“She is claiming that we’ve invaded her privacy, slandered her good name and reputation by marking her as possibly responsible for the disappearance of Lasko, Llewellyn, and Simpson.”
Connor intervened when Lewis stopped to catch her breath. “I told all of you that it was a mistake for us to invite Brooks and Lotello into any of this. They’re rank amateurs. We should have told them to mind their own damn business and sent them packing. Now look at the trouble they’ve caused us. And when, by the way, were they going to come clean and tell us about Lotello’s colossal screwup?”
“Wait a minute, Jonathan,” Hart said. “Brooks immediately reported all of this to Len, Lisa, and me minutes after it happened. They weren’t attempting to conceal what happened. The only ones guilty of concealing anything is our board. Who have been keeping our registrants in the dark.”
“That’s neither here nor there,” Connor said. “Why are Brooks and Lotello still involved? We need to get rid of them, put them on the first plane out of Punta Maya.”
“Save the melodramatics for your next novel, Jonathan,” Hart responded. “I’ve already confirmed to them that they should continue their investigation. Detective Lotello is now explaining his efforts to the remaining suspects as a routine survey being conducted by TITO. He only has two more suspects to investigate. There won’t be any repeat of the unfortunate Jackson fiasco.”
“Well, I for one disagree, and I want my opposition made perfectly clear in the minutes of this meeting,” Connor said. “If anyone sues me, I will cross-sue Brooks, Lotello, TITO, and you, too, Ryan. For indemnification of any losses I suffer, including legal fees I will have to pay to my lawyers to defend me. I will also sue any others in this room who don’t agree, on the record, that Brooks and Lotello should be instructed to immediately stand down.”
“What a guy you are, Jonathan,” Hart said. “At this point, my recommendation is that Judge Brooks and Detective Lotello should continue and complete the investigation they graciously undertook at our request. I repeat, at our request. I want to see us finish what I believe we justifiably and responsibly initiated.
“As for Ms. Jackson, I think we should apologize to her, in writing for the unfortunate but inadvertent embarrassment we caused her, but make clear that we will not pay her one cent. She can do whatever she wants. Whatever that is, it won’t happen until long after TJ has ended and our registrants have returned home. Hopefully, the indemnity language in our registration documents will stop her in her tracks. If not, my guess is our insurance coverage will be more than enough to cover any amounts a court might award to her in spite of the indemnity language. Besides Jonathan, does anyone disagree with my take on all this? If so, please speak up now.”
“I’ve made my position clear,” Jonathan said.
“Yes you have, Jonathan,” Hart responded, “and I will make sure the minutes reflect exactly what you’ve had to say, every last word of it.”
Remington was still visibly upset. “Ryan, apart from Jonathan, none of us here are lawyers. I’m scared shitless by all of the trouble a lawsuit filed by Jackson might cause TITO.”
“C’mon, Len,” Hart responded. “What trouble? Invasion of privacy? Lotello knocked on her door. She didn’t answer. He entered her room for good reason. He saw her for two minutes with a towel wrapped around her. Excuse me if I don’t think that’s the end of the world.
“Slander? Really? Who knows about her reputation supposedly being sullied? Just our board, Brooks, Lotello, and a couple of hotel security officers on a remote island. That’s a pretty small group. I’m not a lawyer, but I did some research about slander a few years ago on a legal thriller I was writing, including talking to several lawyers. When a defendant in a slander action acts in good faith—as we certainly were in quietly investigating Jackson, and when we confined our slanderous remarks to a small but legitimately interested group, as is the case here—a claim of slander cannot be made.”
“I don’t necessarily disagree with your assessment of the limited direct harm Jackson poses to us,” Remington replied. “My concern is the indirect harm. What if she files a class action on behalf of all of our TJ registrants? What if she holds a press conference and embarrasses our board for not disclosing to our registrants what we knew? She could permanently destroy TITO’s reputation. She could bring us to our knees. That’s what concerns me.”
