by Alina Adams
"You know I didn't."
"Just tell your story to the police, Jasper, and let them investigate Patty. They'll get to the bottom of this. In case you haven't noticed, I have no idea what I'm doing, here."
Jasper said, "No."
"What, no? No, what?"
"If Patty isn't going to come forward on her own, I'm not going to drag her into this."
"What?" At this point, Bex's eyes actually did do the cartoon pop, complete with sound effects. She wasn't even exaggerating. "What do you mean? What happened to 'I don't want this hanging over Erin's head'? What happened to 'I'm doing this to protect both of them'?"
"Patty would never hurt Erin. If she isn't confessing to having created the E-mail, that means she must have some other, better plan to protect her. I can't screw that up. I can't, Bex. You understand. If I go to the police with what I know, I'd lose my daughter."
Bex wanted to cry.
She usually tried very hard not to. Even though, unlike "There is no crying in baseball" (thank you, Tom Hanks), there actually was a great deal of crying in skating (tears of joy, tears of sadness, tears of pain, tears of thank-God-this-is-finally-over), her policy was that Bex did not have to be a party to it. But, as she sat in her hotel room, laptop open, fingers poised over the keys, no longer able to procrastinate writing her report for Gil, Bex wanted to cry. Very, very badly. She had nothing.
After all her hard work, after all her lost sleep and stress and lies and close calls and talking to people she really otherwise had no interest in talking to, she had nothing.
She had the E-mail.
Which was printed on the 24/7 computer. Or on any other computer on the planet that she had yet to get to.
It was printed by Francis and Diana. Unless they denied the whole thing. And if they denied the whole thing, she couldn't link the E-mail to Jasper. Or Patty.
She had Patty's disk. Which Patty and Jasper would now both deny ever having seen before. Heck, at this point, the most incriminating thing about the disk was that Bex even had it. Would it be too far-out for some overzealous conspiracy theorist to suggest that maybe Bex had dummied the E-mail herself, printed it at the 24/7 production truck, then planted it on Silvana's body after she killed her? Bex even had a motive for the crime: 24/7's exclusive on the cheating coach's death. After the scandal, Gil expected huge ratings for the exhibition show. Bex was simply being a good employee.
Bex opened her research binder, pulling out all of her notes from the past few days. As she reached for her copy of the event protocol, Silvana's receipt fell out. Bex picked it up and was about to stuff it back inside the folder, figuring even Gil at his most desperate would never consider this worth photographing for his special, when the list of purchased items caught her eye. Bex had read it already a million times. She read it again. And this time, she actually paid attention for a change.
According to the receipt, Silvana had purchased some lemon-flavored hard candy.
Check. Bex remembered the half-eaten roll she'd briefly considered testing for poison.
A bottle of ibuprofen and a bottle of aspirin.
Check. Check.
And a travel-sized packet of tissues.
Bex read the list one more time.
And then she grabbed the receipt and ran for the production truck.
It was there on the practice tape.
Presumably, it had been there all along. Bex had no idea how she'd missed it the first time. By the time she'd first watched the tape, she already had all the evidence she needed. And still she'd missed it.
But, it didn't matter anymore. She finally had her proof.
And, tomorrow afternoon, during the live exhibition broadcast, Bex would use it to expose Silvana Potenza's killer.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Bex didn't tell Gil what she was planning to do. She was too scared of screwing it up. If there was one thing Bex had learned over the past few days, it was that clever plans that seemed perfect inside her sleep-deprived head had a tendency to go haywire once actually implemented. For that to happen live and on the air would be most bad.
And so, all Bex told Gil was that sure, she'd adequately prepped Francis and Diana for the live interview with Patty and Erin Simpson scheduled to take place before Erin's coronation—oops, sorry, second gold medal ceremony. What she didn't tell Gil was that the list of questions Bex provided the Howarths bore little resemblance to what Gil was, in all likelihood, expecting. But, hey, that's what made live television the sport of kings, no? She'd also neglected to tell Gil that she had, for all intents and purposes, blackmailed Francis and Diana into asking her questions instead of his by threatening to expose their culpability in the E-mail scam. The way Bex saw it, Gil really didn't need to know what his employees did with their free time.
