Her manner was loquacious and Dana got a theater-person vibe. She could envision Brenda as an actress playing the role of Pretty Receptionist between gigs.
“That’s because her sound levels were perfect,” Lorenzo said.
He was being funny, but Dana didn’t want him to think she was dismissive of his job. “That’s no joke,” she said. “Hard to sound slick if they can’t hear you.”
“A performer is only as good as her mike,” Brenda added, and Dana wanted to pat herself on the back for getting it right. This was a fellow trouper.
“I’m showing Dana around,” Lorenzo said as he led her toward a corridor.
“Break a leg!” Brenda called after them.
They walked through a bustling open office area with partitions separating the desks, then down a hushed hallway, painted in soft beige tones.
“Is this where Megan is meeting with the top brass?” Dana asked.
“Conference room on the other side. I’m taking you to the penthouse.”
Dana cocked her head, confused, because they were already on the top floor.
Lorenzo responded with a wink. “You’ll see.”
As they passed the office doors, most of which were closed, Dana tried to read the names on the plaques. She couldn’t help notice that the corner office belonged to Kitty Todd.
“I thought she would have a dressing room, not an office,” Dana said.
“Kitty’s got both,” Lorenzo said, rolling his eyes. “Come on.” He pushed open the door to a stairwell just beyond Kitty’s office, and they walked up a flight of metal steps. When they reached the top, he held open the door. Dana walked through and gasped. It was the rooftop, and the first thing she saw was an expansive view of the Hudson River, glittering in the sunlight.
Dana walked past a jutting structure to get a full view. “My God,” she said, taking it all in. Turning south, she could see the spires of the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building. Turning north she could make out the George Washington Bridge arcing majestically across the water.
“You should see it at night,” he said.
“This would make a great place for a party. It’s extraordinary.”
“There are chairs on the other side of the compressor, but this is my favorite view,” he said, and led them to the railing on the west side, facing the river.
Dana took in the rolling movement of the water and tried to relax. Those fifteen minutes on the air had been intense. But it was hard to unwind knowing Megan was one flight down, deciding her future.
Lorenzo pulled a pack of Marlboros from his pocket. “You smoke?” he asked, making a move to offer her a cigarette.
“Not tobacco,” she said, and got the most glorious idea. It didn’t take more than a second’s deliberation. She deserved this. In the past thirty-six hours, she had lost her crappy job, nailed an audition and a callback, and even endured a lunch with her father. And then there was this view. It just seemed like a singular opportunity to enjoy a buzz. She reached into her purse and pulled out her dachshund key chain. Lorenzo watched as she unscrewed the hindquarters and tipped out a slender joint.
“Don’t put away that lighter,” she said.
He cupped the flame to the tip of her joint as she took a long drag. She held the smoke in her lungs as she passed it to him.
He took it and stared at the joint. “You’re killing me,” he said.
“What’s the big deal?”
“I’m working.”
“Oh, right,” Dana said. “Never mind. Give it back.”
“Oh, fuck it.” He took a staccato succession of pulls and handed it back. “I hope I don’t regret that.”
As Dana took the joint back from him their hands touched, and she felt a spark of sexual electricity. She looked in his eyes to see if he felt it, too. He held her gaze for so long she thought for sure he was going to kiss her. But he just kept looking at her with those intense eyes.
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and said, “You look like you want to kiss me.”
“Of course I want to kiss you,” he said.
“Well?”
He paused, holding her gaze. “Probably not the kind of guy you want to get involved with.”
“Baggage?” she asked.
“A truckload.”
“And you keep it locked tight,” she said.
He gave a small nod and she moved in closer to let him know it was okay with her. Lorenzo put a hand gently on the back of her head, but didn’t make a move. He was waiting for her. Dana knew it was stupid to get involved with someone at work, and even stupider to put the moves on someone before you even got the job. But she had just nailed her on-air appearance, there was a velvety breeze on the back of her neck and Lorenzo had a rugged, almost weather-beaten complexion that spoke of a life lived hard. And yes, there was something alluring about that shadowy cargo. Dana loved a good mystery. She moved in and kissed him softly on the mouth, their bodies not quite touching. When they came apart, he looked at her, and then moved in for a second round, this one initiated by him. But before their lips made contact, a loud bang startled them apart. It sounded like it came from right under their feet.
Her heart rate skyrocketed. “Was that a...gunshot?”
Lorenzo’s face tightened. “And damned close.”
Dana pointed down. “Sounded like it was right underneath us.”
They looked at each other for a moment, and without saying another word, Dana crushed the joint under her shoe and they raced to the stairwell. By the time they pushed open the door to the hallway, people were emerging from their offices to see where the sound came from. No one knew what was going on.
Voices carried up and down the hallway.
What was that?
Did someone get shot?
Where did it come from?
Dana glanced to her right and noticed that Kitty Todd’s previously closed door was open. She tapped Lorenzo’s shoulder and pointed to it. Dana held her breath as he gently pushed the door wide-open.
