Deadline by Craig McLay Read Free Book Online Page B

slightly emaciated look and lazy, size-you-up-and-roll-you eyes of an ex-con, complete with a spiderweb tattoo on his neck. They had very few details. An unnamed victim had been found on Westhill campus and police were looking to question Devane in connection with the incident. That was all.
    Once he had gotten back to the campus, Colin had thought about going back to the newsroom and decided against it. He wasn’t editor over there anymore, anyway. Let Seth worry about how to write up a version of this that would make it past Watterson. What else was there to do? Drive down to Cornwall and cover a hockey game? The hell with that.
    Realizing that he hadn’t eaten at all, he had made instead for the campus bar, which was predictably deserted. The bar was on the southeast corner of the giant campus recreation centre, which sat on the edge of the forest just down the access road from the arts building. Most of the access routes through the forest had been blocked off by police tape, but Colin figured that was probably the least of it. Not many people felt like going out to a place for wings and beer when body parts had been found less than a hundred yards away.
    Colin was too tired and hungry to care. He had walked in, ordered a plate of chicken fingers and fries, and settled in to watch the news. He had just ordered his second beer when Seth arrived.
    “Hey, Mitchell! Thought I might find you in here.”
    Colin recognized the voice and didn’t bother looking over as Seth slid onto the stool next to him. In truth, though, the smell was the first giveaway. Seth always wore enough cologne to hide a cadaver. Colin wasn’t sure which one it was, but it was almost enough to put him off the rest of his food.
    “Look,” Seth said, pulling out a notebook and dropping it on the bar. “I know this is awkward as ass and everything, but Hal asked me to write up the story on this thing today and I know you have some inside info. Hey, those look good.”
    Colin watched as Seth’s hand darted over, grabbed one of the fries off Colin’s plate, and popped it into his mouth. “So,” Seth said, munching away. “What can you tell me?”
    Colin’s beer arrived. The bartender asked Seth if he wanted anything. Seth asked for a mineral water, which he jokingly suggested be added to Colin’s tab. The bartender looked uncertainly at Colin, who shook his head.
    “You know, Seth,” Colin said after the bartender had gone. “You dress pretty well.”
    Seth looked momentarily confused. “Huh?”
    Colin took a sip of his beer. “You know, your Versace frames, Rolex watch, Gucci loafers. That three-thousand-dollar leather jacket you’re wearing.”
    Seth looked down at his jacket like he just realized it was there. “My what? Oh. Uh, thanks, I guess.”
    “Then there’s your Beemer,” Colin continued. “Not top end, but not exactly old, either. And let’s not forget your spacious loft in the trendy and historic old tannery building. Never live there myself, of course. A—because I couldn’t afford it and, B—because who knows what kinds of chemicals leached into the ground around there. Not to mention all those immigrant labourers who died and were probably just buried underneath what is now a parking lot.”
    Seth shifted uncomfortably. “Colin, I don’t get—”
    “And yet I still see you standing in line to pick up your student loan at the beginning of every semester,” Colin said. “Why is that?”
    Seth forced a laugh to try to change the subject. “Right, but—”
    “It’s not from your family,” Colin continued. “Your father was a welder in an auto plant before GM closed the place down and your mother works part-time in a dry cleaners. You don’t have any rich uncles or grandparents, so you didn’t inherit it. Could it be that your revenue stream is, as we euphemistically like to say,
off the books
?”
    Colin turned his head to study Seth’s reaction. Seth was, as he assumed he would be, sitting with his