“Our newspeople are out at Constance’s country place, and the police aren’t letting them on the property. They wanted me to ask you if you could pull any strings. You know, as next of kin and all.”
“You know what, Boyd? I don’t really want to get in the middle of that. I hope you understand.”
“Certainly. But I had to ask.”
“I get it,” said Faith. “No problem.”
As Boyd snapped his cell phone closed, Kimba jumped up on the chaise and into his lap. A tear trickled down Boyd’s cheek as he stroked the cat’s soft gray fur. He was surprised that he actually felt as bad as he did about Constance’s death. Yesterday Boyd had been relieved that he no longer would have to work for her. Now, sitting in her bedroom, he felt conflicted at the thought that he would never see Constance again.
CHAPTER 24
B.J. waited until Lauren’s piece had been fed from the satellite truck to the Broadcast Center before he walked down the road and found a secluded spot.
“B.J. D’Elia for Eliza Blake,” he said into his cell phone, momentarily wondering if he was going to be put off onto an assistant. But Eliza took the cameraman’s call herself.
“Hi, B.J. What’s up?”
He recounted the conversation about the missing ivory unicorn he’d overheard as he crouched behind the fence near the pool, and he told her about the dead dog that Boyd said had been found on Constance’s property the morning before.
“Interesting,” said Eliza. “Very interesting. We’ll make some calls here and see what we can find out.”
“Should we tell the police about the dog?” asked B.J.
“No, let’s hold off on that,” answered Eliza. “If we can confirm it, the police will hear about it on the broadcast tonight, along with everybody else.”
The police would neither confirm nor deny that an ivory unicorn, or any other jewelry, was missing, but Boyd Irons provided the phone number for the young man who had spotted a dead, full-grown Great Dane on Constance Young’s property when he went to empty the contents of the pool’s skimmer baskets in the woods.
“I was told to dispose of the dog, so I did,” the pool man said. “But let me tell you, it was a pretty hard job getting that thing off the property and out to the dump.”
After Eliza introduced The KEY Evening Headlines from the Broadcast Center, Lauren Adams’s piece from Westchester County led the show. Lauren’s narration explained what had been happening, the housekeeper described what she’d found when she came to work that morning, well-heeled neighbors expressed their shock, and a police spokesperson said only that it was too soon to determine the cause of death and that the investigation was continuing. There were pictures of the media frenzy that had been created as every news organization wanted to have a story on their airwaves about the death of Constance Young, but there were no pictures from inside the fencing that surrounded the property.
At the end of the preedited package, Lauren appeared live, on-screen, standing at the head of Constance’s driveway.
“Eliza, there are still many unanswered questions tonight. Police sources tell us that they hope to have the results of Constance Young’s autopsy as early as Monday.”
The camera shot was switched to the Broadcast Center studio, where Eliza sat at the anchor desk.
“Let me ask you, Lauren, about this report that a dead dog was found on the property yesterday. What do you know about that?”
Lauren stared into the camera, a blank expression on her face. There was an awkward pause before Eliza realized that Lauren had no idea what she was referring to.
“A workman says he found a dog, a Great Dane, lying dead in the woods out near the pool yesterday,” Eliza jumped in. “It could be just a coincidence, of course, but the police will certainly be checking into that, won’t they?”
Lauren’s discomfort was apparent. “They certainly will be, Eliza.”
“Thank you, Lauren.”
The second she was sure she was off the air, Lauren pulled out her ear-piece, disconnected her microphone, called the Broadcast Center, and asked to be put through to Range Bullock in the control room.
“What was that all about, Range?” Lauren fumed. “I looked like an idiot.”
“I don’t know, Lauren,” the Evening Headlines executive producer answered, keeping his voice low. “You tell me.”
“Why didn’t anybody talk to me about that dead-dog story?” Lauren demanded.
“We assumed you knew about it. You’re out there. You should have known. Don’t you talk to your own people?”
