MARY CLARK - The Cinderella Murder

“I get it. The trick worked, so good job. My point is that this isn’t like talking to a dead guy’s wife, mistress, and business partner, who all live in Westchester. You’re going to be hopping from UCLA to the Hollywood Hills to Silicon Valley to who knows where. You’re not going to keep some guy like Frank Parker on board if you’re shooting from some dingy hotel conference room with tuna fish sandwiches from room service. You’ll need a nice place to film, complete with the kinds of luxuries the Hollywood crowd is used to. You’re going to be spending some serious dough.”

This time, he held up the palm before she even got her mouth open.

“And that’s why I wanted to talk to Alex. Every critic, every focus group said his hosting was the key to our first special.”

“I understand that, Brett. But Alex has a law practice to run. He might not have that kind of time.”

“The he you’re speaking about in the third person,” Brett said impatiently, “is sitting right next to you, and—great news!—he already agreed.”

Alex cleared his throat. “Well, yes. But he was told that you specifically asked for me.”

Typical Brett. Anything to get what he wanted.

“It’s perfect timing,” Brett announced. “He was just explaining that he had a major case that was supposed to be a one-month trial suddenly disappear. How did you explain it again?”

She could tell that Alex wanted to speak to her privately, but there was no way to extract themselves from Brett’s office. “I convinced the prosecutor my guy had a legitimate alibi. I found security camera footage placing him in the VIP lounge at a club in Chelsea when he was supposedly shooting a rival gang member in Brooklyn. Not to mention the cell phone pings that placed their supposed eyewitness on the Lower East Side when the crime was happening.”

“There you have it,” Brett said, slapping his desk for emphasis. “No wonder this guy gets the big bucks. I can’t wait to see him lay into Frank Parker. I’m hoping he’s the one who did it. I can already see the ratings. You could end up with a Pulitzer!”

Laurie was pretty sure that no one gave Pulitzer Prizes to reality television shows.

Alex started to rise from his chair again. “I think I should let you two talk about this. If Laurie would prefer someone else—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Brett said, waving Alex back into his chair. “Laurie’s thrilled.”

“Of course,” she added. “I’m absolutely thrilled.”

And she was. He truly was a skilled interrogator. She knew her father would be happy too, for his own reasons. He was always trying to get her to spend more time with Alex.

“Very good then,” Brett said. “Now, take the rest of the day off to celebrate the good news while Alex and I continue with our March Madness talk. We were having a heated debate about who’ll make the Final Four. And, no offense, but you might want to brush your hair or something. That trip out to Los Angeles took a toll on you.”

Right. No offense.

18

Steve Roman knew that Martin preferred to receive any bad news quickly, the proverbial bandage being pulled from the wound. After parking his pickup truck at the discount monthly parking space he paid for south of Market, he pulled up AG’s number.

“Yes?” That high-pitched yet assertive voice.

“Nothing essential to report,” Steve began. Yesterday’s check-in had been easy: the target had left the house only for trips to Costco, a fish market, and a strip mall for something called Pilates. Now he had to keep Martin calm. “But she did hit the road, a straight shot from her home to a company in Palo Alto. Something called REACH. It looks . . . I don’t know, modern.”

“It’s a computer company,” Martin said. “Good to know. Keep watching her.”

Steve felt a churning heat working its way up from his stomach. “Before, when you called me, you said something about sending a message? When the time was right. Is that something I should be doing now?” No, Steve thought to himself, please don’t make me hurt anyone. I might not be able to stop.

“Nothing yet. Just watch her. And, as you did today, tell me where she goes. And, this is important—find out to whom she speaks.”

Steve was always impressed by Martin’s proper grammar. He swallowed, knowing how much Martin despised being questioned. For every loyal follower, the church seemed to have ten critics doubting AG’s mission of advocating for God’s goodness through service to the poor. While Steve had been so inspired by AG, cynics assumed the worst about the church’s fund-raising efforts. As a result of all the scrutiny, Martin could be secretive. And just as he had fully devoted himself to the word of God, Martin expected his followers to devote themselves to him.

“Is she someone I should be worried about?” Steve finally asked. He had practiced the wording of his query.

“No,” Martin said definitively. “She was—in the past. Just between me and you . . .”

Steve now felt a different kind of warmth encompassing him. Martin was letting him further into the AG circle.

“Between me and you,” Martin continued, “I was younger then. I trusted Nicole too quickly, before I should have. But now she’s an impediment to our advocacy of God’s goodness, to say the least.”

“Got it,” Steve said.

It wasn’t a complete explanation for why he was driving all over the Bay Area, but it was more knowledge than he had before. Steve merged onto I-280, reinvigorated.

19

Laurie was just packing up her briefcase when she heard a triple tap on her office door, followed by the appearance of Grace’s head.

“Do you have time for a visitor?” Grace’s voice was tremulous as she asked the question.

A visitor was the last thing Laurie needed. Though she could have done without Brett’s comment about her appearance, her boss had a point when he suggested that she leave early. She’d been working nonstop since Rosemary Dempsey agreed to participate in the show. All she needed to do today was call Rosemary to tell her the good news about the studio’s official approval, and then she was hoping to get home in time to greet Timmy when he and Dad got home from school.

“I’m sorry, Grace. Do I have an appointment I forgot about?”

She heard a man’s voice behind Grace. “I can come back another time.”

Alex.

“Of course.” Trying to keep her tone even, Laurie said, “Please, come in, Alex.”

When Alex safely passed Grace to enter the office, Grace batted her eyelashes and pretended to fan her face with her hands. It was her What a hunk expression, and she made it a lot around Alex Buckley. During the filming of the first installment of Under Suspicion , when Blue Eyes had been killed by a policeman before he was able to kill Laurie, Alex had run immediately to her and Timmy and swept them into his arms. Grace and everyone else may have seen the moment as a brave man’s natural reaction to a dangerous situation, but Laurie had felt his desire to connect to her, like heat from a lightbulb, ever since.

She waited for Grace to close the office door before speaking. “I swear, Grace’s IQ drops fifteen points when you’re around.”

“If only I could replicate that effect with jurors.”

She gestured for him to sit in the gray swivel chair facing the windows and then positioned herself on the sofa across from him. “How have you been?” she asked.

“Good. Busy. I’ve tried calling a couple of times.”

She nodded and smiled. “I’m sorry. Time gets away from me. Between work and Timmy . . .” Her voice trailed off. “You wouldn’t believe this kid’s activities. I feel like I need an appointment to see my own son. He’s taking karate lessons now. Plus, of course, soccer. And now he says he wants to take up the trumpet, ever since he accompanied his grandpa to a police benevolent association party and saw a brass band in action. Now Dad has him watching YouTube videos of Louis Armstrong, Miles Davis, Wynton Marsalis, and Dizzy Gillespie. Timmy just stares at the screen, mimics the movements with his hands, and puffs out his cheeks like a blowfish. Who knew there was such thing as air trumpet?”