Rough Justice Read Online Free Page B

pizzazz …”
    â€œLike Davis, yeah, I remember him.”
    â€œThey want me to make it perky,” said Emma Walsh.
    â€œUh …”
    â€œLike my dog-food commercials.”
    â€œThey’ll thank you for it.”
    â€œThat’s the one.”
    â€œWell, then, Miss Walsh,” I said after a moment, “I’m sure dog owners will soon be buying this paper, too.”
    She twisted her mouth at me, nodded. Pointed a slick red fingernail at me. “And I was warned about you, my friend.”
    â€œMe? No kidding. Little Jacky Wells?”
    â€œâ€˜The minute you get any trouble from him ,’ they told me. The very instant . You come down on him and come down hard. Bury his stuff if you have to. Reassign him. But …’” Now she held the finger in the air. “‘But …’”
    â€œI can’t stand the suspense.”
    â€œâ€˜But don’t let him get away.’ That’s what they said to me. The People Upstairs. I’m quoting. ‘Don’t let him quit and go to the News because then they’ll beat everybody out on metro stuff instead of us.’ So what I want to ask you is: How can I break your spirit without making you quit?”
    â€œDrugs?”
    â€œI thought of that. I don’t have the budget line.”
    She let out that laugh again. Lifting her chin, baring her throat. I used the moment to run my eyes down over her. Then she stopped laughing and I stopped looking. I put out my cigarette in the ashtray on her desk. Pulled a fresh one out of my pocket quickly.
    â€œYou know, you are going to hurt yourself with those one of … Okay, okay. I’m not saying anything.”
    I lit the cigarette. When I glanced up at her through the smoke, she was studying me. She was not smiling anymore. I couldn’t read her eyes.
    â€œSo who else have I got out there?” she asked me.
    â€œYou asking me to name troublemakers?”
    â€œI’m asking you who else is good.”
    I pretended to think it over while I tried to get her number. I still wasn’t sure where she’d come down. But I said, “Lansing, definitely.”
    â€œYou helped bring her on here, right?”
    â€œShe’s good, for all that. She’d walk into a fire to get you react from a dying child.”
    â€œAnd you pal around with that boy McKay, don’t you?”
    â€œYeah, but he’s our Shakespeare.”
    â€œHomeless Mother Gets Job? Sick Kid Finds Lost Dog?”
    â€œStruggling Actor with AIDS, right. He’s tops with that stuff.”
    â€œNever a dry eye.”
    â€œI think he even read a book once.”
    â€œOkay,” she murmured. “Okay.” She sat back in her chair, considered all this awhile. Tapped a pencil against her bottom lip. Nodded to herself.
    I rolled my cigarette in my fingers for something to do. Watched the ember turning. Told myself not to sweat. Sweat.
    â€œMy older brother was named Ned,” said Emma Walsh. “Edward. We called him Ned. One day, when he was sixteen, my daddy sent him out to the garage to start up the car. The car blew up and killed him.”
    For a second, I just sat there. Looking at her. Wearing a face so stupid you could have bought it in a Times Square novelty shop. Finally, I managed to say, “Jeez. That’s tough.”
    â€œYeah. It’s tough, all right.”
    â€œIt was meant for your father.”
    â€œHe owned a chain of papers. They were on a campaign against the governor, exposing his links with the mob.”
    â€œRobert Walsh,” I said. “Your old man’s Robert Walsh.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œI didn’t get that. I didn’t make the connection.”
    She leaned forward again and the light played over her hair. When she smiled now, I could make out the laugh lines around her mouth. And the steely glint in the gray eyes. She was smart, I could tell. She was smarter than