MARY CLARK - Every Breath You Take

“We’re not the only team that can delve into this case, Ryan. Now that word’s out that we’re working on it, other media outlets could beat us to the punch. Ivan breached his participation agreement by telling a client about our project.”

“So what do you want to do about it now, Laurie? Pull the episode after all this work?” He gestured to the documents and photographs covering Laurie’s office. “Hold back Ivan’s participation fee? Trust me, he doesn’t need it. Look, I’ll talk to him about the article. He was chatting with a client. He didn’t mean for it to wind up in the press. I’ll tell him to be more discreet.”

She realized that, under the circumstances, there was nothing else to do about it. They had gone too far to pull the plug now. “Fine. When you talk to him, can you ask him if he knows anything about Penny Rawling dating someone in the family?” She brought him up to speed on her interview of Tiffany Simon, including Tiffany’s suspicions that Penny had a romantic interest in someone in the family. “She thought Penny had a secret boyfriend in the picture who might have been at the gala that night. If it was a member of Virginia Wakeling’s family, that might change everything.”

“It would have to be Carter, right?”

“Unless it was Anna’s husband, Peter. Marriage doesn’t stop some people.”

“Scandalous,” Ryan whispered conspiratorially. “I’ll ask Ivan what he knows.”

• • •

Two hours later, Jerry was giving Laurie a preview of a preliminary slide show he had put together for their episode. As he suggested, it was a contrast between glamorous photos of one of the most selective parties in the city and darker images that hinted at the violence that had unfolded on the roof above. A gurney covered by a sheet. Blood in the snow. Crime scene tape at the roof’s entrance.

“This is just a slide show. Once we jazz it up, it will be much more dynamic, like moving images.”

Laurie was flipping through the notebook that Detective Hon had compiled for her, making sure that they didn’t miss any critical information or images. “I can’t shake this feeling about the alarm that went off that night.” The alarm was tripped by someone crossing a sensor around an exhibit of six mannequins. Laurie was looking at photographs of the portion of the exhibit that was entered. The exhibit appeared undisturbed. “It was just minutes before Virginia went over the railing. I don’t buy that as coincidence.”

“I don’t think the police thought it was a fluke, either. The alarm distracted Security, which allowed her killer to slip into a staircase to the roof.”

“And yet Ivan was their leading suspect.”

As usual, Jerry was following her train of thought with ease. “If he acted alone, he’d have had to trip the alarm, run upstairs, kill her, and come back down.”

“Certainly possible,” she said. “But previously when we talked about the connection between the alarm and the murder, we were assuming that one person set off the distraction, while the killer or killers ran upstairs.”

“So if it’s Ivan, did he have someone helping him?”

Laurie thought about Tiffany’s account of Penny gloating over a relationship with someone in the family. According to Tiffany, Penny said that she had her eyes “on the prince,” or perhaps the “golden boy.” Ivan was positioned to be the future Mr. Virginia Wakeling. Was it possible Penny’s mystery man was Ivan? Ivan had been the one to mention Penny as a potential suspect, but he also insisted he had no way of helping them find her.

It was a stretch, but it was possible. Laurie was about to lay out her theory to Jerry when Grace tapped on her door and then poked her head in.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I thought you’d want me to. I’ve got Penny Rawling on the phone. She saw the Page Six piece and wants to speak to you.”

33

Now that Penny had Laurie Moran on the phone, she wasn’t entirely sure what to say to her. She didn’t want to sound too eager to be involved in the production. “Ms. Moran, I’m calling because I read in the Post that you’re working on a special about the murder of Virginia Wakeling.”

“I’m afraid I can’t confirm that.”

Penny had already heard from one of the participants on the show that it was happening, but she couldn’t show her cards. On the other hand, she could imagine the producer being wary of disclosing details over the phone. For all Laurie Moran knew, Penny wasn’t actually Penny. She could be a reporter seeking out information. She decided to press forward.

“Well, in the event the story is true, I wanted you to know how to reach me. Virginia Wakeling was my employer, as was her husband, Bob, before he passed. My mother was Bob’s secretary for more than fifteen years. I was very fond of both of them.”

Penny smiled to herself, confident that she had struck the right tone. Caring, but not personally invested. And the detail about her mother’s work for Bob might help convince the producer that she was not an imposter.

“Do you still work for the Wakeling company?” Laurie asked.

The question struck Penny as odd. Surely the producers would have asked that question of the Wakeling family by now. She realized that the woman was testing her, still unsure about her identity.

“No. I’m still in the real estate business, but not with the Wakelings. I found more challenging opportunities elsewhere after Virginia passed.” All of the time Penny had put in working for women of a certain class, she liked to think that some of their airs had rubbed off on her. She sounded so mature and dignified.

“Were you with Mrs. Wakeling the night she died?”

The question was obviously another test. “Not on the roof with her, of course,” Penny said, “but, yes, I attended the gala.”

Laurie must have been satisfied that Penny wasn’t some crackpot calling in with false claims, because she said, “Well, we’re always looking for fresh angles on cold cases, and the Wakeling murder is certainly a compelling mystery. Any chance you’d be willing to meet with me to talk about what you remember of that night?”

“I suppose I could make the time, if it might be helpful. Anything for dear Virginia.”

“I can come to you at your home or at work if that’s convenient,” Laurie offered.

The only space Penny had at work was a tiny cubicle next to the coffee machine, and the last thing she wanted was for a television producer to see her shabby studio apartment in Flatbush. Before she even realized what she was doing, she was rattling off a different address, this one of a luxury apartment in Tribeca. “Or, you know what, I don’t want to trouble you to come all the way downtown,” Penny offered. “I’ll go to your office.”

“It’s no trouble,” Laurie said. “You’re doing me a favor, Penny. The least I can do is save you a trip. What would be a good time for you? It’s short notice, but I’m free this afternoon and this evening.”

Penny held the phone away from her ear and used her thumb to flip quickly through her calendar, and then returned to the conversation.

“Sorry, but I’m all booked up today. I can meet you at my apartment tomorrow at one-thirty. How does that sound?”

“One-thirty tomorrow. Perfect,” Laurie said.

They exchanged cell phone numbers in case either of them was running late. As Penny hung up, she prayed that Laurie ran right on schedule. The apartment’s owner would be gone tomorrow afternoon from one until five, and Penny had already arranged for the buyer to arrive at three o’clock with her contractor to take measurements needed for a planned remodel. They’d have to speak quickly.

34

Laurie had just hung up the phone when she noticed Ryan lingering in her doorway. She waved him in.