“I appreciate what you’re saying, Len, but we have to keep the issues here separate,” Hart responded. “My instincts tell me that Jackson’s threatened lawsuit is nothing more than what lawyers call ‘nuisance value.’ And I don’t see how a class action can be asserted. I was a plaintiff in a class action once. Class actions are permitted only when all members of the class have a common claim. No one else has a claim in common with Jackson. The only one—so far—who has arguably been damaged here by our not coming clean sooner is Enright, or his estate. And it’s too late for us to do anything about that.
“What I think we have to be worried about here is not Jackson’s claim or any related class action. Where I do agree with you, Len, is the harm that she can do to our reputation. This is why I have previously advocated coming clean to our registrants. I feel it’s all the more important to do so now. And I think if we do so, it will knock the wind out of Jackson’s sails.”
Hart finished and took a deep breath, waiting to see if anyone would comment. He then added, “Does anyone have anything more they wish to discuss? If not, let’s vote on Jonathan’s motion first. If that passes, I would like a motion concerning my instructions to Judge Brooks and Detective Lotello to continue our investigation. If Jonathan’s motion is defeated, I would like a motion on my proposal that we make a full disclosure tomorrow morning to our registrants.”
Connor reiterated that his motion should be passed. No one else offered any further remarks.
“All right, then, we have a motion on the floor,” Hart said. He asked for a show of hands. Connor raised his hand. Slowly, one hand after another went up. Not all, but a thin majority.
Hart was unhappy to see the motion carry, as well as the defiant look on Connor’s face. “This is an important issue,” Hart said. “I want to go around the room and have each director state his or her position out loud for the record. ‘Yes’ if you are in favor of the motion that we not reveal to the full body of registrants the facts as we know them, ‘no’ if you are against the motion. Lisa will make sure that the minutes of the meeting set forth what we do here today.”
One by one, the directors went on the record, raising their hand and reciting out loud how they were voting. If Hart had intended to achieve a different result by the unusual accountability in the vote he had exercised his presidential prerogative to invoke, the tactic—like his arguments in favor of disclosure—had failed. The result was the same. The motion had still carried by a slim majority. A majority of the board simply didn’t want to air their dirty laundry with their two thousand plus registrants. In the face of that outcome, Hart made a point of verifying with Lewis that she had taken it all down in her notes, the wording of the motion, who seconded it, and how each director had voted, director by director, and that she would memorialize it all in the board minutes.
“That leaves the question of whether Judge Brooks and Detective Lotello should continue and complete the investigation of our identified suspects,” Hart said. Connor quickly moved that the investigation be suspended. The motion died for lack of a second. Remington then moved that the investigation proceed as quickly as possible, and that the board remain open to a reconsideration of disclosure if the results of the investigation warranted further consideration. With Connor dissenting, the motion was otherwise unanimously approved.
“Okay, then,” Hart said, “since we’ve decided to preserve our privacy and to continue the camaraderie with all of our participants as usual, I suggest we best wander down to the bar and do some mixing with the natives.” He adjourned the meeting.
HOWDY DOODIE! WASN’T THAT a pile of
fun. Time to celebrate, in spades. Off to the bar. I may even buy! Or not. Hmm, wonder what our insiders are going to say if—when—someone puts the hard questions to them. About what the hell’s going on. Can’t wait to hear that. Maybe I’ll ask the question.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Day Three, 9:55 p.m.
BROOKS HAD RETURNED TO the original Brooks suite to await the inevitable call from Hart. He was just opening a bottle of water when there was a knock at the door. It was the coded knock that he and Lotello had agreed on that meant it was safe to open the door. Brooks still wanted to hear the sound of Lotello’s voice for himself. “Yes?” he said, wondering what he would do if he didn’t like the answer.
“It’s me, Judge,” Lotello said. “I’m alone.”
Brooks looked through the peephole, saw Lotello and opened the door.
