Love Sold Separately

by Ellen Meister

  Dana went back to the Bastina shirts she was selling. There wasn’t much stock left, but she pushed hard to move the remaining sizes and colors. After five minutes, Vanessa still hadn’t arrived, and so Dana was told she had to stay on the air and cover for her. This presented a special challenge. Kitty’s fans were just starting to settle in and accept Vanessa. They would not be thrilled to see yet another host in her place.

  Dana had no choice but to make the best of it. While the camera was focused on the display, she strode across the set to take the other host’s place as she got a message in her earpiece from another voice—Vanessa’s segment producer. He assured Dana he would feed her the details she needed on the jewelry she knew nothing about.

  She managed to pull it off, digging deep into her acting skills to convince the audience that she was thrilled to have the opportunity to tell them about the white, yellow and rose gold bangles they were offering as today’s special. In reality, she was furious that she would be so tardy for rehearsals.

  At last, Vanessa showed up almost thirty minutes late. “I owe you one,” she mouthed to Dana as they passed on the set.

  Lorenzo rushed up to take off Dana’s mike. Sherry walked out of the control booth to Dana, with Emily and Jessalyn following closely behind.

  “Good work,” Jessalyn said to her as Lorenzo fished the wire out of Dana’s clothes. “That was seamless.”

  “What happened?” she asked. Being late was simply not an option for broadcasters. People like Dana and Vanessa had to get to work on time even if it meant leaping over tall buildings and doing flips over hot coals.

  “Accident on the L.I.E.,” Sherry said.

  “The Long Island Expressway?” Dana said. “I thought she lived in the city.”

  “She weekends in the Hamptons,” Sherry said. “Apparently, a tractor trailer turned over and they shut down the whole highway.”

  “You’re a trouper, Dana,” Emily said.

  Dana looked to Sherry, to see if she might have some similar words of gratitude, but she was staring at the monitors. Dana was tempted to say, If I were late, you’d fire me in a second. But she bit her tongue, because there was no reason to get Vanessa in more trouble—she’d probably get a lashing from Sherry as it was. And anyway, it was a handy card for Dana to keep in her pocket.

  When Sherry looked back at her, Dana smiled broadly. “Anytime,” she said. “Glad I could help.”

  She rushed to her dressing room to get back into her street clothes so she could hurry off to the Sweat City theater, but Ollie was there, pacing nervously as if he wanted to talk to her. He seemed to be staring down at something small in his hand.

  “Everything okay?” she asked, moving brusquely.

  “You look like you are in a hurry, Dana,” he said.

  “I am,” she said. “I got held up on set and now I’m late for an appointment.”

  “Miss Vanessa was delayed, yes. I heard that spoken of.”

  “Is there a problem?” she asked, feeling more motherly toward him now that she understood all the tragedies of his young childhood. “You need something?”

  “I can wait until tomorrow, Dana. It is not an emergency.”

  “You look upset,” she said, and immediately regretted it. She needed to leave. This was no time for a drawn-out counseling session with her damaged assistant, no matter how tenderly she felt toward him.

  “There is something I told you that was not honest,” he said. “I feel bad about this.”

  “I don’t want you to feel bad,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “But can it wait until tomorrow? I’m running so late.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course, Dana. It can wait for tomorrow.”

  28

  The next day, Dana arrived at work early enough to talk to Ollie before she had to meet with Adam for her daily briefing. When she rounded the corner toward her dressing room, she saw her assistant’s slim form in the hallway. He was talking on his cell phone, and she heard the tail end of a conversation in Finnish, which she assumed were plans for dinner as he said something to the effect of “Haluatko tavata Gramercy Parkissa Farmer and the Fish.” Dana was tempted to tell him it was a good restaurant and he should order the lobster roll, but she didn’t want to intrude, so she just gave him a small smile and slipped into her dressing room.

  Ollie got off the phone immediately and followed in after her.

  “I am so sorry, Dana,” he said. “I know I should not make personal calls, but it is my friend Kimmo’s birthday.”

  “It’s okay, Ollie,” she said gently. “You’re allowed to have a personal life. You look nice, by the way.”

  And it was true. He looked even more Dumpster chic than usual, wearing a restyled flannel print pajama top that depicted black-and-white cows on an aqua background. It had been tapered to fit his slender body, with the sleeves cut short and rolled. He wore it tucked into a pair of wide black bell-bottoms, accessorized with a red leather belt.

  “Oh, thank you, Dana,” he said. His eyes looked appreciative but nervous.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked. “You seemed so edgy yesterday.”

  “Yes. Everything is okay. Only I need to make a confession to you.” His face looked tight with worry. “I am so sorry. I should not lie to you. It is not a loyal thing.”

  “You lied to me?”

  “I hope that you can forgive me, Dana. It is hard to sleep with this on my heart.”

  She sat on the couch and indicated that he should do the same. “What did you lie about, Ollie?”

  He lowered himself carefully, looked down at his hands and swallowed. “Remember when I said to you that Miss Kitty has a camera in her bedroom?”

  “The sex tape,” she said. “Of course I remember. Did you make that up?”

