by R. G. Belsky
But not me.
I had to work.
I knew it was going to be a rough day at the office when I got there and found a message from Jack Faron that told me my normal morning news meeting would have to be pushed back today. He said he wanted to talk to everyone on the staff first. About a “big concept” idea for our news show.
I sighed. TV news should be simple. All you need to do is put on the air the news that people want to know about, right? Except it doesn’t always work that way. Instead, things get confused with all sorts of side issues involving ratings and marketing and demographics. The worst part of this though is the “big concept” idea. I’d heard plenty of them over the years. I wondered what this one would be.
A short time later, I found out as Faron talked to the staff.
“I’m pleased to announce that we’ve hired a consultant to help make our newscasts even stronger than they are,” he said.
“Didn’t we hire a consultant last year?” someone asked.
“Yes, and that consultant did fine work for us.”
“Until Clare slept with him,” someone else said with a laugh.
“This is a different consultant.”
“Doesn’t mean Clare won’t sleep with this one, too.”
“I’ll try to keep my hormones under control,” I said.
My romantic escapades—three failed marriages and a host of other disastrous relationships—were a constant fodder for humor by the people who worked at Channel 10. Much of it got blown out of proportion, of course. I mean, I only slept with the consultant guy once.
“The consulting firm has spent countless hours watching our newscasts,” Faron said now. “Analyzing our strengths and weak points. Studying our audience. Comparing us with other successful local TV news operations here in New York City and around the country. They are very impressed by what they’ve seen of Channel 10 News. But they feel there are steps we can take to make our newscast even stronger. One of them is to build a stronger connection between our on-air news team and our viewers. To make our newscast more personal. To make people like us more. To make them feel they’re inviting friends into their home when they turn on the Channel 10 News.”
“Happy talk,” I said.
“Huh?” one of the younger people in the room said. They weren’t that familiar with happy talk. I was.
“Everyone giggles a lot on air and makes quips about the news and pretends they like each other. We’re all just one big happy family here at Channel 10 News. That’s what we’re talking about, isn’t it, Jack?”
“I call it an effort to build a better rapport with our audience.”
“I call it crap.”
Happy talk had been around for a long time in the TV news business. It started back in the seventies with one of the New York stations. It’s come and gone in popularity over the years. But it always seems to return—like locusts or the plague—whenever a consultant firm is looking for an easy way to jack up ratings.
“C’mon, Clare,” Faron said. “This concept has worked at a number of stations all over in recent years. There’s nothing wrong in letting people know that we all really like each other here at Channel 10. That’s all we’re talking about doing.”
“Well, I think we have a few problems trying to implement that ‘we all really like each other’ idea here.”
I looked over at Brett Wolff and Dani Blaine. Things had been quiet on the Brett and Dani front since their argument about who would take care of their upcoming baby during one of my news meetings. But I could just see the two of them going at it on air one night if our newscast got too personal. Especially once the baby arrived. Dani would complain about having to get up for the two a.m. feedings. Brett would say he was the one changing all the dirty diapers. My God, the Channel 10 newscast could turn into a friggin’ reality TV show.
“I’m for the idea,” Wendy Jeffers, our weather forecaster, said. I could understand that. Wendy always wanted to become more of a personality on air, not just a woman talking about cold fronts and storm warnings. Wearing funny hats and outfits, quipping with the anchors, and talking about what she was going to have for dinner that night or whatever. I think she hoped to turn herself into a female version of Al Roker. So this was perfect for her.
Not so much for Steve Stratton, our sportscaster.
“I’m against it,” Stratton said. “I don’t want to be some kind of buffoon out there every night. I only want to report what’s going on in sports. Sports is serious business, not a joke.”
“Yeah, no one would ever want to have fun with sports,” Faron said.
The bottom line was, I was glad when the meeting was over and I could do my news meeting with Maggie and the others about what we were going to put on the air that night.
That was what I cared about.
The best part of my job.
We talked about a subway derailment, a neighborhood protest about a police shooting, a new initiative by the mayor’s office to get homeless off the streets and into shelters, a potential bid for a star free agent pitcher by the Yankees, and the possibilities of us having a White Christmas this year.
But the biggest story on the news list was still Laurie Bateman.
We’d covered the funeral like everyone else, of course. Including my confrontation with Charles Jr. outside. I told them now in the meeting about everyone else I’d talked to over the past few days: Bert Stovall, the Hollister mistress, Endicott the private investigator—and said I planned to do an exclusive update that night on the air.
Then I also said I’d be out of the office for much of the next day because I was still trying to get an interview with Charles Blaine Hollister, the dead man’s son. That surprised everyone, especially after watching him push me to the ground on the video from the funeral we had just aired.
“I thought he made it pretty clear that he doesn’t want to talk to you,” Maggie said. “And he hasn’t talked to anyone else either. So why do you think you can pull off an interview with this guy. It seems like a real long shot, Clare.”
