Dying for Mercy

by Mary Jane Clark

  Instinctively, Eliza felt that someone should be making a record of what was happening. She took out her cell phone and began snapping pictures. Trying to be unobtrusive, she managed to take a few shots before a uniformed Tuxedo Park police officer intervened.

  “No pictures, ma’am,” he said, in a tone that left no doubt he was deadly serious.

  Glancing over at the covered figure that was now lying on the stretcher, seeing the tears streaming down Valentina’s face and her son awkwardly trying to comfort his mother, Eliza didn’t fight. She slid her cell phone back into her purse.

  She wasn’t even going to tell Linus about the pictures, because if the KTA executive producer knew about them, he would insist on using them.

  But for some reason she was glad to have them.

  CHAPTER 16

  In their final conversation in his study, Innis had said he was going to make everyone sit up and take notice. He’d certainly done that.

  It wasn’t easy watching the stretcher carrying his body being rolled out of the greenhouse. There was too much history between them not to feel regret and some sorrow. But there was also relief.

  There would be no need now to eliminate Innis before he revealed everything. He had done that to himself.

  Innis wasn’t going to be around to be the righter of wrongs. Life could go on as it had, with nobody the wiser.

  But what if this act of suicide, so grotesquely executed, was just the prelude to something more? What if he’d planned to grab everyone’s attention before disclosing the devastating thing he’d threatened to tell? What else had Innis planned?

  In addition, there was Eunice to worry about. The maid had overheard all the sordid details and could wreck everything if she came forward with what she knew.

  And something else was troubling. Eliza Blake had never seemed to be one of those media hounds who would take pictures of someone, especially a friend, bloodied and dead on the ground. And yet that’s exactly what she’d just done.

  MONDAY OCTOBER 5

  CHAPTER 17

  B.J. D’Elia groaned. “These hours kill me.”

  “Think what misery it would be to be stuck on this shift,” said Annabelle Murphy as she and the producer-cameraman sat in a KEY News Broadcast Center editing room. “Thank God we’re on dayside. It’s bad enough we have to fill in once in a while.”

  “Ever notice that ‘once in a while’ seems to be turning into ‘all the time’ lately?” asked B.J. “Somebody’s always on vacation or on assignment, and we’re stuck plugging up the holes.”

  Annabelle took a sip of the thick, bitter brew that came from the aluminum coffeemaker sitting on a cart in the hallway. “Ugh,” she said after she swallowed. “Remember the good old days when the cafeteria was open twenty-four hours, when you could get a decent cup of coffee whenever you needed it, and there were actually more than enough people to get the jobs done around here?” Annabelle didn’t wait for B.J. to respond. “That’s why we get saddled with this overnight stuff, Beej. The budget cuts. Cutbacks in personnel. Cutbacks in overtime hours. The same amount of work to be done—even more—but fewer people to do it.”

  “Bitch and moan, bitch and moan.” B.J. smiled as he leaned forward and played with the knobs on the monitor.

  “I’m serious, Beej.”

  “I know you are, Annabelle. But what’s the alternative? You think it’s any better at ABC, CBS, or NBC? Every network has tightened things up. All we can do right now is smile, do our jobs, and pray we get to keep them.”

  “I guess you’re right,” said Annabelle begrudgingly, “but if I can’t complain to you, who can I complain to?”

  “You can complain to me all you want, but just don’t let Linus hear you.”

  “What do you think I am, an idiot?”

  “Who’s an idiot?” Annabelle and B.J. jumped as they heard another voice. Eliza was standing in the doorway.

  Annabelle relaxed when she saw who it was. “What are you doing here so early?” she asked. “Did you even have any sleep?”

  “Not really,” said Eliza, closing the door of the editing room. “But I wanted to get in before Linus does and show you guys something.” She handed her cell phone to B.J. “Download the last pictures, will you, Beej?”

