MARY CLARK - Every Breath You Take

“Is there any chance he’d allow us to use them for our production? Jerry would be thrilled!”

“I already asked him. And I’m really sorry, Laurie, but he had seen the Page Six piece. When I told him I was calling from our show, he immediately realized that I was calling about the Virginia Wakeling case. He says we can use the dresses as long as he gets his name in the credits and at least one minute of airtime. He attended the party that night so he could either talk about the dresses themselves or the atmosphere at the museum after Virginia’s body was found.”

“That should be doable. A few words from an objective guest who was there that night would add some color, actually.”

Grace held up her pen to indicate they weren’t quite finished yet. “He had one more condition,” she added sheepishly.

“Should I be scared?”

Grace let out a chuckle. “No, but the producers of Find a Star might be. Gerard would like a second shot at stardom.”

“Another audition?”

Grace nodded.

Laurie was friendly with the show’s executive producer and was confident she could gain his cooperation. “I’ll make a call right now and let you know when we can make it official.”

“Do you want to be the one to contact Gerard?”

Laurie noticed that this was the second time Grace had used the man’s first name. She had a way with people, that much was certain. “Eventually, when it’s time to begin interviews. But why don’t you remain his contact person for all the details? You’re obviously doing a great job so far.”

Grace’s smile lit up her heart-shaped face. “Thank you, Laurie.”

“No, thank you, Grace. Those dresses will elevate the production quality of the show.”

Grace was about to stand but Laurie wanted to say one more thing. “You know how much we value you here, don’t you, Grace?”

“I think so.”

“You said something last week about your sister suggesting you’d be perceived differently if you changed your wardrobe. Is that why you’ve been dressing differently? You don’t think you’re taken seriously?”

Grace shrugged, and Laurie felt a pang of guilt for making Grace uncomfortable.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” Laurie said, “you could wear a pink tutu and bunny slippers, for all I care. You are all kinds of serious, and anyone paying attention can see that.”

Grace walked out of her office with an extra bounce in her step. Laurie made a mental note to look at her budget to make room for a much-deserved pay raise.

37

As predicted, Jerry was elated when he learned that he’d have access to two of the first ladies’ dresses for production, after all. Once Laurie had confirmed that the producers of Find of Star would allow Gerard Bennington to audition a second time, she had let Grace work out the details with Mr. Bennington and secure his signature on the necessary documents.

She had also left it to Grace to deliver the news to Jerry that afternoon in Laurie’s office. Jerry told Grace that she was a lifesaver and pulled her into a tight hug.

He immediately reached for the heavy book of photographs from the exhibit, searching for the two dresses on loan to the museum from private collector Gerard Bennington. The Betty Ford dress was a floor-length silk teal sheath with flowing organza sleeves. The photograph that accompanied the display at the exhibit was of Mrs. Ford dancing with a famous comedian during a state dinner held in honor of the president of Liberia.

Jerry let out a gasp when he saw the second acknowledgment of Mr. Bennington in the book. It was for the crisp white cotton dress that Jerry had already shown to Laurie. He had been planning to include the iconic photograph of the Kennedys on their porch in Hyannis Port as a dedication to his grandmother, who had admired the Kennedys. Now he’d be able to feature the actual dress in the production.

“I’ll need to call the Facilities Department at the museum right away. If I can get even one corner of gallery space, we could create the illusion of being in a much larger exhibit and could ask some of the participants to walk through as though they were viewing the costume exhibit that night at the gala.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Laurie said, her own attention focused once again on the large binder she had received from Detective Johnny Hon. She was still wondering about the placement of the alarm that had been triggered the night of the murder. If it was set off by the actual killer, the person would have wanted to be able to slip away quickly and follow Virginia to the roof, taking maximum advantage of the time during which Security was distracted. Even if an accomplice had been the one to set off the alarm, Laurie believed the natural instinct would have been to select a location near the exhibit’s entrance or exit, so the accomplice could escape more quickly and easily.

She looked again at the photographs of the east side of Gallery C, the area that was apparently trespassed. One of the dresses on display there was the white cotton dress that Gerard Bennington had lent to the museum. Laurie found herself smiling with pride. Grace had worked a miracle getting access to two historic dresses, and Jerry was at his planning board, both looking as excited as Laurie had ever seen them. They were as invested in the show as she was.

As her eyes moved from Jerry’s planning board back to her own binder, she noticed a discrepancy between two images.

“Jerry, remind me again where you got all those photos you’re using for planning.”

“They’re almost all copied from that book Charlotte gave you.” He walked over to the conference table, pulled the book from beneath a legal pad, and tapped the cover. “It’s practically my bible these days.”

“Including the photo of Mrs. Kennedy’s white dress?” she asked. “That’s from the same book?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you said that the exhibition book would have been prepared before Virginia’s murder, right?”

“Definitely. They like to have the books available in the gift shop once the exhibit opens. Why? What’s up?”

She rotated the binder in front of her to face him and placed her finger on the photograph depicting the east side of Gallery C. “Take a look.”

Jerry’s eyes moved between the photograph in the binder, taken by the NYPD, and the photograph of the white dress for the official exhibit book. “The dress looks exactly the same.”

“The dress does, yes,” Laurie said in agreement, “but look right here.” With her fingertip, she drew an imaginary circle around the wrist of the mannequin. “No bracelet.”

In the official exhibit photo, the dress was paired with a strand of pearls and a silver charm bracelet. By the time the police photographed Gallery C after Virginia Wakeling was killed, the bracelet was gone.

Grace was looking eagerly over Jerry’s shoulder. “So when did it go missing?” she asked.

Jerry shrugged. “Conceivably, it could have been anytime between the production of this book and the night of the murder.”

“True,” Laurie noted, “but we know for a fact that the alarm that night was set off when someone crossed the sensor protecting these six displays. If someone specifically wanted that bracelet, it would explain why the alarm was set off in the middle of the exhibition, assuming I’m correct about the layout.”

“So how do we find out for sure?” Jerry asked.

Laurie knew that calling Sean Duncan, the current head of security at the museum, would be useless. According to the Security Department’s incident reports from that night, “nothing was out of place” when security guards responded to the alarm.

“I know where we could start,” she said. “Grace, can you call your new friend, Mr. Bennington, and see if he has time to speak with us?”