“Listen to me, young ladies.” (“Young ladies,” Diane mouthed but did not interrupt.) “Good reporting is not wasting words or space. I can’t afford the column inches to describe every insignificant detail about a story or all the information that might be pertinent.”

“But what about—” said Jackie, but Diane spoke over her.

“We’ll make this simple. Which of those two stories is true? Which one can we trust?”

Leann thought about this.

“I don’t know. Or I don’t remember. Or a journalist never reveals her secrets.”

“That’s a magician,” Jackie said. “A magician never reveals her secrets.”

“Isn’t a journalist a type of magician?” said Leann, lifting one eyebrow. The effect was very irritating.

“No,” said Jackie. “Definitely not, no.”

“I think what Jackie’s trying to say, Leann, is that—”

“I’m trying to say this,” said Jackie, standing.

She reached over Leann’s shoulder, grabbed a hatchet (the one inscribed with “What!?”). Jackie hefted the hatchet over her head and put her hand down on the table between all of them. Before either of the other women could do anything in response, she swung the hatchet down and chopped the slip of paper in her hand in two. Then up again, this time a series of quick, light hacks, like a chef cutting up a chiffonade. Once the slip was shredded, she swept all the paper off the table, scattering it into the air and onto the thick carpet.

“Look,” Jackie said. She held up the intact piece of paper that said “KING CITY.”

“Now, I need to know everything you know about this place,” she said, waving the paper.

“How did you do that?” Leann said.

“A magician never reveals.”

Diane had of course noticed the piece of paper in Jackie’s hand, but this was confounding. She found she had nothing to ask, or she had many things to ask but no way to voice them.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” was all Diane could say.

“There’s a lot of us with these papers,” said Jackie. “Diane, I saw you had one, but I don’t know what you did with it.”

“He wanted me to give it to my son. But I didn’t. I threw it away. Or no, I—I don’t remember what I did with it.”

“Lucky.” Jackie dismissed Diane. “I keep mine in my hand, because it won’t leave. Now, Leann, which of these stories is true? Do you have any idea?”

“I imagine they both are,” said Leann. “I’m imagining that because I don’t have any idea.”

She narrowed her eyes to better assess Jackie. Definitely impressed this time.

“You’ve obviously been there,” said Jackie. “You wrote two articles about the place. Can you put us in touch with anyone there?”

“Oh no, I never actually went there or talked to anyone there. I’m a reporter, not a snoop.”

31