Charlie closed his eyes and tried not to relax under her hand. He didn’t want publicity. He didn’t want high ratings. Those waves he wasn’t supposed to be making were at his knees and climbing.

But Allie wouldn’t understand unless he told her everything about why he was here.

And he wasn’t going to tell her everything. If he did, she’d join the investigation and they’d end up right where Bill didn’t want them, on the front page of the Tuttle Tribune.

He opened his eyes and looked up at her. “We have to keep this as quiet as possible.”

Allie glared down at him, exasperated. “Why? This is great. I just don’t see the problem.” Then her expression grew wary as she thought of something. “Well, come to think of it, I might see one problem.”

Charlie felt cold. “What?”

“Well, gossip has it that the FoodStops are mob-connected.”

Charlie sat up. “In Tuttle?”

Allie patted his shoulder. “It’s probably just gossip.”

“Oh, no. The mob would be just my luck.” He heaved himself off the bed and started for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To drown myself in the bathtub.”

“Hey!” Allie protested. “Where’s the food? You said you’d stop at McCarthy’s on the way home.”

“I didn’t get any.”

“Well then, where’s the sex?”

Charlie opened the door and turned back to her. “You’re not getting any, either. I’m depressed.” He closed the door behind him.

Allie sat and listened through the wall until he turned the water on, and then she went in and seduced him in the tub so he wouldn’t drown himself.


* * *

Charlie was still down the next morning. He did snort at breakfast when he heard Mark on the radio introduce himself as “Mark All Morning”-“Well, he’s trying,” Allie told him-but then Joe passed him the Tuttle Tribune and the headline “Disk Jockey Sparks Investigation Into City Building” depressed him so much he only had two helpings of Joe’s yeast-raised pancakes.

“I suppose this isn’t the best time to tell you that you’re doing a promotional appearance tomorrow,” Allie said when he’d wiped the last of the syrup from his plate with the last of his pancake.

“In a pig’s eye.” Charlie stayed bent over his empty plate. “I told you-”

“You were interested in the college,” Allie said as persuasively as she could. “Harry’s going-”

Charlie’s head came up. “The college?” He thought for a moment. The college kids were joking about the stickers. It was a lousy lead, but it was something. “All right. I’ll do the college.”

The phone rang and Joe went to get it, while Allie stared it him in surprise. “You’ll do it?”

“Don’t push your luck,” he told her. “I’m not going to make a habit of this.”

Allie nodded, obviously cheered he was going. Then Joe came back and said, “That was Bill. He’d like to see both of you this afternoon at four.”

“Oh, hell,” Allie said. “Very probably,” Joe said.


* * *

Allie winced as Bill glared at them both with equal disgust. “What I want to know is who died and made you two Ralph Nader?”

“Ralph Nader’s still alive,” Allie said.

Charlie kicked her on the ankle. “It was an accident, Bill. We didn’t know…”

“Well, then shut up,” Bill roared at him.

“Now wait a minute.” Allie stood up, determined not to give in. She had a show to save, and for once, she was in the right morally, too. “That FoodStop person bought up half a dozen grocery stores and then cut prices below cost just to ruin the little stores. And when they were all gone, he raised prices and he’s been gouging Tuttle ever since. For five years. Anybody knows prices are cheaper in Riverbend, but only people with time and money can get there to stock up. He’s preying on the poor and-”

“Sit down,” Bill said and she sat.

“Do you know who the FoodStop person is?” Bill asked her with deceptive gentleness.

Allie stopped, sure she wasn’t going to like finding out who the FoodStop person was. “No.”

“Roger Preston.”

Oh, terrific. Allie’s chin came up. “Well, I hope you’ve won a lot of money off him in those poker games, because he’s a crook.”

Charlie slumped back in his chair. “You’re kidding. Another poker player?”

“I’m gonna be playing solitaire if you two don’t knock it off.” Bill snarled. He stabbed a finger at Charlie. “This is not what I hired you for.”

“Well, of course it is.” Allie went back into action, protecting her star. “This is exactly what you hired him for. I can’t wait to see the ratings.”

“Young lady-”

“And Beattie loved it,” Allie said, saving her killer shot for last. “Absolutely loved it.”

Bill closed his eyes. “I wish she’d go back to the garden club.”

