CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Katherine and Hailey arrived at the newspaper at their usual early hour on Monday morning. Hailey made her customary rounds of the office, sniffing the coffee in the break room and checking out the reporters’ stations to see who had arrived, while Katherine opened her computer to check her e-mails, messages, and to-do list.

She’d jotted herself a note that she wanted to call Alice and ask her if she would share her scrapbook.

“Hi, Alice. It’s Katherine Kelly. Hope I’m not calling you too early.”

“Hello, my dear. I’ve been up for two hours. It’s good to hear your voice. How are you and Hailey doing?”

“I’m doing well. Hailey’s wistful. I think she’s in love with Buck.”

Alice laughed. “They all feel that way. She’ll get over it. How’s the reporting going?”

“I’ve been writing obituaries, filler for the Web, local interest stories—a school board member arrested for drunk driving, the firing of a local police sergeant—that sort of thing. I’ve also written several local bank stories, but my editor is sitting on them.”

“Oh, dear. That must bother you so. I’m sure it takes time.”

“I’m calling to ask if you would be willing to lend me your scrapbook—you know, the one about your bank situation in Braydon?”

“Of course. I’d be pleased for it to have some practical use. And I’ve found some pictures of Joe I think you’d like—Joe and Harry fishing in Joe’s boat, a picture of Joe and Corey in Corey’s shop, and a picture Harry sent me of Joe . . . which is so special. I’ll send them along in the package.”

“Thank you, Alice.”

“Before you hang up, I’d like to tell you a little story if you have time.”

“Absolutely.”

“This came to mind when you told me about your reporting. Fishermen are always worried about the weather, always talking about it. No one wants to be caught in a storm. But how will you know when it comes? The joke around here used to be, ‘It starts when you say no to Joe.’ You remind me of him.”

“Thank you for telling me that, Alice. It says a lot about Joe—his reach. I’m flattered that you think that I remind you of him in any way. And thank you for sending the package along.”

“You’re welcome, my dear. Give Hailey a kiss for me, and tell her Buck gives her a tail wag. Keep writing and good luck.”

The point Alice was making was not lost on Katherine, who marveled at Alice’s light touch and sensitivity. What a gracious woman. She had to find a way to help her.

Katherine reviewed her strategic plan for the bank stories, mindful that she had to maintain strong focus on the coverage area for Twin Forks Press. So far, her first five stories fit—at least, to her way of thinking.

She felt she had plenty of room to drill deeper into those stories, given the broad scope of the wrongdoing of Hamptons Bank alone. Material false entries on the books, reports, and statements. Overvaluation of the assets supported by artificial appraisals and flipping of the real estate. Unqualified investors. Inadequate review of borrowers’ financial condition and capacity. The list went on and on. It was criminally and civilly wrong.

And the problem wasn’t limited to Suffolk and Nassau counties. It was all over the country. The damage was an equal-opportunity provider—leaving a big wake.

What Katherine needed now was for her stories to reach Chip Reider from Long Island’s first congressional district, and Brian Quinn from the second district. One was a Democrat and the other a Republican, and each had a long history of respected service to his constituents. Moreover, Quinn was on the House committee for financial services and had been an outspoken critic of the failure to aggressively go after the wrongdoings of the bank. Neither would be insensitive to the local outcry that Katherine hoped would result if her stories were ever published.

Katherine completed the week’s obituaries, fine-tuned her local-interest stories, and developed several more stories to meet Twin Forks’ website demand. As soon as those tasks were completed, she continued her research.

Alice was right.