It was getting near the inevitable. The part that everyone waited for: the famous precision kick line. As the shapely legs rose high, shouts went up in the control room.
“Go, baby. Go.”
“Take it home, Momma.”
Linus enjoyed the bawdy comments of the workers he made sure were assigned to his control room as he scanned the other monitors to see what the competition was doing. None of them—Today, Good Morning America, The Early Show—had anything that was as mesmerizing as this. He smiled with pleasure. This morning’s broadcast was damn fine television, up to his exacting standard. It didn’t happen by accident. But then, not much worthwhile did.
Inside, KTA might be in a state of flux, but the viewers at home sure couldn’t see it. They couldn’t see the solemn expressions on the staffers’ faces or hear the worried whispers. They couldn’t know the executive producer was relieved that Jerome Henning could pose no future threat.
Linus’s ghostwriter was now truly a ghost.
Chapter 96
It had been a deadly weekend.
The metal vaults were filled, and the county morgue was understaffed and overworked. The medical examiner checked his list of bodies destined for the autopsy knife.
Clara Romanski was going to have to wait her turn.
Chapter 97
After the show at Radio City, Annabelle took a taxi to the Broadcast Center and found, as expected, her office sealed shut. She wanted to see if she had any messages and used one of the phones at the central news desk to check.
“Hi, Annabelle. This is Peter Henning. Just wanted to let you know that I am flying back to California this morning. The funeral home is taking care of the arrangements for Jerome. His body is being cremated. We’re not having a formal funeral. Jerome never liked them. Maybe we’ll arrange a memorial sometime later.”
Peter recited his home phone number. Annabelle jotted it down.
“You look pale, Annabelle. Are you feeling all right?” Still wearing her coat, Beth had come into the newsroom.
“That was Jerome’s brother. Jerome is being cremated, and there won’t be a funeral,” Annabelle said softly.
If she had expected Beth to share her upset, Annabelle was disappointed.
“That doesn’t surprise me or distress me,” Beth replied, her voice flat. “Jerome shouldn’t have a church funeral. It would be hypocritical.”
“Oh, Beth. How can you say that?” Annabelle asked with dismay.
“Easy. Jerome didn’t respect the sanctity of human life.” Beth turned and walked away, leaving Annabelle slack-jawed.
The second message was from Yelena Gregory’s office. Annabelle called the extension and was told by Yelena’s secretary to report to the news president’s office as soon as possible. The two FBI agents who had questioned her last week were with Yelena when she arrived.
As Annabelle took a seat, Yelena gave her the headlines. “Dr. Lee has been taken into custody, Annabelle, as has the laboratory employee who admitted to helping smuggle out the anthrax.”
“We’re trying to figure out the connection between Dr. Lee and the anthrax found in Jerome Henning’s home, Ms. Murphy,” began Agent Lyons. “We’re hoping you might be able to help us with that.”
Annabelle waited for a question. She felt heat rising to her face and wondered if the agents noticed it. Would it make her look guilty of something?
“Do you know of any reason why Mr. Henning would have had the anthrax?”
“No.”
“Do you know of any reason Mr. Henning would have wanted to obtain anthrax as a weapon?”
“Certainly not.”
“Would Mr. Henning have wanted Dr. Lee to look stupid? Would he have wanted to embarrass Dr. Lee for any reason?”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
Agent Lyons looked squarely at Annabelle. “Well, Dr. Lee was certainly humiliated when the container he claimed on national television to be anthrax turned out to be sugar. Could Mr. Henning have switched the test tubes in order to make Dr. Lee look foolish?”
Annabelle answered with conviction. “Look, Jerome didn’t care for Dr. Lee. That’s no secret. But I can’t believe he would have gone to such lengths, taken such a risk, just to make Lee look like an ass.”
Without expression, Agent Lyons flipped through her notes. “Joe Connelly tells us that you had a copy of a manuscript Mr. Henning had been working on. One that depicted members of the KTA staff in a less-than-flattering light.”