“She’s going to do an editorial on the news tonight,” Allie said.

Bill’s eyes flew open. “No, she is not.”

“Well, you better tell her, then,” Allie said.

Bill leaned forward, scowling at them so hard his eyebrows meshed into one white strip of fur across his forehead. “You let me handle Beattie. And from now on, don’t answer the phone.”

“But Bill-” Allie stopped midsentence when Charlie took her hand and jerked her up out of the chair.

“You got it,” he told the older man. “No phones. Well tell people they’re down for the night. By Monday, everybody will have forgotten. Come on, Al.”

“Wait a minute,” Allie said, but he pulled her out of the office still protesting.

‘‘We’ve got a great show here,” she fumed at him. “And you’re shooting it in the foot. Why can’t you-”

“Repeat after me,” he said as he dragged her down the hall past Marcia, the afternoon DJ, and Mark who were arguing about something. “Controversy is bad.”

“Great show, Charlie,” Marcia called back to them. “Everybody’s talking about it.”

“Terrific,” Charlie muttered and picked up speed.

Allie looked back over her shoulder at Mark. He did not look happy. She tried not to feel good about that but it was hopeless, so she beamed at Mark as Charlie towed her away.

Life just kept getting better and better.


* * *

It was almost midnight when Charlie saw Allie wave to him through the glass. He was still annoyed with her, but it was hard to maintain. It wasn’t her fault he’d stumbled over the worst case of greed that Tuttle had ever seen.

He motioned her in.

“Nice boring show,” she told him, and he rolled his eyes at her.

“Don’t start. What have you got for me?”

Allie handed some papers over, and he frowned at them. “Here’s the title for that guy who wanted the Tennyson allusion. It was really Wordsworth. And here’s the print of Rubens’ Rape of the Sabines. I forget why you wanted that. This is radio.”

Charlie studied the print, a painting of ample bodies spilling all over a horse. “That woman last night who said it was okay you eat like a locust also said the problem with men is that all we look at are pictures of skinny women. She said if we put Rubens’ work up instead of Hugh Hefner’s, we’d all be better for it.” He held the print up beside Allie so that he could see them together and squinted between her and the print. “You need to put on some weight.”

“Good. I’ll start now.” She picked up what was left of the cheeseburger he’d brought into the booth with him and chomped into it. “You need anything else?”

“Nope.” The tape ended and he went back to the mike. “And now, for all you William Wordsworth fans who have probably been trying to call in on our dysfunctional phones and tell me that yesterday’s mystery quote was not Tennyson, ‘Getting and spending we lay waste our powers’ is from Wordsworth’s The World Is Too Much With Us. Will dashed off that little ditty in 1807, but it’s still relevant today.”

A pickle oozed out of the cheeseburger Allie was eating and flopped onto her blouse, leaving a mustard trail on the white rayon as it toppled over the swell of her breast.

“Oh, great,” Allie said next to the mike, and then winced at her mistake.

“And that was the voice of Alice McGuffey, my producer.” Charlie grinned at her. “Usually this is a one-man show, but Allie just dropped a pickle with mustard on her blouse. What’s the blouse made of, Al?”

“Rayon. Dry-clean only, hold the mustard.”

“Anybody out there with a surefire method for getting mustard out of rayon, call in and save Allie’s blouse. She doesn’t get paid enough here to buy a new one. Oh, you can’t call in, the phones are down. Well, write. And now a nostalgic wake-up call since it’s after midnight, bedbugs-2 Live Crew.”

Allie glared at him, and he shoved the cassette slide up while he tried to figure out what he’d done wrong this time.

“What?” he said to her. “It’s not my fault you ripped off my hamburger and got slimed with mustard.” He got out of his chair, stretched and sat down on the counter to get a better look at her. She was actually glowering. He moved back a little farther until his butt hit the soundboard. She was fun to watch when she was mad, but he was still a prudent man.

“2 Live Crew?” Allie sputtered. “You’re playing 2 Live Crew?”

“Yes, Allie,” Charlie said patiently. “I’m playing 2 Live Crew. It’s my show. I do the playlist.”

“I can’t believe it.” Allie smacked the hamburger down on the console. “And I thought you were an okay guy.”

“I am an okay guy. I have testimonials.” Charlie leaned back to enjoy the argument, since for once it wasn’t about making him a star.