Killian (Hope City #8) - Kris Michaels Page 0,36

her head. “No, this story is better.”

“Do tell.” Walter half-begged.

“Only if you don’t say a word.”

“I cross my heart,” Walter laughed.

“Okay, well, when the city sells land, they are required to publicly advertise it. Someone has pulled strings, paid people, or is involved in the purchase of sizable chunks of Harbor and Harbor-adjacent land. I went off half-cocked last time. I want to do all my homework first, then let you know what I find.” She hated admitting her original hypothesis was completely off the mark.

“Well, my contact in that department is Leslie Snowden. Here’s her number.” She jotted down the number. “But I got to tell you, kiddo, this is sounding more and more like corruption. If it is, and that is a big if because you don’t have any proof yet, know that corruption rarely travels through just one vein when it infects a city. City employees don’t get paid a hill of beans, and finding people who will look the other way or even do something illegal if offered enough money wouldn’t be hard. Follow the money if you find a suspect. The money never lies.”

“Thank you, I’ll make sure to cover all my bases.”

“Just make sure you cover your ass, too.” Walter chuckled and added, “I’d read up on the big corruption scandal in Los Angeles. A councilman was given hundreds of thousands of dollars to ensure land purchases were expedited.”

“That sounds oddly familiar.”

“And the corruption went up to the Mayor’s office if I remember correctly. Let me know what happens.”

“I will. Thanks, Walter.”

“Anything for my favorite.” He laughed and ended the conversation.

Bekki stared at the log. Seventeen land purchases. Pulling the massive folder of transactions toward her, she started sorting them by year. After that, she’d sort by month, then by date. She glanced at the clock and made a mental note to go see Leslie at the HCJ after lunch. The questions she needed answers to were too important to ask over the phone, but she did need to make a call. She picked up her phone and punched in her boss’ number.

“Mills.”

“Landon, you alone?”

His voice lowered. “Just a minute.” She heard him get out of his desk chair—the squeak was unique. She heard the door shut and then the chair squeak again. “Go ahead.”

“That story I was working on, it’s starting to look solid. How likely am I to lose my job if I run with it?”

There was a pause. “If you give me a good story and they won’t air it, we’ll both be out of a job.”

“That rough, huh?”

“A lot of pressure, but you dig. You hear me?”

“I hear you. I probably won’t check in until it’s time for me to report back.”

“Probably for the best. Take care of yourself.” He hung up and she leaned back, staring at the stacks of information. Who would benefit the most from the illegal sale of city property?

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” Bekki took off her large sunglasses and watched Leslie’s reaction to the bruises she couldn’t cover with makeup. The woman gasped and clutched her string of pearls. Her neat, conservative appearance became a mask of bewilderment. Bekki pointed to her face and shrugged, “An interview gone bad.”

“Well, goodness, I hope nothing leads to fisticuffs here.” The elderly lady sat down behind her desk and extended a hand to indicate Bekki should take a chair, too.

She sat down and pulled out a small spiral notebook. “Ma’am, could you tell me what the process is when the city sends over advertisements for the paper?”

The woman’s forehead crunched as her eyebrows lowered. “What do you mean? We push the advert to the floor, it’s written up, QC’d, and it’s run for the dates indicated on the work order.”

Bekki nodded and unfolded two of the seventeen receipts she had in her possession. “I’m talking specifically about these.” She handed the copies to the woman and watched the pleats between her eyebrows deepen.

Leslie reached for her mouse and woke her computer. “I’m assuming because you’re asking that you didn’t find the ad posted in the paper.”

“No, I didn’t.” She wasn’t going to indicate that she had or where she’d found it.

“Hmmm… let me see. Yes, here is the work order for the first one. It was placed on the online paper on the date indicated.” The woman turned her monitor and pointed to a spreadsheet.

“But it isn’t in the online paper for that date.” Bekki lifted her phone and tapped her internet browser.