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about the city’s new clerk when Bill Peck ambled in and threw
himself down in the chair behind his desk.
     
    “God, I’m tired,” he
groaned. “A delegation of home owners came to the commission meeting to protest
a proposed zoning ordinance. It was the hottest meeting I’ve covered in
months.”
     
    “Did the ordinance
pass?” Carla asked absently as she studied her notes.
     
    “No way. Mass protest
does have its advantages,” he laughed. “How’re you coming on your great
exposé?”
     
    She hated the mocking
note in his voice and gave him a freezing stare. “I don’t make fun of your
stories,” she said accusingly.
     
    He sighed. “Okay, I
won’t make fun of it. But you’re going to have hell pinning anything on the
city hall crowd.”
     
    “You know!” she burst
out.
     
    “I know what you got
the tip on, that’s all,” he replied. “Your mysterious caller got to me last
night. But don’t make the mistake of taking that kind of tip for gospel. Fired
employees tell tales, and I just happened to recognize that one’s voice. He’s
Daniel Brown, a police sergeant who was fired recently for taking payoffs.”
     
    “Allegedly taking
payoffs,” she corrected. “I think he’s innocent.”
     
    “God, what a babe in
the woods you are,” he scoffed. “Little girl, don’t trust people too far. The
city’s just full of wolves waiting to pounce on little lambs. I wouldn’t put
much credibility in Brown’s story, either, if I were you.”
     
    She didn’t mention that
she’d already taken her information to the paper’s editor and chief counsel and
that she had approval from the top to check out that tip. Bill had been a
tremendous help to her, boosting her low confidence, building her insight,
teaching and encouraging. But he tended to be just the least bit lax in his
efforts, and Carla was full of vim and enthusiasm for her job. So she only
smiled and agreed with him.
     
    “I hear you had
breakfast with the mayor,” he said.
     
    “Gosh, news travels
fast!” she gasped. “Did you hear that I pushed him under the table and raped
him?”
     
    “No, did you?”
     
    She sighed.
“Unfortunately the tables are extremely small. But it was a very informative
breakfast. For instance,” she said, leaning on her typewriter to peer at him
solemnly, “did you know that slums account for over fifty percent of city
services while they only pay about five to six percent of real-estate taxes?”
     
    He sighed, slumping
down in his chair. “Oh, no, not again,” he groaned. “I’ve heard Moreland’s slum
removal song until I can sing all twenty choruses!”
     
    “Now, Bill…”
     
    “I don’t want to hear
it,” he pleaded.
     
    “But, it’s so
fascinating,” she said, and went over to sit on his desk. “Now just let me lay
some statistics on you. For example…” and she spent the next fifteen minutes
describing the downtown revitalization project, only stopping when the city
editor stuck his head around the door and reminded her that the deadline was
twenty minutes away.
     
     
     
    Moreland picked her up
at six-thirty for their dinner date, immaculate in his dark evening clothes and
a white ruffled shirt that, on him, looked anything but effeminate. He looked
sensuous and more than a little dangerous.
     
    Carla smoothed her
burgundy velvet dress down over her hips as he closed the door behind him. “I…I
hope I’m not underdressed,” she murmured.
     
    “You’re fine,” he said,
and his bold eyes added extra approval to the comment.
     
    “I’ll get my shawl,”
she said, turning to retrieve the lacy black creation from her big armchair.
     
    With apparent interest,
Moreland was studying a fantasy landscape done by a friend of hers. He turned,
eyeing the tastefully decorated apartment with its floral furniture and dark
brown carpet. “Earth colors,” he murmured.
     
    She smiled. “I like the
outdoors.”
     
    “So do I. I have a farm
out in the metro area,”