Murder at Broadcast Park

by Bill Evans

  Barry decided the best way to stay ahead of everyone on this story—their story—was with a cut-in every thirty minutes. They would string out the information and not give everything away in one or two reports. There still wasn’t much to cover, but Barry knew he’d get the information first because the story was about his people. His dead anchor and dead intern. What else would this story be about? Possibly an affair, but what else? What was Jesse doing in Steve’s bed? Why was Steve dead in his anchor chair with a rope around his neck while Jesse, a beautiful twenty-something, was in his bed? How did you explain that, especially since Steve worked the eleven o’clock newscast the night before? That meant he would have gotten home at the earliest around midnight. John found him in the chair just before 3 a.m. and he was already dead. What happened in those three hours?

  Barry wasn’t the only one who had put together this time frame. After visiting the dead girl’s condo, Tracy and Reynolds were running down the same time line with their police chief. They had more unanswered questions than answers.

  By the afternoon, news blogs and websites would light up about the morning activities. Speculation was flying, and nothing was close to the truth. One person would write that Jesse had secretly married Steve weeks ago when she arrived at CBS 2 after Steve had secretly divorced his wife. Another wrote that Jesse was an adopted daughter and sex slave to both Steve and his wife, Janet. It was like news people wanted to make up their own headlines and forget about any hurt these accusations and lies might cause family or true friends of the deceased. It wasn’t only the competition writing vicious rumors. These blogs were fun for coworkers, especially jealous coworkers. That was the news business.

  Barry told his detective friends about the blogs and websites, and the police decided to assign someone to monitor and trace all the writings. Maybe the real killer would post something, or maybe a lead would be generated by all this activity on the internet. In the same phone call, Barry was asked something he wasn’t prepared for.

  “Barry, how much were you paying Jesse Anderson?”

  “She was a paid intern. I don’t think she made more than eight or nine dollars an hour and she wasn’t even working thirty hours a week. Why?” the news director asked.

  “Do you know if she had a second income?” his detective friend asked.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think so. She seemed to spend all her extra time here working and learning her craft even when she wasn’t on the clock. She could do that because she was an intern. What’s this about?” Barry asked.

  “Have you seen where she lives? It’s in the nice part of town where she has a two-bedroom condo. She has expensive designer clothes and nice furniture. Do you know if her family has money?”

  “I really don’t know anything about her.” Barry was thinking this was the first break in the case. Maybe Jesse had a double life. The two friends ended the call but Barry was starting to think there was a lot more to this than he even first imagined.

  Todd knocked on Barry’s door and was waved into the room. Todd, without asking, closed the door behind him.

  “Barry, I just want you to know that I’m here to do whatever you need me to do. I can anchor the newscasts tonight if you want. Then I’ll come back in the morning and anchor my morning show. Whatever you need. I just wanted you to know.”

  “Thanks, Todd. I appreciate that. I’ll let you know. Go ahead and get back to work.”

  Barry was surprised it had taken that long before someone was in his office already pitching for Steve’s job, the number one anchor position. It wouldn’t be the only time this would happen today. In the next four hours Barry would hear from three more of his news people. They all let Barry know that he could count on them, that whatever he needed he just had to ask. And, oh by the way, “I’d be glad to anchor tonight and fill in for Steve, if you’d like.”

  Barry hated when news people pretended to care. He wished they would just come out and say, “I want Steve’s job and I’ll do whatever the fuck you need me to do to get it.” No pretense. No bullshit. If they would just be honest about it.

  ***

  Barry and Lisa wanted to be at the police station around noon when Janet showed up to talk to the police. They knew that wasn’t appropriate. They wanted to be there to find out what Janet knew. Then they would know how deep the station was involved in this double whatever it was. There was still no confirmation that it was a double murder. It might be days before the coroner could tell them anything. At this point the police had nothing to work with and they weren’t sure Janet was going to be very helpful.

