Do You Want to Know a Secret?

by Mary Jane Clark

  “Still, Eliza, until there is a cure or a vaccine, there is so much more to be done. So much to be done for those living with AIDS. It’s a disease that doesn’t care if you’re male or female, rich or poor, black or white, old or young. Pediatric AIDS is particularly heartbreaking. This afternoon, I’ll have the opportunity to tour AIDS facilities in Newark that have implemented programs to help.”

  “Why Newark?”

  “New Jersey ranks third in the nation, behind New York and Florida, in the number of pediatric AIDS cases. New Jersey also has the highest percentage of females with AIDS. The state has been forced to deal with AIDS and to be innovative in its programs. And the Catholic Church has provided more hospital beds for AIDS patients than any other institution in the country. There’s a lot to learn there.”

  “Mrs. Wingard, following this interview, you are scheduled to tape some public service announcements on AIDS and your fund-raising effort. Here at KEY, we’ve noted with interest that our own Bill Kendall left $100,000 to the AIDS Parade for Dollars in his will.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  Eliza detected a tensing of Joy’s jaw. She decided to remain silent for a few moments and see if Joy would continue on her own, but the candidate’s wife just stared back. Eliza had the feeling that Joy was daring her to insinuate anything else. In that moment, Eliza decided not to push any further. There would always be another time.

  “Did Bill Kendall have a particular interest in AIDS?”

  Joy Wingard went with what she and Nate Heller had planned. She hoped it didn’t sound rehearsed. “Bill Kendall was a fine human being. He was interested in just about anything that affected his fellow man. We had talked about various charities. As you probably know, he did a lot of work as a supporter of the developmentally disabled. But he was one of those who realized, early on, the scope and seriousness of the AIDS threat.”

  The theme music began to play. Eliza thanked her guest and teased to the movie review coming up after the commercial. Joy Wingard undipped the microphone from her shrimp-colored linen suit and rose from the couch, taking time to shake Eliza’s hand and smile graciously. Eliza mentioned that she was working on a story on the Wingard fund-raising effort and would be following her to Newark later in the day.

  “If I can help with your story in any way, Eliza, please don’t hesitate to call on me.” Beneath the gracious words, Eliza thought she detected a tightness in the candidate’s wife’s voice.

  Chapter 77

  Hearing himself paged, the orderly stashed another ravaged patient against the wall of the busy hospital hallway and went to the house phone.

  “It’s me.”

  “I’m not supposed to receive personal calls at work!”

  “Sorry, couldn’t reach you before this. I’ll be brief. Joy Wingard is going to be there today. Just keep your eyes open.”

  “Don’t I always?”

  “True.”

  “Hey, Peter, while I’ve got you on the phone, I’ve been thinking. You didn’t pay me enough for that bit of info on Bill Kendall. If I spread that news around, I could make a lot more.”

  “Okay, okay,” came the resigned response. “How much more do you want?”

  Chapter 78

  “You were wonderful this morning, darling. I got to the office early and watched you on all four shows. There wasn’t a question that you didn’t answer well. I was very proud of you.”

  Joy was sitting in a small KEY studio, practicing reading from the Teleprompter her public service announcement scripts when the call from Win was put through. Before she could answer, he continued.

  “Today is all yours. Since I have to be here in Washington for Senate business, you’ll be our representative out there again today. Your performance this morning was a terrific start. Go get ’em, sweetheart.”

  Win dealt best with the concrete. He didn’t do well with suggestions and nuances. Joy concluded that the Bill Kendall questions hadn’t bothered Win at all.

  Nate Heller, on the other hand, had not missed any of the subtleties of Eliza Blake’s questioning. Wanting to be there when the PSAs were taped, he met Joy as she was entering the studio. Having watched the interviews from his hotel room, he too had been delighted with the way Joy conducted herself. But he had not been thrilled with Eliza’s probing.

  “Damn her,” he hissed, corralling Joy to the corner of the studio. “Damn her and her nosy questions.”

  “Come on, Nate. She was just doing her job.”