  Standing with Annabelle and B.J., Eliza felt a reassuring camaraderie. The three of them, along with Margo Gonzalez, had gone through so much together over the last months. Each of them had contributed to solving the murder of Eliza’s predecessor at KTA, Constance Young. And they had bonded around Eliza, supporting her personally and using their considerable professional skills to help when Janie and Mrs. Garcia were kidnapped. They had jokingly dubbed themselves the Sunrise Suspense Society because of the ridiculous hours they kept and the anxiety-filled and sometimes dangerous situations they’d found themselves in.

  While they waited for B.J. to do what needed to be done, Eliza told them what had happened.

  “I heard on the radio in the cab coming in that Innis Wheelock had offed himself, but I didn’t know you were at the party when he did it,” said Annabelle. “Linus must be beside himself at the prospect of your giving our audience an eyewitness account.”

  “He was thrilled when I called him at home and told him,” she said. “But I didn’t tell him I took these.”

  Eliza nodded toward the monitor where the first of the cell-phone pictures appeared. The grainy image showed the body of Innis Wheelock, covered in blood, stretched out on the floor next to a large terra-cotta pot.

  “Nasty,” said B.J., grimacing as he studied the picture. “This one scores high on the gore meter. But I guess we can crop the picture and fool around with it so it doesn’t show all that blood.”

  “Don’t go to the trouble,” said Eliza. “We’re not going to air these.”

  Annabelle and B.J. both turned to look at Eliza. “I’m assuming that nobody else was taking pictures,” said Annabelle.

  “The cops took some, but I think I was the only guest who got any,” said Eliza.

  “So we’re exclusive with these, right?” asked Annabelle.

  “Right,” Eliza answered.

  “Are you kidding? We have to air these,” Annabelle insisted.

  “Innis Wheelock was a friend of mine, Annabelle,” Eliza said quietly. “It was the journalist in me that made me pull out my phone, but now I almost regret it.”

  Annabelle looked back at the violent image on the monitor and tried to imagine how she would feel if a friend of hers had committed suicide. She wouldn’t want the disturbing and profoundly private pictures broadcast and published around the world. She said nothing as B.J. displayed the next image.

  The second shot zeroed in on one of Wheelock’s pierced hands.

  “What’s that he’s holding in his hand?” asked B.J.

  “I don’t know,” said Eliza. “I didn’t even notice that last night.”

  “Why would you?” asked B.J. “There was too much else to capture your attention.”

  “It looks like he’s clutching a handful of dirt,” said Annabelle.

  The next image appeared on the screen. “What a mess,” said B.J., grimacing. Innis Wheelock’s white shirt was drenched in blood.

  “The blood is coming from the left side,” said Annabelle. “He stabbed himself in the hands and the left side?”

  “And feet,” said Eliza.

  All three were quiet for a moment as they thought about it.

  Annabelle broke the silence. “The radio didn’t say anything about stigmata.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Eliza Blake’s voice announced the top stories of the morning.

  “The president attends a three-day Middle East peace summit in London.

  “Consumer confidence and spending climb as new and positive economic figures are released.

  “And a tragic death amid a bizarre set of circumstances as the spouse of one of the nation’s most accomplished public figures appears to have committed suicide.

  “Good
morning, it’s Monday, October fifth, and this is KEY to America.”

  The director cut from the KTA logo to a two-shot of the show’s hosts sitting behind the news desk.

  “Hello, I’m Eliza Blake, here with Harry Granger, and we have lots to tell you about this morning, don’t we, Harry?”

  “We certainly do, Eliza, starting with the president’s historic trip to London, where he arrived overnight. U.S. officials have high hopes that the multilateral talks between the United States and the governments of Israel and several Arab nations will bear fruit. We have a report from KEY News Foreign Correspondent Mack McBride.”