“What do you mean?” Lauren’s voice rose in suspicion.
“B.J. D’Elia is the one who told Eliza about the dog, and we confirmed it with Boyd Irons and the pool guy,” said Range.
“So my cameraman and my assistant are both screwing me,” Lauren pondered aloud. “Nice. Very nice.”
CHAPTER 25
At 6:57 P.M., during the commercial break, a medium-height, red-haired woman mounted the platform and took the seat beside Eliza at the anchor desk.
“Ten seconds.” The voice of the stage manager boomed though the studio.
The woman waited while a microphone was clipped to her jacket.
“Five, four, three, two, one.” The stage manager cued Eliza to begin.
Eliza looked directly into the camera. “Tonight we’ve told you what we know so far about the untimely death of Constance Young. In the days to come, we will learn more about what actually happened, the hows and whys that we don’t understand yet. We here at KEY News have lost a colleague, someone we’ve known over the years to be a gifted and dedicated newswoman. But tonight people across America are feeling the loss of Constance Young as well.”
Eliza turned to the woman sitting beside her. “KEY News psychological expert Dr. Margo Gonzalez is here to tell us why. Dr. Gonzalez?”
The director cut to a head-on shot of the woman.
“Thank you, Eliza. On the surface Constance Young led a very glamorous life. Professionally, viewers saw her interviewing presidents and kings and sports heroes and rock stars. Her access to and association with these celebrities made her a celebrity as well. On the flip side, the morning-television audience saw her talking with children or petting camels and elephants or dressing in Halloween costumes. That made her very human, very approachable. So on the one hand Constance was up there on a pedestal, and, on the other, people felt they knew her.”
“They felt they knew her even though they’d never met her?” Eliza asked.
Margo nodded. “Yes, because they learned so much about her. People were intrigued by her personal life, whom she dated, where she went, what she wore. There were countless articles about her, discussing her family, her friends, where she grew up, where she went to school, where she lived, what she did for fun. How many times have you seen a picture of Constance in a magazine, Eliza?”
Eliza smiled. “Too many to count.”
“Exactly,” said Margo. “All that exposure—on the air, in the print media, in ad campaigns—made Constance a public figure, but in addition to that, her coming into our homes on a daily basis, so we started our day with her, morning after morning, bred a real familiarity. When the day broke, there was Constance Young, just like the sun. We came to feel we actually knew her, that she was a part of our lives. Of course we’re going to feel upset and sad that she’s gone.”
CHAPTER 26
As soon as the broadcast was over, Lauren tore down the country road in her BMW. Annabelle and B.J. drove back to Manhattan together, dreading what was waiting for them at the Broadcast Center. The executive producer had instructed them to meet him in his office before they went home for the night.
“We’re in it deep, Beej,” said Annabelle, resting her head back and closing her eyes.
“I might be in it, but you’re not,” B.J. said calmly. “You didn’t know a thing about the dead dog or the cops talking about the missing unicorn, and you certainly didn’t know that I was going to tell Eliza instead of Lau
ren.”
“I was the producer, B.J. It’s my responsibility to know.”
“Don’t worry. I’m gonna take all the heat, but there isn’t really that much Linus can do about it.” B.J. shrugged. “The worst that will happen is he’ll drop me from the show, but he won’t be able to fire me from KEY News. The union will protect me.”
Annabelle stared straight ahead at the highway. B.J. was single, and while he still had his rent and bills to pay, it somehow seemed that he would be all right no matter what. But Annabelle was the main bread-winner in her house. Her family couldn’t continue the life they had without her salary. A family of four, living in New York City, wouldn’t be able to cut it on the money Mike made as a firefighter. She couldn’t afford to lose her job.
Though she sometimes daydreamed about quitting her job at KEY to America and escaping the grinding pressure Linus inflicted on his staff, Annabelle didn’t delude herself that things would necessarily be any better at another network. Plus, she felt a loyalty to KEY News and didn’t want to leave. Now she prayed Linus wasn’t going to force her to go.
