Though the murder happened too late to make the Tribune, it had been carried on the local morning news. Naturally my first phone call was from Emory.“I’m goin’ to take your name out of my will,” he said, his Arkansas drawl thicker than normal this morning, probably because he hadn’t had his requisite three cups of espresso. “Why didn’t you call me when all this was happening last night? I could have come down and gotten a scoop.”“For one thing, Gabe would have killed me. He loves you to pieces, Emory, but he hates your career choice. Two, you aren’t even the paper’s crime reporter, so what do you care? Three, you wouldn’t have gotten your lazy butt out of bed to do it anyway, so why are you bellyaching?” I chewed on the tip of my pen, unperturbed by the dramatic noises sputtering through the receiver.“Since when has what the chief thinks about your escapades ever stopped you? I may not be the crime reporter, but I could have clued her in and garnered a favor of the gargantuan variety, and for your information, I wasn’t in bed, but you are right, I was doing my best to get there.”“So how did your date with Elvia go?”“We went to the melodrama down in Oceano.
