Thirty

Hillary James whipped her Mazda Miata into the parking space directly in front of police headquarters, just ahead of a taxi that had stopped and was attempting to back into the opening. When the taxi driver yelled at her out of his window, she showed him her middle finger as she leaned over to get her purse off the floorboard of the car. While bent over, she glanced out of the window and noticed Chief Clark, Sherry Landry, and two other doctors whose names she couldn’t remember leaving the building.

Now that’s strange, she thought, keeping her head down below the level of the window to avoid being seen. Why would a medical examiner’s assistants be walking around with the chief of detectives and one of his officers? She sat there for a moment thinking. Picking up her cell phone, she rang the number of her informer in the department.

“Sergeant Burkhart, can I help you?”

“Buzz, this is Hillary.”

“Hey, babe, long time no see. What can I do ya for?”

Hillary grimaced with distaste at the officer’s familiar tone, though she spoke with a sugary sweetness. “I need a favor, Buzz darlin’.”

“No shit, babe, that’s the only time I ever hear from ya. What is it this time?”

“Well, I’ve noticed that Chief Clark is doing a lot of work with a couple of pathologists lately.” She consulted her notebook. “A Dr. Silver, one of his students, Samantha Scott, and another doctor named Carter.”

“So?”

“Buzz, honey, I need to know what case or cases they’re working on, and what is so important that it has the chief of detectives giving it his personal attention.”

“Why don’t ya just ask him?”

“I did. The schmuck fed me some bull about using the residents in the teaching program at Methodist Hospital to help out until the ME is back, but I don’t believe a word of it.” She hesitated, then in her most seductive voice, “Baby, I smell a rat. Can you help me out . . . please?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment. “I don’t know, Hillary. It’s pretty risky, sticking my nose in the chief’s business.” Then, slyly, “What do I get out of it?”

Hillary made a face at the phone, but kept her voice smooth as silk. “Honey, if you deliver, and it’s something I can use on the air, we can discuss your payment in person, privately.”

Burkhart’s voice became husky. “Well now, that kind of offer is worth riskin’ my job for. Ya got a deal. If there’s anything going on, I’ll find out and let ya know.”

“Thanks, sweetie. I’ll be seein’ you.” After she hung up, Hillary shuddered. She wondered if she really wanted him to find anything, considering what she would have to pay for it if he did. Of course, nothing like a nice juicy crime to get your face on national television.

Hillary James was born Hortense Janewsky, and because of her tendency to bad skin and buckteeth, she had been called “Horsey Hortense” until the seventh grade. Sometime around her thirteenth birthday, puberty struck her with the force and impact of a thunderbolt. Her skin cleared up, her breasts filled out, and the orthodontist removed her braces all about the same time.

Life suddenly became sweet for young Hortense. The boys quit teasing her and began chasing her, and even the other girls started wanting to hang around her and be her best friend. Hortense loved the attention and soon discovered a magical thing: When your breasts are large, and your face is pretty, the boys keep coming around no matter how petty or spoiled you act. In fact, she found out, the worse you acted, the better the boys seemed to like it.

By the time Hortense graduated from high school and went off to the University of Houston to study “the performing arts,” she had changed her name to Hillary James and had developed into a spoiled, willful bitch who thought her wish should be everyone’s command.

College changed her little, other than to smooth out some of the rough edges and teach her how to be nice to someone until she had gotten what she wanted.

After graduation, she started as “production assistant” at Channel 10 on the nightly news show. Her first job was off camera and held little chance for promotion, but Hillary quickly used her body and her complete lack of conscience to climb over the careers of the two people ahead of her in the station.

Now, she was the evening news anchor and was hell-bent on getting the attention of the networks and rising to the top of her profession. She made it a practice never to let sensitivity or ethics stand between her and a good story and had actually become adept at ferreting out news items missed by the other journalists.

Hillary had the scent of an important story in her nostrils, and felt sure that something big, and secret, was going on. She was determined to find it.