by K. K. Beck
“Yes,” said Alice. “But they know who it is. Someone Ed worked with years ago.” It was hard to tell from her brusque demeanor how interested Rosa was. Alice sipped the last of her coffee nervously. Maybe she was boring Rosa, who had said before that she never read crime news. Maybe to go on would reveal Alice’s Nancy Drew–like fascination with criminal matters and make her seem ditzy.
Alice fell silent and decided she’d done the right thing, because Rosa didn’t ask any more questions about Ed Costello. Instead, she handed Alice a box containing the tape. “There are three commercials here,” she said. “Please rotate all the spots equally.”
Alice rose. “Yes, of course. Thank you,” and then forced herself to show she was an apt pupil by adding, “I’m sure this schedule will provide you with plenty of good leads.” Rosa had said the buyer should always be reassured after the sale.
“Maybe you can follow up on some of them,” said Rosa with a little smile. “Fill out that application and I’ll let you know this week.”
“Oh, thank you!” said Alice gratefully, picking up the tape box and the coffee cup. Should she say how hard she would work to justify Rosa’s confidence in her? It seemed presumptuous to pull that reassuring-the-buyer trick again and announce that Rosa had made a wise decision.
Fortunately the phone rang, and Rosa picked it up. “Yes?” she barked, dismissing Alice with a wave and launching into an animated conversation in a foreign language.
In the lobby, the pleasant receptionist had already arranged the application for her on a clipboard and asked Alice if she wanted more coffee. Alice said, “No, thank you,” and sat down to fill out the form, reflecting that she’d filled out dozens of them just a few weeks ago, always with a sinking heart and a feeling of doom. This time she dared to be hopeful. If it worked out, she’d have the satisfaction of telling that reptile Judy Livermore that she was going to be working in an office with a nice person at the front desk.
It wasn’t until she got into the elevator that it struck her: Rosa Delgado’s card had disappeared from her Rolodex! Maybe Chip Gilmore had stolen it along with the catalog! Bowled over by Rosa’s direct manner and glamorous appearance, Alice hadn’t paid much attention to her ethnicity. She had a Spanish name, but she wasn’t speaking Spanish on the phone. Filipinas had Spanish names. Maybe she’d been speaking Tagalog or some other language of the Philippines. And Rosa had told her before that she’d come to America twenty years ago. Had Chip Gilmore stolen her Rolodex card because she was the woman he’d married?
Bob LeBaron said Chip’s mail-order bride had gone back to Asia. He’d said Hong Kong, but a lot of those women in the catalog were from the Philippines. Anyway, Bob was pretty vague about Asia. He’d thought Michiko was a Chinese name, for instance.
Chip might have thought his wife had gone back, too, until Ed ran into her while selling ads, and presumably recognized her and blackmailed Ed. And now Chip knew where she was! Chip might try to hurt her. Rosa was living proof he’d married an Asian woman.
Alice started shaking, she was so excited. It was all so clear: Ed had been blackmailing Chip because Rosa was part of his past and was still around. Chip had killed Ed, then searched his papers to see if he could find Rosa and kill her, too. She had to be warned!
Alice jabbed the button for the top floor, but the elevator kept going down. She’d have to go all the way down to the lobby, then start up again. She was hyperventilating now.
As the elevator doors opened onto the lobby she wondered what would happen if she was wrong. Would Rosa think she was crazy and not offer her a job? Maybe Alice should call the police instead. Or maybe there was another way to warn Rosa, a way to phrase it so that if Alice was wrong, she wouldn’t sound crazy and full of conspiracy theories. If Rosa had been married to Chip Gilmore, she might not want anybody—especially an employee—to know about her past.
One thing was certain. If Alice told Detective Lukowski and he interrogated Rosa Delgado, Alice could probably kiss her new job good-bye. Rosa didn’t seem like the kind of person who would like a prospective employee subjecting her to a police inquiry without warning. Alice stepped out of the elevator and stood there in the lobby as it whooshed back up, empty, to Rosa’s floor. She would have to think this through very carefully.
