“Matthew McConaughey?” Dana offered. “Me, neither.”
“I’m serious,” Megan said. “If Eleanor knew what a pig Ivan was, why did she tell you to cozy up to him?”
“She did warn me about him.”
“But she didn’t tell you to keep your distance. She encouraged you to get close to him.”
“I guess she thought I could sway him in ways she couldn’t.”
“Then why wasn’t she more up-front about it?” Megan asked. “I mean, if she already knew his plans for the company, she should have told you.”
Dana squeezed the lime into her vodka and soda and took a sip. “I can see your wheels spinning.”
Megan nodded. “I think she was using you.”
“You mean to catch Ivan in the act?”
“Think about it,” Megan said. “I bet she thought you’d be the perfect bait—someone Ivan would come on to...but someone strong enough to press sexual harassment charges. He’d be thrown out in a Midtown minute...and his plan along with him.”
Dana rubbed her cheek, considering it. The theory sounded pretty logical.
Megan continued, “What else did she say in that first meeting?”
“We just talked about trying to convince Ivan to let us market skin care. And come to think of it...” She trailed off, replaying a conversation from the party.
“What?” Megan pressed.
“He’s such a misogynist he actually laughed at me for making a marketing suggestion.” She shook her head, thinking about it. “He wouldn’t have taken me seriously in a million years. I wonder if Eleanor knew that.”
“I bet she did,” Megan said. “I bet she knew exactly how sexist he was. She threw you to the wolves, my friend.”
Dana leaned back, hurt. She had believed Eleanor was fond of her. “I knew she was driven,” Dana said, taking a long sip of her drink, “but I didn’t think she was so...ruthless.”
“That company means a hell of a lot to her.”
“Then why do you think she didn’t carry through on her threat to tell Blair Dennison what she knew?” Dana asked.
“Jamie thinks he must have counter-threatened her with something,” Megan said. “And it’s the only thing that makes sense.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, staring deep into their drinks, as if searching for something. Dana tried to get inside Eleanor’s head, the way she would with a character. She thought about motivation—an intense desire to save her precious fashion empire. And possibly something darker—something Ivan might have been holding over her head. What would someone like that do if the proper opportunity presented itself?
At last, Dana asked the question she assumed they were both mulling.
“Megan,” she said, “do you think Eleanor could have killed Ivan Dennison?”
“Do you?” her friend shot back.
She didn’t want to. Despite everything, she liked Eleanor. She was a pistol. But when Dana imagined herself in Eleanor’s skin, with the opportunity to solve everything with one simple push, it was as plausible as anything she could think of.
16
After meeting with Megan, Dana rushed downtown for Sweat City’s first real rehearsal for Harte of Brooklyn. They weren’t doing much more than blocking the first scene, figuring out where the treadmill would go, and getting a sense of their characters, but Dana could feel the creeping excitement of creating a living, breathing work of art. It started out of nothing—just a spark of an idea in Nathan’s head. And soon, characters would transform into people. Lines would morph into emotions. Relationships would be birthed on the stage. And the whole of it would become a performance with the power to delight, engage, move and entertain. It made her heart race.
“I have to say, people,” Nathan announced at the end of rehearsal, “from the bottom of my heart, that really sucked.”
They laughed, because he was right. It was pretty bad. But it was always bad in the beginning. And since the script had never been performed, it was still a work-in-progress. Nathan had done a bit of rewriting since the read-through, and would probably continue to tweak it as the weeks wore on.
“Let’s work on getting off book for scene one so we can start to nail pace. It’ll all hinge on that. Now get lost!”
The cast dispersed in good cheer, because they knew it was just a matter of hard work—the kind of work they loved because the payoff was so gratifying.
Dana waited until she was seated on the subway before checking her phone. There was a text from Ari saying he was going home to Brooklyn for clean clothes, and would see her tomorrow. Nothing about the lieutenant’s decision on whether Ari could stay on the case. Dana tried to breathe through her anxiety. It felt like everything was dependent on this one factor. If he got a chance to be the lead on this high-profile homicide, he’d be a shoo-in for the promotion. And then they could at least talk about the new apartment.
But tonight, he’d be going back to his place, because her tiny converted studio had so little closet space that Ari never left more than two clean dress shirts there. And even then, they sometimes got so creased from the overcrowding he needed to bring them into the bathroom when he showered so the wrinkles would relax. But that was nothing compared to the problems they had when the two of them needed to get ready simultaneously. The place was just too miniature for two adults moving back and forth between the undersized bathroom and the undersized closet.
So yes, the promotion was critical. Once that happened, Ari would come around and fall in love with the place she found for them. She was sure of it. For now, though, Dana would keep her mouth shut about it. The wound was just too fresh. But in bed alone that night, she drifted to sleep with visions of paint chips and upholstery swatches dancing in her head.
When she got to work the next day, Dana waited in her dressing room for Ari before heading to the makeup department. He had told her he’d be back at the Shopping Channel, reinterviewing staff members about the party. She hoped he also had news about his conversation with the lieutenant.