  The detectives greeted Janet at the counter in the lobby of the police station. It was obvious to both detectives that she had been crying, probably most of the day. There was a person with her that no one recognized. He had the look of lawyer written all over him. Why would Janet need to bring a lawyer to this meeting? the detectives thought.

  “Janet, I’m Detective Tracy. This is Detective Reynolds. We’re sorry for your loss. Can we go into the conference room where we can talk?” Tracy was trying to be as comforting as possible in this situation.

  “Gentlemen, I’m Byron Culpepper, Mrs. Johnson’s attorney.” Now the conversation took on a different tone.

  “Mr. Culpepper, why does Mrs. Johnson need an attorney?” questioned Detective Tracy.

  “I’m a family friend and the family thought I should accompany her to the station to talk with you. As you can imagine, this has been very stressful news for her and she isn’t holding up very well, but she wanted to cooperate with you as quickly as possible,” the attorney said.

  “By all means, please join us.” The four walked down the hallway to the conference room. This was not an interrogation room, but simply a conference room used for meetings.

  “Can I offer you something to drink, Mrs. Johnson? Coffee or a Coke? Some water maybe?” Detective Reynolds offered.

  “Coffee would be great.” The answer came from the attorney, which annoyed the detectives.

  “For you, Mrs. Johnson? Anything?” Detective Reynolds asked again.

  She didn’t say anything and barely raised her head, only to shake it no. She lifted her eyes in the direction of the other side of the table. “Officers, what can you tell me about my husband? How did he die?”

  “Mrs. Johnson, we don’t know just yet. He was found very early this morning sitting in his anchor chair on the news set with a rope around his neck. We are still waiting on the coroner’s report to tell us how he died,” Reynolds explained.

  Janet’s eyes opened up and fear showed on her face. Not fear from being frightened, but the kind of fear from hearing something scary for the first time. “Did he hang himself?” she asked.

  “Janet . . . may we call you Janet?” asked Reynolds. She just nodded. “Janet, we don’t know anything at this time. The coroner will perform an autopsy tomorrow to determine the cause of death. It doesn’t appear that hanging was the cause, though. Steve was sitting in his chair and not hanging above it. There didn’t appear to be any struggle or stab wounds or bullet holes. He was found sitting in his anchor chair. That is all we know right now.”

  “Can I see him? I want to go to where he is. Can I see him?” Janet began crying, trying not to become hysterical.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Johnson. You can’t see him until after the autopsy. Is there anything at all you can tell us that might help us figure this out? Why were you away with the kids without Steve?” Detective Tracy asked.

  Wiping away the constant, slow flow of tears, she said, “The kids and I went up to see my parents in Bend, Oregon. They’ve kept the kids for me so I could get down here.”

  “How’d you make it to Santa Barbara so quickly?” asked Tracy.

  The attorney fielded this question. “Janet’s family is very well off and they have their own jet. I work for the family and they called me immediately, not knowing any details. They didn’t want her doing this alone and her father is too old to travel at this stage in
his life. There’s got to be more to this story than what you’ve told us so far. Please, tell us what is going on.”

  The detectives looked at each other as if to ask if the other wanted to tell them the rest of the story. Tracy, trying to be as sensitive as possible, started, “Mrs. Johnson, there is another element to this puzzle that we need to tell you about. There was another body found dead. A woman.”

  Janet looked up now with hurting eyes and a tear-soaked face. “What woman? Who is she? Was she found with my husband?” There were no more tears coming from her eyes. She anxiously waited for the detectives to fill her in.

  “The woman was found dead in your bed at the house. We can only speculate at this point that it is related to your husband’s death.”

  “In my bed?” Janet’s hands came to her face as her head seem to collapse in them. “Who is she? How did she die? And what was she doing in my bed?”

  “We really don’t know much. There were no signs of what killed her,” Detective Reynolds answered.

  “Who is she?” Janet screamed.

