To read previous editions, go here.

The pink bug skidded to stop in front of the comely brick estate.  A snarling figure surrounded platinum hair dangling from curlers in a feather-lined silk bathrobe and rubber duckie pajamas raced up the sidewalk in her rhinestone-studded pink heels.  Out of the passenger side, a woman with wild red hair tumbled out, her nightgown billowing as she raced up the sidewalk after her companion.

Norman knew who it was before the manicured finger punched the doorbell.  He hung up the phone and smoothed his bathrobe.  Curling his lips into a well-practiced smile, he opened the door.  “Dallas, now, don’t worry.  I already sent her home.”

Dallas’ snarl turned to a look of surprise.  “Sent who home?”

“Clementine Jane,” Norman replied, choking back a laugh as the women exchanged glances.  “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?  To find her?”

“How did you know that?” Adelaide demanded.

“Grayson called, of course,” Norman lied.  “Right before she showed up.”

Dallas Jean reached up and grabbed Norman by the lapels.  “Where is she, Norman?  Where is she?  Where’s my daughter?”

With one smooth move, Norman disentangled himself from Dallas Jean.  “I told you,” he replied, stepping back into the doorframe.  “I sent her home.”

“What was she doing here in the first place?” Adelaide demanded, jamming her hands on her hips.

Norman sighed, shaking his head.  “She rushed over here accusing me of spreading rumors about you, Dallas.  I explained that even though I represent your husband as a candidate, I respect you too much as a family friend to ever dream of launching a smear campaign.”

“That’s a load of bull,” Adelaide snorted.

“I have to agree,” Dallas Jean drawled quietly.  Norman stiffened, taking another step back.  Dallas Jean was dangerous when she was quiet.

“See Norman, here’s what I know,” Dallas Jean murmured, jamming her finger into the base of Norman’s throat and thrusting her faces inches from his.  He leaned back, gripping the doorway for support as the pink manicured nail dug into his skin.  “I know that my daughter is running around somewhere in the middle of the night with no supervision and no driver’s license.  I know that someone filled her head with ideas.  And I know that someone is stirring up old memories that are best left buried and twisting them into ugly, bitter rumors.  I know that his campaign has turned from a fun bet into something nasty and sinister.  And I know it’s not my husband doing it.  Now, what do you think that means?”

Norman didn’t say a word as the fingernail pierced deeper into his skin.  “It means that when I find this bastard, heads will roll.  I’ve got a 60,000 acre ranch in South Texas, Norman.  It’s pretty hard to find a body out there.  Understand?”  Dallas’ ice blue eyes bored into his, her teeth clenched.

Norman cleared his throat.  “I told you, Dallas, I sent her home.  Otherwise, there is nothing for us to discuss.  Good night.”  Steering Dallas onto the porch, he shut the door with a hard click.   Dallas stared at the closed door, seething.  She clenched her fists and turned to Adelaide.

“I know,” Adelaide replied, answering her unspoken words.  “I know, honey.  Why don’t you call Grayson and see if Clementine Jane made it home?”

Pulling out her rhinestone-studded cell phone, Dallas Jean held down one number and raised the phone to her ear.  “Grayson, is she home?” she demanded.  Adelaide watched as her friend’s face drained of color.  “She’s not?  Did you call your mother?  What about Aunt Sally?”  She listened, pressing her pale lips together.  “And she’s not at the neighbors or any of her friends?  You checked?”  The curlers trembled as her voice cracked.  “Did the sheriff find her?  Still looking?  No, she’s not at Norman’s.  She was though.  Ok, Adelaide and I are going to keep searching.  Keep me informed.”  Flipping the phone shut, she stared at the closed cover.  “Where could she be, Adelaide?” she whispered.  “Where?”

Adelaide wrapped an arm around her friend, rubbing her shoulders.  “Don’t worry, Dallas.  I’m sure she”–  She froze, her eyes widening.  “She’s at the newspaper.”

“Huh?” Dallas Jean answered, her eyes dull and red.  “What?”

“I just know, Dallas,” Adelaide replied, tapping her forehead.  “It just came to me.  She’s at the newspaper.  Her home away from home.  She’s there now.”

Dallas nodded, whipping out her car keys.  “I don’t care if you’re psychic or just crazy.  Let’s go get my daughter.”

***

Clementine Jane stared at her computer in the newspaper office, her hand tapping the space next to the keyboard.  Her brow furrowed, she gnawed on the end of a pencil.

A large man with a larger belly and precisely three black strands combed over his bald head bustled in, a crumpled fast food sack in his hand.  He jumped, clutching at his wrinkled shirt with a greasy hand.  “Clementine Jane!  What are you doing here so late?  You scared me.”

“I could ask you the same thing, Ned.”  Clementine Jane smiled at her editor.

“The news never sleeps, you know that,” Ned reminded her, hitching his pants over his paunch.  “And neither do I.”  He perched on a desk a few cubicles away.  “What are you doing here, Clementine Jane?”

Clementine Jane shook her head, pressing her lips together.  “Just thinking.”

“Does this have anything to do with your grandfather’s poker games and your mother’s involvement in them?”

Clementine Jane’s eyes popped.  She slammed her feet on the ground, the chair snapping upward.  “How did you know?”

“Norman called,” her editor replied.  “Gave me an earful.  I’ll have to admit, if we can find the sources, it’s a good story.  Great.  It’d be the banner one of this year.”

Clementine Jane bit her lip and looked at her gnawed pencil.  “I know.”  She raised her chin.  “So far, I can’t find anyone to back up his statements.”

“You will,” Ned replied easily, his belt straining as he exhaled.  “Whether it’s true or not is another story.  The world of political reporting is hard, Clementine Jane.  There’s a lot of shadows and rumors, and it’s up to you to find out what’s true.”

Clementine Jane tapped her fingers on the desk.  “What if it turns out to be true?  Then what do I do?”  She flushed.  “She’s my mother.”

Ned nodded.  “That’s a decision you’ll have to make.  But remember, even if you don’t run or write the story, someone will.  Could be me, could be our owner, could be another paper, could be CNN or Fox.  At least if you write it, you can do what you can.”

Clementine Jane sighed.  “If I wrote it, it would break her heart.”

Ned laughed and punched her in the shoulder.  “First rule of journalism, kid.  When it comes to the news, there is no heart.  Only fact and scoop.  And you don’t want to be scooped, do you?”  He didn’t wait for her to answer.

“By the way, the sheriff is looking for you.  Your parents are frantic.  Go home, sleep on it.  You can start working on the story then in the morning.  Maybe some sources will crawl out of the woodwork, huh?”  Brushing at a ketchup stain on his belly, Ned disappeared back into his office.

“Don’t forget your mom’s press conference at 4 p.m.!” he shouted.  “I expect you to cover that.  Have the copy on my desk at 7 p.m., no later!”

Clementine Jane sat in the chair, staring at the wall.  She tapped her fingers against the desk and gnawed on the pencil.

Right now, she didn’t know anything anymore.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we have the question and answer about the Blond Duck!  Ask me anything you want to know and I’ll tell you!  Ask me by 5 p.m. tonight and tomorrow, you’ll have your answer!