Chapter 7

                                    

                                              
Copyright (c) 2015 Phyllis Zimbler Miller
                          
All rights reserved.
                          


                          
     An internal electronic message awaited her on her computer screen when she returned to her desk.  Her pal, police reporter Jerry Sullivan, wanted to know what she knew that he didn't.  
                          
     	She sent back: "Nothing but I'll keep you posted."
                          
     	Glancing at her online calendar, she considered how best to produce five days of stories in three days.  She wouldn't be at work Thursday and Friday because on Wednesday evening the one-day holiday of Shemini Atzeret started, followed Thursday evening by the one-day holiday of Simhat Torah.
                          
     	Last night before going to the shiva minyan for Helene she had made the Quick Cabbage Casserole recipe from the Sukkot chapter in the Jewish holiday book SEASONS FOR CELEBRATION by Rabbi Karen L. Fox and Phyllis Zimbler Miller.  The dish had cooked in the oven while she and Josh attended the minyan, and she would serve it tonight for dinner in the sukkah for her and Josh.  While the same cooking time applied to both this recipe and the other Sukkot chapter recipe Traditional Stuffed Cabbage, which was much closer to what Josh's mother used to make, the prep time for the first version took less time.  And Rebecca was all about efficiency in cooking!
                          
     	At that moment MacKensie Porter, approaching like a shark coming in for the kill, interrupted her thoughts.  "Rebecca, I heard your name cropped up in an awkward place.  Wouldn't care to discuss it with your colleagues, would you?"
                          
     	He stood facing her, the computer screen blocked to his view.  Instead of answering, she typed at top speed, not even looking at her notes on a major Los Angeles entertainment company that had just bought a large multichannel network on YouTube.
                          
     	The toad gave up the chase and returned to his own desk while Rebecca continued typing over and over "The little brown fox jumped over the hill."
                          
***
                          
     	Sam Lewis paced his office at the insurance company he owned.  He felt as if he awaited the prize at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box.  If only he reached further down into the box, the prize would appear.
                          
     	Surely this would not be a box missing its prize.  Gregory Macintosh had promised that today Sam would see the magic number, the number that would enable Sam to sell a particular block of stock at an immense gain, a gain that if the SEC scrutinized might reek of an insider trade.  Yet the SEC would never scrutinize this gain – Sam had been very careful to disguise his purchase; Gregory had seen to that.
                          
     	The buzz of his desk intercom brought Sam back to the business at hand.  His secretary couldn't find the folder on the Masterton housing development.  His partner Jeffrey Steward wanted it.  Did Sam have it?
                          
     	Yes, Sam did indeed have the file, but he would not tell her so.  Instead he suggested she look on the desks of the young associates.  That would keep her busy for a few minutes, time enough to complete his little "work" with the file, then return it unnoticed to her desk.
                          
     	Sam shook his head, his mane of sienna curls brushing his open shirt collar.  It was going to be a good month even if two of his acquaintances, you couldn't really call them friends, were dead.  Well, it was a high risk game out here.  People played for keeps, and he could play with the best of them.
                          
     	Now for the papers.  He had deleted all entries in his computer, only the hard copies remained to be checked.  One couldn't play it too safe – even in a high risk game.