In the car on the way back to KLEG, she decided to send a fax. If she worded it carefully, she could warn Rosa without alarming her in case there was no connection between her and Chip Gilmore. A fax also had the advantage of being one-way communication. Alice was too nervous to get into a conversation with Rosa about her theories. If Rosa had reason to be alarmed, she could call the police herself.
When she pulled up to the station, Alice was flabbergasted to see a big TV news van bristling with satellite dishes parked in front. Now what?
As she went inside, Judy grabbed her sleeve roughly and made a shushing noise. “We’re on live TV,” she hissed.
Alice looked up and saw a portly man with an outdated silver pompadour facing a young girl with a video camera. He was speaking into a microphone: “Phil Bernard has been in there for several hours now and shows no signs of giving up his vinyl vigil. He’s a man who marches to a different drummer, and the rhythm is strictly thirty-three and a third. This is Rex Blaine—and Fluffy—with Blaine’s Byways. Back to you, Becky and Max.”
Over his shoulder, visible through the glass, Phil was making absurd faces, pulling his mouth wide with his forefingers, flapping his tongue and pressing his nose against the glass so it looked like a pig’s nose.
Blaine stood there like a robin listening for a worm, touched his earpiece and chuckled into the microphone. “Well, Becky, after all my years on the people beat, I’ve learned that some folks care deeply about what may seem trivial to the rest of us. But, no, this is apparently not a publicity gimmick.”
Instantly, his jovial expression was replaced by one apparently intended to convey compassion. “KLEG personnel have decided that if Phil Bernard doesn’t come out of the booth by the end of business today, they’ll alert Seattle Mental Health Services, but they’re hoping that won’t be necessary. We’ll keep you updated.”
“My God!” said Alice when he’d finished.
“He’s flipped out completely,” said Judy bitterly.
“Can’t we just turn off the station?” demanded Alice.
“I don’t know how,” said Judy defensively. “It’s not really my job. Carl knows how, but he’s gone. Bob just keeps ignoring me when I ask him. He and Daphne think being on the news is more important than the dignity of KLEG.”
“Well, here’s the Delgado Enterprises tape,” said Alice, handing her the box. “If things ever get back to normal, rotate the three spots equally.”
“Will you help me with the phones?” said Judy in a whiny voice. “We’re getting a lot of strange calls.”
“I can’t. I have to send an important fax,” said Alice. She was determined to accomplish that one thing, then get out of this zoo. What was the point of watching poor Phil disintegrate behind the glass? It was hideous. She was already overwrought by the thought that Chip Gilmore might try to kill Rosa Delgado, for heaven’s sake!
She went to her desk and tried to ignore the conversation between Bob LeBaron and Rex Blaine behind her. Bob was saying, “Are you going to stick around in case the guys from the funny farm come to take him away?”
“My assignment editor says I can stay for another twenty minutes or so,” said Blaine. “I might get a chance to update with another cut-in.”
Alice sat down and wrote her fax:
Dear Ms. Delgado,
I have passed your tape on to our continuity department with instructions to rotate all the spots equally. I appreciate your business and am confident the advertising schedule will produce results for Delgado Enterprises.
Thank you, too, for the opportunity to apply for a sales position with you. I know I would be a highly motivated employee, and I feel strongly that under your direction I can produce goo
d results for your company.
Sincerely,
Alice Jordan
Advertising Sales
P.S.: I thought I should let you know that I have just discovered that your business card is missing from my Rolodex. I mention this because it may have been taken during the break-in I mentioned. The police believe a man named Chip Gilmore went through Ed Costello’s papers on my desk. Considering the circumstances, I felt you might want to know. A.J.
She went over to the fax machine and heard Daphne say eagerly to Rex Blaine, “Why don’t you interview me? I can say how Phil seemed just fine, then all of a sudden—”
As Alice punched up the number on the fax machine, a small white poodle came over and sniffed her ankle. Startled, she let out a little cry and jumped back. The dog started yapping.
Rex looked over at her. “Oh, she won’t hurt you,” he said. The dog bared its small but very pointy teeth.
“What is a dog doing here?” asked Alice.
“That’s Fluffy,” said Rex Blaine indignantly. “Don’t you have a TV?”
“Fluffy is Rex’s sidekick,” explained Bob. “You know, Blaine’s Byways.”
