Change of Heart

by Norah McClintock

  The guard who had been standing at the door came over to where we were sitting.

  “I have to go,” Billy said. “Thanks for coming, Robyn. And thanks for the picture.”

  “No problem,” I said.

  Billy had stood up, preparing to leave, when I called to him.

  “Hey, Billy? How is Ben, anyway?”

  “He misses you,” Billy said. “He asked me if you were seeing Nick, but then he said never mind—he didn’t want to know. Other than that, he’s okay, I guess.” He turned, walked to the door, and waited for the guard to open it for him. Only after he was gone did I realize that I hadn’t asked him how he was doing in there. Or whether he was still scared.

  B

  illy had said that he hadn’t made threatening calls to Sean. He’d said he hadn’t trashed Sean’s locker. He had an ironclad alibi for the day of Sean’s accident—there was no way he could have tampered with Sean’s hockey helmet. So who had done all those things? And how big a grudge did that person have against Sean? Big enough to want him dead?

  Try sleeping when you have questions like that scurrying around in your head like squirrels in an attic.

  I reached for my phone and made a call.

  “Sure,” my dad said after he listened to my question. “I’ve been stumped plenty of times before.”

  “What do you do when that happens, Dad?”

  “What’s this about, Robbie?”

  “You have to ask?”

  There was silence on the end of the line.

  “Dad?”

  I thought maybe he’d lecture me about letting the police do their job. But he didn’t.

  “So the question is, what do you do if you have a gut feeling that something is true, but no hard evidence to back you up? Is that it?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You chip away at it. You work with what you’ve got, even if it’s not much. And you have faith that it will lead you somewhere else. It’s the only thing you can do.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Pretty much. Detective work isn’t linear, Robbie. No straight line guaranteed to get you from point A to point B. There could be a million possible ways, and you have to figure out for yourself which one makes the most sense.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  I was about to hang up when he said, “Ask me what I was doing on Thursday night.”

  “What you and Nick were doing?”

  “Yeah. Go ahead. Ask me.”

  “I thought it was top secret.”

  “It was. It isn’t anymore. Come on. Ask me.”

  I knew he was trying to make up for not telling me earlier, but now that I knew that Nick was working for him, I didn’t really care what they had been doing. The less I knew, the better. But a peace offering is a peace offering.

  “Okay, what were you doing on Thursday night, Dad?”

  “Hal was in town.”

  Hal is an old friend of my father’s. They went to high school together. Hal manages an old rock band.

  “To do a music video,” my father added.

  “With the dinosaur band?”

  “Hey, those guys aren’t much older than me,” my father protested.

  “Exactly,” I said.

  “Hal is also managing a new group,” my father said. When he told me which one it was, I couldn’t help being impressed.

  “They were here?”

  “One night only, to shoot their new video. Took them all night to shoot it. They’d work for three hours on something that will take up maybe fifteen seconds in the final video.”

  “I can’t believe they were here and you didn’t tell me.”

  “I wanted to, but work is work, Robbie, and this really was top secret. Even the press didn’t get wind of it.”

  “It couldn’t have been all that top secret. You told Nick.”

  “Nick was working with me.”

  “On security? Isn’t he a little young for that?”

  “Not for that part of the job. All he had to do was help make sure no one got near the site who didn’t belong there. Hal gave me an autographed poster for you. I’ll give it to you the next time you’re over.”

  “Thanks, Dad. And thank Hal for me the next time you’re talking to him.”

  By the time I got out of bed the next morning I had a plan. Okay, it wasn’t much of a plan, but as my father had said, you have to start somewhere.

  I had two places to start: Tamara Sanders and Jon Czerny. Sean had promised to cooperate on a documentary that could have boosted Tamara’s budding TV career. Then he had dumped both her and his promise. As for Jon Czerny—not only was he jealous of Sean, Sean had stolen the team captainship from him. Now that Sean was gone, Jon was back on top. Had he killed Sean to get what he wanted?

  All I had were questions and suspicions. But that was better than nothing. I figured Tamara’s alibi would be easy to check. She had said that she was in the editing room at the TV station the night Sean was killed. So that’s where I decided to start.

  As soon as I got to school, I went looking for Dennis Hanson. I finally spotted him in a crowded hall at lunchtime. I elbowed my way toward him and grabbed his arm to get his attention. He let out a shout, as if I had bitten him, and frantically jerked free of me. Every head in the hall turned to see what had happened.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” I said. I wished people would stop staring at us—at him. “I need your help. I’m trying to help Billy, but to do that I need to go back to the TV station. I have to find out who was in the editing room the night Sean was killed.”

  “Painters,” Dennis said.

  “What?”

  “Painters were in Editing.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I saw the schedule when we were at the station. Painters were in Editing on Thursday, 8 P.M. to 2 A.M.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded but didn’t look directly at me.

  “Dennis,” I said, “is there any way you could find out if there was anyone in the room while the painters were there?”

  “I could ask my dad.”

  “Would you? It’s for Billy.”