  Eliza listened intently for Mack’s opening words, relieved to his hear his voice, even if only delivering a dispassionate account of what was happening among world leaders. The video on the screen showed the president of the United States climbing down the stairs of Air Force One. Midway through the piece, Eliza leaned closer to the monitor as Mack appeared on the screen. He was standing on the banks of the Thames, Westminster Abbey behind him.

  She inhaled and smiled when she saw him, looking tanned, fit, and confident. She missed him so much. They hadn’t been together in over a month, and Eliza was counting the days until they would be united again and the weeks until his contract would be up for renegotiation. Mack was adamant that he was not going to sign up for another overseas assignment. He wanted to return to New York. Eliza ached for him to come back as well.

  After Mack’s piece wrapped up, Harry introduced the next story, which was an explanation of what the newest fiscal figures meant. While viewers were shown a series of graphs and charts illustrating the upturn in the economy, Eliza was off-screen, silently rereading the narration she would soon deliver over the pictures and video that would accompany the story of Innis’s death.

  “Five seconds,” the voice of the stage manager boomed.

  Eliza sat up straighter and cleared her throat as the economic story ended and the stage manager cued her to begin.

  “Innis Wheelock, best known as the husband of former governor of New York and ambassador to Italy Valentina Wheelock and the political genius behind her success, died last night in what appears to be a suicide. The manner in which he may have taken his own life has caused shock waves.”

  Video from the KEY News archives appeared on the screen showing Innis standing next to his wife as she took the oath of office in Albany more than twenty years earlier. The picture was remarkable for the time, not only because it showed the first female governor of New York but because that governor was clearly pregnant.

  Eliza continued narrating. “Wheelock was found lying on the ground in the greenhouse on his property in Tuxedo Park, New York, his body stabbed five times. The wounds to both hands and feet and to his left side copied the wounds Jesus Christ suffered at his crucifixion. The wounds in this pattern are known as stigmata.”

  Eliza knew that Annabelle had been stumped on what to show to cover those words and was finally satisfied to find some video taken in Vatican City when Valentina and Innis had had an audience with Pope John Paul II.

  “In the interest of full disclosure,” Eliza went on, “I was attending a party at the Wheelocks’ home last night when Innis Wheelock seemingly took his own life. While medical professionals examine his body to determine if the wounds were self-inflicted, people who knew Innis Wheelock are asking themselves why a man of his stature and experience would end his life, why he would have done it in such a bizarre fashion, and they are wondering what they could have done to stop him.”

  The last shot on the screen showed spare video that had been shot but never aired before. Eliza was walking alongside Innis and Valentina in the garden of the U.S. ambassador’s residence in Rome. It was taped when Eliza had conducted her first interview with Valentina shortly after she began the diplomatic posting. That professional assignment had resulted in a personal friendship with both of the Wheelocks, ultimately leading to the talk at the fountain with Innis when he’d told her he was ashamed of himself and let her know that he believed she cared about right and wrong and would do what needed to be done.

  As Harry began to read the next story, Eliza felt she had some sort of responsibility. For what, she was not sure.

  CHAPTER 19

  Snapping off the television set, Susannah Lansing got out of bed, picked up her coffee cup, and walked over to the doors that led out to her terrace. She pulled her robe closed as the cool morning greeted her. When she reached the wrought-iron railing, she looked down the mountain. She could see the red-tile roof of Pentimento below her.

  Susannah marveled that just last evening she had stood in this very same spot and watched the stream of cars arrive at the mansion. She’d felt rejected and discouraged and hurt. Now she tried to contain her satisfaction.

  Innis Wheelock had been on the board that had denied her and John admission as members of the exclusive Black Tie Club. No official reason had ever been given, but Susannah suspected she knew why.

  CHAPTER 20

  They got off to school all right?” asked Annabelle.

  She held the phone to her ear and listened to her husband’s answer. “Yeah, except for the fighting about Halloween. Tara is determined to be Hannah Montana, and Thomas keeps telling her that’s dumb.”