“Not good,” was all that Lotello said.
“I know what I’m expecting momentarily from Hart that likely is not going to be good, Detective. What, pray tell, do you know that I don’t?” Brooks asked.
“I wasn’t in time. The syringes and vials in Connor’s room are gone. I looked everywhere.”
They were discussing the ramifications of the missing contraband when Brooks’s original smartphone rang. “The call I was expecting, no doubt.” He tapped on the phone to accept it and listened to what the caller said. “Seemed like that was the way it was heading,” he responded into the phone. “Thanks for letting me know, Mr. Hart. Guess I’ll spend tomorrow back at work on how to become a bestselling novelist. Good night.” Brooks’s gratuitous remark about returning to his writing studies was for the benefit of any uninvited listeners possibly eavesdropping on his cell phone, the only number for him that Hart had. Brooks repeated the results of the TITO vote to Lotello.
There was nothing further to be accomplished for the remainder of the evening, at least not in the suite Brooks was no longer occupying other than for show. After Lotello watched to be sure Brooks did not inadvertently take the cell phone with him, they left and made their way back to the Brooks/Lotello suite on the secured concierge floor where they could safely resume any remaining discussions for the evening in private. For his part, however, Brooks was disappointed at his failure to persuade the board to be forthcoming with the registrants and was done for the night.
AH, TOO BAD GENTS. No hard feelings. This way, you’ll both remain among the living. Or not.
CHAPTER FORTY
Day Three, 10:05 p.m.
“CYRUS, WHAT’S THE MATTER?” Eloise said. “It’s not like you to look so glum. I’m not used to seeing you this way. It doesn’t suit you.” And wasn’t I the one who had said, “What could possibly go wrong at a writers’ conference?”
“Don’t worry about me, dear,” Brooks answered. “I’m just upset that the TITO board voted tonight not to come clean to all of the Thriller Jubilee participants about the missing persons. Particularly in light of the fact that now one of them, George Enright, is an outsider like all of the two thousand or so registrants and not merely an insider like the first three who vanished. I’m just frustrated at how much of our country seems to have lost its moral compass. Like all the parents caught up in the college admissions scandal, tonight the TITO insiders have acted solely for the betterment of their own selfish interests and without regard to what is more important in this case, minimizing the risk to all of the outsider TJ registrants. Nothing I can do about it, I’m afraid. Which is not to say that it doesn’t trouble me, especially when I have now helplessly experienced it firsthand and not merely read about it from afar. However, I’m sure I’ll get over it.”
“You will.” She gave him a huge hug. Poor Cyrus. All those years on the bench when his was the last word. The poor dear may be a bit … spoiled. He has such a difficult time when his advice is ignored. Perhaps my idea of Cyrus writing novels is not such a good idea. Imagine the prospect of his manuscripts being rejected by all those literary agents, editors, and publishing houses!
“Four people are now absent,” Eloise repeated. “I have a question for you, Cyrus. You seem to be pursuing a single culprit. Is it necessarily the case that all four victims have met the same fate at the hands of the same guilty party?”
PART THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Day Four, 7:15 a.m.
LOTELLO WAS ENCOURAGED TO see Brooks back on his game. The two of them were sitting in Café Ibiza, the hotel breakfast dining room specializing in authentic local cuisine, at least according to the menu. Brooks was in the midst of one of his classic command performances.
“We may be looking at this the wrong way,” Brooks said. “We’ve been assuming that we’re dealing with a single perpetrator acting in furtherance of a single motive on four separate occasions. What if that’s not correct? What if we have more than one perpetrator, each perhaps with a different motive?”
Lotello smiled, mostly to himself. “That’s hard to envision because it’s so counterintuitive. However, I guess what you’re saying is possible. I don’t think this ever would have occurred to me.”
“Any credit due belongs to Eloise. She raised this prospect to me last night when I was grousing about the TITO vote. But where exactly does this get us?” Brooks asked.
