Quilt City Murders by Bruce Leonard

Author:Bruce Leonard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: TouchPoint Press

Chapter 22

HIPS

Because I knew I’d just spin my wheels at home, I decided to spend Saturday night at work, going through Matt’s notebooks. I slipped my raincoat off, shook it hard under the awning above the door to the Chronicle building, then used my company fob to enter. As the newest reporter, Brian Cairns had to work on Saturday nights on the chance there was any breaking news. Technically, I was the newest reporter, but in my contract—the one I insisted on when I doubted Greg would make good on his promise of a raise—I specified that, short of an all-hands-on-deck emergency, I would not work Saturday nights.

Most of Sunday’s paper had already been put to bed, so Brian would probably be watching YouTube videos or keeping up with the latest sports developments. The guys in the sports department down the hall put in real effort on Saturday nights, depending on the season and playoff runs. I had no editorial interactions with them and just made small talk in the lunchroom when we were in there together.

I draped my wet raincoat over the spare chair beside my desk and set my purse down on the avocado-green carpet that was campy in the Seventies. I said hello to Brian, sat down, then turned on my laptop. I preferred writing on it, then emailing the finished stories to my work address. I’d then enter them into the content management system on the desktop computer.

On the desk, between the stacks of Matt’s notebooks and the picture of Matt and me, was a yellow Post-it note, on which was written, in Bill’s handwriting: Garrett Hunt. Bald, fat, ugly private investigator. Followed by his phone number, which I put into my phone.

I called the number, got no answer, didn’t leave a message, then grabbed the notebook on the top of the pile containing the most recent notebooks. I would work backward chronologically. I combed through that notebook as I’d done with the previous two, jotting down anything that didn’t seem to go with the notes that surrounded it. Matt’s penmanship did not qualify to be called such. Was slopmanship a word? Crapmanship? I struggled to decipher it but eventually came up with this:

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