Eliza shuffled through her index cards. “To change the subject for the moment, Mrs. Wingard, figures released this morning show that violent street crime in America is on the rise. Realistically, what do you think your husband can do about a society where a man can be shot down in the street just for the few dollars in his pocket?”
This time, Eliza thought she might have hit a nerve. The color rose on Joy’s neck as the master of the smooth answer stammered a reply.
“Ah, I haven’t seen the statistics you, ah, speak of, Eliza. Ah. . . . off the top of my head, I’d have to say that our society is basically a good one, but . . . but we have problems that must be addressed. Street crime does not exist in a vacuum. It’s often rooted in hopelessness and, um, powerlessness. If we could work toward building a society where people felt better about themselves and their abilities to make decent lives, perhaps they wouldn’t turn to drugs and crime.”
Nice recovery, thought Eliza.
As both unclipped their microphones after the interview, Joy thanked Eliza, without looking her in the eye. Nate Heller stepped up in an attempt to break the awkward tension.
“Where are you staying?” he asked Eliza politely. It was the first question that everyone working at the convention asked each other.
“The Oaks.”
“Oh. We’re all staying at the Galleria.”
“I know.”
It was, of course, common knowledge where the presidential candidate and his entourage were headquartered. The two Westin hotels were linked by Houston’s famed Galleria, the glamorous, glass-covered shopping mall that featured Tiffany’s and Neiman Marcus, along with video arcades and an ice-skating rink.
“Are you planning to come to the party after the session tonight?”
“If I can keep my eyes open,” Eliza smiled.
“Good. Hope to see you there,” Joy responded perfunctorily.
The Houston Chamber of Commerce was throwing a party in the Westin Galleria ballroom. Members of the media were invited. The Wingards were scheduled to make an appearance.
As soon as Joy and Nate left, Eliza gathered up her convention handbook and her shoulder bag from the long control desk at the rear of the skybox. She picked up the nearest of the two dozen phones on the table and dialed the 212 area code. She felt a catch in her throat when the small determined voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Janie? Janie, honey, it’s Mommy.”
“Mommy! I miss you, Mommy.”
“I miss you, too, my sweetheart. Are you having a good time with Mrs. Twomey?”
“Yes. Mrs. Twomey made me pancakes in the shapes of an’mals for breakfast.”
“She did? Aren’t you lucky!”
“Here’s Mrs. Twomey.”
That was Janie. She might miss her mother, but she had no problem in getting off the phone if there was a more attractive offer on the television set. It was 9:15 in New York. I Love Lucy was on. Little though she was, I Love Lucy fascinated Janie.
Mrs. Twomey came to the phone and assured Eliza that everything was all right.
“Would you tell me even if everything wasn’t okay?” Eliza asked.
“Of course I would. Of course I would. But everything is just fine. Janie watched you for a little while on the TV this morning, just like she always does. Then she switched to Sesame Street.”
That was a good sign. If she was obsessing over missing her mother, Janie probably would have glued herself to the screen.
“What are you two doing today?”
“We’ll be going to the park this morning while it’s cool.”
Eliza made a mental note for the thousandth time that she wanted to buy a house in the suburbs. A house with a swimming pool or a nearby outdoor swim club. A child should be playing outside in the summertime, not cooped up in an air-conditioned apartment. Maybe by next summer, Janie could be doing the jellyfish float in a nice, clear, clean pool.
“Thanks so much, Mrs. Twomey. I don’t know what I would do without you. Hopefully, the week will fly by, and I’ll be home before we all know it. I miss Janie so much when I’m away like this. I keep consoling myself with the idea that we’re going on vacation when I get home.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Blake. Janie is just fine. And the little faerie is excited about going to the beach next week, too.”
Putting the receiver back in the cradle, Eliza swallowed hard to keep back the tears she felt coming. The little faerie.
