TUESDAY II

"So do we know yet what happened to the newspaper guy?" Bill Greenwood asked as he removed the bicycle clips from his pantlegs.
"Not a thing," Gary said. "And I don't suppose we'll see Leah today to ask. She's probably got her hands full."
"Yeah, the lights were still on in the newspaper office when I left my store last night at 11," Rex agreed.
"They're always in there late on Monday nights," Paul said. "It takes a long time to develop all of that film, and wasn't there a school board meeting last night? Someone would have had to cover that, and write the story..."
"There was a volleyball game last night, too, I think," Walt, whose daughter was an assistant coach, added. "Woulda had to wait for the results from that, too, wouldn't they?"
"Plus an obituary," Paul said. "That'll be a hard one to write, too. Nobody really knew this guy that I know of. Not to mention the news story. I saw two police officers in there last night; who would have been interviewing whom?"
"So the guy's really dead, huh?" Matt said, strolling in and removing his cowboy hat. "Newspaper Kim and not Rubber Kim?"
"Rubber Kim? Oh, I get it," Rex said. "That's good."
"I don't," Tom said, frowning.
Walt leaned over and whispered something into his father-in-law's ear.
"He made his money on WHAT?" Tom sputtered.
"Condoms," Rex grinned.
"But I thought he was Catholic," Caleb said.
"Oh no, not really. His mom was Catholic, but she died when he was a teenager. Get him drunk and he'll tell you about how guilty he felt about being in a business she would have hated so much, but on the other hand, he did make lots of nice donations to the Church here in her memory. That's probably why you think he's Catholic," Rex said.
"Oh."
"So anyway, about this newspaper guy... Was he murdered or what?" Gary asked. "We could use some excitement around here."
"They don't know yet," Paul said. "It'll probably take a while. They said he was just slumped over his desk, peaceful as all git out, like he'd just taken a nap or something."
"Heart attack, maybe?" Lee said. "That's what we thought had happened to McGonagle yesterday."
"He's pretty rip roarin' mad about that," Matt giggled. "He'll probably sue poor Kelly or something. Said his wife has a new white streak in her hair over it, and Deirdre blew out the transmission in her car racing off to the hospital in Loose Cannon."
"God damn that twit dispatcher, anyway!" Deirdre thundered from the doorway. "She should lose her job for this!"
"She's got three kids and a deadbeat dad on her hands. What would she do?" Paul said.
"Well, she'd better learn to do her damned job," Deirdre retorted, flinging herself down into a chair. "Do you know what we went through yesterday?"
"Wasn't your dad just at home in his library?" Walt asked.
"Oh, no, he was off elk hunting," Deirdre said.
"Yeah, he was with me, and we were way out of cell phone range following this big bull over near the Samson place," Matt said. "Closest Kim came to a heart attack was when he got the news that he'd supposedly had a heart attack."
"How'd he hear about all the hubbub?" Paul asked.
"Oh, we gave up at about 1 o'clock yesterday afternoon and headed back to his house and he heard all the messages on his answering machine. My lord that man has a temper!" Matt said.
"Well, that's all fine and dandy, but I want to know about the newspaper guy," Gary insisted over the laughter.
"It's just like the grocer, Gary, we're just going to have to wait," Rex said calmly.
"Hey, did Leah get the stuff down about that governor candidate that was in town, I wonder?" Lee said. "It'd be a shame not to have that."
"We'll find out tomorrow," Rex said.
"Yeah, I suppose."
"Unless she can't get the paper out in time. It's just her and that college kid now," Paul said. "Though if Huffnagle did it my way all the ads were done on Friday so she's just got to fill the newsholes."
"Newsholes? Newsholes? That's maybe the greatest word ever," Deirdre said, laughing for the first time. "I might have to start using that. 'Shut up, you newshole.'"
"Oh, Leah already does," Gary said. "Weren't you here that one day when I stuck her for coffee and she called me that? Said it's even worse than calling someone an 'ice hole.'"
"Speaking of that, is the lake frozen over yet? Ellen's been slacking off over at the chamber, and she doesn't know if it's safe for ice fishing yet," Roger said, walking in. "God knows why, but everyone expects ME to know it."
"Why don't you ask Will? He's got nothing better to do this time of year than obsess over that kind of stuff," Gary said.