Lotello wondered about that as well. Cyrus seldom asks a question without having the answer.
LEWIS STOOD AT THE back of the ballroom where the featured eight o’clock morning presentation was soon to get underway. The early birds were filling their coffee cups, grabbing complimentary water bottles, choosing their seats, checking their emails and texts, and visiting with their neighbors. Hart stood next to her, arms folded across his chest, surveying the same scene.
Without turning her head, Lewis said, under her breath, “Looks just like it should, lots of enthusiastic readers, writers, and teachers.”
“So far,” Hart replied, “but it’s early. We have a long day left to navigate.”
“Tell me about it. I can hardly breathe, waiting for the next … who knows what. I get lots of thanks for serving as program director of TJ, which I certainly appreciate. It has helped advance my writing career. Besides, we have things pretty well organized after all these years. TJ almost runs itself, what with our regular volunteers, who have it all down to a science at this point. Until this. You’re lucky, Ryan, your term’s up after this TJ. But I have three more years left on my TITO contract. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Pray that the board’s gamble last night not to be transparent with our participants works out okay,” Hart replied. “That no one else goes missing, and nothing worse happens. That we get out of here after the awards dinner at the end of the week. That this is a onetime circumstance and things return to normal next year.”
“That’s a lot of praying. If our assailant gets away with whatever it is he’s after, how do we know he won’t be motivated to show up again next year with more of the same.”
“Or she,” Hart corrected Lewis.
“Or she,” Lewis acknowledged. “You know, when we first thought the only target of our assailant was our TITO insiders, I voted not to disclose because I thought we could justify not jeopardizing TITO’s value to the arts. As you know, last night I voted to disclose. Both morally and legally, I concluded that we had no alternative once we discovered that Enright had also gone missing.”
“You saw my vote last night to disclose. You and I have no quarrel.”
“Doesn’t matter. Given the outcome last night, I don’t think I can carry on as program director no matter what my contract says.”
“That’s between you and your conscience. And maybe the lawyers. As I said, if we get through today without any further incident, things may look a little better.”
“To you, possibly. I’m not sure about me.”
ASSUMING, OF COURSE, THAT Tito and each of you survives that long.
BROOKS WAS ENJOYING HIS breakfast, but it didn’t interfere with his mind, which was working overtime. “Nothing m
ay be as it seems,” he said to Lotello. “For example, what if we have two separate and distinct motives being pursued at the same time, or at approximately the same time? This could mean we have at least two culprits.”
“At least?” Lotello asked “What do you mean by that?”
“What’s to say that a culprit isn’t actually a team of culprits acting in concert.”
“I don’t follow, Judge. I understand your words but not your drift.”
“Let’s back up, then, shall we?” Brooks answered. “We supposedly have four missing persons, correct?”
“Correct,” Lotello answered.
“But are they all truly missing? As in having met with foul play. Could one or more of them only be pretending to be missing and instead be in cahoots with his or her apparent assailant?”
“Whoa! Slow down. You’ve obviously been thinking about this for a while now. Your machinations are way ahead of me. I need a little more time to catch up with and process all of your ‘what ifs?’”
“You’re the detective … Detective. Let’s try this again. We have four missing persons. The first three were all TITO insiders, specifically members of TITO’s board of directors. The fourth, Mr. Enright, was not. The first three quote victims have a lot in common. The fourth, less.”
Lotello seemed to be catching on. “Maybe yes, maybe no. It depends on the motive, or the motives. If the apparent motive relating to Lasko, Llewellyn, and Simpson was that they had each rejected the same perp, someone trying to make it as an author, then harming Enright might have been carried out by an altogether different offender for an altogether different motive. If, however, the underlying motive was to harm TITO, the organization, more so than the three individual literary celebrities—who were merely collateral damage, a means to an end—then we might only be confronted by a single motive in the case of all four missing persons.”
Brooks-Lotello Collection Page 87