  “Her name is Jesse Anderson and she worked at the station.” Detective Tracy passed a picture of Jesse across the table to Janet and her attorney as he spoke.

  “Oh, god. God, god,” Janet wept.

  “Detectives, can we have a moment, please?” the attorney asked. The two detectives stood up and left the room.

  Minutes later the door opened and Janet, held by the attorney, walked out. “I need to take Mrs. Johnson home to rest. Is there anything more you need from us right now?”

  “No. We’ll be in touch tomorrow. You will stay in town tonight, right?” asked detective Tracy.

  “Yes, but probably not at the house. I don’t think she wants to go there right now. Here’s my card with my cell number on it. Please call me with any new details.”

  4

  LISA HAD WATCHED the five and six o’clock newscasts on four monitors in her office. Every station, hers included, did live shots from the CBS 2 parking lot and from outside the Johnson house. There really wasn’t anything new to report, but two dead bodies, one of whom was a TV news celebrity, was a big story in this coastal college town. All said the investigation into the causes of death was “ongoing.” Reporters tried to get a comment from CBS 2, but Lisa declined, referring all questions to the police.

  Lisa needed to head out to meet the owner of the station. She canceled her dinner plans with Tom, her husband. Nothing he wasn’t use to. It was part of the business he married into. Tom was a successful radio manager for Clear Channel, but he knew in his heart that his wife’s TV career was the predominant one in the family. He had done everything he could during their fourteen-year marriage to support her television career.

  Station owner Stewart Simpson was seventy-two years old and a self-made multi-millionaire. He had once owned a chain of television and radio stations around the country. The CBS affiliate in Santa Barbara was his last one, having divested all the rest. He was known as a shrewd businessman who was a major player with the ladies. He was charming and kept himself in shape. Lisa had known Stewart twenty years, longer than anyone else at the station. She was twenty-five when she first met him.

  She loved coming out to his Santa Barbara home located in the exclusive Home Ranch Estates. His home had five bedrooms, a guest house, and private access to the beach. It wasn’t his main house, but he loved coming in from Dallas as much as possible.

  Dugan met the car as Lisa pulled up the circular driveway. Dugan was Mr. Simpson’s all around do-everything man—valet, superior executive chef, chauffer, personal confidant. Simpson trusted Dugan with everything inside and outside of his business—the women, the partying, the cheating on golf scores, everything. He was trusted as much as a man like Stewart Simpson could trust anyone.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Campbell. It’s good to see you again,” Dugan greeted Lisa as he opened her car door.

  “Dugan, you look good. Is he taking good care of you?” Dugan smiled at Lisa. They shared twenty years of secrets between them, and Lisa always felt only the two of them knew what the man was really about.

  The door opened and Stewart was there with a glass of white wine for his general manager. They hugged and kissed, but it wasn’t your typical peck on a cheek. This kiss was on the lips and there was more to it than a simple hello. “How are you?” she asked. “How was your trip?”

  “No problems. Tell me what’s going on. I couldn’t figure out too much from the news tonight. What are we dealing with here?” Stewart Simpson got right to the point when it came to his business.

  They walked into the living room. Lisa sat on the couch while Stewart sat on the foot stool in front of her. She quickly took off her heels and placed her legs under herself as she sat.

  “We don’t know what we have here. Steve, our anchor, was found dead sitting in his anchor chair on the news set. No obvious wounds and not even the rope around his neck proved to be anything. He was just dead. Then we found one of our newest employees, Jesse Anderson. She is actually an intern at the station. Jesse was found dead at Steve’s house in his bed. Again, no obvious wounds to tell us what killed her. The coroner is doing autopsies tomorrow on both of them to determine the cause of death. What we can’t figure out is the relationship between Steve and Jesse and why she was at his house when he was found at the station.”

  “How are your employees taking it? Anyone have anything? Someone has to know what is going on?” He reached out and began petting Lisa’s foot that stuck out just enough for him to reach it.

