“Yes, and Ms. Bowden would like an order of hosomaki and a glass of cabernet.”
Lauren looked glowingly to me. “John Peter … you remembered.”
Bridget inquired what Gwen would like, and she replied, “I think I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Why don’t you bring two bottles of that cheap beer, and we’ll share the cheeseburger,” I said.
“Two beers, two forks,” she said with an “aw so sweet” look.
Last but never least, Cliff ordered the special.
“And that will be on the house. American heroes eat free at Norvell’s,” Bridget replied.
Cliff ate it up, to the point he didn’t really need a meal, while Lauren seethed.
The appetizers were now complete, and it was time for the main course. Good thing, because J-News was hungry for the truth.
Chapter 28
I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to what we’d witnessed. That it was real, but like the way Reality TV is real.
And following my interview with Nora, my suspicion grew. She took the time to plot out this event in cold and calculated style, yet when the moment of truth came, she was overcome by emotion and rage, causing her to not complete the job, letting Lauren live? I was convinced that Lauren was the key to unlocking the truth, even if she didn’t know it.
I stared across the table at her like we were the only two people in the room. “Do you know how amazing you are?”
“John Peter? You’re embarrassing me,” she said, but her blush was urging me to go on.
“You were so courageous in the face of death. Tell me how you did it.”
I knew it wouldn’t take much for Lauren to tell her heroic tale, and recapture some of the thunder Cliff had stolen from her.
“I was just doing my usual nightly recap of the day’s top stories, when all of a sudden I heard someone scream out. When I looked, it was already too late. Nora was behind Tino, and had pulled his tie back, and was strangling him with it. She dragged him off the chair, and his face was the color of his suit. But before I could react, she was pointing her gun right at me.”
It made sense that Nora was able to blend in, I thought. She was a known person in the industry, and she was dressed professionally from the job interview, which had gotten her in the door. It wasn’t out of the question that she’d convinced an impressionable staffer that she was to be a guest on one of the shows. “Where did she get the gun?”
“I have no idea, my total focus was on Tino. She’d tied his hands with his own belt, then removed his tie and used it to gag his mouth so he couldn’t speak … it was just so horrible.”
Another burst of tears came. “I can talk all night, but you just can’t understand what it’s like to be held captive, unless you experience it.”
I had … on multiple occasions. As had Gwen, when she was held hostage in Grady Benson’s beach house and left to die. Probably because of that, she looked empathetic toward Lauren.
“We do know how hard it can be,” Gwen said, things suddenly taking a strange turn. “And it wasn’t your fault.”
“Thank you for your words, it’s very kind of you, but you really can’t compare our situations. The loss of an international television star would have had much greater effect on people’s psyche than the loss of someone who aspired to an anonymous life in a small town.”
And just like that, the universe had returned to normalcy. I grabbed Gwen’s hand under the table, partly out of support, but mostly to keep her from grabbing a sharp utensil. I didn’t like the odds of Cliff saving two lives in one week.
With tragedy temporarily averted, it was time for the old ‘divide and conquer.’ “Nobody can understand what you felt in that moment, Lauren,” I said, feeling that I was losing my grip on Gwen’s hand, as she tried to squirm away. “But thank goodness that Cliff was there to save you.”
Her face clenched. “The only reason Nora Reign was allowed to get so close to me in the first place was because of Cliff’s incompetence. He’s the one who invited her in … he’s the one who should be in jail.”
I looked to Cliff, seeking an explanation, which he provided, “It is true that I had Nora come in for an interview. But I was just doing what you instructed me to do, JP, which was bring in the top reporters in the business. Nora was one of the best, and you had always spoken highly of her.”
And suddenly I was the reason that a crazed woman killed a man on live television. “What was she like in the interview?” I asked Cliff.
“If you’re asking me if she seemed like someone who was about to commit murder, absolutely not. And as far as her relationship with Tino, she was very open about it during the interview, and didn’t think it would be a problem working with him.”
“What about the gun? How did she get it past security?” If she did. I had my doubts.
“Security had emptied her bag, patted her down, and she had to go through a metal detector. A more thorough search than you get at the airport. It was captured on video, and the FBI already went over it in detail.”
Appearing overwhelmed by emotion, Lauren excused herself, and made her way to the ladies’ room. Gwen glared at her as she walked away from the table. I felt like I should say something supportive, so I said, “I really think she’s gained some weight.”
“She’s gonna gain some more when I fatten her lip.”
This was going well—where’s that cheeseburger?
Without his cohort in tow—and by cohort, I mean the woman who just blamed him for a murder—Cliff moved on to his agenda. My questions would have to be put on hold.
“Okay, JP, you win … I blink.”
“Do I get a trophy?”
“No, but my offer is a million dollars.”
“It is a little on the expensive side here, but I don’t think the cheeseburger and corned beef will be that much. Maybe like five hundred grand.”
“I mean the jailhouse interview you did with Nora Reign. I’d hoped that being an employee of GNZ you’d be willing to come forward freely with it, but I understand capitalism, and my lawyers have informed me that you own the rights to the interview, not GNZ. There are no hard feelings.”