“That’s why it’s called an exclusive,” I said. “If it was easy, everybody would have it.”
CHAPTER 19
AT EIGHT O’CLOCK the next morning, I was standing in front of the Hollister Tower in Midtown.
I drank a large cup of black coffee, ate several donuts from a nearby bakery, and pored through the morning New York Times, News, and Post on my iPad. By the time I was finished, I was well read and well fed. Only thing was, I still didn’t know anything more about Charles Blaine Hollister, aka Charles Jr. I was starting to wonder if this was a waste of time. I was also starting to develop a severe case of heartburn from the coffee and donuts.
The air was crisp and cold, but the sun shone brightly and the sky was a bright blue. Perfect winter weather. Nearby, holiday crowds bustled around with somewhere to go and something to do. Last-minute Christmas shopping. See the decorations at Rockefeller Center. Drinking eggnog around a cozy fire with friends and relatives. I stomped my feet on the sidewalk trying to stay warm and drained the last of the coffee from the cup. Still no Charles Blaine Hollister.
I watched the steady stream of people passing by. Women wearing fur coats. Well-dressed men carrying briefcases. Children holding on to their parents with that wide-eyed look of excitement kids get around Christmas-time. A young couple carrying gaily wrapped presents. Lots and lots of people. None of them was Hollister.
It was a little after eleven a.m. when he finally appeared. Unlike most of the other people going in and out of the Hollister building, he was not dressed in business attire. He had on a ski jacket, a pair of baggy jeans, and hiking boots. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy, but his hair was askew and it looked like he hadn’t shaved recently. He got out of a cab in front of the building and walked slowly toward the door. I didn’t exactly get the feeling that Charles Blaine Hollister was a man in a hurry to get to work.
I ran across the street and was right behind him as he headed towar
d a bank of elevators. He got in one of them and pushed the button for the 12th floor. I managed to get in it before the door closed and pushed “12”, too. That got his attention. He turned and stared at me. Glared at me would be more accurate.
“You’re a reporter,” he said.
“We usually call ourselves journalists these days.”
“From the TV station.”
“Clare Carlson, Channel 10 News.”
“I told you I didn’t want to talk to you.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To talk to you.”
“You’ve been following me?”
“You might even call it stalking.”
“Why?”
“Because you won’t talk to me.”
I could have dazzled him with word play like that a while longer except the elevator doors opened. We were on 12. Where I presumed he had an office. He got out of the elevator now. So did I. This was the key moment when my plan was either going to work or not.
“I can call security and have them escort you out of the building,” Hollister said to me.
“You could do that.”
“You don’t think I will?”
“I’m hoping you won’t. For your sake.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re in some trouble here, Charles. I can help you get out of it.”
Now I didn’t know that Charles Blaine Hollister was in any kind of trouble at all. I was taking a wild stab in the dark. But the stunned look on his face told me I’d touched a nerve. Maybe he was involved in this deeper than anyone realized.
“I know about the fight you had with your father, Charles,” I said, blurting out the first thing that came to my mind.
I fully expected him to say “what fight?” But he didn’t.
“How did you find out about that?” he asked.
Holy crap.
I was making this up as I went along.
But there apparently had been a fight.
“It’s not what you think happened,” he said.
“Why don’t you tell me what did happen then between you and your father?”
“On camera?”
“You need to get your story out there, Charles.”
And that’s what he did. I called in a Channel 10 video crew, and we shot it right there in his office. He talked about growing up as the son of Charles Hollister. About struggling to find a place in his father’s business empire. About the marriage to Laurie Bateman and how his father had written him out of the will for a major chunk of his estate. And about what a cruel and evil man his father could be.
The afternoon before Charles Hollister died, he had gone to his father’s office to confront him about everything, Charles said. Yes, they had argued, he admitted. About his role in the company. About his father’s will. And, most of all, about his wife, Laurie Bateman. But Hollister said his father was fine the last time he talked to him that day. He adamantly denied that he had any role in the death later. He pointed to Laurie Bateman as the killer, describing her as a “black widow” who would do anything to get her hands on the Hollister fortune, even if it meant murder.
Did he have any sympathy for her now sitting in a cell on Rikers Island?
“I hope the bitch rots in jail,” he said angrily.
That was the money quote of the interview, as we used to call it when I worked for newspapers.
The killer sound byte now that I was in TV news.
It would be quoted on every other TV station and newspaper and website in town after we aired it.
I’d lied to Charles Blaine Hollister though.
I’d said I’d help him by putting his story on the air.
But what it did was make him look even more vindictive, greedy, and a candidate for the murder of his father.
Now all I needed was an interview with Laurie Bateman herself.
I wanted everyone to hear her side of this story—and I wanted them to hear it on Channel 10 News.
CHAPTER 20
DONNA GRIECO, THE defense attorney for Laurie Bateman, had handled a number of high-profile cases over the years.
