Deep Throat

Paige Lynn receives an anonymous tip about a murder about take place in front of the Black River Cafe.

Chapter 1

Clover, Ohio Spring 1992

 

   She was always getting herself into dangerous situations and was reminded constantly of how un-lady like it was, but Paige refused to change her ways. She loved pushing the envelope at her job at The Daily Clover.  However, one day Paige got in way over her head.

   It all started with a phone call�"one out of many that day.  The old phone rang four times before Paige stopped typing long enough to answer it. 

   “Hello, Paige Lynn speaking.  How can I help you?”

   “There is a murder that is going to take place tonight and I want you to be there to cover the story.”

   “Wouldn’t it be better if I were there to stop it instead of just write about it?” she asked, not taking the person on the other end of the line seriously.

   “You will inevitably arrive too late and there will be nothing you can do but write about it.”

   “What makes you so sure about that?” Paige asked.

   “It doesn’t matter.  Just arrive at the restaurant by the Black River Restaurant.”

   “Okay,” Paige said grabbing a paper and pen.  “Who is it that is supposed to be murdered and who is doing the dreadful deed?”

   “I can’t tell you any of that.  Just come to the restaurant and look around.  You will find plenty to write about it.”

   “Why me? Why not call the cops?”

   “The cops can’t do anything,”

   “But…,” Paige started to protest, but it was too late.  The man on the other end had hung up.   

    Paige hung up and stared at the phone in disbelief.  What should she do?  Call the cops or just show up by herself as instructed. What, oh what had she gotten herself into this time?  She jumped when the phone rang again.  Paige collected herself and answered calmly.

    It was her friend and co-worker Michael Tucker.  He was recovering from a hang over and had stayed home that day.  He’d called Paige to catch up on what he’d missed at work.  She quickly asked if she could come over instead of talk on the phone and he said, “Sure.”

    So Paige hung up, turned off her computer, grabbed her purse and headed out the door of the Newspaper office.  She dashed passed the presses and out the back to door to the small lot behind.  There she slid into her blue sedan and pulled out onto the one way street.  She then turned left onto the Main Street of Clover, Ohio.  It was a small community that remained mostly unchanged since its founding in the late 1800s.  There were still brick businesses from the turn of the century lining the streets downtown.  There were still small, quaint shops inside most of the buildings.  It wasn’t until you reached the edge of town that one saw evidence of modern growth, like the new McDonalds and Pizza Hut.  Paige drove by the Stapleton Drug Store, Henry’s Haberdashery, Cook’s Fine Furniture, Brewster’s Accounting Firm and a Shell Gas Station.  After the light at the intersection, she began passing by houses.  Eventually, she turned down a road that led toward the park. 
   Paige parked in front of a split-level house and got out.  She walked down the neatly trimmed sidewalk to the front door and rang the doorbell.  It took a few moments, but soon the door swung open and Mike stood before her, his hair wildly a mess and his face unshaven.

   “Hey there Paige,” he smiled tiredly.  He ran his hand through his messy brown hair and stepped aside so his friend could enter his house.  “Looking good today,” he commented as she strolled into the entryway and over to the couch in the living room.

   “Wish I could say the same of you,” Paige replied.

   “What do you want?” he asked, seemingly annoyed.

   “A favor.”

   He rolled his eyes at her as he sat down on his couch and put his stocking feet up on the coffee table.

   “Don’t’ give me that attitude!” Paige said putting her hand on her hip.  “I just covered for you today and said you had the flu.  I didn’t tell our boss that the reason you skipped writing about the Park Counsel meeting was because you’d thrown back one too many whiskeys with the war veterans you were supposed to be interviewing last night.”

   “Fine. Name your poison then.  What can I do for you?”

   “I want to borrow your gun.”

   “What?”

   “You heard me.  I am going undercover tonight and it may be dangerous.  I’d like to have your gun on me in case I need it.”

   “What could be that dangerous in little ole Clover eh?”

   “I got a call that there was a possible murder going down tonight at the Black River Restaurant.”

   “The place is all but closed down.  Maybe someone is planning to stage a fake death in protest or a something equally mundane.  In any case, you shouldn’t just show up with a gun.  The police need to know.”

   “That’s just it; the anonymous phone tip said if I called the cops there would be no story.  I need to see what happens first.  If there is a dead body, I promise to let the police handle it.”

   “How about I come with you and bring the gun instead?”

   “This is something I need to do alone.  Besides, your cover about having the flu would be blown something big does go down.  You can’t risk getting involved right now.”

   He blew out a thoughtful breath before standing up and going over to his closet.  He opened the door and pulled out a case with his eight millimeter in it.  He loaded the clip and turned on the safety for her.  “I trust you know how to use one of these,” he said handing it over.

   “I’ve shot one a couple of times,” she said sticking the gun in her purse. 

   “Be very careful.”

