by K. K. Beck
Listening to the woman on the air, Franklin realized they had finally found the mysterious Teresa. She was a stunner all right, but Franklin didn’t care for her flashy clothes and overdone makeup. In person, she looked as trampy as her patter sounded.
“And now,” she concluded, “what could be more soothing after such an intense afternoon than something lush and sensual? If you were unnerved by Phil Bernard’s unfortunate delusions, and we all wish him well in the future, sit back, relax and bathe yourself in the music of Dvoák.”
When she came out of the booth a moment later, Franklin confronted her. “Listen, Teresa, I’m glad to finally meet you, but we’ll have to have a talk. Recording that message for Ed Costello’s escort service didn’t do the station much good. It’s a question of loyalty and judgment. And I’d also like to talk about your compensation. We have to make sure our records with the IRS are clear.” As he scolded her, Franklin had the strange feeling he had met Teresa before.
She ignored his tirade and slipped her arm into that of the tall man beside her. “This is Stanton Edgecombe. He has a question for you. Can we step into your office?”
Franklin escorted them in and slid the glass door closed. The men stood while Teresa sat down and fussed with her hemline over her smooth young knees.
“Thanks for your help,” Franklin said to Edgecombe as they both sat. “Things were definitely out of control.”
“This place needs new management,” declared Stanton Edgecombe. “Teresa thinks you’re willing to sell. How much do you want for KLEG?”
“Half a million,” said Franklin eagerly. Although with some encouragement, he’d have been willing to sign the whole thing over for a dollar.
Stanton looked thoughtful. “Five hundred thousand. That sounds doable,” he said. “I’ve just inherited my mother’s house in San Francisco. It’s worth twice that. I’d like Teresa here to have complete managerial and creative control. I don’t know anything about broadcasting, I just know what I like.” He turned and beamed at her.
There was a scrabbling noise at the door. Judy was wheezing at the latch.
Franklin slid the door open a crack. “What?” he asked irritably.
“Here are some weird papers from the studio,” said Judy. “I saw Phil take them out of the red envelope. They don’t have anything to do with the Emergency Broadcast System.”
“All right,” said Franklin, grabbing them and flinging them on the desk. “Could you leave us alone, please? We have something important to discuss.”
“There’s also this,” said Judy with a grim little smile. “I found it in the fax machine. I Xeroxed it because I thought you should know that Alice Jordan is looking for another job. It says so right here.”
“Thank you!” shouted Franklin, trying to slide the door shut. What an idiot that Judy was! He’d told them all to get real and look for new jobs. Alice Jordan had had the initiative to do so, and now Judy tried to make a big deal of it! He managed to get the door closed, his hand being quicker than the foot that she tried to insert in the doorway.
“That woman is a real piece of work,” he said, shaking his head.
“If I have anything to say about it, she’ll be the first one out the door,” said Teresa, lifting an eyebrow.
“Good move,” said Franklin.
Now Judy was banging on the glass again. He slid the door open and said, “What is it?” in a near bellow.
“Your sister’s on line two,” said Judy.
“I’d better take this call,” he said. What if Caroline came back before he could arrange a sale to this Edgecombe character? He’d encourage her to stay away for as long as it took to nail down the deal.
“Hi, Caroline,” he said in a soothing voice. “Having a good time? God knows, you deserve it.”
“Everything’s great. How are things at KLEG?”
“Oh, fine,” he said vaguely. Why distress her with Phil’s on-air psychotic break and the legal problems that would doubtless follow? She might think she was needed and come back.
“I’ll come straight to the point, Franklin,” she said. “I feel I’m ready for new challenges. I’m thinking maybe we should sell KLEG.”
“Fine,” said Franklin in a calm voice, although his heart was leaping with delight. “I’ll get on it right away.”
“Let me tell you how my thinking evolved on this,” said Caroline dreamily. “You see, I always felt left out, even as a girl, because Mama never let me do anything.”