The blood caught her eye first—a massive red shape on the window behind the desk, still wet and running down the glass. The sight literally knocked Dana off her feet, and she had to hold on to the wall to keep from falling.
Still, she couldn’t look away, and her eye traveled to the figure at the desk, slumped over, with the gun still in her hand.
It was Kitty Todd.
6
Time crystallized as Dana stood, immobile, staring into the room while her brain tried to make sense of the scene’s incongruity. The violence was gruesome. Shocking. And yet everything else was so mundane. Kitty’s well-tended hair—silky and recently brushed—was swept over her slumped head. A faint trace of pinkish lipstick was visible on the rim of a blue-and-white china cup. An ivory cashmere cardigan, now patterned with blood splatter, was draped over the back of the chair. On the desk, within easy reach, was a bottle of the apricot-scented hand lotion so essential to Kitty. Next to it was a tiny dish that held her rings and an animal-headed gold bracelet that seemed to be looking at her. Kitty’s wrist still bore an indentation from wearing it. When Dana was finally able to turn her head from the scene, she felt like she had been in that spot forever. And yet the people running toward her had advanced only a few feet. So it had been a microsecond, stretched to an eternity.
“Someone call 911!” she said, finding her voice, as Lorenzo made an effort to keep everyone back.
And then it was chaos, as people descended upon the doorway, with Charles Honeycutt breaking in to restore order amid gasps and shrieks. The second Dana looked away she heard the sound of a woman’s scream, and she turned back to see that it was actually Kitty’s male assistant, who was shaking so violently it seemed like he might faint.
Dana pushed back her own rising nausea. It was all so overwhelming. But she wanted to be
strong. Fierce. The Woman Who Could Handle Anything.
And as one of the first people to view the scene, Dana felt somehow responsible for what came next. But of course, it wasn’t her place. She was an outsider. The least appropriate person to take charge. And so she shuffled out of the way.
“Are you okay?” Lorenzo asked her.
“Are you?” She hadn’t meant to sound snotty, but Dana had a knee-jerk reaction to being treated as a delicate flower. Even when her hands were shaking and her heart thudded in her chest.
If he was offended, he didn’t show it. “They need me on the set. I just wanted to know if there was anything you—”
“I’m fine,” she said more gently. “Honestly.”
And then Megan was upon her, her eyes wide in alarm. “Holy shit. Did you see it?”
Dana nodded.
“And Kitty?” Megan finished her question by making her hand into a gun and pointing at her head.
“Yup.” She shuddered. Minutes ago, Kitty was alive. And now... She closed her eyes, trying to block it out.
Megan led Dana away from the crowd and into an empty conference room down the hall. They lowered themselves onto the leather swivel chairs.
“You’re really okay?” Megan asked.
“Of course,” she lied. The whole thing felt like an out-of-body experience. She touched her own cheeks to ground herself, remember where she was.
“Kitty Todd,” Megan said, leaning back in her chair. “Of all people.”
Dana stared off at the view through the window—the Hudson River now just a dull gray giant lumbering southward—as she tried to process the image she had just seen.
Megan continued. “I wonder what they’re going to do now.”
“I’m sure someone called 911,” Dana said.
“I meant with her show.”
Dana turned to her. “Megan. For God’s sake.”
“Don’t get all judgy. This is business. There’s millions of dollars at stake. Vanessa’s segment ends in about thirty minutes, and then Kitty’s begins. So they’re going to have to do something. And fast. You’re not technically under contract yet, so—”
“Oh, come on. You’re not honestly thinking about using this as an opportunity?”
“Why not? That’s my job.”
“You know what you sound like?”
“An agent? A business manager?”
“I’m just saying we should take a little time. Out of respect.” Even as she said it, though, Dana was aware that there would be few tears shed for Kitty Todd among the staff.
Megan crossed herself and put her hands together in prayer. “Dearest Lord, we entrust Kitty Todd to your undying mercy and love. Amen.” She turned to Dana. “Okay? Can we move on?”
“Whatever. I didn’t even know the woman. But it’s still...traumatic.”
“I get it. But we have to focus. You’re at a crossroads here. I had wrapped up negotiations just before the...you know. And I got you a deal that’s going to blow your mind.”
Dana gave her a look.
“Okay,” Megan said, “bad choice of words. But the fact is, we had shaken hands and the lawyer left to draw up the contract. I was sitting in the room all alone, waiting, when I heard the bang.”
“But are they still going to want me? I mean, Kitty was the one who—”
“Are you kidding? They love you. You can move product like a one-woman convoy. And they need you more than ever. At this point, they’re going to rush through that contract like their pants are on fire.”