  “No! I did not make that up, Dana. Miss Kitty made recordings of their love. But I told you that I did not know where the tape was.”

  “And you do?”

  “Please. You must understand. Mr. Honeycutt is innocent. This is why I did not want to tell you that I know where the tape can be found. He must not go to prison, Dana. That would be tragic. Miss Kitty would not wish this to happen.”

  So Ollie knew where the tape was. She studied his expression and understood why he was so tense. He wasn’t there to tell her where to find it, only that he had the information. He was still intent on protecting Kitty...and Charles.

  Her knee-jerk reaction was to do whatever was necessary to pull information from him so she could hand the tape over to the police and get them off Lorenzo’s back. But then she thought about his betrayal and stopped herself. Lorenzo had lied to her. And she had trusted him. She had looked into those dark earnest eyes and bought whatever he was selling. It made her heart ache.

  Dana stood up and crossed the room. Lorenzo can just go to hell, she told herself. This isn’t my problem.

  But the anguish still tugged at her, and it gave her a terrible headache. She rubbed the spot between her eyes to relieve the dull pressure. Lorenzo was a dog. And he didn’t deserve her kindness. Not that she thought he deserved to go to jail for a murder he didn’t commit. But exonerating him simply wasn’t her business. She should throw her hands up and walk away. It wasn’t her problem. And yet the thought of it made her sick, and she knew why.

  Sophia.

  Dana had to face it: she couldn’t turn her back on Lorenzo now.

  And of course, her curiosity burned and popped and smoked. Kitty was an even more interesting character than Mrs. Woodbridge. Dana was dying to know what kind of fuel ignited Kitty’s motivations.

  She pivoted toward Ollie. “But you don’t really know Honeycutt is innocent,” she said.

  Ollie looked stricken. His eyes glistened and his mouth opened, but she cut him off before he could protest.

  “I know it seems impossible to you, because you beli
eved he loved her,” she said. “And maybe he really did. But sometimes, when people feel threatened, they get aggressive. If Mr. Honeycutt was afraid that Kitty would show the tape to his wife, he might have done something rash.”

  “He would never, Dana!”

  “Ollie,” she said, “you don’t know that for sure.”

  “But their love.”

  God, this poor kid was so romantically invested in this relationship. It was painful to burst his bubble. But really, he needed to know.

  “Love can be tragic, Ollie. I’m sure you know that.”

  “Romeo and Juliet,” he said.

  “Yes, like Romeo and Juliet.”

  He stared into the distance, thinking. Dana waited, hoping he would understand.

  “Yes, this might be,” he said under his breath.

  “What might be?” she asked.

  “Do you think maybe Mr. Honeycutt wanted to go to heaven with Miss Kitty, Dana? Perhaps he thought he will kill his love and then himself so they could be together always. This is a possibility, yes? Maybe this was his plan but then he cannot finish his act.”

  Dana let out a long breath. If this ridiculous scenario was what he needed to believe, then fine. She’d go with it.

  “It’s possible,” she said. “Entirely possible.”

  “Only Mr. Honeycutt was not in Miss Kitty’s office when she was killed,” Ollie said. “So it must be someone else, yes?”

  “Perhaps he was smart enough to hire someone,” she offered.

  “I have heard of such a thing,” he said thoughtfully. “What do you call this? A hit man?”

  “That’s right,” Dana said. “He might have hired someone to do it for him.”

  Ollie shook his head doubtfully. “This, I do not know, Dana. Such an act, it has no passion. Mr. Honeycutt could not be so cold for Miss Kitty.”

  He was resolute, and she could tell she was losing him. Her head pulsed with pain.

  “Ollie,” she said, “where is the sex tape?”

  He stood and walked toward the door. “I did not wish to lie to you, Dana. So now I feel lighter in my heart. But I cannot tell you where this is, for I know that Miss Kitty would not want me to. She would not wish for Mr. Honeycutt to be in trouble.”

  “But we have to turn it over to the police,” she pleaded. “So they can investigate. And if he’s innocent...well, he’ll be cleared.”

  “He will be so embarrassed, Dana. I cannot do this.”

  “But if he’s guilty...”

  “I do not believe he is.”

  “What if I can prove that it’s possible?”

  “Possible that he was so cold to hire someone to kill his love?”

  “Yes,” Dana pleaded. “If I can prove that’s possible...”

  “Then of course. I will give you the video recording. But how can you prove such a thing?”

  “Give me the video?” she repeated. “You mean you have it?”

  Ollie put his hand in his pants pocket. “I keep it here with me, Dana. On a flash drive.”

  Dana’s heart raced. She could hardly believe the evidence was so close, yet beyond her grasp. Now more than ever she felt like she had to have it.

  Dana paced the dressing room, thinking about providing Ollie with the proof he needed. She considered how difficult it would have been for a hit man to get into the building. He would have to get past security at the front desk, and then past Brenda on the executive floor. Only an invited visitor would be able to get in. She turned back to Ollie.

  “The visitors’ log,” she said. “At the security desk.”

  He cocked his head. “What about this?”

  “If Honeycutt hired a hit man, he would have had to sign in.”

