Naive

by Charles Royce

  “You’re talking about Lennox, right?” Josh tries to act like the fact that his ex-lover was murdered shouldn’t faze him one bit. “I’m in shock, I think. Mind if we ease into talking about that?”

  Jenna lifts the mood by raising her voice a half-octave.

  “Okay, where do I start?” Jenna ignites her Parliament Light, takes a huge puff and exhales, motioning to the waitress at the same time. “I could start with my friend from work, who, oh God, witnessed something horrible in Union Square the same night as your party. She’s still traumatized, and I need to go see her, so I only have time for like a latte or something. Did you read the story in the Times?”

  “You mean the story on my launch party, or the story about Lennox’s murder?” Josh leans in, already ready to talk.

  “You made it!” says the waitress, startling Jenna. “Can I get you something, ma’am?”

  “Yes, I’ll have a latte please”—she matches the waitress’s sugar-sweet tone—“and could you please bring it in one of those little porcelain cups? Not the take-away cup.”

  “Sure thing.” The waitress smiles.

  Jenna raises her eyebrows at Josh, who responds with a shrug. The waitress grabs the two menus on the table and heads back inside the restaurant.

  “It’s awful, isn’t it?” he asks.

  “Yes, she is.”

  “Lennox, smartass.” Josh leans back and stares into space. “It’s hard to believe, really. I mean, I’ve only hung out with Lennox a couple of times since, you know, we broke up and stuff. But still.”

  “Um, ‘broke up’ is a bit of an understatement, don’t you think? I think you mean after Micah found out about you two and ordered you to stop seeing him, stop talking to him.”

  “That.”

  “I can’t believe it either. I loved that man.” Jenna’s emotion surfaces and her voice cracks. She pretends to cough as she rests her cigarette on the side of the empty place setting in front of her. “Sure, he was a complete mess at times, but he had such a good heart, didn’t he?”

  Recognizing her question as more of a rhetorical statement, Josh nods and allows her to continue.

  “He was always there for me, even after you guys split up. Didn’t seem to bother him at all really, my being friends with you. And I love Micah, despite how you may feel about him. He kinda fancies you, even though he hates you. And you do look quite similar, which I always found very weird and unnatural.”

  Josh nods again. He is used to Jenna’s occasional way of speaking, a kind of sensible nonsense, as if she were on the side of a stage, speaking her own language in a run-on soliloquy to anyone who would listen. He realizes her need to process.

  “I mean, we are such great friends. Were great friends.” She coughs as her cigarette nub burns her fingers. “Shit.”

  “Do you remember when we first met?”

  “Do I remember? You were hooked, my friend. Hook line and sink-, sink-, sink something.” She extinguishes the butt on the black metal table.

  “Sinker. Yes, yes, I was. He had this way about him. I couldn’t get enough of him.”

  “That’s the truth. You were at our office almost every day, which I loved. I got used to you using your relationship with me to spend time with Lennox. As a matter of fact, it was kinda fun being the one caught in the middle. God. Forbidden shit is always the best. I mean, do you know how many emails I had to delete from Lennox’s account? The nasty ones between you and Lennox? Hundreds. And I musta missed a couple because isn’t that how Micah found out?”

  “I assume so, yeah.”

  A breeze rushes through, sending napkins flying through the air and silverware dropping to the cobblestones. Josh welcomes the wind. It soothes him. He closes his eyes.

  “Josh, he’s not here anymore. Lennox is dead.” Jenna picks up her spoon, napkin and cigarette butt. “Do you realize that he has been murdered? Murdered, Josh. The paper says he was stabbed thirty-three times.”

  “Thirty-three?” His voice is calm, his eyes shut.

  “Yes!”

  The breeze grows stronger. Jenna begins to lighten up.

  They each lean back in silence, as if reliving every moment they’d had with Lennox … Josh with his sordid “one that got away” affair, his ensuing fight with Micah, his anguish over losing Lennox without getting to say goodbye; Jenna with her juggling Lennox’s personal life and professional responsibilities, her covering up the affair, her hiding company secrets and lies according to Lennox’s wishes. They are lost in very different memories.