“It wasn’t an interview—it was a private conversation between two old friends.”
“That woman gave up privacy when she came onto my set and murdered the anchor of my top rated show. If a ‘friend’ had a ‘private’ conversation with Oswald after he shot Kennedy, wouldn’t the public have the right to know what was said in that conversation?”
“Tino Fernandez wasn’t the president of the United States.”
“The president wishes he had Tino’s popularity numbers! I’m willing to go to 1.5 million, and offer you the vacated co-host position.”
Vacated? “I’m flattered, Cliff, really, but just like the last time you offered, and the time before that, and the time … anyway, I’m not interested in returning to television.” And to try to get back into Gwen’s good graces, I added, “And if I was, I certainly wouldn’t share a screen with Lauren.”
“Two million, Lauren’s out, and that’s as far as I can go. You can do the show solo, or,” he looked to Gwen, and I didn’t like that look, “maybe you two can do it together.”
“You want Gwen to be a TV host?”
“Why not? She’s gorgeous, intelligent, and your chemistry is off the charts. And unlike Lauren, she actually has a journalism background.”
Gwen thought about it a little longer than I’d hoped, before saying, “That’s nice of you to offer, but I’ve made a commitment to my newspaper.” It wasn’t exactly a ‘hell no, that’s the dumbest idea I ever heard,’ but it was a no.
“Don’t you think it’s a little too soon to be talking about Tino’s replacement?” I asked.
“All the more reason—we need to stabilize the ship. Our sponsors are nervous and our competitors are ready to pounce. There’s no time to waste.”
Lauren returned from her scripted trip to the ladies’ room,
and recited her lines, “So what is it, John Peter … did you make the right decision this time?”
“Oh, I definitely did.”
She looked to Cliff, who delivered the bad news with a tilt of the head. There would be no exclusive jailhouse interview to be revealed on her show by its new co-host, JP Warner.
Lauren stood by her chair, her disgusted stare locked on me—perhaps she was waiting for me to pull it out for her, like the good old days. But upon further inspection, she wasn’t looking at me—Gwen was the one in her sights. Uh-oh.
“I feel sorry for you, I really do,” Lauren said to her.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, I understand why you’d try to hold John Peter back, but it still saddens me.”
“I’m not holding anyone back. And who the hell is John Peter?”
“You’re a desperate divorcee who lives in a nowhere town and works at a nothing newspaper. That’s why you hold on so tight, and convince him not to take this opportunity to get his career back on track.”
If you looked close enough, you could see the fire coming out of Gwen’s nostrils with each breath. “JP makes his own decisions, and if he wants to go back to TV, he’s free to do whatever he wishes.”
“Perhaps you’re unaware that I’m a professional journalist, and I can see right through your spin. We both know the idea of John Peter spending so much time next to me scares you, especially now that I’m a single woman again. And if he remembers my favorite meals, then surely he also recalls what I would give him for dessert.”
Gwen turned to me with a look, as if to say if I didn’t do something about this she was going to take that job out of spite, just to make Lauren’s life miserable … and mine. So I turned to Lauren, and did what I do best—turning all the anger in my direction.
“Have you gained weight?”
Chapter 29
The walk from Norvell’s to Grand Central was a short one, but it seemed much longer due to Cliff and Lauren accompanying us. I figured it had more to do with Cliff making his final sales pitch, than making sure we made it safely to our train.
I didn’t extract the type of information I’d hoped for during dinner, and I came away thinking the whole thing was fishier than ever. But all was not lost—Cliff received adoration from a cute waitress, and a free meal, Gwen got a job offer, and Lauren likely earned a SAG card for her performance.
The Manhattan streets were quieter than usual, as most of the city was tucked away in festive bars, chugging their green beer. I strategically stationed myself between Lauren and Gwen. My ego wanted me to believe that they were fighting over me, but that would grossly overrate my role in this. Gwen was finding out what I already knew—Lauren’s ability to irritate was legendary. It was the one thing we had in common during our relationship.
We turned off Fifth Avenue onto 42nd Street. We passed Bryant Park and the New York Public Library, then stepped under a “sidewalk shed.” The tunnel-like structures were set up alongside building construction to protect pedestrians from falling debris and scaffolding. But tonight it just provided a little relief from the stiff March wind.
“Stop! Freeze!” a voice rang out.
We turned to see a police officer fast approaching. When he realized that he’d startled us, he smiled, and said, “I’m just messing with you, J-News. I was patrolling the park when I saw you pass by. I figured it was my only chance to meet you.”
He was Hispanic, a wiry six foot, and athletic looking. He stuck out his hand and we shook, even though something was telling me that running away would have been a smarter move.
“Can I help you?” I asked. I noticed his partner remained back by the entrance to the sidewalk shed, maybe twenty feet away.
“Sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you and your friends. I’m just a big fan. Man, I was hanging on every second with you when they had you hostage last summer. I don’t even watch the news anymore since you hung it up.”
Lauren took exception, “That would put you in a minority. Ratings are up greatly since John Peter left.”
