He prided himself on being a cool, unflappable reporter. Emotional outbursts were not a part of his DNA. And yet, here he was in the office of the Island Times, on his knees, his hands clasped in front of his face, pleading with Hayley. Hayley couldn’t deny she was enjoying being in the power position. Just a little bit. And Bruce knew it. But that didn’t stop him from this valiant effort to enlist Hayley’s help in following a lead for his story on the murder of Dr. Alvin Foley. “Hayley, please, I need you. She likes you.” “I’m sorry, Bruce. I want to go with you, but I’m way behind on my column, and Sal will kill me if I miss my deadline . . . again.” “It’ll just take twenty minutes. I promise. I called Sherman’s Bookstore and she’s working there right now.” He wanted to question Carla McFarland. But Carla despised Bruce. He’d made the fatal mistake of remarking that Carla’s double fudge brownies tasted like they came out of a box instead of made from scratch when he was judging a baking contest at the Blue Hill Fair three years ago.
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