  “Oh, wonderful. ‘She was just doing her job,’ ” he parroted. “Aren’t you the benevolent, understanding one?”

  “I think we should be thankful that no one else asked the same question. It’s really a fairly obvious one.”

  Nate considered her words. “You’re right. I guess we were lucky. Besides, there isn’t anything we can do about it now. Maybe that’ll be the end of the Bill Kendall factor.”

  “Wishful thinking, Nate?”

  Nate’s eyes followed her as she broke away from him, crossed the small room, mounted the platform and arranged herself carefully in the speaker’s chair behind a curved gray Formica-topped desk. “No, thank you,” was her response to the KEY makeup woman. She preferred to do her own. The voice of the director came from a speaker in the ceiling. He was watching her on his screen in the control room. He told her that she looked sensational, and asked the cameraman to tighten up on her just a bit.

  Unexpectedly, Joy realized that she was not nervous. In fact, she was getting a charge out of the tension in the studio as everyone concerned prepared to tape. She liked this better than a live interview. If she made a mistake, they could just tape again and she could fix it. She had nothing to lose.

  Chapter 79

  In a large office three hundred yards away, Eliza sat with her boss. She explained to Yelena Gregory what she had found in Bill Kendall’s computer notes.

  “So I’m here today, uncertain about what to do. This thing and its implications are big, and I want to talk about how I—we—should proceed.”

  Yelena nodded, her broad face somber. “You’re right. If I don’t seem surprised at what you’ve told me, it’s because Range already talked to me.”

  Eliza felt a pang of something. Annoyance? Betrayal? What was Range trying to pull, anyway? Telling Eliza in no uncertain terms that Bill’s affair was Bill’s business and then rushing to talk it over with Yelena.

  Yelena was quick to respond to Eliza’s unspoken doubts. “Please don’t get the wrong impression, Eliza. Range wasn’t coming to me behind your back. On the contrary, he was concerned that he had come down too heavily. He was second-guessing himself and he wanted another opinion on how to deal with this.”

  Somewhat appeased, Eliza decided to let the Range Bullock issue rest, at least for the time being. “Well, what did you and Range decide?”

  Yelena rose from her seat, walked around the big desk and rested her imposing figure on the edge of it. She ran her large hands through her closely cropped hair, pulling it back from her face in an expression of beleaguered contemplation.

  “I considered this all last night. Didn’t sleep much, thinking about it. What is our responsibility here? Someone’s got to draw the line somewhere as to what is personal in a public figure’s life. It’s a tough, tough call.” Yelena paused, rising to look out the window onto the city street. She turned back to face Eliza. “But my inclination, at this point at least, is to agree with Range. Bill Kendall and Joy Wingard’s affair—if, indeed they had one—isn’t something that the country needs to know about to make a decision on Haines Wingard’s ability to govern.”

  Eliza didn’t like the intimation that the affair was something less than real. But she also felt somewhat relieved. The buck had been passed, and Yelena had made her decision. Eliza was grateful that the older woman was there to turn to; her wisdom and years of experience were reassuring. Eliza really didn’t want to invade Bill’s privacy either.

  But what about Leo Karas’s murder?


  “Yelena, something else is bothering me.”

  “What?”

  “The murder of Dr. Leo Karas.”

  Yelena looked puzzled but interested. “From the account I read, it was my understanding that the police think it’s a simple robbery-shooting. Not, of course, that any murder is simple.”

  Eliza paused, wondering if she should say more. If she couldn’t go to the head of the news division with her suspicions, who could she go to?

  The intercom buzzed. “Yelena, Pete Carlson is here.’

  “Ask him to have a seat. I’ll be with him in a few minutes.”

  A sign. Be quiet. Don’t go any further. For now.

  Yelena was waiting, looking at Eliza expectantly.

  “I guess I’m just a little paranoid these days. The police must know what they’re doing.” Eliza rose from her seat. “Okay, Yelena. And thanks. I’m glad we talked.”

