W Is for Wasted

the typeface to come into focus. His eyesight was getting worse. The last time he’d seen an optometrist, he was told he might be helped by corrective surgery, but the procedure sounded risky to him and the expense made the option unlikely. He followed the lines of print with his finger so he wouldn’t lose his place.
    The report came as a surprise. There was no indication whatever that Mary Lee Bryce was spending time with Dr. Linton Reed for romantic purposes or any other kind. Apparently, they attended most of the same symposia and were both present for many of the papers being presented. She was in the audience for the one given by Dr. Reed, but she didn’t appear to hang on his every word. The two never sat together and barely even spoke. They shared no meals, didn’t meet for drinks, and their rooms were not only on different floors, but at opposite ends of the hotel. When their paths did cross, they maintained the appearance of civility, but that was about it. The Nevada PI had even snapped photos in which Mary Lee Bryce and Dr. Reed were both in the same frame, their body language attesting to their mutual disinterest if not mutual disdain. This didn’t constitute proof of any kind, but it was telling.
    What surfaced instead was the fact that Mary Lee Bryce met twice with a reporter named Owen Pensky, who worked for the
Reno Gazette-Journal
. She and Pensky had met in the hotel bar Thursday night, heads bent together briefly over drinks. The second assignation was a late supper on Sunday after the official conference sessions were wrapped up for the day. The two were apparently engaged in a lively discussion, and while there were no displays of affection, their interest in each other was clear. Pete studied the series of black-and-white photographs of the two, candid shots that were surprisingly clear given the use of a telephoto lens, which often distorted images or rendered them grainy.
    Even more titillating were the additional documents attached. Secondary sources revealed that Mary Lee Bryce, whose maiden name was Jacobs, was a classmate of Pensky’s at Reno High School, the two having graduated in the class of 1973. Included with the written report were photocopies of the relevant pages of the yearbook, showing the two at various school activities. Mary Lee Jacobs and Owen Pensky were both members of the debate team and both worked for the school paper, which was called
The Red and Blue
. While it wasn’t clear that they were boyfriend and girlfriend, they had many interests in common. How many times had Pete heard tales of high school classmates reconnecting at reunions years after having parted company? Nothing more potent than old fantasies suddenly given new life.
    The Nevada investigator had done some extracurricular digging into Pensky’s background and turned up newspaper accounts of a scandal of major proportions. Two years before, Owen Pensky had been working for the
New York Times
as a feature writer. He’d already made quite a reputation for himself when he was accused of lifting passages from the work of another journalist. The charge of plagiarism gave rise to an investigation that uncovered evidence that Pensky was also guilty of inventing sources for certain features he’d published. Every article he’d ever written became suspect. He’d been fired and he’d left New York in disgrace. After ten months scrambling for employment, he’d finally managed to pick up work at one of the Reno papers, a low point for a fellow who’d been everybody’s darling such a short time before.
    Pete sat back and thought about this unexpected turn of events, wondering what to make of it. It wasn’t necessarily the case that Mary Lee Bryce and Owen Pensky were having an affair. Maybe this was just a matter of two old friends catching up while the one was in town for professional reasons. Whatever the truth, there had to be a way to play it for maximum effect. The first move would be to spread the facts over more than one document. No point in turning over everything at once. It would be a kindness to let Willard digest the discovery by degrees. Pete went through the photographs and selected two from the Reno High School yearbook, the
RaWaNe
.
    As a senior, Mary Lee Jacobs was petite, a redhead with pale brows and an expression that suggested perpetual anxiety. Owen Pensky looked like the typical high school dork—black-rim glasses, bad haircut, his neck barely big enough to hold up his head.