   “Of course I will,” she assured him with a smile.  “Now, go back to bed.  I am going home to freshen up a bit before I make my appearance at the Black River Restaurant.”

   Michael made a face and closed the closet door.  He went back to his couch and put his feet back up.  “Can’t go back to sleep now.  Guess I will catch up on some baseball or something.”  He took the remote fro the coffee table and clicked the TV on.

   “Oh, and in case you were wondering, you didn’t miss anything special at work today�"other than my mysterious phone call.”
   “Cool.  Who covered the meeting?”

   “I did.”

   “Thanks,” he said flipping the channel.

   “No problem.  I will just let myself out.”

   Michael waved as she headed back toward the door.  She let herself out and went back to her car.  Paige drove to her apartment on Third Avenue.  The apartment was a tiny place, but it was big enough for just her.  She didn’t have any roommates, a boyfriend, a husband or kids to worry about.  Though just out of college, she really hadn’t had any real serious relationships.  Hopefully one day she get married and get out of the small town she’d grown up in.  But for now, her life was Clover and the paper.

    Paige parked in her normal spot, checked her mailbox and then went inside.  Once there she set her purse down and sat down on her desk and flipped through her mail for the day.  Bill.  Bill.  Credit Card advertisement.  News ad.  Oh, there was a letter from National Geographic, rejecting her application to work for them.  With sigh she turned her computer on and sat down.  She did a little typing and answered a few personal emails before leaving her desk to take a shower.  After her shower, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and then made her way to the tiny kitchen to throw a Lean Cuisine dinner in the microwave. 

    She turned on her small TV set and flipped channels until she heard the microwave beep.  She grabbed her food and sat back down on the couch to eat.  There wasn’t anything good on really, so Paige’s thoughts wandered to the phone call earlier that day.  Who was being set up to be murdered and why?  Was it some dirty politician or a criminal?  There were so many questions and so few answers.  Paige couldn’t wait until 7pm to find out.

     When she took her empty food container into the kitchen, she passed by her bulletin board and noticed a piece of paper tacked up that stated she had an appointment with Alex Bennington.  Mad at herself for forgetting, Paige dumped her container and grabbed her purse from the counter.  She slid her shoes back on and took off at the door.

     In no time, Page arrived at Alex’s office and requested his audience.  They sat in his tiny office and she set up her mini-tape recorder.  He rambled on about starting a new business in the area and how he felt welcomed in the community.  It was a fluff piece really, but it was the kind of thing readers ate up apparently.  Less than a half an hour later she was heading down the road to the Black River Restaurant to check out what the alleged murder taking place. 

     It was dark by the time she positioned herself in the dark alley between the old barbershop and the window of the restaurant.  She waited restlessly for someone, anyone, to park and go inside, but no one did.  She jumped when a cat jumping out from nowhere. Her heart skipped a beat and realized she was very much on edge.  Finally, she heard footsteps on the sidewalk out front.  She peered around the corer and watched as two men met in front of the dark and empty restaurant. 

    “It is time to settle some business,” a deep voice announced.

    “Yes, I agree,” another man replied.

    Paige tried to peer over the trash cans to see who it was, but she could only see the dark shadow of a figure at the end of the ally way. 

    “I told you that I would not pay the fifty grand, but if you persist in sending me those stupid notices….”

    “I need the money that you promised me.”

    “Promised? What exactly did I promise? Now listen here Bob, I am sorry, but you are becoming too much of nuisance.  I am going to have to eliminate you.”

    “You won’t get away with Jack, I swear.”

    “I think that is where you are wrong.  No one knows that we are here and no one else knows about our little deal.  And no one in this tiny town would believe that Jack Noland would shoot anyone.”

    “Isn’t there another way?”

    “I swear,” Bob begged, “I will do anything.  You have my word.”

    “Save your whining for God,” the deep voice boomed. There was a moment of silence and then a small, muffled popping sound.  One of the men walked away, but other did not.

    Paige waited a long time before she dared to emerge from the shadows.  She stepped out hoping not to make any noise or draw any undue attention to herself just in case the killer was still lurking around some place.  Fear filled her body as she crept ever closer to the limp body on the sidewalk.  Paige bent down to examine the body.  The man lay perfectly still on pavement like a child’s doll carelessly cast aside.  The man, Bob, had short blond hair, a mustache and was dressed in a business suite.  There was a blood stain above his left pocket, which spread out over his chest.  He face was forever frozen in a painful grimace. Suddenly, Paige noticed a red scarf that looked like it belonged to a fortuneteller or belly dance.  She reached over and picked it up.  She stuffed it in her pocket and looked around her to see if anyone else was around.  A light flipped on above the dark restaurant and Paige decided it was time to exit.  She slipped silently back to her car as someone came outside to investigate.  It was such a perfect crime, but soon it would start the bloodiest conflict that Clover had ever seen.