Authors: Melody Snow Monroe
“Sure, but it’s more up your alley.”
“What is it?”
“Have you ever gone to have your oil changed and end up buying more products than you intended?”
She chuckled. “That happens all the time. I think women are sitting ducks for being ripped off by mechanics.”
“That’s what I thought. This story needs the female touch. A woman called me stating that the service center at one of the local car dealers is ripping off women. I thought you might like to run with this.”
“Absolutely.” She pulled out her pad. “Which dealership is it?”
“Lysner’s Automotive.”
Shit.
“I’ll have to pass.”
“Don’t tell me Lysner’s is one of the station’s corporate sponsors.”
From his fake tone, it was clear he knew the answer and was yanking her chain. “Yes, so you know why I can’t do this story.”
“It’s juicy, and it’s criminal. You sure you want to pass?”
No, she wanted to nail the guys to the wall. “I can’t. You know how this business works.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”
He got off the phone too quickly. He didn’t sound upset that she’d turned him down. What was up with that? Hadn’t he gotten upset when she basically
sold out
by not pushing Walt to air the Burger Haus sanitation issue? He’d considered her unwillingness to do the right thing bad. Why had he changed his mind?
Walt came out and asked her to cover some thefts at the local convenience store. “Just interview the owner and we’ll put the story online. It’s not big enough for the 5:00 p.m. slot.”
She bet this wouldn’t be very exciting. “I’m on it, boss.”
A glimmer of a smile appeared.
The store was only one mile out of town at the intersection of Snowy Ridge and Lincoln Highway. She brought her larger camera this time. It wasn’t the mack daddy like the one Scott carried, but it would do for a spot online.
She spoke to the owner first before recording him. “Justin, can you tell me what was taken and when?”
“This morning, Eaton Jones came in. I see him in here all the time. I have mirrors all over the store. I saw him stuff a couple of candy bars down his pants. He was wearing those baggy kind where you can see his underwear.”
“Yes. What happened then?”
“He walked out as casual as could be.”
“What did you do?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t do anything. I was the only one in the store, besides the other customers. I couldn’t have run out after him. Who knows what the people would have taken.”
That was all? This was more lame than the curly fries story. “Are the police investigating?”
“One of the officers went to Eaton’s house, but all the evidence was gone.”
“Don’t you have him on security tapes?”
“No, ma’am. It broke a while back.”
She signed off and left the store. If these stories didn’t get more interesting, she’d either die of boredom or the station would lose its sponsors because no one wanted to watch this drivel.
She was halfway to the office when she got another call. This time it was Shane, and she smiled. “Greetings.”
“Jessie, you gotta come. Lysner’s Automotive is on fire. Hurry.” He disconnected.
Her heart shot into overdrive.
Okay.
This was a real story.
Yes!
She performed a quick U-turn and headed south to the dealership. She expected to hear sirens or see smoke but neither appeared. When she pulled into the lot, a few customers were looking at cars with the salesmen helping them.
She slowed and parked, curious what was going on. She spotted Shane’s truck in the lot. Why would he be here without the fire truck? The only way to find out these answers was to go in and ask.
It took a few false turns, but she finally found Shane in the customer service area. He jumped up and smiled. When she neared, he gave her a kiss. While she enjoyed the diversion, her curiosity wouldn’t let her return the kiss. “What’s going on?”
He nodded to a woman two seats away. She got up and came over. “Hi, I’m Carolyn Danvers, and I wanted to tell you my story.”
She glanced at Shane. “I repeat. What’s going on?”
“Come on. Let’s get out of here. There are ears everywhere.”
He didn’t answer her question, but getting out of there fit into her plans. “I take it there is no fire.”
“That would be a no. Sorry.”
“So this is another trick?”
When he shrugged, she wanted to pound on his chest, but he was too adorable to get mad at. “All I’m asking is that you listen to what these women have to say.”
She looked over at Carolyn. “There are more who got ripped off?”
“Yes. They’re waiting at the Eatery. They want to tell you their story.”
As long as she was out, she might as well hear what they had to say. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Shane smiled, and she nearly tripped.
Damn
. He could probably ask her to jump off a bridge and she’d do it. She had it bad.
Once they arrived, she found three other women chatting away. Carolyn introduced her friends. They all sat, and Jessie ordered coffee.
“So tell me what happened. Carolyn, why don’t you go first?”
