When my mornings don’t start with a dark-fifteen o’clock breaking story, I go to the gym first thing. I find body combat to be effective at combating the calories in the white chocolate and southern-fried foods I like to inhale the rest of the day. It also comes in handy when my nosy reporter side gets me into tight spots.
The workout, plus my coffee, gives me enough energy to make it through the morning. In my line of work, that can include talking to a murderer, grabbing the last good seat at a trial, or trying to tug information out of tight-lipped cops.
Coffee has been a sore spot this week, because someone else in the newsroom at the Richmond Telegraph has developed a taste for my sugar free white mocha syrup. No matter how far back in the cabinet I push the bottle, a little more of it disappears every day. And my nights have run late with this murder investigation, so I haven’t made it by the market to grab a new bottle.
I’ll have time to worry about the syrup bandit when I’ve figured out what happened to this guy, though. Generally, tagging a killer is best left to the police, but they think they’ve wrapped it up already. But something doesn’t feel right. I’ve covered enough murders in seven years at the crime desk to have a decent radar for when a puzzle doesn’t piece together the right way, and this one is off.
I have a major digging to do, just as soon as I file the two normal stories I have for today: a hearing and a burglary.
There goes my scanner again. Excuse me for a second.
Wait. Why in the name of Christian Louboutin are they calling a structural engineer to a car accident?
Let’s see if Google maps can give me a location for this commotion.
Holy cow. It’s a shopping center.
And my scanner chatter just got interesting. Somebody drove a truck through a jewelry store.
I’m so sorry, but y’all are going to have to excuse me—I need to run to the West End and get this story. The most fun thing about being a reporter is that there’s never a dull day. It makes up for the salary that restricts my shoe shopping to eBay.
Y’all hang out and make yourselves at home. Just steer clear of the copy desk. There’s a wannabe crime reporter there who won’t take to anyone I invited into the newsroom. If you get bored, find Grant Parker—our star sports columnist is a former almost-pro pitcher who’s pretty easy on the eyes. Tell him I sent you, and ask him about baseball. He’ll talk until I get back.
You can read more about Nichelle in Buried Leads, the second book in the “Headlines in High Heels” mystery series, published by Henery Press. The first book in the series is Front Page Fatality.
LynDee is giving away one (1) copy of BURIED LEAD. Leave a comment to be included in the giveaway. Contest ends October 17; US entries only.
Meet the author
LynDee Walker grew up in the land of stifling heat and amazing food most people call Texas, and wanted to be Lois Lane from the time she could say the words “press conference.” An award-winning journalist, she traded cops and deadlines for burp cloths and onesies when her oldest child was born. Writing the Headlines in Heels mysteries gives her the best of both worlds. BURIED LEADS is her second Headlines in High Heels Mystery. Her debut, FRONT PAGE FATALITY, is an amazon new humor #1 bestseller. A Headlines in High Heels novella, DATELINE MEMPHIS, is part of the anthology HEARTACHE MOTEL, on sale December 10, 2013, and the third novel in the series will be available in April 2014.
LynDee adores her family, her readers, and enchiladas. She often works out tricky plot points while walking off the enchiladas. She lives in Richmond, Virginia, where she is working on her next novel. You can visit her online at www.lyndeewalker.com.
Books are available at retail and online booksellers.