He didn’t. He was bullshitting, but a paparazzo had to do what a paparazzo had to do. Otherwise, he’d never get the support he needed, not from the cheap-ass rag he worked for. And after he’d screwed up last month and reported something he hadn’t fully fact-checked, causing The Lowdown to be slapped with yet another lawsuit, he was on Eddie’s shit list.

This was his way of getting off it.

Because I’ve been doing this for twenty years, and I’ve learned a thing or two. She’s legit.

What relationship does she have with Tia Beckett?

She won’t say.

Then, how do you know she’s legit?

Shit, Eddie. I can just tell, okay? Even if you doubt that, I’m already here. Let me do my job.

I hope you do it a lot better than you’ve been doing it lately. I wouldn’t want to have to fire your ass at Christmas.

But Eddie would do it. The threat was real.

I’ll let you know as soon as I have something, he wrote back.

He waited to see if Eddie had a response to that, but nothing came. “Bastard,” he mumbled and called the number he had for the informant who’d reached him at his desk yesterday, out of the blue.

A female voice answered. “Hello?”

“It’s me,” he said.

“I know.”

She didn’t sound particularly happy to hear from him, but she was the one who’d started this thing. “I’m in Silver Springs. Now what?”

“What do you mean? I told you, I don’t know exactly where she’s staying. You’ll have to find her.”

“You sure she’s still here?”

“I’m positive. She’s not going anywhere. She’s taking care of a friend’s parrot while he’s on vacation in Europe.”

“Did you say parrot?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“What...is he a fucking pirate? Why would anyone have a parrot as a pet?”

“Do you really have to use that kind of language?” she asked.

He rolled his eyes. Those who took exception to bad language were ridiculous. Words were completely neutral. Saying that some words were bad was like choosing one color to be bad but accepting all the rest as good. It was something imposed by society that didn’t really exist. But he’d dealt with people like her before, and he needed her, so he said, “I’m sorry, but if you’re playing with me, you won’t get one red cent. I hope you know that.”

“I’m not playing with you.”

“Then, call her up and ask her where she’s staying.”

“I can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“Because when the photographs come out, I don’t want her to know I had anything to do with it.”