  “Okay,” he said. “We can go now.”

  Dennis’s father had a large office on the top floor of the public-television building. The sign on the door said “VP, Programming.” I assumed Dennis would knock before entering. I was wrong. He just opened the door and walked in and didn’t seem to notice the surprised looks on the faces of the three men sitting around a conference table. The youngest of the three was the same preppy-looking guy I had seen with Tamara.

  “Dennis,” said one of the other men, “I’m in the middle of something here.” He didn’t seem at all perturbed by Dennis’s sudden appearance, so I assumed he must be Dennis’s father. “Ed,” he said to the older of the two men with him. “You remember my son Dennis.” Then he turned to the preppy-looking guy. “David, I don’t believe you two have met. This is Dennis. Dennis, this is David Roberts. He produces the teen show.”

  David stood up and thrust out a hand, which, of course, Dennis didn’t take. He didn’t make eye contact with David either. David awkwardly withdrew his hand.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce your friend, Dennis?” Mr. Hanson said.

  “Her name is Robyn,” Dennis said.

  “I go the same school as Dennis,” I said. “And I’m sorry to disturb you. We can wait—”

  “The painters were in Editing last Thursday night, right, Dad?” Dennis said. “They were there for six hours, right? That’s what it said on the schedule. Editing, 8 P.M. to 2 A.M. Right, Dad?”

  Mr. Hanson looked surprised by the question. All he said was, “Well, I’m not sure.”

  “Robyn needs to know. It’s important, right, Robyn?”

  “Well, I—” It was obvious we were interrupting a meeting. “It can wait, Mr. Hanson. I’m sorry we disturbed—”

  “But you said it was important,” Dennis said. �
�She needs to know, Dad.”

  Mr. Hanson looked quizzically at me but didn’t press the point. “If it’s that important, Dennis, I can certainly check. If you and Robyn wouldn’t mind waiting—”

  “I saw it on the schedule,” Dennis said. “She needs to know right now.”

  “Well—” I glanced around the room. Ed’s face was impassive. But he had met Dennis before, perhaps under similar circumstances. David didn’t look as unruffled as Ed. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  “If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Mr. Hanson said. He went to his desk, picked up the phone, punched in a few numbers, and asked someone if the painters had been in Editing last Thursday.

  “Ask him what time they were there,” Dennis said, “and who was in the room while they were working.”

  I glanced at Ed and David again. Ed was studying some papers on the table in front of him. David’s eyes darted nervously from Dennis to Mr. Hanson.

  “Thank you, Louis,” Mr. Hanson said. He hung up the phone. “You were right, Dennis,” he said. “The painters were there from 8 P.M. to 2 A.M., just as you said. They were there alone. Everything in the room was covered up to protect it from the paint. That’s why they’re doing all the painting at night—to minimize the disruption around here. Now, is there anything else I can do for you, son?”

  “No,” Dennis said.

  “I’m really sorry we interrupted you, Mr. Hanson,” I said.

  “No problem,” he said graciously. He walked us to the door and showed us out.

  I found Tamara at her locker after school.

  “I was at the TV station at lunchtime,” I said.

  “So I heard.” Her acid tone made me think that my suspicions were right.

  “You lied to me, Tamara. You said you were working in the editing room when Sean was killed. But you weren’t. The room was being painted that night. The only people in it were the painters.”

  She grabbed me by the arm, dragged me into the nearest empty classroom, and shut the door.

  “I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” she hissed.

  “Did the police talk to you after Sean was killed?”

  She stared angrily at me but didn’t answer.

  “Of course they did,” I said. “They talked to everyone who knew him. Did you tell them the same thing you told me—that you were in Editing between ten and midnight?”

  Her face flushed. “What difference does it make where I was? I didn’t kill Sean. Your friend Billy did. He was practically stalking Sean because of What’s-her-name.”

  “Billy says he didn’t do it, and I believe him.”

  “Well, good luck to him,” Tamara said.

  “You and Sean weren’t exactly on the best terms. You told me yourself that he bailed out on that documentary. Did you tell the police about that, too?” The alarm in her eyes told me she hadn’t. “I bet Sean bailing on you didn’t do much for your reputation at the station. How did your producer take the bad news?”

  “David knows it wasn’t my fault.”

  “I heard you at the arena the night Sean was injured. You were begging him to reconsider, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t even listen to you. Sure, he was going out with Morgan. But you can go out with someone else and still be friendly with your ex-girlfriend. Sean didn’t want to have anything to do with you, though. Why is that, Tamara? Why was he so mad at you? What did you do?”

  “Who says I did anything?”

  “The cop who’s investigating Sean’s death—he’s a friend of my dad’s,” I said. “I know him pretty well. And I’m sure he’d be interested if I told him that Sean’s ex-girlfriend had a very good reason to be angry with Sean and that she’d lied about where she was at the time he was murdered. I bet he’d want to have another talk with you, Tamara. I bet he’d want to know where you really were.”

  Her face turned white.

  “I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Sean.”

