Nancy Grace - Death on the D-List

It wasn’t sodium pentothal after all. It was a thin copy of both Awake! and The Watchtowe r magazines, religious weeklies distributed liberally by the Jehovah’s Witnesses spreading the word.

Why wouldn’t they leave him alone?

Then all at once it hit him. He recognized the smell. It was emanating from the carpet at the foot of the sofa from years and years of exposure to odors wafting out of the kitchen.

It was his mother’s favorite dish, veal and peppers.

Oh, how he hated her. Her and her damn veal and peppers.

CASSIE LAKE WAS IN TOWN. THE SINGING STAR HAD SHOT TO STARDOM as a young girl singing with her sisters and brother. The siblings were talented all right, but there was no doubt she was the star. With long frosty hair tumbling over her shoulders, she had a beautiful voice and a squeaky-clean reputation as a devout Catholic. She was a teetotaler who married young and had four children almost immediately, one after the next.

Then, of course, came the eventual divorce, weight gain, admissions to depression and secret drinking in the linen closet of her Miami mansion. She was now on the wagon, and an AA advocate, and about to kick off a Vegas show that would reunite her with her two sisters and brother on the stage again after nearly fifteen years.

She flew into the city solely to perform with the Rockettes in their Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall and absolutely nothing would do but for Tony Russo to get her booked on The Harry Todd Show while she was here in town. That way, they wouldn’t even have to pay for a flight!

He planned to pitch it to her as a way to pump up sales for her new book on getting clean and sober. He’d also promised she could relentlessly plug her singing performance with the Rockettes and her new Vegas act set to kick off in the New Year.

The morning shows would probably get her first; they always did because of their huge numbers. But Tony could probably convince her to do Harry . His numbers were right up there and with Harry , it would be Cassie Lake for the hour! Not the three or four minutes the morning shows could offer between hair and makeup segments, and news briefs glossing over pain and suffering around the world.

But, of course, what would really happen once she got on the show, is that Harry would ask her all about her alcohol and drug dependency, her recent breakdown over her divorce, and the sixty pounds she managed to pack on in one year.

Tony could hardly wait.

Tony was crouched down against the cold, waiting outside Radio City Music Hall in order to catch her when she came in to practice. The grandeur of the building was totally lost on him, but every single thing about it was larger than life. It was one of the largest indoor theaters in the world, and the marquee alone covered a city block. The walls and ceiling were sweeping arches, with the Great Stage mounted on hydraulic elevators for special effects. A fourth elevator raised the orchestra, and a shimmering gold stage curtain teamed with the “Mighty Wurlitzer” organ to thrill audiences. Spiraling fountains of water, clouds, fog, even thunder, magically appeared on stage thanks to an elaborate system sourcing steam from a special Con Edison plant.

None of it meant a thing to Tony Russo. He had to take off his winter gloves and reach deep into his coat pocket every time his cell buzzed, which was constantly. Sookie was dialing his cell phone every few minutes to find out if he’d made contact with Cassie yet.

He looked across the street at a little Greek diner, where he saw people scurrying in and out with steaming cups of coffee. Usually, he’d only drink Starbucks, a grande half-caf, dry, skim cappuccino with extra foam, to be specific, but under these circumstances, he’d take anything.

If Russo had a dime for every black limo that drove past Radio City, he’d be a millionaire. Every time one of the cars barely slowed down, he jumped up out of the crouch position and lurched toward it in his attempt to get to Cassie before her driver got around the car to open her door. She’d of course be on the curb side of the car with the driver on the opposite side. So, bottom line, Tony would definitely have time on his side, if and only if he spotted her car in time.

After texting Sookie for the millionth time that he was in fact in position to catch Lake, the moment came. A white stretch with heavily darkened windows pulled up. As its wheels grazed the curb, his hackles raised and a tingle went down his body. He was a booker to the core… He knew deep in his gut. It was her.

Tony made a lunge for it and just as he hoped, the driver had unlocked the back doors from the fingertip controls on the driver’s arm-side panel before he got out of the car to walk around and open the door for his passenger. In the thirty seconds it took the guy to open his door, put his feet on the pavement, close his door, and make his way around to her door, Tony had already opened the door and handed her a bouquet of two dozen yellow roses, her favorite.

He did his research.

With the other hand, and flashing his most sincere smile, Tony whipped open an umbrella to hold over her head.

“Miss Lake, Tony Russo, chief booker for The Harry Todd Show . I’m such a huge fan, all the way back to the old days and The Lake Family Hour. I just had to deliver these flowers myself. I always loved you in those bell-bottoms, and remember that furry vest you wore that time? Can I get you some Throat Coat tea? I know it’s your favorite… I just happened to bring a box of it with me just in case this cold weather bothered your throat…”

How he got it all out in one gulp was a mystery. He had his GNE ID security badge hanging around his neck and on prominent display so she would see he was legit and wouldn’t be scared away.

Tony held out his hand just as the driver made it around to the back edge of the stretch, clearly intent on throwing his chubby little body to the curb. He could do it, too. The driver was a hulk. Tony concentrated on Cassie’s face and forced himself to keep smiling and not turn away from her to look at the burly man to his left.

Just as the driver grabbed Tony by his upper left arm, Cassie reached up from the depths of the cushioned limo seat and took Tony’s right hand.

“You, Mr. Russo, are a saint. And yes, I’d love some Throat Coat. I can’t believe you remember that furry vest! And I adore Harry’s show! I haven’t seen him since his big birthday bash… How is he?”

He had her.

Taking her hand and tucking it into his left elbow, he held the umbrella over her head as they made it into Radio City. Entering through the front doors, Tony adroitly closed up the umbrella and quickly but naturally slipped his elbow back in its earlier position entwined with Cassie’s elbow. Winding through the twists and turns of RCMH, they made it down a long hallway back to Cassie’s dressing room. She opened the door with a key and clicked on all the lights. It was a warm and cozy room, made attractive by rose-colored walls and floor lamps on either side of a sofa pushed against the longest wall of the room.

As if he had been working out of the dressing room for months, Tony immediately made his way across the room, opened a cabinet over a tiny microwave, and pulled down two coffee mugs, which he then filled with spring water from a jug dispenser standing in the corner of the room. Dunking two tea bags of Throat Coat into the cups, he set the microwave and turned back to Cassie, who was sitting in a chair before her stage mirror, light bulbs surrounding it now turned on.

“Light cream and one sugar as I recall?” Tony Russo was pretty good at what he did. That would be sucking up, of course. He kept every known detail about anyone who had ever appeared on The Harry Todd Show in his desktop. He could access most of the desk-top information from his BlackBerry; hence, he knew exactly how Cassie Lake took her tea the last time she did The Harry Todd Show , which was precisely four years and two months before. He’d checked it that morning before he set out for RCMH and then checked it again as he sat crouched, waiting in the snow under the marquee outside the building.