The office door was open.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the dynamic duo.” Linus sat behind his massive, cluttered desk. He was leaning back in his chair, a football palmed in his thick hand. “Come in. Close the door and take a seat.”
Annabelle and B.J. obeyed as Linus tossed the ball in the air and caught it.
“You know, I’ve been in this business for over thirty years, and I’ve seen a lot of things, unbelievable things.” Linus spoke calmly. “But I don’t ever recall seeing such a blatant screwing of a network correspondent by her colleagues as I witnessed tonight.”
“First of all, Annabelle had nothing to do with it,” B.J. spoke up. “I tried to tell Lauren what I’d heard, and she wouldn’t listen to me.”
The executive producer leaned forward and slammed the football down on the desk. “That’s not the way Lauren remembers it!” he yelled.
“Well, that’s the way it happened,” B.J. said, quietly but firmly.
“Are you telling me Lauren is lying?” Linus pressed.
“I’m saying I made an attempt to talk to Lauren and she dismissed me,” said B.J.
Linus turned to Annabelle. “And you. What part did you play in all this?”
Before Annabelle could answer, B.J. spoke up again. “I told you, Linus. Annabelle had nothing to do with it. She didn’t know that I was going to call Eliza, and she didn’t know anything about what I was going to tell Eliza.”
“Well, damn it, she should have known.” Linus’s face was flushed now. “That’s her job.” He turned to Annabelle. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Annabelle looked Linus straight in the eye. She swallowed, knowing that she was about to commit professional suicide.
“Here’s what I have to say for myself, Linus. You are a bully and a tyrant and a nightmare to work for. But I have never given anything less than my all for this show. Yeah, I need my job, but I’m sick and tired of the crap you dish out.”
Annabelle rose from her chair, turned, and walked out, leaving Linus and B.J. staring after her.
CHAPTER 27
The report on the Evening Headlines meant that it was probably just a matter of time before the police started calling around trying to figure out where the big dog had come from. If the Dane hadn’t been so damned heavy to move, he could have been stashed in the trunk of the car and dumped in some remote and nameless location. That had been the plan. But that hadn’t been possible. As it was, dragging the heavy, soaking-wet dog a few yards into the woods had been messy, and a lot of work.
But that guy from the shelter might have seen, or he would see in the days to come, the report of the dead Great Dane at Constance’s house and volunteer the information to the police. Even though great care had been taken to find a shelter that didn’t require personal references and picture identification, even though a fake address had been given for the license and a disguise of sorts had been worn, one could never be too careful. There might be some incriminating loose end. And that wouldn’t be good.
CHAPTER 28
The kids were already fed, bathed, and in their pajamas when Annabelle arrived home at her Greenwich Village apartment. Thomas met her at the door and threw his arms around his mother’s waist.
“Mom’s home!” he called out to his sister.
Tara ran over, brown hair flying, her round, blue eyes sparkling and a satisfied smile on her face. “I’m glad you’re home, Mommy.”
“I missed you guys,” said Annabelle, hugging and kissing them. “Where’s Daddy?”
“He’s in the shower,” said Tara.
“How was the day with Mrs. Nuzzo?” Annabelle asked. “Did you have a good time?”
“Yes,” Thomas answered. “We had pancakes for lunch.”
“Pancakes? For lunch? Wow, that’s neat,” said Annabelle.
There were many things for which Annabelle was grateful, and one of them was the fact that, at seven years old, her children didn’t hold grudges. Today they’d been looking forward to their riding lesson at the Claremont Riding Academy. Annabelle’s parents had given the twins a series of lessons for their birthday gifts. The children learned how to walk, trot, and canter their quiet mounts. The horseback program stressed patience and concentration along with physical coordination, strength, and agility. Students also developed a sense of responsibility in caring for their animals. Annabelle enjoyed the lessons, because the kids had fun.