  “Do you think Micah could’ve done this?” Josh opens his eyes.

  Jenna hesitates for a split second. “Absolutely not. God, they loved each other. If you didn’t break them up, I don’t think anything would.” She lights another cigarette, takes a drag. “Plus, they just got married a year ago, and they had this, God, what was it, three-week trip overseas planned after tax season next year?”

  “Well, we’ve both seen Micah angry. I think he totally coulda done it.” The ensuing confrontation after the affair is permanently etched in Josh’s mind, imprisoning it like a straightjacket.

  “Impossible. Micah was with me at your event until he got home. The paper said the time of death was around that same time, and Lennox had been missing the entire night. Doesn’t make sense.”

  “What do you mean it doesn’t make sense? Maybe he kept him locked up or tied up, and then killed him when he got home.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Why would he go to all that trouble?”

  Josh pauses. “Things that make you go, ‘hmmmmm.’”

  They laugh.

  C h a p t e r 1 2

  Micah chuckles at the question.

  “How am I doing?” He repeats Shawn’s inquiry back to him over the hotel landline. “I gotta take it moment by moment. But in this moment, I’m okay, I guess.”

  He turns off the television and walks toward the window. He holds the phone away from his face so he can lean into the view outside. Local news vans are parked all along the street outside his temporary residence at the W Hotel.

  “I can’t get used to seeing my face all over the news,” he says, turning from the hotel television to the gray storm clouds developing above the media crews outside. “So there’s that.”

  “I know, it’s terrible, my friend, I can’t even imagine.” Shawn pauses to make sure his statement of validation lingers. He is doing his best to place himself there in the hotel room with Micah, to empathize, to soften Micah’s fears, but he is already on the case.

  Shawn is looking at the street just outside the crime scene of Micah and Lennox’s condo at the corner of Henry and Rutgers. He is jotting down notes to hand off to his private investigator.

  Why all the broken glass? Necessary?

  Any witnesses from the church across the street?

  Does the god-awful television monitor outside the church have anything to do with any sort of security camera? Or is it just tacky advertising?

  Anyone in the building hear anything, or see any strange people lingering about?

  CCTV across the street?

  Something isn’t right here, he thinks.

  Shawn breathes in the air that sweeps across his face. He looks up at the afternoon sun and closes his eyes just as a row of clouds blocks the light, and rain begins to pelt his cheeks with a stinging drizzle. He pinches his phone between his shoulder and his ear, removes his suit jacket and maneuvers it over his head. He grabs his bag, limbos underneath the crime scene tape, and enters the Garfield Building. Just inside the small lobby, he sees a stairwell and, brushing the shards of glass to the floor below with his yellow legal pad, sits down on the bottom step next to the elevator. Watching the sheets of rain pelt the broken glass on the sidewalk outside, he continues his conversation.

  “Hey, listen, Micah, I’m afraid I have more bad news,” Shawn says. His voice is a little loud to compensate for the weather. “There’s a chance they may arrest you later today on preliminary murder charge
s. Now, even though that may sound terrible, I fully believe this is just a formality for now, to keep you from leaving the country, blah blah blah. I’m meeting with my firm later today to see if we can get this ridiculous false confession thrown out. They don’t have anything else I’m aware of that will keep you inside for long.”

  “Shawn, you gotta help me. Everything keeps swirling around and around in my head. I can’t stop it. If I go to prison, I think I might lose it. I wanna go home, if I even can.”

  “I’m here right now. At your home.”

  “You are? Why?”

  “Just wanted a reminder of the building, snoop around, do some preliminary work. I know you wanna come home, buddy, but it’s gonna be a while.” Shawn removes a piece of glass from his shoe. “But soon enough, Micah. Shit, you haven’t even had a chance to mourn yet.”

  “Oh, I’m not so sure about that. I didn’t sleep. I kept rolling over, thinking he’d be there, then I’d just, you know, cry. Like those awful cries that you can’t control. I can’t.”