"Naw, Will doesn't mess with ice fishing; we're the only people around who sell that kind of stuff," Rex said. "But I don't know how much ice is on the lake yet. I'll ask Karen and Marcia next time I see them; they go walking out there every morning with their dogs." He pulled out a pen and wrote something on his hand.
"Jesus," Deirdre said, watching over Rex's shoulder. "How many notes have you got on there? Why don't you get a daytimer like a normal person?"
"That's one more thing to carry around," Rex said, sagely, "And they don't make them small enough to fit in your shirt pocket. Besides, too easy to lose?"
"But what happens if you wash your hand before you take care of that stuff?"
"Who says he washes his hands?" Walt joked.
"Ha." Rex said to Walt. "I use a very good pen, and I'm careful. Plus, if it's serious, it goes on these," he added, pointed to a stack of "sticky notes" in his left breast pocket.
"Yeah," Walt said, pointing to his own pocket, and to Paul's and Gary's. "A pad for to-dos, a pad for phone calls to make, a pad for your grocery list..."
"You can pretty much tell how you rate from which pad your stuff gets written down on," Matt added.
"So is stuff on your hand more important or less important?" Deirdre asked.
"If it's really important, it goes on a pad later," Rex said cryptically.
"So how important is finding out how much ice is on the lake?"
"It's of critical importance," Rex said.
"So you're going to call Karen and Marcia right after coffee?"
"No, I'm going to tell Ellen and tell her to get on the ball. She needs to know this stuff. What if a tourist calls about it?"
"Oh. Good point," Deirdre said.
"Anyway, that's not what my note is about," Rex said, putting his pen away.
"What was it, then?"
"I just wanted to remember my new vocabulary word. Newshole," Rex grinned. "See?" and he showed Deirdre his hand. "It's the best one since 'ignoranus.'"
"Someone who's both stupid and an asshole?" Gary asked. "I got that in my e-mail the other day."
Rex nodded. "I had Leah make me a big ol' poster of that for the bulletin board above my desk."
From deep in the kitchen, a phone rang. And rang. And rang.
"Dammit, I forgot I sent Suzie off to do the bank deposit," Gary said, getting up from his chair.
A moment later he came back, a cordless phone in his hand.
"Leah has some questions for you," he said, handing it to Paul.
"Well, she's just down the street," Paul grumped, taking it. "This is Paul... No, I didn't sell it directly to the Murdochs... Yeah, I bought it from Hearst... Yeah, it was the smallest paper Hearst ever owned... No, I don't think that was ever public... If you quote me about it, make sure I said it 'speculatively'... It is, too, a word... Right... No, Baer bought the paper from me in 1990... Oh, I think he hired Huffnagle just two or three years ago... Unless Baer changed the filing system the personnel stuff would be in the white cabinet, you ought to be able to get the date out of there... Are you going to be able to get the paper out?... It's what?... Hold on, I'll ask...
"Any of you guys going to Loose Cannon this afternoon?"
"I have to go to my store there for a bit, maybe," Rex said. "Why?"
"Leah wants to know if someone can take the paper to get printed over there. She doesn't trust her car right now, something about a solenoid on the transmission," Paul said.
"I'll talk to her about it after coffee," Rex said.
"Rex might be able to help," Paul said into the phone. "No, kiss him yourself... That's right, 1990. Oh, is there going to be an obit?... How'd you find out anything that fast?... Ha ha ha... Yeah, all right, we'll wait for the paper..."
"Ask her what's in it for me if I help her," Rex interrupted.
"Rex wants to know what he gets for helping you," Paul said, then began to laugh. "She says you get to read the paper a day early."
"Still got to teach that girl a thing or two about negotiating, I see," Rex said.
"All right, honey... You sure you don't need a hand over there? I know a thing or two about getting a paper out... Oh, well, you've got a point... OK, see you tomorrow... Bye."
"What was her point?" Walt asked.
"She said it would take her longer to teach me to use those computers than it would for her and Danny to finish getting the paper out themselves," Paul said ruefully.
"Well, Kanebrain, some of us have a living to go make," Rex said, "And I gotta go make a deal with Leah."
"You want me to run the numbers, I take it?" Gary said.
"If you would, please."
"All right, listen up... One to 1000..."

WEDNESDAY

"So, where's the paper?" Mack said irritably as he strode into the bar. "I didn't have one in my mailbox."
"Neither did I," Gary said. "She must not have been able to get it done."
"Who wasn't able to get what done?" Mack asked.
"You must have been hunting," Walt said.