Dana sat back in her chair. This was supposed to be one of the greatest moments of her life. All those auditions. All those rejections. She had at last landed something huge. And okay, it wasn’t exactly the role of her dreams—a big part in a movie or a new Netflix series or a Broadway show. But it was a real job. A job that fused her acting ambitions with something that would get her massive exposure and a steady income. She thought about paying off her credit cards and her student loans, and being able to breathe for once. She thought about buying a pair of new shoes without feeling like she was mortgaging her future. She thought about how happy her Sweat City friends would be for her. She thought about having her dad’s respect at last.
She turned to Megan. “So what are the details?” Despite herself, she strummed with excitement.
Megan smiled. “You mean the money.”
Dana made a face, relenting. “Okay, yes, I mean the money.”
Megan rubbed her hands together. “Oh, baby.”
She began to lay out the specifics of the deal to Dana, who was stunned. It all seemed too good to be true. And Megan—damn. She was right on top of every detail.
Minutes into their conversation they heard heavy footsteps in the hall and looked out the door to see police and paramedics filling the space. Office workers were told to get back to their desks but stay around for statements.
“What kind of statements could they want?” Megan asked. “It was a suicide.”
Dana closed her eyes and transported herself back to the scene, examining all the details. In her mind, she walked around the room, the minutiae looming large. Suddenly, she felt a tightening in her chest and her eyes snapped open.
“What is it?” Megan asked. “What’s wrong?”
Dana was too choked to respond. She took a few deep breaths and then swallowed against a knot in her throat. At last she said, “I think Kitty Todd was murdered.”
7
The cop who interviewed Dana introduced himself as Detective Marks. He was one of those too-tall guys, and Dana had to take a step back to make comfortable eye contact. That was when she noticed he was good-looking, with narrow blue eyes and a French nose, like the Statue of Liberty. But of course, it didn’t matter—he wasn’t Dana’s type. Rule-followers weren’t sexy. Guys like Lorenzo were sexy.
Besides, she was still getting her trembling under control. This was not the time to think about whether she was attracted to some handsome stranger.
Still, she checked out his left hand—force of habit. There was no ring, but an indentation where one had been. Divorced. That clinched it, then. She had sworn off divorced guys after being involved with two in a row—first Chris and then Benjamin—and discovering they were cheaters. She was done inheriting other women’s problems.
After getting the basic details of who she was and why she was in the building, the detective asked her where she had been when she heard the shot.
“I was up on the roof with Lorenzo, the sound guy.”
He consulted his notes. “That would be Lorenzo DeSantis?”
“I didn’t catch his last name.”
“And what were you doing on the roof?”
She paused. “Just enjoying the view. Why does it matter?”
He ignored her question. “That’s it?”
“What do you think we were doing? Spitting off the ledge?”
“I wasn’t there, so I wouldn’t know.” His expression remained inscrutable.
“Well, you should check it out. It’s quite a view.”
He paused to scribble in his notebook, and Dana wondered what the hell he could be writing. Somehow she doubted he was reminding himself to check out the dope view.
Then Dana felt a twinge of anxiety, as she couldn’t remember what she had done with the joint. Everything had happened so fast. Had she simply crushed it out and left it there? Maybe she shouldn’t be so antagonistic with this guy.
But then, it probably didn’t matter. Who cared if they were smoking a joint on the roof? It wasn’t like they were under suspicion of anything. Hell, this guy probably just thought he was getting all the background so he could sign off on Kitty’s suicide. It would likely ruin his day to hear her observations.
“What’s your relationship with Lorenzo DeSantis?” he asked.
She brist
led. “Relationship? There’s no relationship. He was just giving me a tour of the building. Why do you even need to know?”
“It’s my job to know,” he said. “Did Mr. DeSantis leave the roof without you at any time?”
Now that was a hell of a question. She wondered if he was going to ask Lorenzo the same thing about her. This was damned thorough for a suicide investigation. “No.”
“Walk me through what happened,” the detective said. “What time did you go up to the roof?”
“I don’t know exactly. Maybe 4:15? We went up a staircase just past Kitty’s office.”
“Was anyone in the hallway at that time?”
“It was actually very quiet,” she said, shaking her head. “Once we got up there I was blown away by the view. We walked over to the railing overlooking the river and then...bang! It sounded so close—like it was right underneath us. I mean, it was pretty clear that it was a gunshot. So we ran down the stairs and I noticed right away that Kitty’s door was open.”
“And it hadn’t been open when you went up to the roof?”
“It was closed.”
“You’re sure?”
“Very.”
He scribbled in his notepad. “What happened next—after you noticed the open door?”
Dana shrugged. “That was it, really. I pointed it out to Lorenzo and he pushed it open wide and...that’s when we saw her.” She took a breath, trying to block out the vision. But it was still there, and she couldn’t ignore her frightening conclusion.
“Can I ask you something?” she said as he continued to write in his notepad.
He gave a small nod.
“Do you think it’s really a suicide?”
He stopped writing and looked at her. “Do you?”
Dana exhaled. Judging from his questions, it seemed like he was already on the same page. But maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was being thorough because Kitty was a star and this story was sure to get a ton of publicity.
Love Sold Separately Page 5