Franklin murmured “Uh-huh” and made a finger-twirling, eye-rolling gesture of impatience in the direction of Edgecombe and Teresa to indicate he’d try and get off the phone soon. The gesture was wasted on them, however, as they were gazing soulfully into each other’s eyes.
“I think my feelings of disempowerment were tied up with KLEG,” said Caroline. “Jeffrey has explained it all to me and encouraged me to get out from under my responsibilities there.”
Franklin said, “I understand,” and, from long habit, tuned her out, glancing down at the desk in front of him, where his eye struck the papers Judy had delivered.
“It’s an esteem thing, Franklin. I’m afraid I’ve always felt that you didn’t respect me, either.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” he said, scanning the documents with growing excitement. It was clear to him that someone—almost certainly Ed Costello—had found a very clever place to hide things.
Sly old Ed had probably steamed open the EBS envelope, put the stuff in and glued the flap back down, assuming the documents would never be found unless a tidal wave, earthquake or nuclear attack was imminent, in which case no one would pay too much attention to them. Ed hadn’t counted on Phil’s going off his rocker.
Caroline was still maundering on about herself. “I’m afraid you’ve never listened to me. Really listened.”
“Absolutely, okay, great, gotta go,” said Franklin hastily, hanging up on her. The police should see this stuff right away. The documents included a marriage license in the names of Charles Gilmore and one Lourdes Contreras, a photocopy of a wedding picture of Chip and his diminutive bride, a news clipping about a women entrepreneurs’ banquet with a picture of Rosa Delgado that strongly resembled Chip’s wife in the wedding shot. There was also a note in Ed’s handwriting that said simply, “Rosa Delgado = Lourdes’s cousin. Green card switch? INS? Community property.” Beside this was a row of dollar signs, much like the ones on the Post-it note bearing Chip Gilmore’s phone number.
Franklin turned to Stanton Edgecombe and Teresa, said he’d talk to them later and repeated his desire to sell the station as soon as possible. Stan gave him a firm handshake, and they left.
While Franklin was on hold waiting for Lukowski, he checked out more of the documents that had been hidden in the red envelope. They included a computer diskette marked very neatly “Home Run Records.” Franklin assumed these weren’t major-league stats but the books for the escort service. There was also an envelope with Jeffrey Fleming’s name on it. Could this be Caroline’s new boyfriend?
Franklin opened it up and found a small item from a newspaper, which he read with interest. An underage high school gymnast. Porn shots. And a jury verdict that took twenty minutes. Caroline sure knew how to pick them.
There were also some prints of the shots in question. As he studied the pictures, the speed of the jury verdict became obvious. Franklin amused himself on hold by trying to decide which girl in the artfully constructed tableau was underage and also whether anyone other than a trained gymnast could do what these girls were doing.
Lukowski finally came on the line, and Franklin described what he’d found. Lukowski said he’d come by the station as soon as he could to pick up the items.
Before he did, Franklin went over to the Xerox machine and made copies of the Jeffrey Fleming materials. For now Fleming was a good influence on Caroline, apparently having persuaded her to sell KLEG. But if he ever became a problem, and Franklin felt sure he would, Franklin would be ready.
/> Judy came over to him while he was at the copier. He quickly positioned himself so she couldn’t see the nubile naked gymnasts picture rolling out of the machine. “What is it now?” he demanded.
“Did you get a chance to read that memo of Alice Jordan’s I intercepted?” she asked. “I really question the wisdom of allowing an unmotivated employee to represent the station on a sales basis.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” said Franklin, “what business is it of yours anyway? You know what? I may be about to sell the station to a guy who’s going to let Teresa, Queen of the Night, run the place. She can deal with you and your delusions of grandeur.”
“Carl? Carl’s going to run the station?” Judy looked alarmed.
“No, not Carl,” said Franklin, exasperated. “Teresa!”
Judy just stared at him, and Franklin’s eyes grew wide, too, with the dawning realization. Yes, Teresa had looked familiar. Why hadn’t he seen it? Once you knew, it was so obvious.