At last, her assistant poked her head in. “Good mornin’,” Ashlee said. “Ari is here. Should I let him in?”
Dana grinned. “Always.”
Ari walked in wearing a freshly pressed suit and his usual inscrutable expression. But his face relaxed into a smile when he saw her. He closed the door behind him and extended his arms. They embraced and kissed. He asked how her rehearsal went and she gave him a quick rundown, eager for news from his end.
“I spoke to Covello,” he finally said, referring to his lieutenant.
“And?”
Ari paused, and she held her breath.
“He’s not taking me off the case.”
Dana’s sharp inhale felt like a tiny breath of joy. “Wonderful!”
“As long as I don’t discuss the investigation with you.”
“Not at all?” The joy stopped short of filling Dana’s lungs. They already had an off-limits topic—the apartment. And now they couldn’t discuss his work. Of course, there were other things they could talk about, but this could create a lot of strain on a relationship that just regained its footing.
“Well, obviously I can discuss things that directly involve you.”
“Like my drug test,” she offered.
He nodded. “In fact, the lab report came in this morning.” He paused and put his hands on her shoulders, as if bracing her for the news. “There were traces of a date rape drug in your system—Rohypnol.”
She could see him searching her face, concerned with how she would take this news. It was, of course, exactly what she expected to hear. But the reality of it still jolted her. And Ari—more sensitive than most people could possibly guess—had somehow intuited this.
She swallowed.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Dana nodded, trying to find her voice. It was real
. Someone had slipped a drug into her drink with the intention of assaulting her. It was only by chance that she had managed to stay safe. Perhaps Ivan’s death had saved her.
“Do you know who did it?” she asked.
“Not yet. But we’ll find out.”
“And you’ll be allowed to tell me that much at least?” she asked.
He put his hand to his heart. “I promise.”
* * *
Later, when Dana was in the makeup chair, she gently goaded Jo and Felicia into spilling the latest gossip about Ivan’s murder.
“Did you hear he came on to Sherry’s girlfriend?” Jo asked, as she pushed Dana’s cuticles with a tapered wooden stick.
“Um... I’m not sure,” Dana equivocated. Better to hear what people were saying than to lead the witness with what she knew.
“You know Micaela?” Jo asked. “With the blond bangs?”
“Robért’s assistant?” Dana asked, as she was pretty sure the girl worked for the in-house hairdresser.
“That’s her,” Jo said. “She told us that one of the girls from accounting overheard Ivan making a pass at Anna, right in front of Sherry.”
“And she said Sherry was pissed,” Felicia added, as she smoothed foundation onto Dana’s face with a sponge.
“Why wouldn’t she be?” Dana asked, thinking about the receptionist’s speculation that Sherry was the murderer. But Brenda’s conclusion was based on Sherry’s devotion to her career, not on jealousy. It was hard to imagine Sherry with that much passion.
“The thing is,” Felicia said, “they were right by the railing when this happened.”
Dana could picture it. That seemed to be Ivan’s modus operandi—cornering his prey.
“You know what I think?” Jo said.
Dana nodded. “I think I do.”
Jo ignored her and continued. “I think Sherry pushed Ivan off the roof in a jealous rage!” She seemed utterly pleased with herself for articulating the soap opera scenario.
“Don’t you think that’s a little far-fetched?” Dana asked.
“Hey, somebody killed him,” Jo said. “And you know what a bitch Sherry is.”
Too well, Dana thought. But she said, “She’s not out-of-control, though. It’s hard to picture her exploding in rage like that.”
Felicia harrumphed. “People are different when it comes to love. And I just bet she’s the jealous type.”
“Anyway,” Jo added, “I think we’ll know soon enough. That Detective Marks doesn’t let nothing get by him.”
Dana’s phone pinged and she looked down to see a text from Megan.
You up for a visit after your segment? I’m with Jamie and we want to stop by.
Dana assumed there was something important they wanted to discuss. She texted back a thumbs-up and typed: CU soon.
* * *
It was officially holiday selling season, so Dana’s show that day featured a line of jewelry from Quentin Daye, a designer who was a favorite among Shopping Channel viewers. Dana had a long vocabulary of adjectives at her disposal for all things sparkly, so she knew it would be fun, showcasing the gemstone pieces embellished with cubic zirconia. And she had Quentin at her side, which meant she had someone to banter with. Even better—Jessalyn told Dana they would open the phone lines so viewers could call in. She didn’t do this very often, because saving it for special occasions made the merchandise seem that much more special.
Dana enjoyed chatting with the viewers, even though it meant standing on the set and having a conversation with the disembodied voice of someone looking right at her. There were five excited callers that day—three were first-timers, and two were superfans who rushed to the phone every time they got the opportunity. One of them was Dana’s favorite—a woman named Mary from Sacramento, who sounded at least a hundred years old. She was funny as hell and easy to talk to, especially when she’d been hitting the sauce. Dana liked to imagine her sitting in a cluttered living room, a box of wine on a tray table next to her. That day, Mary bought a marquise-cut blue tanzanite pendant on a gold chain, and matching earrings. Dana hoped the old bird had someplace wonderful to wear them to. And if not, she hoped she would enjoy sparkling all the way to Walmart or her bingo club.
