CHASING A STORY?
TREAD CAREFULLY
The challenge was an overhead remark, the setting somewhere posh and several words I had to use. I had fun with this.
A DEAD LEAD
The dining room at the Azur Lodge in Queenstown was packed with beautiful people. I’d wrangled a budget special for one, a fraction of the usual $1,750 per night. Dressed to the nines in my best après ski outfit I hoped my rumbling stomach wouldn’t disgrace me in front of the Maître D’. The conversation swirled, full of rounded vowels interspersed with the occasional high-pitched laugh, reminiscent of my time at St. Cuthbert’s School for (well-bred) girls. Pity my papa’s finances tanked and I had to switch to Pakuranga Grammar. However, I knew the rules of refined society and head high I followed the waiter to a tiny table, tucked in a corner.
My editor hadn’t disguised the purposes of my visit. “Find a juicy piece of gossip. We want sales and gossip sells newspapers.”
I ordered and listened to the neighboring conversations. So boring, until I heard two men talking nearby.
“He’s constantly going off pissed. He’s a menace.”
The other man replied, “A broken leg would fix that.”
“Can that be arranged?”
“Possibly, but a broken neck would be more final. That would solve all our problems.” The men laughed. “Damn, here he comes.”
A tanned younger version of the two, approached, slapped both of them on the back, waved for the waiter and ordered ‘what they’re having.’” Casual, relaxed, totally unaware of their dastardly plan.
My stomach churned. A plot to break his neck, if a broken leg wasn’t a sufficient deterrent. At last, I had a lead.
I skipped dessert and sauntered after them. In the cocktail bar they had several rounds of drinks. I stuck to mineral water and my phone, taking some surreptitious photos for the record. At the lifts, loud, ‘See you in the morning’ were exchanged.
In my room I puzzled over my next steps and after a restless night, haunted by dreams of bodies scattered among black rocks, six o’clock found me loitering in the foyer waiting for the proposed victim. He turned up first and didn’t look any the worse for wear, considering his mates thought him a fool who skied drunk and disorderly.
I took a breath and approached.
“Excuse me.” I’d taken time with my make-up and outfit. “Last night I overheard a plot to kill you.” Shock tactics often get good results. He raised his eyebrows.
“I doubt that very much. You must have me confused with someone else. I’m very popular.” His complexion pinked with either embarrassment or restrained fury.
“I heard you drink a lot and are dangerous Someone is going to break your neck.”
He bared his teeth in an almost smile and leaned close. “What exactly did you hear?”
“I heard you go off pissed and are a menace.”
“Do I go off p-i-s-t-e? Yes, I do. I get bored with the usual runs, but I never ski when pissed.” He laughed at my confusion. “It’s a homonym. You might be dressed for skiing, but you need to learn the lingo.”
THE END
I might extend this piece one day; make it longer and perhaps throw in a deadly accident? I hope you enjoyed it. My books are available at the link below, with some very good special prices at the moment!
https://www.amazon.com/author/derynpittar view here: