Dead Politician Society

Chapter 22: Annabel

Annabel glowered at the headline on her screen. Libby Leighton Dead—Will We Call This Natural Causes Too? That was today’s Globe. The Post and the Sun had similar slants—Second Politician Down, Coincidence Unlikely and Someone Is Killing Toronto Politicians. Only the Star reported on facts as the police gave them, with a headline that read, Tragic Early Death for Strong Political Leader.

Leader? Because she was a champion of bike lanes? Whatever. Penny’s nose must be getting brown by now, the way it was stuck up the ass of the Toronto police as she waited patiently for her exclusive.

Still, Annabel had to give her a call.

She answered on ring one. “Penny Craig.”

“Penny. Hi. It’s Annabel Davis. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“I’m the editor of a national newspaper. It’s always a bad time.”

Annabel was tempted to roll her eyes, but Penny probably had a camera on her desk to record insubordinate gestures. So she smiled through her Sinutab haze and said, “There’s another letter. From Utopia Girl.”

“Don’t say that name out loud. Are you at your desk?”

“Sorry. Yes, I’m at work.” Annabel sipped her lemon tea and nearly burned her lip. At least she had a paper cup today, not Styrofoam. She blew on it and tried again.

“Have you read this new correspondence?” Penny asked.

“I’ve read it. Same exact thing. Different victim, different rant, but same first and last line. Same signature.”

Penny gasped—a second or two later than felt natural? “I want you to forward me the message immediately. Then delete it from your own computer. Staff machines don’t have the same security as editorial; the message isn’t safe in there.”

“But no one knows…I mean, I haven’t told a soul. Who would look in my computer?”

“Do as I say. We can’t afford to play fast and loose with security, Annabel.”

“Okay.” Her voice came out meeker than she wanted it to.

“All eyes are on Toronto right now because of the film festival. It’s bad enough the other major papers have been reduced to speculation. But the Staris better than that. We’re cooperating with the police every step of the way to get this matter resolved as expediently—and with as little bad press for the city—as possible.”

Now, Annabel really did roll her eyes. She couldn’t help it.

“If another message comes in, please forward it along without opening the message first.”

“Sure. Um, just…let me know if there’s anything I can do that’s helpful.”

A click told her that Penny had ended the call. Annabel was tempted to slam her fist into her desk but again had the fear of being seen. Why was she always such a coward in the presence of authority? Sure, she had a mortgage to pay. But even a waitressing job would be less demeaning than this. And would probably pay more.

Annabel sipped at her tea and felt the flu surround her like a cocoon. When this virus goes away, she promised herself, I will emerge stronger, bolder, and no one will push me around.