“You made a good choice, Mary,” Quentin said into the camera. Like Dana, he had been trained to call the viewers by name. “I hope you enjoy it.”
“Oh, honey,” she said. “I enjoy everything.”
Dana laughed. “We love you, Mary!” she said, and at that moment, she meant it.
Viewers responded to the warmth by flooding the phone lines, and soon enough, it was time to wrap up.
Megan and Jamie emerged from the control booth as Lorenzo unclipped Dana’s mike.
“That was impressive,” Jamie said. “I’ve watched on TV a few times, but seeing it up close really drives home your skills.”
“I told you she was good.” Megan beamed.
“You really seemed to be enjoying yourself out there.” Jamie sounded amazed that she had pulled it off.
“I was,” Dana said. “And that may be the secret of my success. If you’re faking it, the viewers can tell.”
She went over the day’s sales figures with Jessalyn, and then took Megan and Jamie back to her dressing room for a private chat. On the way, she filled Megan in on what Ari had told her about confirming the date-rape drug in her system. Megan wasn’t surprised, but she gave Dana a reassuring hug.
When they reached her dressing room, Dana asked Jamie how his mother was holding up.
“A little worse every day,” he said. “It’s difficult to watch.”
Dana studied him. He seemed to be on full output mode, more focused on projecting his thoughts than letting anything touch him. Dana couldn’t even find a keyhole view of what was in his heart. But maybe that was his training as a journalist. It was all about telling the story, not about what he felt.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I haven’t yet made a decision on what I’m going to tell her about my dad.”
“Does she seem ready to hear it?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think she’ll ever be ready to hear something like that.”
His expression remained even, but Dana gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze, and excused herself into the alcove so she could change.
“I passed along your debriefing about Eleanor,” Megan called.
“So I guessed,” Dana said, as she pulled off the red dress the wardrobe supervisor had chosen for today’s show. She slipped into her own shirt and yanked on her jeans, feeling like she was settling back into the person she had been before she ever dreamed of a Shopping Channel gig. She came back into the main part of the room and took a chair opposite Megan and Jamie as she pulled on her socks and boots.
“I wish there was more I could do to help,” she said to Jamie. “I told Megan everything I know.”
“I appreciate that,” Jamie said. “The thing is, I’m trying to figure out what my dad might have had on Eleanor.”
“Is that important?” Dana asked. “To your mom, I mean.”
Jamie shrugged. “If it’s important to the investigation, it’ll be important to my mom. She wants to know who killed him.”
“Of course,” Dana said.
Megan leaned forward. “He did some sleuthing.”
“Sleuthing?” Dana asked.
“I got into my dad’s laptop and accessed his email. I wanted to see if there was anything that might shed light on his interaction with Eleanor Gratz.”
“Find anything?”
“Sort of. There was an email he sent her. It was pretty cryptic, but he warned her to stay away from his family, and said something about ‘the file.’”
“Like a computer file?” Dana asked.
“I don’t think so, because he also mentioned someth
ing about a paper trail. I believe that was literal.”
“So you think there’s an actual folder that exposes whatever dirt he had on Eleanor?”
“Possibly. But I looked through every inch of his home office and couldn’t find it.”
“We think it might be here, at his office upstairs,” Megan said.
Dana gave a thoughtful nod as she imagined the thoroughness of the investigation. “I’m sure the police already looked through those files.”
“I’m sure they didn’t,” Jamie said.
Dana raised an eyebrow, and Jamie responded by holding up a set of keys.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“The keys to his office cabinets. The detectives asked me if I knew where they were, and I promised I would look for them.”
“I assume you also promised you would turn them over?”
“And I will,” he said. “Just not yet.”
Dana paused, looking from Megan to Jamie. They stared at her expectantly. “Is that why you came?” she asked. “You want to search through his office?”
“I’m his son,” Jamie said. “I think I have a right.” His tone was friendly but determined.
Dana sighed. She didn’t want to fight with him. He did have a right, after all. But there was a murder investigation going on.
“You need to tell Ari all this,” she said. “Let the police look for it.”
“It’s not that I plan on keeping it from them,” Jamie explained. “It’s just that I’d like to know what my dad was up to before it blows up in my mom’s face. You understand, don’t you? She’s so fragile. It’s my responsibility now.”
“Did you ask Beecham if he’d let you have access to the office?” Dana asked, referring to the building’s head of security.
Jamie frowned. “Pretty sure he’d say no.”
“So that’s why you’re here,” Dana mused. “You want me to bring you upstairs.”
Megan looked at her watch. “It’s after five,” she said. “In a little while, all the office workers upstairs will empty out. I figured you could use your RFID card to open the door and let us in.”
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