“I cover the offbeat and unusual. Fluffy adds pizzazz,” said Blaine. “Like John Steinbeck and Charlie. It started out as a onetime gag, but everyone loved her so much she’s a permanent part of the team. Everyone loves Fluffy.”
The camera operator, a rangy young woman in jeans and a sweater, rolled her eyes and said, “Yeah, right.”
Alice managed to push the transmit button just before Fluffy darted at her and sank her teeth into her ankle. She screamed. Fluffy, looking pleased with herself, trotted back to Rex Blaine’s side, and he patted her. “Bad girl,” he said sweetly. Then he glared at Alice as if it were her fault. “She’s never done that before,” he said.
Behind him, even Phil looked interested, leaning against the glass for a better view, as Alice rubbed her ankle.
“Animals know things instinctively about people,” said Judy ominously.
“This is all too much,” said Alice, feeling her eyes welling up with tears. Fluffy came back and circled Alice in what looked like a victory lap.
“Is the skin broken?” asked the camera operator. She was wearing heavy shoes and made a kicking motion toward the dog, who beat a retreat. Alice staggered into a chair and examined her ankle. There were little red marks there, and the stocking was ruined, but the skin was intact.
“That damn dog should be put down,” said the camera operator. “She’s a nasty little thing, and the whole van smells like wet dog all the time.” The young woman turned on Rex. “I’m telling the station attorney that we’ll have a lawsuit on our hands if we don’t get rid of that little bitch.”
“Which bitch?” said a lovely voice from the door. They all turned around to see a glamorous woman with long black hair and sunglasses. She wore a red polka-dot dress and a big red straw hat to match. She stood framed in the doorway for just a moment, placing her red-nailed hand against it, and stuck out one hip. They all stared at her in silence; then she sashayed into the reception area.
“I was worried about poor Phil,” she said. “I thought I should come down and reason with him.”
“That voice!” exclaimed Bob LeBaron.
“Can I help you?” asked Judy, looking confused.
“It’s Teresa!” said Daphne.
“I thought it was time you all met me,” replied Teresa.
“Wow,” said Daphne. “You don’t look like what we thought you would at all. We thought you were obese or disfigured or something.”
“Hey, here’s a little story for you,” LeBaron said to Rex Blaine. “This is our mystery lady. No one’s ever met her before.”
“Come over here, sweetheart,” said Blaine. “You’ll look great on camera.”
“It’s a more interesting story than you might think,” said Teresa.
Ten minutes later, as the staff stood in a circle, flabbergasted, Blaine was talking into the camera once again. Alice was relieved that he was holding Fluffy. “So there you have it folks. KLEG, the quiet little classical station, turns out to be a pretty wild place. We’ve just been talking to Teresa, Queen of the Night. For years, she’s built up a loyal following of listeners while, unbeknownst to the staff here, Teresa was actually—”
Teresa giggled here and finished his sentence: “Carl Weeb, mild-mannered record librarian.”
“Like I say, this is a wild place, Becky and Max. Meanwhile, Carl’s boss, the mean old guy who wouldn’t let Carl be on the air, is flipping out inside the booth. Who says classical music is dull? This is Rex Blaine—and Fluffy, of course—with Blaine’s Byways.” Teresa patted the dog and smiled into the camera, and Rex gave Fluffy a little pinch so she’d bark good-bye.
“My God, Carl,” Bob LeBaron said, “you’re a knockout. I never would have guessed.” He turned to Rex Blaine and said, “I thought he was straight after that time I found him reading a Victoria’s Secret catalog, but I guess he was just ordering a few things.”
“Oh, Carl,” said Daphne, coming up and giving Teresa a hug. “I’ve been really jealous of Teresa all this time. But now that I found out she’s actually you, I’m so happy. Phil’s always treated you badly, and you were always so quiet and patient. I never knew you had such talent and”—she groped for a noun, finally coming up with “self-esteem.”
Alice, still massaging her ankle, turned to Judy. “Does Franklin know what’s going on around here?”
“Why should we tell him anything?” Judy said unpleasantly. “He doesn’t care. He just wants to sell the place.”
