Love at 11 - By Mari Mancusi Page 0,7
card. At least at work I was protected by security guards and a barbed wire fence.
“Ah, you work for News Nine?” Miguel asked, taking the card and stuffing it in the pocket of his faded blue jeans.
“Yup. And she just got promoted to investigative producer,” Jodi informed him, not able to withhold a single personal-life detail from my potential stalker. “How much is this one?”
“For you? Because you are so bella, I give it to you for five hundred pesos.” He turned back to me. “Investigative producer?” he asked, grinning again. “Senorita, do I have a story for you.”
“Oh?”
“Five hundred pesos? How about two hundred?” Jodi interrupted, her voice slurring a bit as she bartered. I needed to get her home soon. But first, I wanted to hear the story idea Miguel had. If Jodi’s addiction was fake purses, mine was story ideas. All it took was one really, really good one and I’d be clocking in at Newsline. Miguel glanced around the square before leaning into me and lowering his voice to a hoarse whisper. “A cartel in San Diego. Mucho drugs being imported everyday. Cocaine. Ecstasy. Meth.”
“I only have three hundred pesos. How about three hundred?”
“Really?” I asked, intrigued. Exposing a drug cartel sounded exactly like the type of story Newsline would like. And it was a perfect News 9 story, too, because it didn’t burn any potential advertisers. “How do you know about this? There’d have to be some kind of facts. Proof.”
“Come on, it’s got a real cheapo lining. It’s not worth over three hundred fifty pesos.”
Miguel nodded. “The man who runs the cartel, he is a bad man and he killed my brother. I would like to see him brought to justice.”
“Couldn’t you go to the police?”
“Ah, senorita, you do not understand how the law works in Mexico. You get pulled over in a car and you pay the policeman not to write you a ticket. It is the same with all things.”
“Police on the payroll. Right.” That made sense. “Okay, fine. Four hundred. But I’ll have to borrow money from Maddy. Maddy, can I borrow fifty pesos? I think that’s like five bucks, right?”
“They have dug a long tunnel out in the desert. They use it to transport the drugs from Mexico to America. My brother, he used to work for them as a driver before he was killed. Before he died, he told me where the tunnel is.”
Jodi waved the purse in Miguel’s face. “Four-fifty? Come on, dude. I really want this purse.”
“Wow.” I tried to sound casual, as my insides did the Snoopy dance. I’d found a whistle-blower. Someone actually wanted to blow a whistle at me. Give me information no one else knew. This was something that happened to Newsline producers, not little old local news me. “That’s such a great story. I’d love to hear more about it. Seriously. Can you call me with all the details?”
“Si.” Miguel nodded. “I will call you tomorrow.”
“Okay, fine. Five hundred pesos. And that’s my final offer.”
“Sold. You are a shrewd barterer, chica.” Miguel winked at me as he took Jodi’s money and wrapped up her purse. I smiled back. “If all Americans were like you, my nine children would starve.”
Jodi grinned stupidly, pleased by her bargaining prowess. She was going to be so pissed tomorrow when she woke up and realized she’d spent fifty bucks on a cheesy Louis Vuitton knockoff that had Xs instead of LVs on the pattern. As her best friend, I should have dragged her away a long time ago. But at this point it was easier to let her have her simple purse-buying happiness. Besides, she could live with the loss of fifty bucks.
I, however, had a feeling this story was going to change my life forever.
Chapter Three
FROM: “Victor Charles, MD”
TO: “Madeline Madison”
SUBJECT: re: cosmetics that kill?
Dear Maddy,
Thank you for writing to me regarding your story on “Cosmetics That Kill.” However, in all my forty years as a doctor at this major medical institution, I have never once come across a single case where cosmetics were responsible for someone’s death.
Perhaps you’d be better serving the community by doing a story on a new over-the-counter diet drug that uses herbs hand ground by Aboriginal tribe members. As the company’s paid spokesman I’d be happy to extol its virtues to your viewing audience and I’m sure it’d be a great ratings booster. I could even provide you with a patient who lost over fifty pounds in one