  “Our people seem to be okay. They’re shocked, but doing okay. No one seems to know anything and everyone is speculating about this relationship between Steve and Jesse. Maybe there isn’t a relationship. I don’t know and at this point I’m exhausted trying to figure it out.” Lisa took another drink of her wine.

  “What about your news director? What’s his name?” the owner asked.

  “Barry Burke. He’s been on top of this story all day and he seems as baffled as I am. He really doesn’t seem to know anything and was as surprised as anyone about Jesse being in Steve’s bed. In fact, he’s the one that found her along with the police detective.”

  Lisa looks tired, Stewart thought.

  Stewart reached his hand up from rubbing her foot, touching her arm. Then he gently touched her cheek, pulling her toward him. They kissed. She knew no one would understand their relationship and no one could ever find out. She was perfectly okay with what she was doing. Being held by Stewart and kissed by him right now was something she needed to make the events of the day disappear from her mind.

  Tom never questioned his wife’s time spent with the station owner. Stewart was very much part of her life when he met Lisa. Stewart had even paid for their very expensive wedding and gave them a luxurious honeymoon. Tom saw Lisa’s relationship with Stewart as father-daughter. He chose not to ask beyond that, and the perks of her boss’s relationship with his wife was worth not knowing, he thought.

  ***

  The coroner was due to conduct his first autopsy at nine in the morning. No one from the outside was allowed to watch. Detectives Reynolds and Tracy were both there waiting in the office. The sooner they had a cause of death the sooner they could move this case along.

  Barry was dealing with his newsroom. People were still positioning to take the number one male anchor chair. He’d even had a conversation last night with Angie, the co-anchor of the evening news. She wanted to suggest that she should solo anchor all the newscasts. Kind of like what CBS Network was doing with Katie Couric. The news director didn’t say anything when this was suggested, but he thought, Yeah, the Katie Couric move wouldn’t be something I’d be bragging about at this point. So far it isn’t a ringing success for the network.

  Dave Pedderman was holding court in the sales meeting down the hall from the general manager’s office. Pedderman had been the general sales manager for four years, having been promoted to the position after Lisa advanced.

/>   “What’s the word on the street so far?” Pedderman asked his seven account executives gathered for a morning sales meeting.

  “People seem to be in real shock. No one knows what to make of it. Is there anything we can tell them?” asked one of the staff.

  “Not really. We don’t know anything right now.”

  “The guys from ABC are already on the street talking trash about what happened,” another staffer added. “They’re asking their clients if they really want to be a part of such an operation associated with murder, sex, etcetera. Really low class.”

  “If we don’t know anything, trust me when I tell you the other stations certainly don’t know what is going on,” Pedderman said. “Remind your clients of that. Let them know that we will share whatever we can when we have something. Take the high road on this. Don’t get dragged into the gutter trying to defend ourselves. We truly don’t know anything at this point.”

  “Hey, remind your clients now would be a great time to be advertising in our newscasts,” another sales executive said. “Everyone in the market is going to be watching our stations because the story is about our people.”

  “That’s a good point,” Pedderman responded. “Make sure you get a premium on your local news rates.”

  The sales meeting broke up just in time for the department managers meeting, which Pedderman attended. Today’s meeting would have a special guest—the owner. Stewart liked to pop into the station whenever he was in town so he could stay familiar with everyone. The managers never knew when he was going to show up, but they enjoyed him whenever he did. He was stopping by today to try to calm everyone’s nerves.

  Stewart Simpson arrived looking tanned, fit, and impeccably dressed. He was once married, but when that ended in an expensive divorce he swore off the institution. It was probably a good thing considering his active sex life that never showed signs of slowing. Maybe he used Viagra. Maybe it was something that money and power gave a person like him. Whatever the reason for his youthfulness, he went through life at his own pace and at his own pleasure.