Dirty Little Secrets ...Part 3 ...Sins and Scandal

It's the public scandal that offends;
to sin in secret is no sin at all.
— Moliere

Muckrakers

My last conversation with Meredith left me feeling helpless and apprehensive.

I learned she had an upcoming interview with Simon Pollock, the sinister entrepreneur and self-made millionaire, and I saw it as an opportunity to disturb his sense of invulnerability by poking the bear.

I foolishly suggested she use an ambush journalism tactic—surprise the man by casually dropping a reference to the Enigma Club and the names of several prominent people who frequent it.

But, of course, I overlooked the possibility he might retaliate by using his connections with right-wing extremist groups to harass and intimidate her to silence.

This afternoon she was to meet him in his penthouse office on University Avenue and now, I'm glued to my phone hoping to hear back from her about the fallout.

It's after 6 pm on a mid October evening. It's already beginning to get dark and I still haven't heard from her. By now, she should have at least sent me a quick text—but nothing, nada.

I feel heart sick and burdened that I put her in this position.

Finally, just before seven, she texts.

Am out of meeting famished and exhausted. You owe me a big one. Meet me at Da Vinci's on King St. Your treat

I was out of my chair and out the door in an instant. It wasn't so much the burst of joy that surprised me but the relief I felt.

I guess I really like this girl, I smiled and couldn't wait to see her.

I was met at the door by Papa Giuseppe, known to me as Joe Prospero because we grew up together in Toronto's Little Italy and have been friends ever since.

"I'm looking for Meredith Cassidy, Joe—has she arrived yet?"

"Sure, sure," he smiled reassuringly, "stepping up in the world, Logie?"

...Yeah, it's not only Joe's name that's evolved over the years, but mine too, thankfully.

"We're working together on a story, Pal," I winked back.

"Well, don't get too distracted—that girl's a looker."

I cuffed his shoulder. "I've got eyes of my own Joe, and I know."

Meredith was sequestered in a quiet corner reserved only for guests. She must have mentioned my name...and the good news was she was sipping cab sav with not a tumbler of rye in sight.

How bad could it have been?

I soon found out.

When I approached the table, she surprised me by standing up and when I went to politely kiss her she fell into my arms and clung tightly to me.

This isn't good, I groaned inwardly and soothed her by stroking her hair and whispering "It's okay—you're safe," when it was obvious she wasn't. She was distraught and trembling.

Joe showed up with coffee and discretely placed it on the table and left. He reads people too, a result of growing up in a tough area and reading body signals.

His instincts were right. She was agitated and needed a calm place and no questions asked. Mind you, hot coffee helps as well.

"Are you feeling better now?" I asked, "or do you want to call it a night and talk tomorrow?"

She shook her head, "No, you're not getting off that easy, guy. I'm starved and you need to feed me. I can have a meltdown later."

"You are one strong woman," I smiled.

"When you find out what Pollock is really like you'll be shocked. And I'm not as strong as you think—the man terrifies me. I'd prefer not to ever see or deal with him again."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. I'll understand if you don't want to pursue the investigation."

Meredith's eyes blazed with fire. "I have no intention of backing off this creep—I just don't ever want to socialize with him. But right now I want pasta."

"Okay, Wonder Woman," I laughed, "tonight we eat and tomorrow we can plan how to expose The Enigma Club and Simon Pollock's malevolent intentions."

To be continued...

© 2025, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

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