Jennifer Crusie Bundle Read online

  That would be bad.

  Of course, tonight’s show about old grocery stores should pretty much kill that possibility.

  Charlie put on the headphones, made sure “River of Dreams” was in one of the CD slots for Sam’s dinner later, and watched the digital readout so he could slide in when the news was over.

  Tonight was going to be one dull night on radio.

  FOUR AND A HALF HOURS later, Allie sat propped up against her headboard and watched as Charlie sat down on the side of the bed and buried his face in his hands. He really was upset, and she really did sympathize, but she really was ecstatic. Two scandals in three days. His ratings were going to go through the roof.

  “Price-fixing,” Charlie said, his voice muffled by his hands.

  “I didn’t know,” Allie said. “I swear, I didn’t know.”

  Six

  “Price-fixing drove the mom and pops out of business,” Charlie repeated, and Allie tried to distract him.

  “Maybe if we had some food—”

  “It’s illegal.” He fell back onto the bed so that his head landed in her lap.

  Allie loved the weight of his head on her thighs, so she began to stroke his hair so he’d stay there. What a wonderful night it had turned out to be. The callers alone had been spectacular.

  Charlie kept his eyes closed, obsessing over the show. “That one old guy said they didn’t do anything about it five years ago because they couldn’t get enough evidence. Did you hear him say that?”

  “Yes, Charlie.” Allie said. “I can’t believe all those people called in. Who would have thought so many of those little-grocery owners would have been listening at midnight like that?”

  “Who would have thought?” Charlie turned his head to glare up at her. “Did you have anything to do with that?”

  “Well…”

  Charlie sat up. “Did you call them?”

  “No!” Allie tried to look outraged, but it was hard since she was at least partially guilty. “I didn’t know them. How would I have known them?”

  “What did you do?” His tone brooked no babbling.

  “What makes you think—”

  “Because you play those phones the way Glenn Gould played the piano.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You called Harry’s show and asked about carburetors and gears today, didn’t you?”

  Allie glared at him. “Don’t you dare tell him that. I only called twice, all the others did it on their own.”

  Charlie glared back. “Well, that was swell of you. Now, what did you do to me tonight?”

  She took a deep breath, and he said, “Allie? The truth.”

  Allie winced and surrendered. “Well, I did mention to the first guy who called in that if there were others like him, it would be a lot more effective if they called in, too.”

  “Terrific.” Charlie collapsed back into her lap again. “Why don’t you just shoot me? I have to play ‘River of Dreams’ every hour because of you and now this.”

  “You don’t want Samson to die, do you?”

  “Sam now eats like you do. I don’t think death is an option anymore unless he ODs on formula.”

  Allie was already pursuing another train of thought. “You know that lawyer who called in about racketeering charges was something.”

  Charlie moaned, his face hopeless.

  Allie took pity on him. It was cruel to be happy when he was in hell. “Well, people called in about other things, too, remember. There was that guy who wanted to know what poem of Tennyson’s you quoted. And the lady who called in when you made fun of the way I eat and said all women should look like the ones in Rubens’ paintings.” Then she gave up and grinned in triumph. “And Johnson from the Tribune. I can’t believe the paper is sending out an investigative reporter. Isn’t it amazing how many people are listening to your show? It just shows how popular you are.”

  “I don’t want to be popular,” Charlie said through his teeth.

  Allie shifted on the bed as she prepared to move in for the kill. He was becoming a household word against his will; if she could talk him into helping her, she could take him national. “You know, Charlie. This may just be God’s way of telling you that you’re destined for success. I mean, there are DJ’s who would kill their mothers to get this kind of publicity, and you’re just doing it by luck. After this, your ratings are going to go through the roof.” He groaned and she stroked his hair again. “Just lie back and enjoy it, love. This is a free ride.”

  “We have to keep this as quiet as possible,” he said.

  Allie glared down at him, exasperated. “Why? This is great. I just don’t see the problem.” Then her expression grew wary as she thought of something. “Well, come to think of it, I might see one problem.”

  “What?”

  “Well, gossip has it that the FoodStops are mob-connected.”

  Charlie sat up. “In Tuttle?”

  Allie patted his shoulder. “It’s probably just gossip.”

  “Oh, no. The mob would be just my luck.” He heaved himself off the bed and started for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To drown myself in the bathtub.”

  “Hey!” Allie protested. “Where’s the food? You said you’d stop at McCarthy’s on the way home.”

  “I didn’t get any.”

  “Well then, where’s the sex?”

  Charlie opened the door and turned back to her. “You’re not getting any, either. I’m depressed.” He closed the door behind him.

  Allie sat and listened through the wall until he turned the water on, and then she went in and seduced him in the tub so he wouldn’t drown himself.

  CHARLIE WAS STILL DOWN the next morning. He did snort at breakfast when he heard Mark on the radio introduce himself as “Mark All Morning”—“Well, he’s trying,” Allie told him—but then Joe passed him the Tuttle Tribune and the headline “Disk Jockey Sparks Investigation Into City Building” depressed him so much he only had two helpings of Joe’s yeast-raised pancakes.

  “I suppose this isn’t the best time to tell you that you’re doing a promotional appearance tomorrow,” Allie said when he’d wiped the last of the syrup from his plate with the last of his pancake.

  “In a pig’s eye.” Charlie stayed bent over his empty plate. “I told you—”

  “You were interested in the college,” Allie said as persuasively as she could. “Harry’s going—”

  Charlie’s head came up. “The college?” He thought for a moment. The college kids were joking about the stickers. It was a lousy lead, but it was something. “All right. I’ll do the college.”

  The phone rang and Joe went to get it, while Allie stared at him in surprise. “You’ll do it?”

  “Don’t push your luck,” he told her. “I’m not going to make a habit of this.”

  Allie nodded, obviously cheered he was going.

  Then Joe came back and said, “That was Bill. He’d like to see both of you this afternoon at four.”

  “Oh, hell,” Allie said.

  “Very probably,” Joe said.

  ALLIE WINCED as Bill glared at them both with equal disgust. “What I want to know is who died and made you two Ralph Nader?”

  “Ralph Nader’s still alive,” Allie said.

  Charlie kicked her on the ankle. “It was an accident, Bill. We didn’t know…”

  “Well, then shut up,” Bill roared at him.

  “Now wait a minute.” Allie stood up, determined not to give in. She had a show to save, and for once, she was in the right morally, too. “That FoodStop person bought up half a dozen grocery stores and then cut prices below cost just to ruin the little stores. And when they were all gone, he raised prices and he’s been gouging Tuttle ever since. For five years. Anybody knows prices are cheaper in Riverbend, but only people with time and money can get there to stock up. He’s preying on the poor and—”

  “Sit down,” Bill said and she sat.

  “Do you know who the FoodStop person