Annabelle glanced at Yelena. The reputation of KEY News was everything to her. Annabelle shuddered to think what Yelena would do if she read Jerome’s manuscript.
“Yes, that’s right,” she answered.
“And that manuscript was stolen from you on Friday night?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t report that to the police.”
“I didn’t think it was important, at first,” Annabelle explained. “I’ve had my purse stolen before. I know from experience that it’s not a police priority to track down a petty thief. It wasn’t until later that it occurred to me the target might have been the manuscript rather than my tote bag. As soon as I realized this, I called Joe. He told me he would let the appropriate authorities know.”
The FBI agent nodded. “Yes. Mr. Connelly informed us, and we understand you were going to write down what you remembered of the manuscript.”
“I have, in longhand. I can type it up for you as soon as I leave here.” Annabelle was aching to get out of this stifling room. But the agents weren’t done with her yet. The male agent took up the questioning now.
“Leo McGillicuddy, Ms. Murphy.” He identified himself for her again. “Can you think of any reason why someone would want to poison Jerome Henning and then plant the anthrax at his home?”
Annabelle considered her response. “I suppose there were reasons in that manuscript of his, if someone was desperate enough not to want to see an unflattering portrayal of him-or herself published. That’s why I think I should go type up my notes for you.”
She started to rise from her chair.
“Wait a minute, Ms. Murphy. We’re not through here yet.”
Annabelle sat back down.
“We’re curious. Why do you think there were anthrax spores found in your office?”
Oh my God. They’re looking at me as a suspect. Annabelle’s heart raced.
“I think I should get an attorney.”
“Do you have something to hide?”
“No. But I think you may think I do.”
Chapter 98
Annabelle wasn’t taking this seriously enough.
Wearing the rubber gloves he’d found under the kitchen sink, Mike searched through the bedroom closet, trying to remember what Annabelle had worn to work last week. She would be furious that he was throwing out that cashmere sweater he’d given her, but he’d buy her a new one for Christmas. He threw the yellow sweater into a large black plastic garbage bag, along with her black slacks and the gray suit he thought she’d worn on Friday. Two pairs of black leather shoes went into the bag as well. He tied the bag up tight.
As he reached the front door, he thought of something else. That navy wool coat. Annabelle had been complaining that it was worn out anyway. Might as well get rid of it too. Mike took it from the foyer closet and stuffed it into the reopened bag.
He felt a sense of satisfaction as he took the elevator down without his usual panic of late. He really was getting better. Mike whistled as he walked the few blocks it took to find a Dumpster.
Chapter 99
Where was he?
Annabelle listened as the answering machine picked up in their apartment. She hesitated a moment and then hung up without leaving a message. It was probably better not to worry Mike with this right now, leaving him at home, alone, stewing about it all day. She could ask Constance if she knew of a lawyer to contact.
Annabelle gathered the canvas knapsack she had commandeered from the kids’ room to
use until she got around to buying a new tote bag and headed out of the newsroom. You have nothing to hide. It will be all right, she reassured herself as she walked toward Constance’s office. Just keep on telling the truth.
The door was open, but there was no one inside. Annabelle sat down at the desk, knowing Constance wouldn’t mind if she used the computer while she waited. She took out her notes on Jerome’s manuscript and began to type. She was almost through her assignment when she felt the hand on her shoulder.
“Oh.” She jumped. “You scared me.”
Russ Parrish stood too close, his eyes sweeping the computer screen. Hastily, Annabelle clicked a button, and the document faded from view.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, Annabelle,” he apologized. “I just saw you in here and wanted to tell you how sorry I am about Jerome.”
Annabelle nodded, trying to regain her composure. “Thanks, Russ. I know you and he had some good times together too.”
“That’s right. We sure did. But that was a while ago. We hadn’t partied in a long time.”
Annabelle waited to see if Russ would explain further.
“You know. People grow apart.”