He grabbed Judy’s shoulders in an agitated manner. “Does this Stanton Edgecombe know Teresa’s a guy?” he demanded. Franklin didn’t want Edgecombe to lose interest in his new protégé, and therefore in buying KLEG. Suddenly Franklin realized with revulsion that he was touching Judy.
He quickly let go, and she said, “Sure, he does. Everyone knows. It was on the afternoon news. Didn’t you know? They did a live TV broadcast from here showing Phil cracking up. Then Carl showed up in a dress and explained how he was really Teresa.”
Great, thought Franklin, wondering how he’d missed that little circus. It must have happened while he was talking his way out of a nest of Nazis, hoping he wouldn’t be shot. It had certainly been an eventful day.
He whisked his copies away from Judy’s prying eyes and went back to Caroline’s office, then collapsed in the chair, exhausted.
He supposed he should wait for Lukowski. And he imagined he’d have to face a lot of irritating questions in the investigation of Chip’s murder, too. After all, he was the one who’d made the call to 911.
Idly he picked up the Alice Jordan memo and skimmed it. Too bad she hadn’t been around this afternoon. She was always so calm and pleasant, compared to the other employees. She made Franklin feel calm, too.
When he got to the P.S., though, in which Alice warned Rosa Delgado that Chip knew where she was, he sat bolt upright. Somehow Alice Jordan had stumbled onto Chip’s wife, too!
Franklin frowned. This was not good news. Franklin had heard Ott’s sordid plans for Chip to shake down his estranged wife. Franklin had seen Chip’s body and had immediately been struck by the fact that the estranged wife had a clear motive to blow away Chip. Franklin had also seen Ed Costello’s body. The bullet holes in the two corpses had looked remarkably similar. Franklin had also discovered Ed’s file on Rosa Delgado, who might really be Lourdes Gilmore. Rosa Delgado also had a motive to blow Ed away.
And now that sweet Alice Jordan, simply trying to be helpful, had announced to Rosa Delgado that she had established a link between Rosa and Chip Gilmore. Not only that but she’d applied for a job with her. Rosa Delgado presumably had her address.
Maybe he was jumping to conclusions, but considering the circumstances, Franklin felt the least he could do was get in touch with Alice and tell her to be careful. After all, two people who’d established the same link she had were now dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
When the portable phone on the coffee table rang, Alice hoped it might be Detective Lukowski. She fantasized his calling to tell her she had cleverly solved the murder of Ed Costello, that Chip Gilmore was in custody and had broken down and made a full confession. Instead, to her surprise, the caller was Rosa Delgado.
“Hi, Alice,” she said. “I got your fax. I was interested in your P.S. about Charles Gilmore.”
“Oh,” said Alice offhandedly, “I just thought I should mention it. As a courtesy.”
“Did you mention it to anyone else?” asked Rosa.
Alice, despite the fact that Rosa had praised her honest face, decided instantaneously to lie. For some reason Rosa sounded displeased with the possibility Alice had mentioned the missing card to someone else. Alice didn’t want to jeopardize her job. “No, I didn’t,” she said.
“Good,” said Rosa. This struck Alice as more than a little odd.
“You see,” Rosa went on, “this Gilmore fellow was once married to my cousin Lourdes. He was a horrible man, and there was a big scandal in my family.”
“Oh, I see,” said Alice, who didn’t quite.
“The Philippines is a Catholic country,” said Rosa. “Divorce is a very bad thing there. We all want to forget about it. She has a nice new husband and four kids. If the fact that she was divorced gets back to Manila somehow, it could hurt all of them.
“And besides, I don’t want anyone to know my family was associated with this man. I have a professional reputation to uphold. I hope I can count on your discretion.”
“Of course,” said Alice. Didn’t Rosa know she might be in danger? Alice felt morally compelled to suggest that possibility. “I only mentioned it because I thought you might be in danger from him. I thought maybe you were his ex-wife,” she said. “I think Chip Gilmore might have murdered Ed.” Alice hoped to God she wouldn’t have to explain that Chip was ashamed of having married someone he perceived as from an inferior race. That would be too awful to go into.
