Read Social Death: A Clyde Shaw Mystery for Free Online Page B

I’ve heard of her.” He scratched the back of his neck, giving me another glimpse of green scales decorating his forearm. “But my boss says if I go on camera again, he’ll can my ass.”
    “He can’t do that. The union won’t allow it.”
    “Sorry, but that’s not how it works. If the people who live in that building want me gone, they’ll find another reason. They can write me up for anything.”
    “As long as you didn’t sign a confidentiality agreement, they can’t fire you for talking to the media.”
    He shook his head. “It’s not worth it.”
    It’s not worth it. Something about his choice of words rubbed me the wrong way. “Olivia’s dead, Andrew. She may be just another spoiled rich chick to you, but she had family who loved her and friends who will miss her.” I put my hand out to shake his. “Thanks for the interview.”
    “Wait a second. I didn’t mean any disrespect. You know that.”
    “Sure I do,” I said dryly. “My friend’s dead and you’re worried about your job.”
    He looked appropriately chastened. “Let me take you to dinner.”
    I coughed. I hadn’t seen that coming. “I don’t think so.”
    “Can I have your number?”
    “No.”
    “Not for a date.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “In case I find out something about what happened, how am I going to get in touch?”
    I was being baited, but there was a chance Andrew would have access to information I could use, and I couldn’t afford to dismiss him out of hand. I fished out my business card and handed it to him. “If it’s urgent, you can reach me on my cell. I’m hardly ever at my desk.”
    I was on my way back to the Haverford when I remembered to turn my phone off of vibrate. I’d missed five calls, all from Jen. She picked up on the first ring. “Where are you?” Her voice was panicked.
    “Not far. I was talking to the doorman.”
    “You better get back here.”
    “ Hoestick scooped us,” Jen announced as soon as I was back at the van.
    While I was talking to the doorman, she’d gotten hold of someone who knew about Olivia’s female visitor. Worse than that, this person knew about the purple fur. The first big scoop should have been mine, and Penny Harlich had stolen it right from under me.
    Alex didn’t share my opinion on the matter. He was in the truck, which now reeked of the greasy sandwiches Aaron must have brought the crew for lunch. He pointed to Harlich on one of the monitors. “She’s pretty so you assume she’s not smart, but she is smart, and not only that, she’s ambitious. You underestimate her, and that’s why she’s a threat to us.”
    “She got lucky.” I grumbled.
    Alex snorted. “She’s gonna hand us our asses if we don’t up our game.”
    “Agreed. But I’m not the only one on this team. Penny’s on-air talent and she lands scoops. Where are yours?”
    “Working on it,” he muttered.
    “And so am I.” I stepped out of the van and made a beeline for the building. Penny Harlich had a source on the PD. There was no other way to explain it. No one else could have possibly known about the visitor except for a police officer. She had a leak, now it was time for me to find mine. I started to dial his number on my phone, but then I saw him. Standing ten feet from the awning—practically right in front of me—was Detective Neal Pandowski, aka Panda.
    Panda and I had met five years earlier. I was covering the rape and murder of a New York University co-ed and Panda was one of the detectives assigned the case. The victim, a beautiful Indian girl, had gone missing several days before her body turned up stuffed under a mattress in a vacant room in her dorm. Because the police and university hadn’t shut off access to the building as soon as they’d discovered Anjali was missing, some had argued that vital crime-scene evidence had potentially been tampered with or lost. Panda was singled out for making the call not to close the building, but I convinced Georgia to