“About two weeks ago, I brought my car in for an oil change at the service department. They said they’d do that for me. Then they asked about how long it had been since I got my brakes checked. Like I knew? They took a look and told me the pads were worn. If I didn’t get them fixed, I might go to stop, and the car would keep on going. I’m a widow and can’t afford an accident. You understand, right?”
“Yes. Go on.” She’d pushed the record button on her phone to get all the details.
“I let them talk me into not only replacing the brakes, but I signed up for about three other items. The bill came to over five hundred dollars.”
Jessie whistled. She knew how much of a dent that would put into her savings. “Did you know the price before they started the repairs?”
“Yes, but that’s not the point.”
Jessie figured this was the case of a woman who regretted agreeing to all the repairs. “What is the point, Carolyn?”
“I got the new brakes, but three days ago, I went to stop and the damn things failed. I plowed into the back of a truck and totaled my car. I had another mechanic take a look at my vehicle, and he said my brakes had never been replaced.” Maybe that explained the bandage on her forehead.
Anger rippled through her at the injustice.
The other women’s stories were basically the same. They each handed her receipts. One told her she’d paid for an oil change, but within eight weeks, the engine had run out of oil, and the engine block had cracked. Jessie was almost sick by the time they’d all told their horror stories.
“When you went back to Lysner’s, what did they say?”
“They said they had changed the oil, but that I had a crack in one of my lines, and it leaked out. They never would take responsibility for anything they do.”
When Jessie believed she had enough evidence, she thanked the ladies. “Stay tuned to the station. I’ll do my best to investigate.”
When all the ladies left, Shane smiled. “I like the way you handled that. So, you’re going to write this up?”
“I’ll try, but the problem is, no matter what I come up with, Walt will never let it air. It’s too controversial.”
“Cody and I appreciate your willingness to try.”
She didn’t understand why they were pushing her so hard to take on these impossible stories. KRPT’s sponsors weren’t a secret. Was Cody secretly trying to get her fired? It would make no sense for that to be true.
She said good-bye to Shane and piled back in her car. After hearing the women’s story, she wanted to do something to help them whether the story aired on not. She had a plan and it involved some prep work at her house.
She’d just gotten her oil replaced and had new brakes, so Lysner’s would have no grounds to recommend she redo those. She decided to see what the men at the service station would say if she asked them to check out these items.
She headed off to the dealership. She’d been told that most auto dealership’s revenue came not from selling the cars, but from servicing them.
She drove in and told them about needing an oil change. She also asked them to take a look at her brakes and tires. While she waited, she wrote up her story and edited the footage she had from the women’s tales. She was in the middle of her story when they called her to the service desk.
“I’m afraid your brake pads are very worn, as are your tires. Would you like us to replace them?”
She didn’t have the money to get that done, but she suddenly wanted to right a wrong. “How about replacing the front two tires. I can’t afford to do all four right now. As for the brakes, I’ll take my chances.”
Back at her house, she’d marked all four tires with paint that showed up only under black light. She filmed herself making the marks. If the front tires weren’t changed, she’d have her story. Fifty-five minutes later they told her she was all set. The $350 bill hurt, but she was willing to sacrifice for the good.
As soon as she got home, she set up her phone, turned off the overhead lights, and hit the tires with the black light. Sure enough the word
gotcha
showed up. That might have been the best money she ever spent.
She jumped back into the car and raced to the station with the story. She expected to get shot down, but to save face with the men, she had to give it a try. She rushed into Walt’s office and showed him what she had.
He kept silent until the glowing
gotcha
appeared. His hands clenched. “Shit.”
“Now what?”
“This would make great press, but we can’t use it.”
“Do not tell me they, too, are station sponsors.”
“You know damned well they are. What are you up to?”
Whoops. Caught.
Her breaths came out fast. “These people are ripping off innocent women. We can’t let them continue to do this. We need to expose them.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could help, but my hands are tied.”
Two could play at this game. “What happens if I leak this to the newspaper? They couldn’t sue the station then.”
Walt shoved back his chair and stood. “That would have the same end result. If Lysner’s is caught in a big scandal, they’ll go belly-up. That means no money for us. So kill it. Got it?”
She wanted to spit in his face. “I got it.”
She spun around and stomped out, royally pissed that every good lead always tied back to money. Working here wasn’t any better than working in Denver. Maybe all news stations were alike, and she’d never get any satisfaction.
Returning to her desk, she dropped onto her seat, trying to decide what to do next. Before she could draw any conclusion, her cell rang. Thank God it was Shane.
“Am I glad to hear a friendly voice.”
“I take it your boss didn’t like the story?”
“That’s an understatement. I had them by the balls, too.”