"Well, yeah, just got back last night. Nice six point buck... Why, what did I miss?"
"Kim Huffnagle is dead," Gary said simply.
"Holy Christ, how did that happen?"
"Leah said Danny just found the guy slumped over his desk Monday morning," Walt said.
"What was Danny doing at Kim's house? I wouldn't let that dingaling within a mile of my place," Mack said, helping himself to coffee and signaling to Suzie for toast.
"Wasn't at his house, it was at the newspaper office. Hey, did he even have a house? Where'd he live, anyway?" Walt asked.
"I don't know," Gary said.
"Why would Kim be at the newspaper office on a Monday morning? I thought he and Matt went elk hunting," Mack said, confused. "And by the way, what has this got to do with me not having a newspaper today?"
"Oh, oh, oh – he thinks we mean Kim McGonagle," Tom mused, shaking his finger and taking a sip.
"There's another Kim?" Mack said, frowning.
"Kim McGonagle has the huge house full of dead animals south of town. Kim Huffnagle was the editor of the Reader," Gary explained slowly. "It's the newspaper guy who died."
"Oh. So just because he croaked we don't get a paper?" Mack groused. "Damn, this coffee tastes funny this morning. Soapy."
"Suzie, I thought you yanked the carafe that didn't get rinsed," Gary roared into the kitchen. "We've got a new dishwasher and he's not too bright," he added.
"Must be related to that new workman of mine," Walt said. "I went up to Tad's house yesterday after coffee and he'd put half the new shingles on upside-down. Fast worker, I'll admit, but how do you put shingles on upside-down and not notice something a little odd?"
"Didn't Kevin's brother do that to his house a while back?" Gary asked as Suzie brought out Mack's toast and carried off the offending carafe. "Thank you, dear. Make sure the others aren't soapy, too, would you?"
"So why don't I have a paper again?" Mack said, searching through the jam packets for the coveted blackberry.
"The editor dropped dead, it was deadline day, and Leah and that creampuff whathisname had to get the paper out by themselves. My guess is they didn't get it done in time," Gary said patiently.
"Oh yes they did," Rex announced from the doorway, doffing his hat. "They got it done early, as a matter of fact. The publisher guy in Loose Cannon was very surprised to see me."
"So she did sweet-talk you into bringing the paper up?" Paul said behind him. The two men sat down and turned over their coffee cups.
"Oh yes, how can you say no to someone who looks so pathetic?" Rex said.
"Oh, I bet she just batted her eyes and you turned into a big ol' marshmallow," Walt teased.
"No eyes were batted. Matter of fact, when I came in at first she asked me what the hell I thought I was doing barging in on production day. Had an X-acto knife in her hand and blue ink on her face and another knife stuck through a bun in her hair and looked like the newslady from hell," Rex grinned. "Inherited Kevin's temper, I think. But she apologized after a few minutes."
"So you got the paper to the printer in time, then?" Paul asked. "That Dave is a real stickler about paying his press boys overtime. I once showed up 45 minutes late and he about handed me my ass and almost didn't print up the Reader."
"I was an hour and 45 minutes early, actually. So we sat down for a while in his office, had some very good scotch, and he shot me a pretty good deal on an insert for the store. Which Leah gets to match for my trouble," Rex exulted. "It pays to be nice to the newsladies."
"So the paper got done on time? And you brought it back? And the circulation people got everything done?" Paul continued.
"As far as I know," Rex shrugged. "Leah was all excited that she'd actually get to bed on time for once."
"So then what the hell happened to the paper?" Gary demanded.
"I don't know – here comes Leah, why don't you ask her?"
"Hi, guys," Leah sighed as she sat down, still in her coat and scarf. She slumped down in her chair, closed her eyes, and murmured "Oh god, please give me coffee."
"Right away, schnookie," Rex said, pouring her half a cup and pushing it her way. "You look a little tired."
"I've been arguing with Viv over at the post office all morning," she said.
A general murmur of sympathy made its way around the table.
"She claims we didn't leave the sacks of the paper in the right place last night and so she 'didn't know to put it in the mailboxes' this morning," Leah said, rolling her eyes and beginning to remove her jacket. As her arms tangled in the sleeves, she heaved a tremendous sigh and just sat there for a moment, immobile, until Rex stood up and came to her rescue.
"All tangled up like a kitten in yarn," he teased.
"Hmmm..." she replied.
"So do we get a paper or not?" Mack groused over his toast.