Being a mother with a career outside the home was conflicting enough. Being a single mother added another painful dimension. There was no Daddy for Janie, no other parent to be there for the little girl. And Eliza knew she was one of the rare, lucky ones. She was a single mother who made a lot of money. A single mother who could afford excellent child care. A single mother who could afford a beautiful, basically safe place to live. A single mother who didn’t have to worry about paying bills. Unless, of course, she were to lose her job.
She knew that was what kept her driven to do so well. Not just an inner need for success for its own sake, but the knowledge that the buck stopped with her. If she didn’t make her own money, it would all come tumbling down. Mrs. Twomey and the private nursery school and the expensive sneakers that Janie outgrew every three months. The doormanned building and the circus tickets and the Zabar’s treats. She liked her life, the life she was able to offer Janie. Without that paycheck, their world would be a very different, very scary place, one that Eliza did not like to think about. That’s why she rarely said no to an assignment. She wanted KEY to value her.
But at moments like these, a thousand miles away from the little girl watching I Love Lucy reruns, the little girl being cared for by someone else, Eliza would have gladly traded some of the glamour, money and excitement for the security and simple pleasure of watching Janie run under a sprinkler.
Chapter 104
Detective Colburn had set his trap for the bold, persistent artist.
It was easy enough to get an owner to volunteer his townhouse. Civic duty and all that. Also, the detective theorized, the owner’s foray into police work would provide good cocktail party conversation for quite some time.
Colburn himself picked out the doorknocker. It was the largest, shiniest, showiest one he could find. A brass Texas longhorn whose horns spread a good ten inches across. If doorknockers were his thing, Colburn knew he would be turned on by this one. He was counting on it.
The wall was painted spanking white. The small video camera, timed to click on at 9:00 P.M., was positioned inside a nondescript police surveillance car parked curbside. The wide-angle lens was aimed at the fresh, white wall.
Detective Colburn knew that the trap had succeeded when he cabbed to the site early in the morning. The brass doorknocker was gone and a rather good spray-painted rendition of the longhorn bull stared out defiantly from the white canvas. Colburn took a picture for evidence later on. Then he unlocked the police car, climbed inside and drove it back to the precinct. At a red light, he unloaded the tape from the recorder.
Inside the station house, he rewound the time-coded tape and then forwarded it at a speed just slow enough to be able to view the action. Just after midnight, the culprit appeared.
A homeless man! Colburn had been expecting a kid.
The detective isolated two images of the man with the shopping cart. The first was a long, full shot showing a thin man of medium height, wearing baggy pants, a winter jacket and a Yankees cap. The other picture offered a better view of his weather-worn face as he turned after completing his masterpiece. Colburn could make out deep creases at the corner of the man’s eyes and mouth. He was unshaven. Dark hair peeked out shaggily from beneath the cap.
Colburn would have some copies made and then start flashing the fuzzy shots around. Hopefully, somebody on the beat would recognize the guy. Maybe they could pick him up tonight.
Chapter 105
The door clicked shut and Louise rolled over in the king-size bed. Range was on hi
s way to the Astrohall. Louise felt uneasy about what they had just viewed and their conversation that followed.
They had lain in bed and watched Eliza Blake interview Joy Wingard. Alone now, Louise felt she now had to acknowledge what she had known all along but hadn’t wanted to face. She knew there must have been something going on between Joy and Bill. Louise had her suspicions aroused when she’d watched Eliza Blake’s first interview with Joy Wingard. Until then she hadn’t realized that Bill must have known about the Parade for Dollars before its official announcement. She had dismissed the thought, not particularly wanting to think about Bill with anyone else.
She and Range had never discussed the connection. It was the great unspoken between them.
After this morning’s interview, she asked Range what he thought of Eliza’s questions.
“I think she’d better watch herself,” Range snapped angrily.
Seeing Louise wince, Range softened. “I don’t know why she continues to pursue the Bill thing. That’s old news.”
“Why are you reacting so?”
Range ran his hands through his red hair.
