Crime reporter Nichelle Clarke’s days can flip from macabre to comical with a beep of her police scanner. Then an ordinary accident story turns extraordinary when evidence goes missing, a prosecutor vanishes, and a sexy Mafia boss shows up with the headline tip of a lifetime. As Nichelle gets closer to the truth, her story gets more dangerous.Armed with a notebook, a hunch, and her favorite stilettos, Nichelle races to splash these shady dealings across the front page before this deadline becomes her last.
Publisher: Henery Press
Pages: 292 Pages
Pages: 292 Pages
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In this scene, Nichelle overslept and has just run into the office to find her newsroom rival already there, kissing up to her editor, who came in on Saturday to make sure the Telegraph came out ahead on a big accident story. Aaron is the public information officer at the police department.
Scooped on a news story by Mr. Baseball? And Shelby Taylor on standby to help me get my story out? Oh, yeah. This was shaping up to be a helluva day.
“Find me something great, Nicey. Anything Charlie hasn’t had,” Bob patted my shoulder as he walked back toward his office. “You outdid yourself all week. But Ken and Barbie have gone out with the recycling.”
“Twenty column inches of greatness, coming up.” I spun on my heel and hurried to my desk, grabbing a pen and the phone before I even sat down.
Aaron’s uncharacteristic grouchiness told me his day wasn’t going any better than mine was.
“I’m tired of talking to reporters about the accident last night,” he said when I asked how he was. “I wish I was out on my boat with a beer and a fishing pole. No offense.”
“None taken. I don’t exactly want to be here, either. Has the daylight given you guys anything new? I saw you told Charlie they sent a unit from Quantico.” My inner Lois Lane did like the sound of that.
“I told Charlie no such thing,” Aaron said. “She saw them in their damned logo-emblazoned hats and windbreakers and probably frigging boxers, out there picking through every black rock lining the shore of the James.”
Damn. She’d been back to the scene. The only thing keeping me from pulling my hair out was the knowledge that FBI agents are about as welcoming of TV cameras as a PETA convention would be of Michael
“Why are they here?”
“Something about the police vessel that was involved.” He sounded huffy. “Like they think we did something wrong. Not that they’ve turned up anything. Their official report won’t be ready for weeks, probably, but they’re sticking with the scenario I gave you last night. Man, those guys are a pain in the ass, but don’t you dare quote me on that!”
“I wouldn’t.” I laughed. “But why don’t you tell me how you really feel, detective?”
“You have no idea.”
LynDee Walker grew up in the land of stifling heat and amazing food most people call Texas, and wanted to be Lois Lane pretty much 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. When not writing or reading, LynDee is usually wrangling children, eating barbecue or enchiladas, or trying to walk off said barbecue and enchiladas. She and her family live in Richmond, Virginia. You can visit her online at www.lyndeewalker.com.
How do you like the extended excerpt of FRONT PAGE FATALITY? If you pick up just one mystery this year, be sure to grab this book.