“I guess that’s inevitable,” she offered.
“Yeah, but I was bummed when it happened with Jerome. He got real serious all of a sudden and cut me off.”
Was “getting real serious all of a sudden” code for the fact that Jerome had stopped using cocaine when Russ hadn’t? Or had Jerome, when he decided to expose Russ in his book, separated himself from his party companion? Most of all, Annabelle wondered if Russ had just been able to read his damaging portrayal on the computer screen.
“I’m sorry, Russ,” she responded, feeling uncomfortable.
“Me too, Annabelle. Me too.”
Chapter 100
Wayne read the message on the computer screen.
FROM: YELENA GREGORY
TO: ALL PERSONNEL
OUR KEY NEWS COLLEAGUE JEROME HENNING PASSED AWAY YESTERDAY AFTERNOON. JEROME, A MEMBER OF THE KEY NEWS FAMILY FOR TEN YEARS, WAS A TALENTED PRODUCER, WRITER, AND RESEARCHER WHO BROUGHT CREATIVITY AND CONSIDERABLE ENERGY TO EVERY ASSIGNMENT. HIS BOOK SEGMENTS ON KEY TO AMERICA ATTRACTED THE ATTENTION OF MILLIONS OF VIEWERS AND INFLUENCED THE READING HABITS OF PEOPLE IN ALL WALKS OF LIFE.
A MEMORIAL SERVICE FOR JEROME HAS NOT YET BEEN PLANNED, BUT YOU WILL BE INFORMED AS SOON AS ONE IS SCHEDULED.
PLEASE JOIN ME IN EXTENDING OUR SINCERE CONDOLENCES TO THE FAMILY AND FRIENDS OF JEROME HENNING.
Wayne shook his head and sighed.
That’s what you got after a decade. Three measly paragraphs, only one that was actually about you. You could work long hours, skip days off and miss vacations, put your mind and soul into your work, take to heart every critical comment that a boss or coworker hurled your way and spend nights tossing and turning as a result. At the end of all that, a Yelena Gregory e-mail was what you got.
And life went right on without you around this place.
Reading the e-mail over again, Wayne noticed Yelena’s reference to Jerome’s researching skills. That was certainly true enough. The guy knew how to get information, leaving no stone unturned in finding out things that were really none of his business.
Wayne still smarted from the knowledge that Jerome had dug into the local newspaper accounts of Seth’s accident all those years ago. One day, Wayne had spotted copies of the old clippings on Jerome’s desk.
Jerome should not have been digging into the painful past.
Chapter 101
The ladies’ room stall was a private place to have a good cry.
God, forgive me. She shouldn’t have said what she had to Annabelle. Jerome may have gotten what was coming to him, but it wasn’t Christian of her to malign him as she had. It was wrong to curse the dead.
Beth pulled at the roll of toilet paper and wadded the white tissue to wipe her nose and dry her eyes. She came out of the stall and went to the sink. As she pumped liquid soap from the wall dispenser, she stopped.
The stainless steel shelf over the sinks was dusted with white powder.
Joe took the hysterical phone call, ordered the rest room closed, and called the NYPD. The specially trained “hammer team” would be there right away.
Next, he called Yelena.
“God, what else?” she moaned. “We’re going to have some panic here. The way news travels around this place, we’re going to have a stampede out of the building.”
“Not if we don’t panic, Yelena,” Joe answered evenly. “Let’s let the professionals come in and see what’s what.”
Beth lost no time running to the KTA newsroom and announcing there could be anthrax in the ladies’ room. Though a few workers barely raised their heads from their computer screens, most dropped what they were doing, and three people screamed.
Linus Nazareth poked his head out of his adjoining office to see what the commotion was about.
“There’s white powder all over the ladies’ room,” Beth said breathlessly.
“Did you call Security?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Linus turned to address the room. “Now, everyone, let’s not panic. I’m going to call Yelena Gregory, and I’ll let you know what’s going on. In the meantime, just continue doing what you were doing,” he commanded, staring pointedly at the people who were going to get their coats.
