Deadly Blessings Read Online Free Page B

was Gabriela’s visage that took up the
screen, commenting and narrating the adventures we investigators
had researched for her, explained to her, and coached her through
pronunciations for. From the viewers’ perspective, she never took a
vacation. We did double duty several weeks a year so that Gabriela
could continue reporting the stories, uninterrupted. Local magazine
and newspaper interviewers often asked what drove her to push
herself. After all, other stations had substitute anchors who were
generally well-received by the public.
    Gabriela’s pat line was that she’d worked so
hard to achieve a bond with her loyal viewers that she would hate
to ever let them down.
    The truth, I believed, was that Gabriela was
afraid of giving up her anchor spot, even for a week. Being in
second place in the ratings meant that the powers-that-be were
always looking for a way to nudge our numbers upward. Gabriela’s
face was synonymous with our station, and I knew she wanted to keep
it that way.
    She’d taken an unusual interest in the
recent replacement of one of the national news anchors who’d done
the unthinkable. Taken maternity leave. It was a tidbit that often
made it into Gabriela’s conversation. Gabriela wasn’t married, but
I knew the fact that another mouthpiece had been so easily replaced
bugged her.
    “ Your story?” I was being
difficult, I know, but I swear I wasn’t in the mood to deal with
her.
    “ Can we …” she made a
wiggly finger gesture toward my office, and scrunched her nose, yet
again.
    I sighed. “Sure. C’mon in.”
    Actually, me positioned behind my
organizationally challenged desk and she across from me, wasn’t a
bad setup at all. Half-turned toward the window, I could appear to
be paying attention and still watch the little boats go by on the
river in my peripheral vision. Leaning back, I watched Gabriela
talk without really hearing her. Until she added, “… which is
another reason why we think you’re the best one for this
story.”
    “ Say that
again?”
    She had the decency to shoot an embarrassed
smile. “Well, it isn’t as though you’re, you know, big into image
or anything. Not that that’s bad.” She tucked a perfect hair behind
a perfect ear with a perfectly manicured acrylic nail. I’d had fake
nails, once. Never again. Felt like I was typing with tiny shoes on
my fingers.
    Still, I wasn’t clear on what she meant, so
I leaned forward, elbows on the desk. I thought if I arranged
myself into a listening position, maybe I could corral my wayward
thoughts into behaving. “We’re supposed to be doing an expose on
hair salons …” I affected a dramatic tone, “… and the devastating
effect mistakes can have on their clients.” She didn’t seem to
enjoy my humor. “Bass told me you had some acquaintances lined up
for me to interview. Women who had some really bad hair days.”
    It was her turn to lean forward. Even though
my door was closed, she lowered her voice, like we were girlfriends
about to share some delicious secret. “Well, of course, that’s the
focus, but Mr. Bassett and I discussed this at length. We thought
it would be so much more exciting if you went undercover and
visited a few of these places, you know, to see how they
operate?”
    I shook my head, “Bass wants me to go
‘undercover’?”
    “ Well, it was my idea,
actually, but Bass loved it. Not just because you could get so much
more information that way, you know, that ‘in-depth’ stuff you’re
always so excited about, but because the station would be paying
for you to visit these salons, and …” she grinned one of those
cat-that-ate-the-canary smiles, “you’ll be getting all these free
makeovers at places. Maybe you’ll be able find a look that suits
you.”
    Her triumphant smile attempted
guilelessness. Failed.
    I hate the feeling of knowing that if you
just had a couple of extra seconds you could come back with a
perfect retort. I suspected that my mouth hung open. While I