Dead Wrong (A Cal Murphy Thriller Book 7) Jack Patterson (good beach reads .txt) 📖

and left DJ O.T.U.S. to come up with the money on his own—or more obviously to Cal, to pry it out of Tonya Jameson’s hands.

The story seemed rather benign and innocuous, but when held up in light of Kelvin Jameson’s recent death that appeared suspicious at best, Cal had a story that would tickle the ears of the Internet.

Cal also received word from a source inside the Wizards’ front office that Tonya Jameson wasn’t going to get another dime from the club as Kelvin’s contract was essentially voided for illegal drug activities that led to his death. Personally, Cal wondered if perhaps Nikolay Gavin was ruthless enough to kill one of his own players to create room under the salary cap to sign a player who could help the team win a championship. But he decided that wasn’t one bear he wanted to poke—not yet anyway.

Cal finished his story, which stuck to the facts. Will Simon had posited this theory but it was poorly sourced and largely ignored by the mainstream media, not to mention that Simon never created a believable motive in his rush to publish his post. But Cal’s story was different, rife with information and, most importantly, the indisputable truth. He knew what the reader would infer from his article and didn’t need to say it outright. Despite the urge to pose a poll question like—“Did Tonya Jameson have anything to do with her husband’s death?”—a tactic employed by Will Simon after almost every blog post—he stuck to the facts. It kept his publishers happy, the paper’s lawyers without any lawsuits to fend off, and his journalism ethics intact.

He read over the story once more and hit send. Cal knew the real story behind Jameson’s death was still waiting to be unearthed—and it wasn’t going to be easy to get it.

CHAPTER 13

NIKOLAY GAVIN PICKED at his teeth with a toothpick, a habit he incurred upon relocating to the United States. He’d seen cowboys working over a thin strip of wood while watching Western films, but it wasn’t something prevalent on the streets of St. Petersburg where he grew up. He observed in the movies that the man in charge always gnawed on a toothpick while the villain usually did nothing but spit. He grinned as he moved the toothpick in and out of his teeth.

“Do you think you can handle this discreetly?” Gavin asked the man on the other end of his call.

“Of course.”

“Good. Just get it done quickly. I don’t want this to be dragged out. We don’t need this story—how do you say?—catching fire.”

Gavin hung up and glanced at his calendar. He always dined late and didn’t mind keeping appointments into the early evening, though he wasn’t looking forward to his next one: Tonya Jameson.

Gavin’s assistant introduced Tonya and ducked out of the room. He invited her to have a seat before retreating behind his desk.

“Mrs. Jameson, I know I’ve said this before on the phone, but I wanted to say it again in person. You have my deepest sympathy for your loss. Kelvin was a wonderful person and we’re all saddened by his passing.”

Tonya wasted no time in getting to her point. “Not saddened enough to take care of the family he left behind.”

“I’ll do whatever I can to help you,” he said.

“That’s not what I mean.”

He leaned forward and stroked his chin. “Oh? Tell me what you mean then?”

“I don’t want charity, Mr. Gavin. I want what is mine.”

“Well, there is one more paycheck coming. He played last week and in one game this week, so you’ll definitely see his compensation for that.”

“And what about after that? Are you going to pay us the remainder of his salary this year and what’s left on his contract?”

Gavin bit down hard on his toothpick and ground it for a second before answering her. “Let me ask you a question, Mrs. Jameson. And I’d appreciate a truthful answer. Would you pay the family of one of your nannies the rest of her contract in full if she fell ill and died two months after signing an agreement to work for you.”

Tonya shook her head. “That’s why I don’t have a contract with my nannies. I can fire them at any time.”

“And if you did have a contract?”

She said nothing.

“I think your silence says it all, though what you pay your nanny is undoubtedly a pittance to you. Twenty, thirty dollars an hour? Not much compared to the sixteen million a year your husband was making. I wish I could do more, but I simply can’t. This is a business and I have to be wise with the resources we have.”

“What kind of heartless person are you?”

Gavin leaned back and interlocked his fingers behind his head. “No one has ever accused me of being heartless. And just to further prove my point, I’m willing to write you a check right now for a million dollars as a peace offering.”

“A million dollars?”

“Yes, as long as your agree to stop talking to the press about this story. It’s the only caveat that I attach to this. I don’t want to see your husband’s name dragged through this city’s gutter full of journalists attempting to make a name for themselves.”

She grunted. “Are you trying to buy me out?”

“Of course not. I’m only trying to offer you what you feel like is rightfully yours.”

“What’s rightfully mine is the full payout of the rest of his contract.”

He waved at her. “That’s absurd. I’m going to pay you sixteen million a year for the next two years because your husband died of a drug overdose.”

“Allegedly,” she corrected.

“Allegedly or not, that’s what the police report says. Feel free to try and prove otherwise. It’s only going to further destroy his legacy.” He paused. “Don’t think that I don’t have files on every one of my employees, especially my players.”

She stood up and put her hands on her hips. “I’ve got mouths to feed and debts to pay—and