Thankfully, Gil was already in the truck, ready to camera-block the special, end of show exhibition number Erin, Jordan and Lian were scheduled to skate right after Erin received her medal as a way of demonstrating the American team’s unity and support for their vindicated teammate. The number began with all three ladies wrapped up in each other, followed by a lot of dramatic hand-holding. BFF’s on Ice. It had been Patty’s idea, and her choreography. While Gil had asked Erin for a solo, after the weak reception Erin received following her “Thanks For the Memories” rehearsal, Patty grew afraid of backlash from the other skating fandoms and ultimately decided that the new champion inviting Jordan and Lian to share in her moment of triumph would be evidence of Erin’s magnanimous good-nature. As long as said magnanimous evidence agreed to be televised and no one charged an extra appearance fee, Gil was all for it.
Erin Simpson, Jordan Ares, Lian Reilley (Special Exhibition) - View The Video
Erin and Patty Simpson reported to the 24/7 interview room inside the arena at their appointed time, following the trio’s run-through, both grinning broadly in preparation for their close-ups. They kept right on grinning as they shook hands with Francis and Diana, exchanging pleasantries and agreeing that it really was marvelous of the ISU to admit their error and award Erin her deserved gold medal.
And then Patty saw Bex.
And her grin noticeably faded.
Alas, there really was nothing she could do about it.
Even before her eyes turned into slits and her furrowed brow began to resemble a picket fence, the soundman was plopping Patty down in the interview chair and running a microphone wire up her shirt, while the cameraman was shining bright lights in her eyes and waving around a large, silver reflecting sheet.
Even though she was planning an ambush, Bex had gone ahead and set up the room to look like a typical interview. She had two sets of two chairs facing each other at an angle, like a widely spread triangle, with Diana and Erin sitting closest to each other, and Patty on Erin's right, Francis on Diana's left. Two bucket-sized lights, suspended from black iron poles, shone down upon them all, making the entire room unbearably hot. The cameraman was positioned directly in front of the talent, hunched over, peering through his lens and, periodically, at the monitor by his feet which was broadcasting the same picture as his camera, only in color, rather than black-and-white. The soundman sat cross-legged on the floor, earphones on his head, staring intently at the dancing levers that indicated good sound levels. Which left Bex to crouch precariously next to the camera, squatting uncomfortably in the one spot of the entire room where she could both be seen by Francis and Diana in case she needed to signal them, and yet be invisible to the camera. She wore an earpiece so she could hear Gil's countdown in the truck.
"Five, four, three ..."
Bex raised her arm and pointed at Francis and Diana, indicating that they were now live on the air. At her cue, all four sat up straighter in their chairs and commenced smiling brightly.
Francis welcomed the viewers at home to 24/7's exclusive, live coverage of the world championship's exhibition, then tossed to Diana, who introduced the Simpsons. Together, they summarized the events of the last few days.
Erin thanked all of her wonderful fans for their support.
Patty mentioned that www.ErinExcitement.com was selling exclusive, Erin-autographed merchandise for a short time only.
Erin reiterated that the results didn't really matter. Her silver medal truly was the silver lining on her cloud, and she was very happy and proud to have represented her country at these championships and all she cared about was doing her country proud.
If Bex weren't perched so precariously, she might have rolled her eyes. But, considering that any excess movement might send her sprawling, she settled for signaling Francis to wrap up the love fest and start with the questions she'd given him.
Francis said, "Erin, Patty, we have a tape of your Friday morning practice session right here. Do you think you could look at it with me?"
For a split second, Patty looked thisclose to asking, "What the hell for?" Luckily for her, she remembered in the nick of time where exactly she was, and exactly how live she was. As a result, her sunny smile only ended up wavering for a moment. "Sure, Francis!"
