“If that were true we’d have the whole town over there digging up the property. Now that would be a story.” She laughed.
He shrugged. “Maybe it’s time someone found a truth to all those rumors. And that’s where you come into the picture.”
“I’ve already been there and done that. There is no truth to the rumors. It’s pure drama that keeps the rumor mill turning.”
“But this will be different. You’ll be there getting first glance.”
“Why is this so important to you?” No doubt he had an ulterior motive. He always did.
“Imagine the publicity it will bring to our little town. We have to be a part of this, Ivy. We can’t just let some out-of-towner come in and grab our story. We gotta get our piece of the pie. Not to mention that Mayor Tisdell and the owner of the Tribune, Mr. Parks, are breathing down my neck for me to make this work. Since they got wind of this man’s arrival, Tisdell and Parks have been fired up, twisting and spanking this opportunity half past dead. We’ve kept it under wraps until the definite plans were made.”
“All over a ghost hunter?”
“This ghost hunter’s investigations are well known in his field and gobbled up by believers–and some not-so-believing. He’s written a shitload of books on his observations and findings. They sell like crack hotcakes. Imagine all the tourists who’d want to come here just to get a glance at that old dump.” His eyes sparkled dollar signs. “However, if my plan works…” He stopped.
She saw the mischief bubbling in his chubby face. “What are you up to, Marshall?” She narrowed her eyes. “Who is this man anyway?”
“Max Shepard. Heard of him?”
“Maybe, but once again, paranormal activity isn’t my cup of tea.” And then a thought struck her. “Wait… Isn’t he the man who was in all the gossip magazines after he divorced that paper-thin supermodel? She walked the catwalk for those fancy fashion designers. When was that–maybe five, six years ago?”
“I don’t know about all that nonsense.” He snorted. “You know how those good-for-nothing tabloids feed off the crud of other peoples’ lives.”
“You mean the same sort of trash magazines you worked for before coming here?”
He didn’t even acknowledge that. “Why he has chosen to come here and investigate the dilapidated Thornton House makes no sense to me.” He rubbed his palms together. “What I do know is that Shepard made arrangements to stay at the old dump. The latest owner of that shack is all for this investigation. He sees this as a future sale in the making.”
“You mean your golf buddy. Nice how that fits so comfy. Let me guess–you scratch his back, he’ll scratch yours?”
“I have a lot of golf buddies, sugar.”
“And what makes you think this ghost hunter guru would want some writer tagging along? Aren’t most of those people loners?”
His eminent sneaky grin returned. “I’m afraid that choice won’t be given to him. The property owner arranged for you to stay also. It’s all been smoothed out. No worries. Just do your job.”
“That’s nice,” she muttered. “Okay, let’s say this man is worth a story. But what a waste of time investigating Thornton House for haunting. There’s nothing to find but cobwebs and rats. I’d rather just skip the whole haunting buzz and go straight for a personal interview with Max Shepard.” She grinned. “I bet I’d get a good one.”
“Thatta girl.” He stood up and straightened his tie. “And you never know, Ivy. From the photos I’ve seen of Shepard, he’s a looker and known as a ladies’ man. You may have to use those womanly wiles to convince him to give you an exclusive. Cozying up to him might be a blessing instead of a disaster.” He winked.
“Oh…my…my…my.” She surveyed him closely and her stomach twisted. “What are you thinking? You wouldn’t! You couldn’t!” she sputtered.
“What, Ivy?” He pretended innocence, which was a long shot. “Just remember us when you get that interview.”
“I’ve never used seduction to get a story, Marshall. I won’t start now.”
He rubbed his double chin and shrugged a beefy shoulder. “That thought never crossed my mind. But just between the two of us, sex is not taboo in getting an exclusive. You could do worse things–”
Ivy jumped up from the chair, sending it hard against the wall. “Stop right there. There is no chance in hell I’d lower my values for a story. I will not go in there and seduce this man to convince him to let us publish his personal story. This is deplorable.”
“Calm down, Ivy. I’m not asking you to seduce the man, for Christ’s sake. I’m just asking you to go in and get a story on what he finds. Show Shepard how nice our townsfolk are. If he gives you an exclusive, that’ll be icing on the cake. Look at it as a partnership. And being the journalist you are, think of the story you can get from him. And what if he picks up on a few freaking mysteries and ghosts? If we earn a story in one of his books, well hell, this town will no longer be stories of stolen lawn ornaments. Can you only imagine the boost such a story can give to a writer’s career?” He pointed a stubby forefinger in her direction.
Ivy didn’t respond. She toyed with the idea of an exclusive on Max Shepard. She didn’t care whether there were spirits or walking dead. What she did believe in was finding an opportunity to make a name for herself. A story on the Max Shepard would be of interest to a lot of people, and definitely wouldn’t hurt her lackluster career. “I think this Max Shepard is a phony. He claims to see ghosts? I bet he’s never seen a spark of supernatural his entire life. Now that would be a story. To reveal a fake.”
“A fake? Sure, go that route. I don’t give a rat’s ass what your storyline is as long as there is one. Find out what makes this man tick. Stay on him like white on rice.”
“Desperate, are we?” Ivy raised a brow.
“When you get to be my age you’ll know desperation.” Something flashed across his face. Ivy couldn’t read what it was before it disappeared. Was there more to this than met the eye? He turned toward the window and stared out. “Besides, you’re a journalist. Journalists like to report. Maybe this is the story that’ll get you that move into a big-shot newspaper. If not, you may be stuck in this small town for the rest of your life. Unless we both fail on this story and get fired.”
She sucked in a deep breath. “That sounds like a threat.”
“Well, one way or another, you may get your wish.” He turned back to her. “You’ll be leaving dodge by choice or involuntarily.” He chuckled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He returned to his chair.
“Marshall, you know I came back here to live for one reason and one reason only. My mother and her ill health. She needs me. I need this job until I have a backup plan.” With her dismal thoughts burning a hole in her head, she told Marshall, “You should be glad that I’m still here doing your demeaning jobs. I bet we wouldn’t see your star reporter, Jasmine, sleeping in a deserted haunted house for two weeks.”
His scoff echoed off the empty walls. “You’re a much better writer than Jasmine. Good looks, big tits and a tight ass can only get you so far in life.” He thrummed his fat fingers on the desktop.
“And what am I? Chopped liver?” She scowled.
His face softened slightly. “Ivy, you don’t need me to feed your ego. You’re single because you choose that life. You’ve got the whole kit and caboodle. Looks, brain and