  “That’s what I’m here for, kiddo. It’s an interesting time, and an interesting campaign. We’ll see how it all works out. I see on the ‘Insights’ that you’re working on a Joy piece today. I’ll bet she’s really in love with you after the Kendall question this morning.”

  Eliza answered, slightly embarrassed. “Oh, you caught the show this morning? I. . . .”

  “No need to explain,” Yelena reassured. “Regardless of the conversation we just had, that question about Bill had to be asked.”

  Eliza glanced at her watch. “I better run. I want to catch the end of Joy’s taping. Thanks again, Yelena.”

  The two women smiled and shook hands firmly. As Eliza was leaving, the news president asked, “You’ve still got Bill’s computer notes?”

  “Yes, they’re safe with me. They’re just copies, though. I’m sure Jean’s still got the originals.”

  “Oh,” laughed Yelena, “that’s fine. They’ll be safe with Jean. She’ll guard them ferociously. Probably build a shrine around them.”

  Yelena crossed to the door and, ushering Eliza out, motioned to Pete Carlson. Eliza forced herself to say “Good morning” as she brushed past him.

  Pete closed the door behind him as he entered Yelena’s office. He didn’t know why Eliza had been there, but he was sure of one thing. Yelena didn’t seem as happy as she used to whenever she saw him.

  “What’s the matter, Yelena? You’re not yourself lately. Is it something I’ve done?”

  Yelena shook her head, but her brusque manner said it all. She was definitely angry about something.

  There had been only one long-distance call that night on last month’s phone bill. The night she’d heard of Pete’s disgust in sleeping with her.

  Yelena’s heart had pounded as she dialed this number and listened to the gruff answer.

  “Nate Heller.”

  Chapter 80

  Back in his office after the meeting with Yelena, Pete Carlson immediately went for the phone. He jabbed the buttons angrily.

  “Why didn’t you tell me Joy was having an affair with Bill Kendall?” demanded Carlson.

  “If I had, what would you have done with the information?” came Nate Heller’s response.

  “I would have scooped the world, that’s what!”

  “Think about it, Pete. That’s why I didn’t tell you. That would not have helped Haines Wingard become the next president of the United States. Are you forgetting your bigger goal?”

  Carlson didn’t answer. He didn’t like being kept in the dark about anything, especially something as potentially explosive as this. Heller was right. Pete wouldn’t have reported the affair—that would have severely hurt the Wingard candidacy. But he wanted to be in on all the dirt just the same. Knowledge was power.

  “And where did you hear it, anyway?”

  “Yelena.”

  “Christ!” Nate tried to contain his anger. “Now the whole world will know.”

  “Uh-uh. Don’t worry. Yelena’s not going to say anything. She cares too much about the reputation of KEY News and she doesn’t want Kendall’s memory besmirched. Apparently, Range Bullock knows, too. But according to Yelena, he’s not going to say anything either. Bill was his best friend.”

  “But there is one problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Eliza Blake knows, too.”

  “Will she tell?”

  “I don’t know. But it’s something else we have to worry about.”

  Chapter 81

  The Boarder Babies program at University Hospital was established to provide emotional nourishment for babies born too soon, too small or too sick. Volunteers came to the hospital to hold, rock and provide some human warmth to the tiny human beings who were fighting for their lives. AIDS had increased the already booming business the Boarder Babies program was doing.

  Some of the troubled, diseased, overwhelmed mothers who passed through the delivery room had abandoned their babies. The newborns remained in the hospital for months while efforts were made to place them in foster homes. While the babies waited, they had the benefit of the volunteers, who sat in rocking chairs near the incubators, talking and singing to them. The luckier, stronger infants could be lifted and cuddled and played with.

  The volunteers, as well as the staff nurses, became attached to the babies. Some ended up taking the babies home and adopting them. Others, when homes were found for the infants they had grown to love, experienced the pain of deep loss. The volunteers and the nurses said they often got as much emotional satisfaction and nourishment as they gave.