There was a long pause. “This sounds serious,” said Rosa. “I will handle this. I will call the police. I just hope I can keep our family out of it.”
“All right,” said Alice, now nervous that Rosa would find out that Alice had already told the police and lied to her. It seemed so unfair. Alice never lied, and now that she finally had, she might be caught and lose a chance at a decent job.
When she hung up, she stretched out full length on the sofa, tense and worried.
The sound of Zack’s skateboard started up again. “Homework. No skateboarding,” she said wearily. “And not in the house.” He had careened down the hall from his room to the slate-covered entry, one of his favorite runs.
She heard a loud clack as he got off the skateboard and pressed one end down with his toe to stop it. Then Zack appeared carrying the board under his arm. He didn’t seem to notice she was prostrate with nerves.
“I finished my homework,” he said. “I need the phone.”
She pointed vaguely in its direction, and he grabbed the phone and scampered off to his room. “When can I have my own phone line?” he asked her over his shoulder.
“Never,” she said weakly. “Stop asking for things. There are only two of us. I’m sure we can share it.”
* * *
Franklin had been trying to call Alice’s house for twenty-five minutes, eventually finding himself hitting redial over and over again, only to get a persistent busy signal. He wondered if he was being hysterical. He had a horrible vision of poor Alice, shot dead, with the phone off the hook and a recording saying, “If you want to make a call, hang up,” bleating into the stillness.
With a sigh, he flipped through Caroline’s address file and discovered where Alice lived. It was a twenty-minute drive. Maybe he should just go over there.
He bundled up the documents Lukowski was coming to get, adding a note that said, “I am at Alice Jordan’s. She may be in danger from Rosa Delgado. Her phone’s been busy for half an hour, so I’ve gone to warn her in person.” He put everything in a big envelope, sealed it, then delivered it to Judy.
“Give this to Detective Lukowski when he comes,” he said. “And don’t even think about opening it and snooping like you always do. It contains evidence. If you tamper with it, I’ll personally do everything I can to have you arrested and convicted of something. Is that clear?”
To his satisfaction, Judy actually looked frightened. He’d seen fear in her eyes only once before, just a few minutes ago when she’d learned she might be working for Carl.
* * *
To calm herself down, Alice tu
rned on the television. She kept wondering what Franklin Payne had to do with Chip Gilmore. She couldn’t believe he was a secret Nazi. Maybe some news would distract her, but she avoided the channel Rex Blaine and Fluffy worked for. She couldn’t bear to see anything about KLEG.
She was arranging some cushions behind her back when the doorbell rang. Probably some friend of Zack’s, she thought, dragging herself wearily up from the sofa.
She had arrived at the entry and was opening the door when she heard an announcer on television say, “Police have no suspect as yet in the shooting death of white supremacist Charles Gilmore in his North End home.”
She was stunned. Chip Gilmore, who she’d thought was Ed’s killer, was now dead himself. What did this mean?
She opened the door. Rosa stood there, pointing a huge gun at her. “Get inside,” she said in a hoarse whisper.
“But I don’t understand,” said Alice, beginning to cry.
“I’m sorry about this,” said Rosa fretfully. “You aren’t bad, like Chip and Ed. But you found out too much. I’m very sorry, Alice. You would have been a good salesperson.”
“But you won’t get away with this,” said Alice, hoping to God Zack would stay in his room. Would this madwoman kill him, too, if he stumbled into the scene? “You see, I already told the police about you and Chip. So if you kill me they’ll know it’s you.”
“Sorry, Alice,” said Rosa sadly. “I don’t believe you. You’re a bad liar. You told me the truth the first time, when I called. You’re an honest person. You didn’t tell the police.”
“But I did,” said a man’s voice behind Rosa. It was Franklin Payne’s voice. “I told the police. They know about you, Rosa. I told them you might try to hurt Alice.”
Rosa’s face took on a panicky expression, and she turned sideways and stepped back so she was at right angles to both Alice and Franklin, with her back to the hall. She held her gun at waist height and moved it back and forth in a small arc. In this position, she could shoot either of them.
