Ratings Are Murder by Robert R. Irvine

Author:Robert R. Irvine
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Audio
Published: 2015-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

14

Halo wired securely in place, Christopher felt like a guardian angel as he joined the ranks of the Wheeler Dealers. Now all he had to do was keep one brown paper bag and one studio page in sight.

At first it was easy. But as more and more contestants swelled the crowd it became a constant battle for him to hold his position. The continuing rain didn’t help any. Be cause of it, the Wheeler-Dealers were forced to huddle beneath a corrugated metal roof in one of the open-sided audience holding areas.

Several times the reporter had to jump up and down to see over the heads of the crush around him. Once he tried to shake free of the crowd entirely, but everyone seemed to think it good luck to stay close to an angel.

When a surgeon joined the throng, Christopher blinked as if seeing things. But the man’s green operating garb, freshly laundered and starched, drew boos of derision from those nearby.

“No imagination,” said the front end of a cow.

The other end added a muffled, “A little fake blood might help.”

Christopher ground his teeth. There’d been too much blood spilled already. But he said nothing, remaining quietly angelic behind his golden mask.

The surgeon, who wore dark glasses in addition to his operating mask, ignored the comments. In fact, as far as Christopher could see the man had eyes only for the brown paper bag, toward which the surgeon edged ever nearer. For a moment the reporter lost sight of him. In that instant, all sorts of unlikely thoughts ran through Christopher’s mind. But he comforted himself by thinking that a murderer wouldn’t use the same disguise twice. Unless, of course, he was a genius, in which case he’d know that the last thing anyone would look for again would be a surgeon.

Christopher practically trampled a Viking god to get the surgeon in sight again. And that was the moment a masked nun emerged from behind an overblown Cleopatra to accost the page carrying the ransom.

The paper bag changed hands.

Instantly, the nun stepped out from under the corrugated roof. But the deluge didn’t faze her as she dashed across a narrow studio street and into the ladies’ room.

Removing his mask, Christopher charged after her. The reporter’s entrance to a packed house brought feminine screams of protest. He wagged his halo apologetically but knew his was a lost cause. The ladies loo was one place angels feared to tread. Besides, where could the nun go but out the door she’d gone into?

Back outside, Christopher waved frantically to attract the attention of studio security, which had been put on alert. But all the reporter succeeded in luring to his side was a bedraggled page, whose umbrella couldn’t cope with the downpour.

“Mr. Christopher,” the young man said. “Employees aren’t eligible to become contestants on ‘Wheeler-Dealers.’”

“Were you briefed on the brown paper bag?” A look of pity was the only answer.

Exasperated, Christopher said, “Go to the executive bungalow, find Wyn Brewster, and tell him the man we want is hiding in the ladies’ room.

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