  “What else is new?” said Annabelle. “But at least now that they’re gone, you can try to get some sleep. Hopefully, I’ll be home soon and can crawl in beside you.”

  Annabelle hated it when they both drew overnight shifts at the same time. It fouled up everything. Her body clock didn’t adjust easily—or, for that matter, at all. The focus of life became sleep and how to get it. While that was bad enough for a single individual, add to the mix two active grade-school kids with their accompanying activities and homework that had to be paid attention to, babysitters who had to be carefully rescheduled to cover any gaps in parental presence, along with the grocery shopping and other errands, and you had a household struggling to keep it together.

  But she felt worse for her husband than she did for herself. Mike did overnight shifts at the firehouse much more than she did at KEY News. Unlike Annabelle, Mike never complained. He just accepted the fact that the tough hours came with the job. He’d known that going in.

  Annabelle glanced at her watch. The broadcast would be over soon, and then, with any luck, she just had to hang around for another hour or so and wait for the dayside staff. Annabelle would turn over her video and logs to the producer assigned to the next Innis Wheelock story, and then she could get going.

  While she was putting the videotapes and discs she’d used in a box, B.J. came into the newsroom. When he saw her, he beckoned to her.

  “I want you to see something,” he said.

  Annabelle followed him out of the newsroom, down the hall, and into the elevator. “What’s up?” she asked.

  “I want you to take a look at this and tell me what you think.”

  “Take a look at what?” asked Annabelle.

  “One of the pictures Eliza took at the Wheelocks’.” B.J. shut the door after they walked into the editing room. As Annabelle sat down, he brought up the image on the monitor screen. It was the first picture Eliza had taken, the one where Innis Wheelock’s body was stretched out on the floor next to the terra-cotta pot.

  “Notice anything?” asked B.J.

  Annabelle looked carefully at the grainy image. “I don’t see anything that I didn’t see this morning,” she said.

  “Look at the pot,” he said.

  “Yeah? What about it?”

  “See the numbers on the side?” asked B.J.

  Annabelle squinted. “I guess they’re numbers, but I sure can’t read them.”

  “Neither could I,” said B.J. “So just for kicks, I enlarged them.” He pushed a button on the console, and a magnified image appeared.

  Annabelle read the numbers out loud: “41-11 8-3508 and 74-13 9-0552.” She looked at B.J. “I don’t get it,” she said. “Nine digits. The only nine-digit num
bers I know are Social Security numbers.”

  “But the spacing’s all wrong. And the dashes aren’t in the right places either,” said B.J.

  “Well, it beats me,” said Annabelle, “and to tell you the truth, I’m too sleep-deprived to try to figure it out.” She got up from the chair. “But remember, you’d better make sure nobody else sees these pictures,” she said as she started to leave. “We don’t want to have them turn up on the air unless Eliza okays it.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Throughout the broadcast, whenever she wasn’t on camera, Eliza checked the screen beneath the news desk to see what the wire services were saying about the Wheelock story. Just before 9:00 A.M., the Associated Press reported having a source who revealed that the medical examiner could tell that Innis Wheelock’s wounds were self-inflicted. After teasing the viewers about what would be on the next day’s broadcast, signing off for the morning, and waiting for the stage manager’s signal that they were off the air, Eliza removed her microphone and let out a long, deep sigh.

  “Man, that poor bastard,” said Harry, shaking his head as he gathered up the pages of his script. “What was the matter with him? He had everything—success, money, family. What could be so bad that he’d go and stab himself—and like Jesus Christ no less? Was he sick?”

  “I don’t know,” said Eliza, “though he looked unwell when I first saw him last night.” Eliza was on the verge of telling Harry about the conversation she’d had with Innis in the garden, but then she thought better of it. She enjoyed working with Harry, but he couldn’t always be counted on to keep a confidence. He’d go to jail—and had—to protect a news source, but when it came to KEY News and insider gossip, Harry enjoyed trading tidbits with the best of them.