Sign Off (Caught Dead In Wyoming, Book 1)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"And, of course, everybody knows Haeburn is pissed as hell that the owners said he had to take you . . ." A glance at me again. ". . . and even more pissed that he's been told to give you a free rein."

"What do you mean-"

If I'd ever had her attention, it was gone now. "Hey, neat set-up," she squealed as she spotted computer components huddled on the big walnut desk in one corner of the living room. "But you don't have it plugged in. Here . . ." I'd trailed her across the living room, and now she capitalized on my proximity by dumping two fat manila envelopes into my arms. She turned with relish to the computer. "Your cords look like spaghetti."

"That's why it's not plugged in," I muttered, tossing the envelope with his name on it in Paycik's general direction. "The laptop does what I've needed."

From the way she was slinging cords, plugs and steel gray rectangles, Jenny had trained on Bill Gates' assembly line.

"What do you mean, Haeburn's been told to give me free rein?" My ex had finagled to have my contract assigned to KWMT as the smallest speck on the map he could find, so there was no way he would have lobbied for me to be given freedom. "Who told him that?"

"Mmm. Heathertons, I guess. Here, hold this." I took the disentangled cord she handed me. "Or maybe Craig Morningside."

The Heathertons owned the station. Or, more accurately, their matriarch, Val Heatherton, owned it. I'd never met them. "Who's Craig Morningside?"

"Now if I could just . . ." Jenny dove under the desk trailing a length of black electrical cord behind her like a spelunker's safety line.

"Station manager," Paycik said.

I should have known there was one lurking somewhere. Was this part of Haeburn's they whose rules he was flouting by suspending us?

"Son-in-law," Paycik continued elliptically as he leafed through pink message forms from his envelope. "Val gave him a cushy job to keep him out of trouble. She's the real power. She . . ." He stood, leaving all but one pink slip on the coffee table. "I'm gonna use your phone, okay?"

Not waiting for an answer, he headed for the kitchen. I started after him to ask about the station hierarchy, but just then Jenny emerged from the nether regions of the desk. "You shouldn't let these things get so dusty." She sneezed reproachfully.

"Sorry," I muttered. Too late to ask Paycik now. He was already on the phone. I tried to listen to his end of the conversation without getting in his line of sight. I was almost certain he was talking to his Aunt Gee.

"You need a surge protector. Better yet, a UPS."

"UPS?" The people in brown trucks?

"Uninterrupted Power Source." She wiped the desk with her sleeve and began arranging components. "Around here's it's a necessity. Gives you time to save everything if the power goes off. The better ones turn off your computer before the power runs out."

In the kitchen Mike was muttering, darn him. But then I heard clearly, "Damn! They just better run the right damn tests."

Then silence from the kitchen. Not so from the other end of the living room, with Jenny's continued commentary on dust, static and smudges. When she examined my keyboard, crumbs joined her litany. She was still complaining when Mike came back.

"Well?" I demanded.

"Sure, I can get it going," Jenny said, answering my question aimed at Mike.

"Uh . . . good. Thanks." I prodded Mike again with a sharp look.

"They've run through the contents of Redus' truck. All the keys fit what they should, nothing extra, nothing missing except-"