Francis clicked the button to turn on the monitor in the room while, back at the truck, Bex could hear Gil screaming, "What the hell? Did I say we could have video roll-in, in this thing? Who said we could have video roll-in, in this thing? Is the video rolling? Are they rolling video? Are we rolling video? Roll it, damn it, roll it!"
The video rolled.
"Here you are, Erin," Diana said.
And, indeed, there Erin was. Arriving for practice at the arena, waving to the fans, lining up her talismans along the boards, taking off her skateguards, and stepping onto the ice. As she was warming up, skating around first forward, then backward, clockwise and counterclockwise, Diana casually asked, as if just trying to fill time, "Erin, you know, I thought I read somewhere once where you never get off in the middle of a practice session."
"That's right," Patty said proudly. "I believe that since in competition you don't have the chance if things aren't going well to get off, collect yourself, and start over again, it's best to duplicate that environment in the practice."
"But," Francis inquired, "Erin, dear, didn't you, in point of fact, get off the ice during this particular practice that we're watching now?"
Erin and Patty exchanged looks. If deer caught in headlights ever looked at each other, Bex presumed the Simpsons at that moment were what they would look like.
"I..." Erin began.
"Xenia Trubin says she saw you making a phone call," Francis offered.
"Xenia Trubin," Patty began, "is a—"
"Who did you call, Erin?" Diana asked.
Erin snuck a peek at Bex, her eyes darted desperately and at the same time, pleadingly, as if she expected Bex to tell her what to say. Bex raised her palms in the air and shrugged.
"I was calling my boyfriend," Erin blurted out.
At that, Patty whipped her head around so quickly, the sound guy winced from the thump it echoed along her microphone.
"Erin ..." her mother hissed, as if speaking low would somehow prevent all of America from hearing every word.
"Erin," Diana said evenly, ignoring Patty for the time being, "Tell me, dear, is your boyfriend a recorded voice at the New York University registration line?"
Sitting in Erin Simpson's situation, a darker-skinned person might have gone pale. But, Erin was already as white as typewriter correction fluid. So, in Erin's case, she went blue. Bex thought she could see every vein beneath her pale skin. It was hard to miss them. Each one was pumping like crazy. Between the stress and the hot lights, Bex wondered if she'd overplayed her hand, and the poor kid was about to pass out.
"I'm sorry, Mommy," Erin said.
"For what? What are you sorry for? What are they talking about? What boyfriend? What's this about some school in New York?"
"I—I got accepted, Mom. Into NYU. Isn't that great? I didn't think I'd have the grades, but then my SATs were better than I expected, and I guess it was enough—"
"You applied to college? What for, Erin? You know we've got the tour coming up. It's great that you got in, honey. Really, congratulations, I'm so proud of you. But, what's the point of applying now? You're just going to have to defer for a couple of years, until—"
"I don't want to defer," Erin said. "I'll do the tour this spring and this summer, but next fall, I want to go to school. I already called and registered for my classes. I tried to do it from the arena that morning, but there were too many people around, and I had to get back to the ice. So I had to do it later. In another place."
Bex waited to see if Erin would mention making the call from Bex's hotel room. But the girl stayed silent. At least, on that particular subject.
"Erin," Patty began, but Bex's notes gave Francis and Diana strict instructions that, as soon as Patty was adequately discombobulated from Erin's revelation, they were to immediately change the line of questioning. Because they were coming up to the key part of the tape.
"Patty," Diana said in a voice as smooth as newly Zambonied ice yet as impossible to ignore as a quad done in combination. In the short program. "Erin wasn't the only one to leave the practice that morning, was she? You also left for a little bit."
"Yes," Patty said, her mind obviously not on the question at hand. She kept staring at Erin, as if her daughter had just transformed into some alien, nonskating creature right in front of her eyes. "So what?"
"Why did you leave?"
"What difference does that make?"