  Ollie nodded. “Yes. I understand. Maybe this is why the police have taken the book from the security desk.”

  Her heart sank. “They took the visitors’ log?”

  “Oh, yes, Dana. On the day of the murder they took it away.”

  She sat heavily at her vanity table and rested her pained head in her palms. “I wish I could get my hands on that,” she said.

  “I am sorry, Dana,” he said. “It is unfortunate we have only photocopies.”

  “Photocopies?”

  “Yes, from the Ricoh photocopier machine.”

  “You mean there are photocopies of those pages from the visitors’ log?”

  Ollie nodded. “Mr. Beecham asked Abigail to make copies before he hands it on to the police. Do you know Abigail?”

  She didn’t, but she knew Beecham, the head of security, and could imagine him barking orders at an underling. “And she did as he asked? She made photocopies? Are you sure?”

  “Oh, yes. Of every page, Dana. She was in the copy room for such a very long time that night.”

  “Do you know where those pages are kept?”

  “I think they are in the file room. But I am not certain.”

  “Is there any way we can check?”

  “I don’t know this, Dana. I cannot have clearance to go into this room, nor you.”

  “Who does have clearance?” she asked.

  He began to tick off a list on his fingers. “Mr. Beecham...and the accounting department...and HR...”

  “Anyone else?”

  “The producers, of course.”

  “The segment producers?” she asked.

  “Yes, all the records are in this room. Personnel records, financial records, sales records.”

  “Those damned spreadsheets?” Dana asked.

  “Yes, those damned spreadsheets, Dana. The producers may see them if they wish.”

  Now that was a bit of good news. Her headache started to lift.

  “If it is okay, Dana, I will go to the set now to prepare for you.”

  “That’s fine, Ollie. But can you do me one small favor?”

  “Yes, Dana. Anything.”

  “Tell Adam Weintraub I’m ready to see him.”

  29

  Dana listened as Adam went through the beach-themed items she would be selling on that day’s show: a cotton cover-up available in mini and maxi lengths and in seven different colors, two styles of bejeweled sandals and a beach blanket that came in three prints—rainbow stripes, Hawaiian floral and a pink flamingo pattern—each with its own matching nylon tote.

  “Ready for a great show?” he asked as he was getting ready to leave.

  “Hang on, Adam,” she said. “I have a question.”

  He turned to her.

  “Can you get me into the file room?” she asked.

  “The file room?” He looked perplexed.

  “It’s important.”

  He shook his head and moved toward the door, as if he couldn’t wait to get out. “Can’t. It’s not allowed.” He avoided her eyes.

  “Wait a second,” she said, surprised that he shut her down before even asking what she was after. “I want to talk to you about this.”

  “Sorry, Dana. I can’t let you in there.”

  “Are there dead bodies or something? I just want to look for some records.”

  “I could get fired,” he said. “I can’t take chances like this.”

  Poor Adam, she thought. Sherry had him living in constant fear that his job was on the line.

  “I know you have a lot of pressure,” she said, “but in the scheme of things, it’s not that risky.” She told him about the conversation she had with Ollie, explaining how much more was at stake for Lorenzo and Sophia. He softened, but only a little.

  “It’s a big room,” he said. “It won’t be easy to find those pages.”

  “Isn’t there some kind of a system?” she asked.

  “Each department has their own.”

  “I’d like to give it a shot,” she said. “It’s important. Please. W
e won’t get caught.”

  “Tell you what,” he said. “I can’t let you in, but I’ll look for them.”

  Dana was dubious. “When?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. When I have time.”

  “Will you go now?” She knew if she wasn’t aggressive he would try pushing it off until she forgot about it.

  “I have things to do, Dana.”

  “Please,” she said, imploring him with her most intense stare. “At least do this much for Lorenzo...if you’re not going to tell the police the truth about you and—”

  “Okay, okay,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll do it.”

  Later, after Dana finished with hair and makeup and arrived on set for her show, she pulled him aside.

  “Well?” she asked. “Did you find it?”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Oh, Adam. Did you really try?”

  “It’s a massive room,” he said. “The shelves aren’t labeled. I didn’t even know where to look.”

  “It’s like you don’t want to help,” she said.

  “Of course I want to help,” he said. “Lorenzo is my friend. But this is ridiculous. There are thousands of files. If I spend too much time snooping in areas I shouldn’t, I could get caught.”

  Dana bit her lip. She was confident she could figure out a way to find those pages if she could get into the room, and Adam was her only resource. She wondered what she could do to change his mind. She knew that his paranoia about getting fired was a direct result of his financial stress, and that he would probably be more willing to take the risk if there was economic incentive. She could offer to pay him, but Dana was pretty sure he’d find that offensive. Then she got an idea.

  “Your wife likes necklaces, right?”

  He looked alarmed. “How do you know that?”

  Dana laughed. “Most women do. And anyway, I noticed the lariat necklace she was wearing in that family photo.”

  “What about it?” he said, staring at her with a mixture of wonder and alarm. Dana was used to that look—people were often surprised by the things she noticed. Still, the poor guy seemed awfully skittish. He was clearly breaking under the stress of exhaustion and job pressure.