The most famous was a well-known TV star accused of rape who was acquitted after Grieco shredded the woman victim’s story and reputation on the stand. Then there was the case of a teenaged girl who confessed to murdering both of her parents during an argument over a video game—but never went to jail because of an insanity defense from Grieco.
All this—along with plenty of other seemingly unwinnable cases where she unexpectedly came out on top—had given her a reputation as a kind of miracle worker in the courtroom. She seemed like the perfect choice for the kind of Hail Mary defense that Laurie Bateman needed right now.
Janet had arranged an appointment for me to meet with Donna Grieco in her office.
Grieco wasn’t all that impressive at first glance. She was a small woman, not physically imposing at all as I expected she might be. Plain-looking, with almost no makeup, seemed to be about sixty—although she could have been younger. She had curly brown hair that wasn’t combed well, and she was wearing a plain navy-blue pants suit that was wrinkled and out of fashion. Donna Grieco clearly didn’t put a lot of effort into her appearance.
I suddenly had an image in my head of a rumpled Peter Falk as Columbo, and I wondered if Grieco had deliberately adopted the same approach. Make people think you’re no real threat to them, then go for their jugular when they least expect it. I decided pretty quickly I was right about that after we started talking.
“What media outlet are you with again?” she asked me, even though I was pretty sure she already knew. She had to be aware of all the Laurie Bateman stories I’d put on air in recent days. Plus, Janet had talked with her about me. But I think Grieco was feeling me out, trying to decide whether or not I could help her or not.
“Channel 10 News.”
“And what do you do there?”
“I’m the news director.”
“Why is the news director out covering a story on her own?”
“I have a personal interest in the Laurie Bateman story.”
“Why is that?”
“I was supposed to interview her on the day she got arrested. I still want to get that interview. And I’m not as sure as the rest of the world that she’s guilty.”
Grieco smiled now. “Then I guess we’re on the same side, Ms. Carlson.”
“I’m not on anyone’s side. I’m a journalist, and I have to be objective. But I’ve found that a lot of the facts in this story don’t add up for me. That’s why I’m looking for more answers about what happened to Charles Hollister. I’m hoping that Laurie Bateman can give me those if I talk to her in jail. Can you tell me any more about your defense for her?”
She went through a lot of the things I’d already uncovered, but added more new details.
First, there was the ex-husband of Melissa Hunt, Wayne Kanieski. She’d learned he had a prior record for aggravated assault and battery. “Kanieski badly beat up a guy he caught with Melissa a few years ago—might have even killed him if someone hadn’t stopped it in time. We know he was insanely jealous of Hollister for taking Melissa away from him. It’s not a huge leap of logic to assume he could have done the same thing to Hollister as he did with the other guy, only this time he killed Hollister. I plan to subpoena Kanieski, put him on the stand, and see what happens. I think he’s an angry, violent man. I want the jury to see that.”
Then there was Max Gunther, the businessman who had lost out on a big money deal because of what he claimed were dirty tricks by Hollister. “Did you know Gunther publicly threatened Hollister?” Grieco asked. “Said he wanted to kill him in front of a whole bunch of witnesses. I want the jury to hear about that, too.”
She also seemed particularly interested in Hollister’s son, Charles. Much as I was. She talked about his troubled history, including the hit-and-run where he killed a person but his father got him off, and also a
bout the things I’d broadcast recently that were potentially damaging and incriminating for the younger Hollister.
“Laurie couldn’t stand the kid, thought he was a screwed-up and potentially violent person,” Grieco told me. “I mean you saw that performance he put on at the funeral. And then again in the interview with you. Everyone knows he was furious at the last existing Hollister will that put her in power of all the Hollister business, instead of him. Well, that’s a motive for murder if I ever heard one. Oh, yes … Charles Hollister Jr. is going to be a big part of our defense. I think I can raise a lot of questions in people’s minds about the kid.”
But Grieco’s biggest surprise came when we started going through the logistics of how and when I’d meet Bateman in jail to do the interview.
“We’re also going to reveal that Laurie Bateman was a victim of horrific abuse at the hands of Charles Hollister during their marriage.”
“Emotional abuse?”
“Physical, too.”
“Hollister was an old man. I have trouble imagining he was even able to have sex with her, much less beat her up.”
“Well, he did. He was in good physical condition, worked out every day, and even took karate lessons. Believe me, there was a lot of physical abuse she suffered constantly from him. She kept quiet about it for a long time, protecting the happy couple image they always put on for the media and the public. But she wants to tell the world about it all now. That’s where you come in …”
I thought about everything Donna Grieco had told me.
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” I said. “Your defense is going to be that she didn’t kill her husband, and that a lot of other people could be suspects for murdering Hollister. But, even if she did kill him, she had a good reason: self-defense after years of abuse by Hollister. There’s a lot of stuff in that defense.”
“All I need is one of them to work with the jury.”
“And she’s going to talk about all this—talk about abuse by Hollister—in the interview with me?”