But when the twins were told this morning that there was a change in plans—their mother had to go to work, and they’d be spending much of the day with Mrs. Nuzzo while their father got some sleep after working the night shift—they took the news in stride. Annabelle wondered how much they remembered about the period of Mike’s terrible depression and if they were just so glad to have him back, going to work at the firehouse, reading stories to them at bedtime, and being the loving father they remembered, that they didn’t want to complain about the missed riding lessons lest they rock the family boat.
“I brought you something,” said Annabelle, holding out a white cardboard box.
“Magnolia Bakery!” Thomas screeched, recognizing it immediately.
The kids hopped from one foot to the other as Annabelle opened the box, revealing the three-inch-wide cupcakes, top-heavy from all the pastel-colored vanilla frosting.
“I want a green cupcake,” said Thomas.
“I want a pink one,” Tara chimed in.
“Eat them at the table, please,” said Annabelle.
While the twins sat in the kitchen, Annabelle went into the bedroom. Mike was standing by the bed with a towel around his waist. He was rubbing his hair dry with another one.
“Hey, good-lookin’.” He grinned. “Did I hear Thomas yelling about Magnolia Bakery?”
“Don’t worry,” said Annabelle. “I bought some of the chocolate drop cookies you like.”
“God, I knew there was a reason I married you.” He kissed her on the neck.
“I thought it would be a good idea to soften you up before I give you the big news.”
“What?”
“I quit my job.”
Mike sat down on the edge of the bed. “You wanna give that to me again?”
Annabelle sat down next to him. “I just couldn’t take Linus Nazareth anymore, Mike. He’s insulting and obnoxious, and I can’t work for him. I’ve had it with him, and I quit. But now that I’ve done it, I don’t know how we’re going to pay the bills.” She leaned forward and put her head in her hands.
“Wait a minute, Annabelle.” Mike pulled her up and put his arm around her shoulders. “I’m not getting something, honey. Linus is obnoxious and insulting every day. Why was today so bad that you felt you had to quit?”
Annabelle recounted what had happened at Constance’s place, how B.J. had given his information about the stolen unicorn and the dead dog to Eliza rather than Lauren, the uproar that caused, a
nd the general unpleasantness of working with Lauren Adams.
“I know she’s under a lot of pressure, Mike, but come on. It’s so unprofessional to beat up on the people who are working for you. And then to have to come back to the Broadcast Center only to be abused by Linus—it was just too much.”
Mike pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. “You know what I think?” he asked.
“What?”
“It’s not Lauren Adams or Linus Nazareth that’s bothering you. You deal with their stuff all the time, and you usually just let it slide right off your back. No, I think what’s really bothering you is what’s happened to Constance Young.”
Annabelle looked up at her husband and nodded. “Maybe you’re right, Mike. I’m just so shocked that it’s come to this. How could this have happened to Constance?” Annabelle felt a tear escape from the corner of her eye and trickle down her cheek.
At one time Annabelle had been so proud of the friend she’d made in her early years at KEY News. They’d both been rookies on the network television news scene, Annabelle as a first-time researcher and Constance as a young reporter, fresh to KEY News after stints at local stations around the country. Constance had kept her nose to the grindstone, while Annabelle devoted herself to getting, and staying, pregnant until the twins arrived. After two miscarriages Annabelle finally had the family she craved, while Constance remained almost monomaniacal in her drive to succeed. Eventually Constance had made it to the anchor chair, and for a long while she managed to remain a genuinely nice person, the one who’d been such a good friend and trusted colleague. But eventually the pressure and competition had changed her.
Yet Annabelle realized that if not for Constance she’d never have gotten her job back at KEY News. Upon hearing that after 9/11 Mike was on disability from the fire department and suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, Constance put in a good word to executive producer Linus Nazareth. Annabelle knew that Nazareth had little patience for women on the mommy track, and she was sure that he kept her on the payroll just to make his popular star happy. With Constance Young as her champion, Annabelle was in.
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