"Humor us," Francis said dryly, playing his part to perfection despite the fact that, when Bex first laid out her scenario for him, he'd sniffed, "This, Bex, is most undoubtedly, inane."
"Erin was out of tissues. I went to get her some."
"Really?" Francis pointed the remote control for a second time, pushed pause, and froze the picture. The monitor now showed Erin and Patty in conference over the barrier, next to the little troll doll, skate guards, and a box of tissues. An obviously full box of tissues.
Francis didn't say anything. Diana didn't say anything. They simply sat and waited for Patty to realize what it was she was seeing on the screen.
On Bex's headset, however, she heard Gil say, "Hey, wait a minute. Isn't that a box of tissues already there?"
"That certainly looks like a box of tissues to me, Patty," Diana offered.
But Erin's mother still didn't seem to be getting it.
Patty said, "Okay. So, I missed it. With all the crap on the barrier, I must not have seen it, and thought we were out. I went to get more. What's the big deal, here?"
Francis fast-forwarded the tape. He stopped at the part where Patty returned to the arena, carrying a box of tissues in her hand.
Francis asked, "Where did you go to buy the tissues?"
"I don't know. I don't remember. Probably someplace in the arena."
"So, you didn't leave the arena?"
"No. Why should I have?"
"Because, Patty, the box in your hand, that's the hotel boutique's brand."
Patty looked down at her hands, as if expecting to see the box materialize there. When nothing did, she looked back up. She said, "So, okay, so I must have gone back to the hotel."
"The clerk doesn't remember you."
"The guy sees a million people a day. I'm not so gorgeous, believe me, that I expect to be remembered everywhere I go."
"But the clerk does remember Silvana Potenza stopping by. And buying the exact same brand of tissues that you got."
"Great minds think alike, I guess," Patty snapped.
Diana said, "We have the receipt for Silvana's tissues. Do you have your receipt, Patty?"
"Okay, now you're kidding me, right?"
"Would you like to know the strangest thing, though?"
"Stranger than 24/7 devoting live TV time to discussing my tissue purchases?"
Gil said, "She has a point there, Bex. This better be leading somewhere and r
eally, really fast, too."
Bex wondered why he was speaking to her when he knew that she couldn't respond. But, just in case, she nodded her head.
Francis said, "When the police examined Silvana Potenza's purse, after she died, they didn't find any tissues. Isn't that odd?"
"Maybe she used them all up," Erin piped up. Bex wasn't certain if she was trying to help out her mother or just jumping into what was allegedly still her interview.
"An entire packet of tissues?" Diana asked. "In the morning hour between buying them and her death?"
Erin shrugged and looked at Patty. A sort of mental, "Ball's back in your court, Mom."
"So, Patty," Francis's voice was soothing, avuncular, even. "How do you explain it? You leave the arena to get Erin a box of tissues, despite there being a perfectly good box already there. But you don't go to the hotel boutique. And yet, there you are later, on video no less, showing up with a box of hotel boutique brand tissues. The same size that Silvana purchased earlier. And yet, at the same time, Silvana's tissues go mysteriously missing."
Patty half stood off her chair, "This is ridiculous, I'm getting out of here."
"No," Francis held up his hand, planting it in such a way that, in a room that small, there really was nowhere for Patty to turn. "You're not. Sit down, please."
Patty reluctantly sat down, visibly determined not to answer a single, other question. But, Erin obviously had other ideas.
"Mom!" She grabbed her mother's arm, tugging on her sleeve rather violently. "Mom, what are they talking about?" She turned to Francis and Diana, ready to throw herself in front of Patty's body if need be. "You take it back. You take it back, right now!"
"Erin," Diana said evenly. "All Francis and I have done is present the facts. It's up to your mom now to explain them."
"Then explain them, Mom," Erin commanded Patty. "Explain it to them."
Patty looked at Erin. She looked at Francis, Diana, Bex, even at the cameraman and sound guy. It was a hostile room, and she knew it. There was nowhere to go now.