  “The warmth of another body, skin-to-skin contact, is central to the human experience,” the nursery supervisor explained to Joy. “The babies, like all little ones, need the personal interaction of a mother or at least a mother figure. Would you like to hold one?”

  Joy hesitated for a moment, looking uncertainly at the fragile creature lying in the Lucite crib. The head nurse smiled encouragingly, nodded for Joy to take her seat in the nearby rocking chair and carefully lifted the tiny bundle. The baby was placed in the crook of Joy’s arm. With her free hand, Joy gingerly searched beneath the cotton receiving blanket until she found the miniature version of her own. The tiny fingers wrapped themselves tightly around her pinky. A tear fell from the corner of Joy’s eye.

  Yes, thought Nate Heller. Great picture!

  Chapter 82

  Father Alec waited quietly and alone in the hospital chapel of St. Michael’s Medical Center. A Secret Service agent, shoes shined and radio earpiece visible, came in and looked around. Appraising Father Alec sitting in a rear pew in his black suit and Roman collar, the agent apparently saw nothing amiss.

  Father Alec was disappointed and distressed. What if his mission today had been to hurt Mrs. Wingard? He speculated on how easy it would be for anyone to dress like a cleric. The agent’s cursory glance shouldn’t be called security. Of course, they couldn’t investigate every single person who came across Mrs. Wingard’s path, but he wanted to believe that the Secret Service wasn’t missing suspicious and nervous-looking characters. He was sure he must look nervous. In truth, he was going to hurt Joy Wingard today.

  He rose from the pew, genuflected, turned and walked to the door at the rear of the chapel. Poking his head out, he looked down the corridor. Nothing yet.

  The Star Ledger had said she was focusing on AIDS in her Newark tour. The archdiocese was proud. St. Michael’s with its clinic, support groups and private counseling served about 40 percent of the AIDS patients living in Essex County. Mrs. Wingard must be getting her eyes and ears full. How horrible it would be for her, after observing AIDS cases close up, to hear that she, too, had been exposed to the disease!

  Movement down the hall caught his eye. A woman dressed in pink was moving slowly in his direction, her head turned toward a nun who walked beside her. She was listening attentively to what Sister had to say. Cameramen were walking backward in front of her. Several other men and women surrounded her. He assumed they were Secret Service, campaign aides and media types.

  What if thi
s doesn’t work? What if she won’t stop?

  Suddenly, she was right in front of him. Joy stopped and her entourage stopped with her. She smiled openly and extended her hand to the young priest standing in the chapel doorway.

  “Hello, I’m Joy Wingard.” He thought he detected a look of semirecognition in her eyes.

  “Mrs. Wingard, I’m Father Alec Fisco from Sacred Heart Cathedral. I was wondering if I could have a few moments of your time?”

  She turned to a short, intense-looking man standing beside her. He glanced at his watch and brusquely told her that they were running behind. She turned to Father Alec with an apologetic look and was about to make her excuses when she suddenly placed him.

  “Sacred Heart Cathedral? Yes, what can I do for you?”

  “I was hoping we could talk in private.”

  She smiled and gestured to the group around her and shrugged helplessly.

  “Perhaps we could talk in the chapel for a minute? Please.” The priest’s eyes implored.

  “Nate, I want to talk to Father in the chapel. Will you please arrange that?”

  The short, intense one looked annoyed. But he muttered the necessary instructions. The camera people turned and broke away from the group, eager to get outside and grab an exterior shot of the hospital before it was time to get back in the press cars again. They had enough video of the priest and Mrs. Wingard.

  In an instant, Father Alec found himself sitting in a pew in an empty chapel beside the very possible next first lady. She tried to put him at ease.

  “Father, that was a beautiful homily you gave for Bill Kendall. I’m sure it must have comforted his family.”

  “Thank you. I hope so. I’m flattered you remember me.”

  “Did you know Bill very well?”

  “I only knew Bill Kendall for a very brief time, but I think it’s fair to say I knew him well.”

  There was a pause, neither one sure of where to go next with the conversation. The priest looked pained and extraordinarily uncomfortable.