He shot her a dirty look. “I know all about being in a minority, Blondie. And I said I don’t watch the news anymore—I wasn’t talking about that staged sideshow you put on the other night.”
While I couldn’t disagree with his assessment, there was something about the tone. When I glanced back at the other cop, I noticed that he was sealing off the entrance with yellow police tape. A squad car had blocked off the other end of the tunnel. The wall facing the street was lined with razor wire. We were trapped
“What’s he doing?” I pointed back to his partner.
“His job,” the cop responded, no longer sounding like a fan. “This is now a crime scene, so he’s walling it off. We don’t want any civilians wandering in here while we’re taking care of police business.”
As he spoke, I focused closely on his face. And I recognized it. “You mean finishing business.”
All pretense was over. His gun came out and was pointed directly at me. His partner had made his way to us and held his gun on the others. “Keep your pot holes shut or I’ll shut them for you,” the partner said in a British accent. Not something you hear every day coming from NYPD.
“I’m going to need to see some identification,” I said, trying to remain calm.
The lead cop took out a badge, and jammed it in my face so hard it felt like a punch. He also delivered an actual punch to my midsection, which bent me in half, gasping for air.
The natural reaction would be to scream out for help, but that was the brilliance of the police cover. How many times do you see the suspect calling out bloody murder as the police arrest them? So they could hold us hostage on 42nd Street in New York City and nobody would even give it a second look. Also working in their favor was that the “city that never sleeps” was passed out drunk in an alley this night.
Lauren remained defiant. “Don’t you know who we are? I am going to talk to the mayor—he’ll have your badge for this.”
Not only did they know, but this was a planned meeting. Gwen looked at me for answers. I had none, but my return glance said to play along for now. We must have something they want—if we didn’t, we’d already be dead.
“We need to talk,” the cop imposter said to me. “We can do it one of two ways. Talk here, or take you down to the station for questioning.”
And by station, I got the idea he meant a deserted place where nobody could hear our screams. And I’d seen enough mob movies to know you never get in the car with the bad guy. I would take my chances here. Maybe a real cop would show up, or a drunk might stumble in.
“Then talk,” I said.
“I don’t know why you continue to try to stop the revolution, Warner—once it began, there was no way to stop it.”
“Good to know. But I can guarantee you I have no interest in stopping your revolution, or even slowing it down. Now that we’ve cleared that up, we have a train to catch.”
“Then why were you talking to Nora Reign?”
“She gave me exclusive rights to her interview. I’m a reporter, that’s not something you turn down.”
“We both know that your relationship with Nora Reign runs much deeper. So time to come clean—what did she tell you in that interview?”
“If you guys are as advertised, then you already know what was said.”
“We heard the tape, but we’re not interested in Nora’s words—we want to know what she told you.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The punch to my kidney dropped me to my knees. But I wasn’t going to let these guys win, so I struggled through the pain back to my feet.
“She was giving you clues—it’s no accident that she chose you to do the interview.”
If she had, I wasn’t sure what they were. But I didn’t think that answer would go over well, so I thought it might be time to make something up. To buy time, I found my inner-Carter, “The code was—if she wore the orange jumpsuit, it meant
you were the one who liked to wear women’s underwear. But if she wore the blue one, it was Prince William over there.”
He looked bemused. Probably because he already knew how this was going to end. “What about the meetings you had with her in Rockfield?”
This one surprised me. But judging by the look on Gwen’s face, not as much as her.
“I haven’t seen Nora in years.”
This time the punch smashed across my lip, drawing blood. Gwen looked like she was contemplating coming to my rescue. My eyes begged her to stand down—these guys weren’t playing around.
“Maybe he needs a little incentive,” British said. “From what I’ve heard, JP Warner doesn’t do anything for free.”
The cop nodded to his partner, and then looked to Gwen. When he pointed his gun at her, my stomach hit the pavement.
“Time to start talking, or your girl is gonna die with a broken heart … as in, I’m going to shoot a hole right through it.”
They had to know that shooting her would be a deal killer in getting any information from me, whether I had it or not. They must be bluffing, but I wasn’t willing to risk it.
“Last chance, Warner.”
“Fine—I’ll tell you whatever you want. Just let her go.”
“This isn’t a negotiation.”
I blurted the first thing that came into my mind, “Nora was my everything—my heart, my soul, my life. And then Tino came and ripped her away from me, like some sick game he was playing, and then he threw her away like a piece of garbage. But not before he got her hooked on drugs, and ruined her career. Nora wanted revenge, and that’s why she came to Rockfield, seeking my help.”
“Now we’re making progress—seems a little incentive goes a long way.”
“The plan was for Huddled Masses to use GNZ as a vehicle to get their message out, and Nora was the one to deliver that message. But all she wanted was to take down Tino, and she knew I was the one who could help her do it. Because I was still connected to GNZ, I was able to convince them to interview her, which got her in the building, and I was able to plant the gun during a recent visit. All I asked in return was that Nora didn’t harm Lauren, as Huddled Masses planned … I couldn’t bear to see her harmed.
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