  “I hear you.” Shawn tries to reassure him. “Hey, I’m gonna come visit you in a few to discuss some details.”

  “Okay. Be prepared, though, police have been outside the hotel all night. I think they’ve been watching me.”

  “That’s pretty standard, Micah. You’re a person of interest, actually the only one they’re focusing on, which is a mistake they’re gonna pay for. They just want to make sure you don’t go anywhere.”

  “How could I? Have you seen the news crews out there too?”

  “It’s a mess, yes. But there’s a lot of hope, too, Micah. Much to discuss. I’m on my way to you now.”

  “Okay. If anyone can help me, it’s you, my friend.”

  A flash of lightning illuminates the now-darkened sky. Shawn moves his bag closer to him, as if trying to shield himself from the approaching storm. “Well, I’m here, buddy.”

  “Can you do me a favor and call Jenna real quick and fill her in, if you haven’t already? You can tell her anything you need to. She’s pretty much my only other connection out there.”

  ((Boom!))

  Shawn jumps at the thunderous sound, which rattles the remaining glass of the lobby facade. “Sure, buddy, see you soon. Be there in a few.”

  “Hey, Shawn?”

  “Yeah, buddy?”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. It’s what we do, right?”

  ((Click.))

  ((Beepbeep.))

  “Call Jenna.”

  ((“Calling Jenna Ancelet.”))

  “Shawn! Thank God! How’s he doing?”

  “As well as can be expected, I guess. He wanted me to call you and fill you in.”

  “I’ve already read the Times, and it seems to be the only thing on the news right now, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. Jenna, listen. Lots of questions were raised in that article, and I have some myself. We both know Micah didn’t do this, but he may be arrested later today.”

  “Oh my God, why?”

  “Well, since he asked me to fill you in, I can tell you that there’s a confession of sorts, but it’s nothing you need to worry about. But it seems Lennox may have been alive when Micah found him, and Micah panicked and tried to save him, but may have ended up making the situation worse.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. I mean, he was trying to save him, right? And if he was alive when he found him, then he couldn’t have killed him.”

  “Listen, Jenna, I know how close you are to Micah, and especially Lennox, so I’ll be able to fill you in on some stuff, but not all of it, right? I’m Micah’s lawyer, and can only divulge so much. But know this. I smell something odd. Off. Something sinister, even. I’m going to find out who did this and why. I think it might go deeper than any of us think.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. It’s still early, so don’t give up hope.”

  “Oh, I won’t.”

  ((Boom.)) The lightning and thunder are synching.

  “And Jenna, I’m just assuming he’d want this, but can you keep an eye out on the property for Micah? Since you live close by, once the dust settles and the crime scene has been cleared, maybe you could even help Micah with some preparations, you know, for Lennox? I’m just assuming he’ll want to have some sort of service soon.”

  “Oh my God, of course! I’ve felt so helpless, it’s the least I can do.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey, Shawn. I can’t help but think … well, you know how you said the word ‘sinister,’ which reminded me of a word I used to describe, well …”

  “Jenna, spit it out.”

  “I think I might know what this is all about.”

  C h a p t e r 1 3

  Rain engulfs the sidewalk outside and begins to pool in the interim area of the doorless lobby. Shawn knows he needs to get to Micah soon, but he cannot pass up the opportunity to find out anything and everything that might point to someone other than his client. His friend. His mind spins, exploring all the facts that could point in other directions, but the ones that point to Micah are those he fears the most. Instead of hanging up the phone and running in the rain to the W Hotel where Micah is staying within walking distance, he takes out his iPad, brings up his car service online, and orders a pickup. That way, he can actively listen to Jenna and go to Micah at the same time.

  “Jenna, tell me everything.”

  Jenna braces herself. She’d sworn to Lennox that she would never reveal what she was about to share. On the one hand, she could point Shawn in a clear direction that could lead to exoneration for Micah, and on the other she could tarnish the reputation of a dead man, not to mention land herself in jail. She makes a decision.

  “You know I used to work with Lennox, right?”