  “Where were you?”

  She looked down at the floor.

  “Fine,” I said. I started past her.

  She grabbed my arm again. “If I tell you, you have to promise you won’t tell anyone.”

  “First you tell me where you were. Then I decide who I tell or don’t tell.”

  She seemed to be struggling with what to do. “I was with David.”

  “David Roberts? Your producer?”

  She nodded. So I’d been right. I remembered the way Sean had scowled at him at the hockey game. I remembered how flustered David had been when I caught him bent over Tamara the first time I had talked to her and how uncomfortable he had been when Dennis and I had turned up in Mr. Hanson’s office. I was positive that it was David who had told Tamara that I had visited the station again today.

  “Are you and he—”

  She nodded.

  “We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months. But if anyone at the station finds out, he could get into trouble. It doesn’t look good for a host to be dating her producer. People could get the wrong idea.”

  A couple of months?

  “But I thought you and Sean didn’t break up until a couple of weeks ago,” I said.

  “We didn’t,” she said. “I’m not even sure how it all happened. David and I were working together. Then we started seeing each other outside of work. He and I have a lot in common—a lot more than Sean and I did. And he’s only a couple of years older than me. But ...” She hesitated again. “I didn’t want to tell Sean. I was afraid if I did, he’d back out of the documentary. And I wanted that story. You have no idea how much it could have helped my career.”

  “What happened? Did Sean find out?”

  She nodded. “He came to the station when I wasn’t expecting him—sweet-talked his way past the receptionist. Sean could sweet-talk his way past anyone. He was a real charmer.”

  It seemed like everyone said the same thing about Sean—and they all said it with the same bitterness and disdain.

  “He caught David and me together,” she continued. “He was furious. He told me that was it, no documentary. He said we were through. I tried to apologize, but ...” She shook her head. “You don’t know what he could be like. I had him on my show five times. I talked one of the sports guys at the station into doing a feature interview with him. Okay, so I should have broken up with him before I started seeing David. But I got Sean a lot of publicity. And you know what he said to me? He said he’d never do another interview with me again, ever. And he said he’d tell the station exactly why he’d backed out. He was also going to put it out there that I only got my job because I was seeing David—and that’s not true.”

  Sean sure knew how to get even with someone. But I didn’t feel too sorry for Tamara either.

  “Do you think he really would have told the TV station about you and David?”

  “You didn’t know Sean,” she said. “He could be really vindictive. And mean. He told me he could replace me in a second. He even told me who he was going to replace me with.”

  I listened in stunned silence while she told me the whole story.

  “You’re kidding,” I said when she had finished. “I thought he was supposed to be a nice guy.”

  “Yeah, he was a real prince,” Tamara said sourly. “But I didn’t kill him. If they have to, the police can ask David where I was. But I wish they wouldn’t. I really like my job, and I worked hard to build a good reputation. Are you going to tell them?”

  “Not if I don’t have to, I guess. But I want you to do something for me in return.”

  I could see the apprehension in her face.

  “I want you to talk to someone for me,” I said.

  A

  car pulled up in front of the restaurant where Tamara and I were waiting. Morgan got out. She said something to the driver—it took a moment before I realized that it was Colin Sloane—and the car drove away. I ducked out of sight until Morgan had entered the restaurant, found Tamara, and settled opposite her i
n the booth. Then I slid onto the bench beside her, blocking her exit.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she said, scowling at me.

  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  “Maybe that’s because I don’t want to talk to you. And if you don’t mind, I’m here because she asked to see to me.” She nodded at Tamara.

  Tamara looked pointedly at me. It didn’t take long for Morgan to get the message.

  “I should have known something was up when she called me out of the blue like that,” she said.

  “I asked her to,” I said.

  Morgan was already pushing against me, trying to force her way out of the booth.

  “There’s something you need to know, Morgan,” I said.

  She refused to look at me.

  “Sean didn’t dump me so that he could go out with you,” Tamara told her. “He dumped me because he found out I was cheating on him. He started going out with you to get back at me—and at your boyfriend.”

  Morgan turned furious eyes on Tamara. “I don’t believe you.”

  Tamara looked evenly at her. “Were you in any of Sean’s classes?”

  “No.”

  “Were you one of his hockey groupies?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Did you even go to his hockey games?”

  “No.”

  “Did you talk to him much before you started going out with him?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Did you talk to him at all?”

  “Well, no.”

  “So what happened?” Tamara said. “Did he just come up to you one day and ask you out?”

  “Something like that,” Morgan said. “I was helping set up a display in the hall, and I noticed Sean watching me. We started talking, and the next day he asked me out.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Yes.”

  “And this was when?” Tamara said.

  “About a month ago.”

  “Sean found out about me and David exactly one month ago,” Tamara said. “He didn’t waste any time.”

  “I still don’t believe you,” Morgan said.

  “Believe me or not, but it’s true,” Tamara said. “Sean was angry at me for cheating on him. He asked you out to get back at me—and because he saw a chance to get even with your friend Billy.”