand in the small of my back as if in support of me.Channel mom.
“No comment,” Tessa says.
“You should be talking to the police then, not me,” I say with a smile. And we walk by him and enter our building.
When we get up the stairs and into our apartment, William turns to me. “You thought Edmund gave him the material for that first article. And you just told Edmund you had a new show. This could be Edmund’s countermove.”
I say, “He knows how much I hate publicity.”
“Let’s call Officer Johnson and see what he says,” William says.
“No. We need to call John’s press secretary. She’ll find out Fedora’s source. He’s never going to reveal his source to the police, but she’s figured out his sources before.”
“How?” William asks.
“He hangs out with some of the other press guys at a bar near City Hall. And he likes to show off when he’s drunk.”
I call John’s press secretary and tell her what Fedora said. She says she’s on it.
“You handled Fedora well,” Tessa says. “The best you’ve ever dealt with him.”