  “A little, but give me the CliffsNotes refresher course,” Shawn answers, taking out his legal pad to begin writing.

  “Let’s see. Okay, I worked with Lennox as his secretary at Élan Publishing for two years, until I was publicly let go due to, quote, budget restraints, when in reality I quit.”

  “Why did you quit?”

  “I’m getting to that!”

  “CliffsNotes, Jenna.”

  “Oh, dear God. Okay, okay, I’ll try, but bear with me so you have the context.” Jenna begins to talk very rapidly. “Shortly after I quit, I started working as the administrative assistant for the CEO of Élan’s biggest competitor, which as you know, is Cooper Harlow. Now, this switchover caused quite an uproar ’cause it was right at the start of the Pub War.”

  “Right. Never liked that moniker. Couldn’t the Post have called it something a little more evocative? ‘Ooooohhhh, Élan and Cooper Harlow are battling it out over print and online viewership, it’s a ‘Pub War.’ Please.”

  “You weren’t in it, Shawn. These companies are behemoths. You may just know Cooper Harlow for their iconic fashion magazines, but did you know they quietly absorbed four powerful media companies and became one of the first tenants of One World Trade Center? Meanwhile, Élan shows up with new, young, smart, stylish, left-of-center publications, taking advantage of their proprietary integrated online platform that seriously began to threaten Cooper Harlow’s market share. Then, as a final blow to the coffin, Élan goes public and begins its own media acquisitions. And there you have the beginning of the Pub War.”

  “Please, Jenna, come in for a landing.”

  “Anyway, employees and clients were poached by Élan from Cooper Harlow, and vice versa. Nondisclosure agreements were broken, meetings and interviews were held offsite under the most secure circumstances. Friendships and partnerships were either weirdly entangled or irreparably harmed. Especially mine and Lennox’s, for a while, anyway.”

  “Finally,” Shawn says.

  “Things at Élan were becoming secretive and scary. About two months before I left the company, I was privy to a cover-up of some sort, I’m not sure what.”

  “A cover-up?”

  “Shawn, this could reall
y get me in trouble.” Her voice quivers.

  “Well, Jenna, if you know something that might help Micah, I’d love to hear it. I can’t promise what I will or won’t do with the information. My client is Micah. But I understand if you need some time …”

  “No, no, I know, I know.” Jenna takes a deep breath. “Okay, so, being Lennox’s assistant, I had complete access to all of his files, and he knew that. He also knew that I didn’t just blindly respond to things, nor simply file papers without knowing exactly what went where. So he took me to dinner one night and explained that he’d been asked to doctor some books, and that if anyone knew other than myself, we’d both be in trouble.”

  “In trouble? How?” Shawn asks as he places his blazer over his head again and steps through the glass into the waiting limo. He climbs into the back seat, covers the mouthpiece of his iPhone, and, overcompensating for the pounding precipitation outside, yells to the limo driver, “Seventeenth and Park, W Hotel, please!”

  “Well, that’s what I asked. All he said was, the less I knew the better, and to trust him. So I did.”

  “What were these papers about, specifically?”

  “Near as I could tell, they were purchasing agreements, vendor contracts, intents to purchase office equipment and the like. Mostly I simply input numbers on line items based on documentation and percentages I was given via private email. You know, those chatroom thingies we all use to talk with each other internally.”

  “So there’s a record of these conversations?” Shawn raises his voice mid-question. The driver has his windshield wipers on high, but they are barely keeping up.

  “Um, no. That’s how I knew it was serious. Lennox told me that’s the easiest thing to get rid of, these private messages.”

  “Get rid of? Haha, that’s funny, there’s a digital paper trail everywhere. I’ll find it.”

  “I don’t think you will. See, that’s the part I wanted to tell you about. Élan doesn’t mess around. They’ve been under investigation before for not playing by the rules. No one knows how, but they’ve always managed to sneak right past anything and anyone to get what they want.” She pauses, as if putting two and two together for the first time. “Don’t you think it’s kind of strange that two people from Élan were murdered on the same night?”