“Listen, Lou, I loved the guy. You want me to come out and say it? Fine. He was my best friend. I don’t want him to be remembered as the man who slept with the president’s wife. I want him to be remembered as the pro and terrific human being that he was.”
There was a silence between them.
“Surely you suspected it,” Range said softly.
“Mmm. I don’t want to think about it. It depresses me. It was over between us, but somehow the thought of him with another woman doesn’t sit well with me. Not to mention the media frenzy that would ensue if it got out. I just can’t deal with that.” Louise’s face expressed her distaste.
She considered the interview for a minute. “Well, what did you think about Eliza’s question about Newark? Could that question have had a double meaning? I keep thinking of Father Alec showing up in those pictures with Joy. And the crime question, the description fit Dr. Karas’s murder.”
Before he could respond, Range’s beeper went off. “We’ll have to talk about all this later. I’ve got to get going.” Range Bullock was eager to avoid that conversation.
Chapter 106
The good news was that it was only 10:30 P.M. local time when the gavel fell marking the close of the first convention session. The bad news was that it was 11:30 in New York. That meant that Eliza had to be in at 4:00 A.M. local time to prepare for her six o’clock interview in Houston that would lead off KEY to America at seven in New York. Forget it. Eliza was dog-tired, there was humming behind her eyes, and her feet were killing her. She and the other correspondents, producers and camera crews wore running shoes on the convention floor as they searched out interviews and hustled from delegation to delegation looking for stories to report. The sneakers could only do so much. Her feet were still sore from hours of pounding the hard cement floor. She ached to go back to the hotel, soak in a hot tub and slip between the crisp white sheets.
Eliza met up with Mack as she walked from the Astrodome back to the Astrohall to pick up her bag.
“How’d you do tonight?” he asked.
“I got everyone I needed to get, including the governors of Texas, California and New York, the right-to-life and pro-choice honchos, the women’s caucus spokesperson and Mr. Personality himself, campaign manager Nate Heller.” Eliza stopped, out of breath.
Mack smiled. “Yeah, Heller’s a real charm boy, isn’t he? But he must be in his glory this week and after all the exposure for Wingard in this enthusiastic setting. I didn’t find anyone saying a negative thing about Wingard or his campaign tonight. How about you?”
“Nope. These people are head over heels for him.”
“They know that they have a winner and that’s real seductive stuff.”
Eliza and Mack walked along with the throngs of delegates and media people who poured out of the Astrodome. The delegates looked revved up and ready to party. The media people were dragging. Eliza was thinking of Joy Wingard and Bill Kendall. The convention would take on a whole new tone if their story got out. She wondered about her gut decision to trawl with Joy in the interview this morning. Had it been a mistake? Eliza was pushing with the questions she put to Joy. The candidate’s wife knew that Eliza was on to something. Eliza could sense it. Joy smelled it and it scared her. Or did it excite her? And what about Yelena and Range? Did they think she was going against the decision not to push disclosure of the affair? They must have picked up on her leading questions, yet neither had said a word about the interview.
Mack interrupted her thoughts. “Are we going to the party at the Galleria?”
“No way. I can’t, Mack, I’m exhausted.”
“Sure you don’t want to make a quick stop? It’s literally right next door to our hotel and I hear they’re putting out quite a spread. Plus, The Man and his wife will be there.”
Eliza considered Mack’s scenario. An extra twenty minutes tacked on to this endless day wouldn’t matter that much. “Okay. Quick stop.”
Once inside the ballroom, Eliza was glad she had rallied. In true Texas fashion, the party planners had gone for the big bang. The walls were solid seas of shimmering silver balloons. A long, well-stocked open bar was set up in each corner of the room. Black-jacketed waiters offered flutes of champagne. Others passed silver trays of hors d’oeuvres, each with a tempting array of Cajun, Mexican and southwestern morsels. The place was mobbed.
