Read Online Murder Most Persuasive by Tracy Kiely - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tracy Kiely
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story to Sam. Since then we’ve taken turns trying to sneak celebrity photos onto the walls—complete with inscriptions—to see if anyone notices. Last month, I hung a head shot of Steve Carell with the inscription, “Thanks for the inspiration!” Before that, Sam hung a picture of Renée Zellweger that read, “You complete me.” So far no one has noticed either one.
Sitting at the head of the table, Dickey clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “All right, everyone! Let’s get started!” My immediate boss, Sharon, sat to his right. While Sharon isn’t my favorite person, I did feel for her. Whenever Dickey descended on our office, her whole day went out the window. She sat quietly, her long face immobile and her gray-green eyes appearing resigned to her fate. Turning to her, Dickey said, “You’re going to want to write this down.” Sharon dutifully nodded at the blank tablet in front of her and held up her pen as evidence of her readiness. “Oh, right,” said Dickey. “Well, everyone should write this down.”
Around me everyone pulled out pads and pens in lackluster anticipation of Dickey’s pronouncement. When he saw that we were all ready and waiting, he leaned forward, cleared his throat, and said, “Significant Human Beings.” Then he sat back.
Nobody wrote anything down. Nobody spoke, either. Really, what could any of us say? Sharon was the first to venture a response. “Um, well, you certainly have our attention Di … er, Richard. How do you see us going forward with this exactly?”
Dickey beamed at her. Spreading his hands, palms outward, and eyeing us with almost maniacal pride he said, “Our new feature! Every week we’ll run a story on some person, a Significant Human Being. You know, someone from the community who is making a difference. We’ll run a picture of him or her—with me, of course—and then tell the story. I was thinking we could call it Significant Humans in Town.” He punctuated each word by high-fiving the air in front of him.
“But wait, there’s more,” he added, like one of those TV commercials for a gadget that promises to change your life (but doesn’t). “I have a brilliant idea for our first article. He was a great man who, sadly, recently passed, and who has a special connection to our little staff here.” A nasty feeling of apprehension slid down my spine. Glancing at Dickey, I saw that he was beaming in my direction.
“It is my pleasure to announce that our first Significant Human in Town will be none other than the late Martin Reynolds, who as you all probably realize was the great-uncle of our very own Elizabeth Parker.”
All heads swiveled my way. Shit, I thought with appropriate vulgarity, Uncle Marty was to be, as it later became known, our first SHIT.
By the time Dickey adjourned the meeting, my legs were numb, my deadlines were looming, and I was being pestered by the rest of the office for details on my dearly departed uncle. I spent the rest of the day hunched over my desk frantically trying to get everything done and deferring personal questions. When I’d finally finished, my neck ached, my shoulders were sore, and my fingers were cramped from holding my red editing pen.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. I was in a lousy mood and was finding it hard to cheer myself up. My apartment was still infested with mold. I was living with my bossy pregnant sister. I hated my job. My boyfriend was constantly traveling. Oh, and let’s not forget—my extended family was wrapped up in (another) murder investigation. Given all that, Sam’s invitation to get a drink and “shoot the shit” seemed a perfect idea. Glancing at my watch, I saw that I had enough time for a quick drink before I headed back to Ann’s.
We headed for the DC Grill, a little bar/restaurant down the street from the office. It’s not bad and it’s not great; mainly it’s convenient and sometimes that’s all you need for success. Sam and I headed to the crowded
Sitting at the head of the table, Dickey clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “All right, everyone! Let’s get started!” My immediate boss, Sharon, sat to his right. While Sharon isn’t my favorite person, I did feel for her. Whenever Dickey descended on our office, her whole day went out the window. She sat quietly, her long face immobile and her gray-green eyes appearing resigned to her fate. Turning to her, Dickey said, “You’re going to want to write this down.” Sharon dutifully nodded at the blank tablet in front of her and held up her pen as evidence of her readiness. “Oh, right,” said Dickey. “Well, everyone should write this down.”
Around me everyone pulled out pads and pens in lackluster anticipation of Dickey’s pronouncement. When he saw that we were all ready and waiting, he leaned forward, cleared his throat, and said, “Significant Human Beings.” Then he sat back.
Nobody wrote anything down. Nobody spoke, either. Really, what could any of us say? Sharon was the first to venture a response. “Um, well, you certainly have our attention Di … er, Richard. How do you see us going forward with this exactly?”
Dickey beamed at her. Spreading his hands, palms outward, and eyeing us with almost maniacal pride he said, “Our new feature! Every week we’ll run a story on some person, a Significant Human Being. You know, someone from the community who is making a difference. We’ll run a picture of him or her—with me, of course—and then tell the story. I was thinking we could call it Significant Humans in Town.” He punctuated each word by high-fiving the air in front of him.
“But wait, there’s more,” he added, like one of those TV commercials for a gadget that promises to change your life (but doesn’t). “I have a brilliant idea for our first article. He was a great man who, sadly, recently passed, and who has a special connection to our little staff here.” A nasty feeling of apprehension slid down my spine. Glancing at Dickey, I saw that he was beaming in my direction.
“It is my pleasure to announce that our first Significant Human in Town will be none other than the late Martin Reynolds, who as you all probably realize was the great-uncle of our very own Elizabeth Parker.”
All heads swiveled my way. Shit, I thought with appropriate vulgarity, Uncle Marty was to be, as it later became known, our first SHIT.
By the time Dickey adjourned the meeting, my legs were numb, my deadlines were looming, and I was being pestered by the rest of the office for details on my dearly departed uncle. I spent the rest of the day hunched over my desk frantically trying to get everything done and deferring personal questions. When I’d finally finished, my neck ached, my shoulders were sore, and my fingers were cramped from holding my red editing pen.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. I was in a lousy mood and was finding it hard to cheer myself up. My apartment was still infested with mold. I was living with my bossy pregnant sister. I hated my job. My boyfriend was constantly traveling. Oh, and let’s not forget—my extended family was wrapped up in (another) murder investigation. Given all that, Sam’s invitation to get a drink and “shoot the shit” seemed a perfect idea. Glancing at my watch, I saw that I had enough time for a quick drink before I headed back to Ann’s.
We headed for the DC Grill, a little bar/restaurant down the street from the office. It’s not bad and it’s not great; mainly it’s convenient and sometimes that’s all you need for success. Sam and I headed to the crowded
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