"Maybe later this morning. If she gets time. She said this, mind you, while she took her second cigarette break of the morning. I have it on very good authority that it was her second," Leah sighed. "So she's smoking and the entire town thinks I screwed up and couldn't get the paper out on time."
"Don't worry, your hero here just told us you actually had time to spare," Gary said.
"That I did," Rex said, pleased with himself.
"Thanks," Leah smiled wearily at him.
"Did you maybe think to bring us a copy, hon?" Paul prompted.
"Oh. Shit. Yes I did. Hey Lee–" she said as the airport manager walked into the bar. "Could you hand me my satchel there? Hanging up with the coats? I brought two copies."
Paul grabbed the first to emerge from Leah's bag, while Gary snatched the second and, with a flourish, began to read the headlines.
"Gubernatorial candidate speaks on land use issues," he intoned. "Accuses opponents of corruption and kickbacks. That's hardly news, Leah."
"You should read the kind of crap he had to say," she replied. "Though nothing I could do could convey the freaky fervor with which he said it. It was like one of those guys on channel 10 predicting the end of the world and crying. He knocked over no fewer than seven coffee cups during his performance. Thanks, Lee, by the way, for the tip. That guy's a yellow journalist's dream!"
"She's right!" Paul said, following a line in the article with his finger. "'I cry foul on the officials of the Snowy Mountain Ski Company for withholding information about the existence of the Wyoming Business Council from legitimate businessmen,' Gantz said. 'They are trying to keep this resource a secret, and succeeding far too well.' How could any company keep the existence of a state bureau a secret?"
"Oh, it's a vast conspiracy with the Cheyenne and Casper newspapers and the TV stations and the post office," Leah said, giggling. "If you read further down, Sherwood and I are complicit, too."
"Well, of course you are," Rex said. "Everything's your fault when you're in local government."
"Ain't that the truth," Paul agreed. "So how'd it feel, printing accusations against yourself, Leah?"
"Oh, it's awesome," Leah said.
"OK, here we go," Gary interrupted. "'Reader editor dead at 78. Circumstances of his death still unknown, coroner says.'"
"He was 78?" Lee said. "My god, I had no idea he was that old."
"None of us did," Leah said. "But that's what his driver's license said and everything. Bruno said he was the healthiest looking 78-year-old he'd ever hauled away."
"Bruno?" Tom asked. "Bruno Brown?"
"Yeah, the coroner," Leah nodded.
"How'd you get him to talk for the paper?" Paul asked. "In my day he'd tell me to go to hell almost before I said 'hello' on the phone."
"Well, Paul, honey, I never had a yard sign for his opponent in my yard," Leah said patronizingly.
"That was, what, 20 years ago?" Paul protested.
"Wyoming Alzheimer's," Rex said, shaking his head.
"Anyway, if I may continue," Gary said, resuming his reading aloud. "'Big Fittings Republican-Reader editor Kim Huffnagle, 78, was found dead in his office Monday of what has preliminarily been rules as natural causes.
'Caldwell County Coroner Bruno Brown told the Reader he could find no obvious cause of death, but that Huffnagle looked "peaceful, like he'd just taken a nap,".
'The body was found at approximately 9:30 a.m. Monday morning by Reader staffer Danny Zabrowskie. Brown indicated that the time of death occurred approximately three hours before.
'The Big Fittings police department were summoned to the scene, but officers say they found nothing to indicate foul play or anything but a natural death, a conclusion with which Brown concurred.
'"He's just gone," Police Chief Doyle Gonzales said, shrugging. "78 isn't that surprising an age to go in your sleep. I think that's what happened."
'Huffnagle was the editor of the Reader for nearly three years, and will be missed by his employer, Reader publisher Gunter Baer of Moorwood, Wyo.
'"He always got the job done, and was a pleasant, dependable man," Baer said. "This is a disappointing shock for us all."
'At present, Reader reporter Leah Ambrose will serve as acting editor until a final decision is made, Baer added, saying he has "every confidence in Ms. Ambrose's abilities."
'Huffnagle leaves behind no survivors, and next of kin have yet to be located.
'Funeral arrangements are being handled by Phoenix Services, LLC of Loose Cannon. Dates for a service and interment were not established as of press time.'" Gary concluded reading.
"No family, no friends, no funeral, I'd say," Lee said.