As Eliza sampled some delicious blackened redfish with Cajun sauce, she spotted the KEY group. She and Mack made their way toward Pete Carlson, Yelena, Range and Louise Kendall, and Mary Cate. Over the din of musicians and revelers, Eliza tried to make small talk with Louise, asking about young William.
“To tell you the truth, Eliza, it’s hard to gauge how he’s doing. Sometimes he just goes along like everything is fine and other times, he seems so sad. I guess that’s about what you’d expect from any kid who has just lost his dad.” Louise shook her head and smiled. “But I’ll tell you something. If he says ‘An elephant never forgets’ one more time, I think I’ll lose my mind.”
Eliza didn’t get a chance to respond. The country band struck up a boisterous rendition of “Deep in the Heart of Texas” as Win and Joy entered the ballroom. Eliza watched as the shining couple worked the room, making their way slowly up to the podium in front. Nate Heller and the Secret Service cleared the path for them. They’re enjoying this, she thought. The adulation and attention that filled the room was intoxicating.
Once at the microphone, it took a lot to quiet the room down. At last, the candidate was able to say a few words about how happy he was to be with them and joked that it was good to be allowed out of his room after working there for most of the day on his acceptance speech. The audience laughed and cheered. Win thanked Houston and Texas and his supporters from across the nation. He even thanked the media for doing their jobs conscientiously and fairly.
“Oh, brother,” Mack muttered in Eliza’s ear.
“Don’t be cynical,” she hissed back.
And then, quickly, it was time to go. The Wingards smiled and waved their goodbyes to a cheering audience. The couple descended from the stage, and Eliza saw Nate Heller leading a man toward the candidate. Wingard was smiling and shaking the man’s hand.
It was Judge Dennis Quinn!
She nudged Mack and yelled in his ear to be heard over the din in the room.
“What more do we need? Something funky is going on over there, I’m sure of it. Now more than ever, I’ve got to figure out a way to get into Bill’s computer.”
Eliza turned to the KEY group. “Unlike the rest of you lucky dogs, I have to be up and at ’em very, very early tomorrow morning. I’m gonna to pack it in.”
“How ’bout an escort back to your room?” Mack asked.
Eliza smiled. “Don’t tempt me. I’ve got to get up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. It’s just a short walk through the Galleria. I’m sure I’l
l be safe.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. There are a few people I need to talk to before calling it a night.”
Eliza strolled along the deserted second floor of the mall, browsing at the shop windows, her mind going over the events of the day. It had been a successful, tough and achingly long one. She was satisfied with the job done.
But Dennis Quinn shaking hands with Wingard. . . . What was that connection all about?
She paused at a toy store. Little pigtailed dolls wearing jean skirts, red bandanna neckerchiefs, cowboy hats and boots were sitting on a split-rail fence display. She’d make a point of coming back when the store was open to buy one of the brown-haired dolls for Janie. Eliza made a mental note of the store’s name and moved on.
She was exhausted and foot-sore. And her head was beginning to throb.
Chapter 107
Haines Wingard looked over at his wife. Was she really sleeping, or was she faking it? He found himself questioning everything Joy said and did now.
They hadn’t had sex in months, not since the night of Bill Kendall’s funeral. He wondered how he would explain the condoms he planned to wear from now on when he had sex with her. If he had sex with her. She disgusted him.
Maybe he should say he was only thinking of protecting her. Maybe he should let her think that he was out cheating. At this point, he really didn’t give a damn what Joy thought. He did know one thing. He sure as hell didn’t want to get AIDS, and Joy’s catting around had already exposed him.
He did not want to think about it. The AIDS virus couldn’t be detected for up to six months after infection. He would be president by then. He was sure she hadn’t seen Kendall since New Hampshire.
He’d get tested later this month. By then, the test would make no mistake.
Chapter 108
Eliza awoke in the darkened hotel room. The digital clock told her she had been asleep only two hours. She felt sick to her stomach.
Do You Want to Know a Secret? Page 25