“You’ve got to put out some sort of official word, Yelena, fast. Otherwise, we are going to have a mutiny on our hands.” Linus held the phone to his ear and stared out his window at the emptying newsroom.
FROM: YELENA GREGORY
TO: ALL PERSONNEL
AN UNKNOWN WHITE POWDER WAS FOUND IN THE KEY TO AMERICA LADIES’ ROOM THIS MORNING. POLICE AND HEALTH DEPARTMENT OFFICIALS HAVE RESPONDED TO THE SCENE. THE SUBSTANCE IS BEING TESTED, BUT OFFICIALS SUSPECT THAT THE POWDER IS DUST FROM LOOSE BATHROOM-TILE GROUTING.
Chapter 102
The nurse entered the vital signs readings on the patient’s chart. The middle-aged woman who’d wrapped her car around a telephone pole yesterday still hadn’t regained consciousness. But if she had to bet, the nurse would wager that Evelyn Wilkie was going to come through, in her own time.
She patted the cotton blanket that covered the still body and vowed to herself to be very careful on her own ride home later. That ice was treacherous.
Chapter 103
After handing over her manuscript outline, Annabelle phoned and got the welcome confirmation. Her nasal swab had come back negative. Constance’s lawyer friend had agreed to represent her if need be. All in all, a productive, if hectic and uneasy, morning.
She called home again, this time to share the negative test results with Mike. As the phone rang, unanswered, Annabelle felt the worry that had become her familiar companion. Where was he? What was he doing? Was Mike all right?
There was nothing she could do right now, she told herself, except try to think positively. She would call again later and just pray that Mike would be there for the kids after school. She had to try to let herself trust him again, know that he would act responsibly.
Realizing she hadn’t had anything to eat except the half a bagel she had wolfed down in the cab on the way to Radio City, Annabelle grabbed her wallet and headed toward the cafeteria. She scanned the salad bar and grill station but decided on a BLT on whole wheat from the deli.
Getting in the checkout line, she thought of poor Edgar and his family. This would be such a sad holiday for them. This Thanksgiving and the ones to come would be marked with the memory of his death.
The cashier rang up the sandwich and the diet Coke.
“May, do you know any of the details about Edgar’s funeral?” Annabelle asked.
The heavyset woman nodded solemnly. “It’s tomorrow night at the Calvary Baptist Church in the Bronx. Seven o’clock.”
Annabelle thanked the cashier, considering it strange that a funeral would he held in the evening, but thinking it might work out for her t
o attend. So much of everyone’s focus had been on Jerome. Edgar’s life wasn’t any less important.
Chapter 104
Lily was relieved to hear that Gavin Winston had called in sick. She had been dreading coming in to work all weekend. She had almost called in herself to say that she wasn’t feeling well, but she wanted to have a perfect attendance record for her internship.
She had talked with her roommate about the uncomfortable situation, showing her friend a copy of Winston’s e-mail. Her friend was enraged at what she thought to be blatant sexual harassment and urged that Lily complain to the higher-ups.
There was no one higher than Yelena Gregory.
Lily gathered up her courage and walked down to the president’s office. The secretary was checking the calendar for an appointment time when Yelena came out of her office and looked at Lily with interest.
“Yelena Gregory.” She extended her hand.
“Yes, I know.” The younger woman was flustered. “I’m Lily Dalton. I’m interning at KTA.”
“Nice to meet you, Lily.”
“I was wondering if I could speak to you for a minute.”
Yelena looked at her watch. “All right, but that’s just about all the time I have. Come in.”
The moment the intern left the office, Yelena picked up the phone and called Information Services.
“I want a blind cc put on all Gavin Winston’s e-mails,” she ordered. “And call up the e-mails of the past year.”
“No problem, Ms. Gregory,” came the response. “We know the routine.”
Chapter 105
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