“I’ve had a rough day,” said Alice to no one in particular. “I’m going home. As soon as I call Franklin.”
She limped over to the phone in her cubicle and got Franklin on the line. “I think you should know we have an emergency. I think you should get down here.”
“I don’t have time for that radio station right now,” he said impatiently. “What kind of emergency?”
“Well, Phil went in the booth and started ranting on about vinyl, and then he locked himself in and then—”
Franklin interrupted her. “Hang on a sec,” he said. “My secretary is trying to tell me something. What is it, Lois?”
Alice heard Lois very distinctly. Her voice seemed to be coming out of some desktop speaker. “Mr. Ott is here to take you to your Chip Gilmore appointment,” she said.
Alice was startled. What was Franklin doing with Chip Gilmore? He’d acted as if he didn’t even know the guy.
“Look, Alice,” Franklin said, sounding even more irritable than usual, “I’ve got to go now. I’ll check in with the station later. Phil will eventually have to go to the bathroom, won’t he? Until then, how bad can it be?”
“All right,” said Alice listlessly. She didn’t want to prolong the conversation. It would keep her from racking her brain to find some reason Franklin would be consorting with a probably homicidal Nazi.
She’d better call Lukowski. This was all too complicated. She had started to riffle through the phone book, looking for the number to call, when Judy sidled up to her. “You left this in the fax machine,” she said coyly, dangling the letter to Rosa over the cubicle wall.
“Thanks,” said Alice, wondering if—and hoping that—the events around the station were so extraordinary that Judy might have neglected to read it.
Phil’s voice boomed out over the monitor. “God damn you, you bastard, Franklin Payne,” he was yelling. “You’re the Antichrist.” His voice softened back into bland announcer mode. “And now a violin concerto featuring a very young Yehudi Menuhin, his charming sister Hephzibah at the keyboard.”
Alice took malicious pleasure in Phil’s latest tirade. “How bad can it be?” Franklin had asked. Now he was being vilified all over town. She sighed and ran her fingers nervously through her hair. She couldn’t call the police calmly from here with Phil going literally crazy and Judy probably eavesdropping. She’d have to do it from hom
e.
She folded the memo to Rosa and put it in her purse just as Rex Blaine’s camera operator began packing up her equipment. “We’ve milked this little circus for all it’s worth,” she said bitterly.
As Alice made her way out the door, a straight-backed, square-jawed man with gray at his temples came bursting through. “Where’s Teresa?” he demanded.
Alice pointed over her shoulder and stopped to watch him.
“Teresa,” he said, “I saw you on TV.”
“Stan!” said Teresa. “I wanted to tell you some other way, about Carl and all—”
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he said. “Just a detail that cannot change how I feel. In fact, I think I already knew in some strange way. But when I heard how that Phil wouldn’t let you on the air, and all you’d been through, I just wanted to rush right down and be with you.”
“Oh, Stan,” said Teresa, holding out her hand, which he took between his. “I just thought there was nothing left to lose. They’re talking about selling KLEG, and I wanted to go out with a bang.”
“How much do they want for it?” asked Stanton.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
When Alice got home, she discovered Zack sprawled on the living room sofa with the portable phone. Lately he’d taken to spending hours talking to his friends, the conversations unintelligible and consisting in large part of sentence fragments like “Cool,” “No way,” “Just chillin’,” and “Wow.”
“I need the phone,” she said impatiently.
“I gotta go. Mom wants the phone. She never talks long. I’ll call you right back.”
From the fact that the phone seemed to be body temperature she surmised he’d already been talking for hours.
“Don’t you have any homework?” she asked him.
“I can do it in homeroom,” he said.
“No phone until it’s done,” she said, collapsing onto the sofa. Zack went to his room, and she called Lukowski right away.
She left a voice-mail message with a detailed description of what she had discovered—Rosa’s missing card, her fear that Rosa might be Chip’s long-lost mail-order bride and that he might want to harm her, and finally, her theory that Ed Costello might have been killed because he’d found Rosa and was blackmailing Chip Gilmore, ending with “I hope this is helpful,” before she put the portable phone down on the coffee table and leaned back, closing her eyes.