"Gunter's paying for the funeral," Leah said. "It's going to be pretty simple, I think. I'm not even sure what's up with the pallbearers and stuff. We don't even know if he was a member of a particular church or anything."
"Well, he wasn't Catholic," Rex said.
"Never saw him at the Presbyterian," Paul said.
"He was no Baptist," Walt said, and Tom nodded.
"There are maybe eight people going to the Episcopal Church and he ain't one of them," Lee said.
"Never struck me as much of a holy roller, so I doubt he went to that funny thing on the hill," Gary mused.
"On the other hand, he never cussed, didn't hunt or fish, God, I never even saw him drink coffee," Leah said, puzzled.
"Maybe he was a Mormon," Walt said.
"Nah, remember that photo of Morton Kelley at the chariot races we had on the front page? The one where he's wearing those striped pants with the fake ass cheeks sticking out of them? No way a Mormon would print a picture like that, I think," Leah said. "Though sometimes he didn't pay too much attention to what was going in..."
"Yeah, like when you got elected to the town council. Didn't he have a fit because he found out about it from that reporter at the Loose Cannon paper instead of from you?" Gary asked.
"I tried and tried to tell him I'd gone ahead and filed, but he always waved me off and chased me out of his office with those horrible, stinky cigars," Leah said. "So I figured he'd at least see it in the proofs for the paper – it was in the second paragraph of the lead news story, I wrote a column about it, it was published in a legal ad in back, and there was a letter to the editor endorsing me, all in one issue. Missed 'em all. Cindylou Gibson didn't miss it, though!"
"Who, 'Miss Quote' herself?" Rex asked.
"The same! She always grabs a copy of the Reader while it's being printed so she can mine it for stories for the Loose Cannon Leader so she doesn't have to work so hard that night," Leah said, rolling her eyes. "And she came downstairs and asked Kim if it wasn't maybe a tiny conflict of interest that I was running for city council. Oh man, I guess he really wigged out, got on the phone to Gunter... and I guess he was really, really embarrassed when he learned that it was Gunter who'd written the letter to the editor endorsing me!"
"Yeah, printing that was maybe not good journalism," Paul chided her.
"Hey, what do I know about this stuff?" Leah said. "I majored in classics!"
"I know, but you'll probably hear about it at the press association convention," Paul said, patting her on the shoulder.
"To tell the truth, that is so not high on my list of things to worry about," Leah said.
"I kind of figured," Paul said.
"So what happens now?" Gary asked, folding the paper and tossing it onto the table.
"Well, I guess they're still looking for a cause of death, and meantime, I guess I'm in charge at the paper," Leah shrugged. "Just me and Danny..."
"Just make sure the airport board's legal ad doesn't get screwed up again," Lee said. "We've got to wrap things up with that contractor who widened the runway, and we can't until that notice has run."
"Have we gotten it?" Leah asked, blind-sided.
"Millie's supposed to have sent it in yesterday," Lee shrugged. "Again."
"Yesterday? Lee, our deadline for that stuff is Friday."
"Well, you already had the ad," Lee said. "You just had the contractor's name wrong."
"Oh, that thing. Actually, WE didn't have the name wrong. She did. She e-mails us those and we just copy and paste straight out of the message," Leah said.
"Whatever, I don't care about that stuff, just get it right."
"Tell Millie," Leah dismissed him.
"Well, you're on the council, you should know this stuff. You just paid this guy, what, $500,000?"
"Lee, do you know how many contractors and crap whose names I see every month? I refuse to be responsible for the details. That's why we have boards like yours. Phooey!"
"Keyboard," Rex snickered again. "Keyboard."
"Oh, shut up," Leah said, irritably. "You're just as bad as he is when the planning commission wants something. But at least our Attack Zoning Officer can spell."
"Hire him for the newspaper, then," Lee said.
"Now that would be interesting!" Rex said, nodding at Lee. "Hey Leah, now that you've got the bully pulpit and all, why not take the opportunity to make the paper interesting. You should give Leon a column! 'Zoning and You' or something, I don't know, you could make something up. Give Leon a column, and Gonzales, and..."
"And Millie!" Gary grinned.
"Oh, you guys are funny," Leah said. "I should give you guys a column."
"Anytime, schnookie," Rex said. "Anytime."
"Hmm..." she replied.
"Well, if you're not going to give Millie a column, at least you're going to buy coffee, Miss Ambrose," Gary said, pulling a notepad out of Paul's pocket. "Listen up, One to 1000..."