Dying for Mercy with Bonus Material (6 page)

E
liza Blake’s voice announced the top stories of the morning.

“The president attends a three-day Middle East peace summit in London.

“Consumer confidence and spending climb as new and positive economic figures are released.

“And a tragic death amid a bizarre set of circumstances as the spouse of one of the nation’s most accomplished public figures appears to have committed suicide.

“Good morning, it’s Monday, October fifth, and this is
KEY to America.
”

The director cut from the
KTA
logo to a two-shot of the show’s hosts sitting behind the news desk.

“Hello, I’m Eliza Blake, here with Harry Granger, and we have lots to tell you about this morning, don’t we, Harry?”

“We certainly do, Eliza, starting with the president’s historic trip to London, where he arrived overnight. U.S. officials have high hopes that the multilateral talks between the United States and the governments of Israel and several Arab nations will bear fruit. We have a report from KEY News Foreign Correspondent Mack McBride.”

Eliza listened intently for Mack’s opening words, relieved to his hear his voice, even if only delivering a dispassionate account of what was happening among world leaders. The video on the screen showed the president of the United States climbing down the stairs of Air Force One. Midway through the piece, Eliza leaned closer to the monitor as Mack appeared on the screen. He was standing on the banks of the Thames, Westminster Abbey behind him.

She inhaled and smiled when she saw him, looking tanned, fit, and confident. She missed him so much. They hadn’t been together in over a month, and Eliza was counting the days until they would be united again and the weeks until his contract would be up for renegotiation. Mack was adamant that he was not going to sign up for another overseas assignment. He wanted to return to New York. Eliza ached for him to come back as well.

After Mack’s piece wrapped up, Harry introduced the next story, which was an explanation of what the newest fiscal figures meant. While viewers were shown a series of graphs and charts illustrating the upturn in the economy, Eliza was off-screen, silently rereading the narration she would soon deliver over the pictures and video that would accompany the story of Innis’s death.

“Five seconds,” the voice of the stage manager boomed.

Eliza sat up straighter and cleared her throat as the economic story ended and the stage manager cued her to begin.

“Innis Wheelock, best known as the husband of former governor of New York and ambassador to Italy Valentina Wheelock and the political genius behind her success, died last night in what appears to be a suicide. The manner in which he may have taken his own life has caused shock waves.”

Video from the KEY News archives appeared on the screen showing Innis standing next to his wife as she took the oath of office in Albany more than twenty years earlier. The picture was remarkable for the time, not only because it showed the first female governor of New York but because that governor was clearly pregnant.

Eliza continued narrating. “Wheelock was found lying on the ground in the greenhouse on his property in Tuxedo Park, New York, his body stabbed five times. The wounds to both hands and feet and to his left side copied the wounds Jesus Christ suffered at his crucifixion. The wounds in this pattern are known as stigmata.”

Eliza knew that Annabelle had been stumped on what to show to cover those words and was finally satisfied to find some video taken in Vatican City when Valentina and Innis had had an audience with Pope John Paul II.

“In the interest of full disclosure,” Eliza went on, “I was attending a party at the Wheelocks’ home last night when Innis Wheelock seemingly took his own life. While medical professionals examine his body to determine if the wounds were self-inflicted, people who knew Innis Wheelock are asking themselves why a man of his stature and experience would end his life, why he would have done it in such a bizarre fashion, and they are wondering what they could have done to stop him.”

The last shot on the screen showed spare video that had been shot but never aired before. Eliza was walking alongside Innis and Valentina in the garden of the U.S. ambassador’s residence in Rome. It was taped when Eliza had conducted her first interview with Valentina shortly after she began the diplomatic posting. That professional assignment had resulted in a personal friendship with both of the Wheelocks, ultimately leading to the talk at the fountain with Innis when he’d told her he was ashamed of himself and let her know that he believed she cared about right and wrong and would do what needed to be done.

As Harry began to read the next story, Eliza felt she had some sort of responsibility. For what, she was not sure.

S
napping off the television set, Susannah Lansing got out of bed, picked up her coffee cup, and walked over to the doors that led out to her terrace. She pulled her robe closed as the cool morning greeted her. When she reached the wrought-iron railing, she looked down the mountain. She could see the red-tile roof of Pentimento below her.

Susannah marveled that just last evening she had stood in this very same spot and watched the stream of cars arrive at the mansion. She’d felt rejected and discouraged and hurt. Now she tried to contain her satisfaction.

Innis Wheelock had been on the board that had denied her and John admission as members of the exclusive Black Tie Club. No official reason had ever been given, but Susannah suspected she knew why.

T
hey got off to school all right?” asked Annabelle.

She held the phone to her ear and listened to her husband’s answer. “Yeah, except for the fighting about Halloween. Tara is determined to be Hannah Montana, and Thomas keeps telling her that’s dumb.”

“What else is new?” said Annabelle. “But at least now that they’re gone, you can try to get some sleep. Hopefully, I’ll be home soon and can crawl in beside you.”

Annabelle hated it when they both drew overnight shifts at the same time. It fouled up everything. Her body clock didn’t adjust easily—or, for that matter, at all. The focus of life became sleep and how to get it. While that was bad enough for a single individual, add to the mix two active grade-school kids with their accompanying activities and homework that had to be paid attention to, babysitters who had to be carefully rescheduled to cover any gaps in parental presence, along with the grocery shopping and other errands, and you had a household struggling to keep it together.

But she felt worse for her husband than she did for herself. Mike did overnight shifts at the firehouse much more than she did at KEY News. Unlike Annabelle, Mike never complained. He just accepted the fact that the tough hours came with the job. He’d known that going in.

Annabelle glanced at her watch. The broadcast would be over soon, and then, with any luck, she just had to hang around for another hour or so and wait for the dayside staff. Annabelle would turn over her video and logs to the producer assigned to the next Innis Wheelock story, and then she could get going.

While she was putting the videotapes and discs she’d used in a box, B.J. came into the newsroom. When he saw her, he beckoned to her.

“I want you to see something,” he said.

Annabelle followed him out of the newsroom, down the hall, and into the elevator. “What’s up?” she asked.

“I want you to take a look at this and tell me what you think.”

“Take a look at what?” asked Annabelle.

“One of the pictures Eliza took at the Wheelocks’.” B.J. shut the door after they walked into the editing room. As Annabelle sat down, he brought up the image on the monitor screen. It was the first picture Eliza had taken, the one where Innis Wheelock’s body was stretched out on the floor next to the terra-cotta pot.

“Notice anything?” asked B.J.

Annabelle looked carefully at the grainy image. “I don’t see anything that I didn’t see this morning,” she said.

“Look at the pot,” he said.

“Yeah? What about it?”

“See the numbers on the side?” asked B.J.

Annabelle squinted. “I guess they’re numbers, but I sure can’t read them.”

“Neither could I,” said B.J. “So just for kicks, I enlarged them.” He pushed a button on the console, and a magnified image appeared.

Annabelle read the numbers out loud: “41-11 8-3508 and 74-13 9-0552.” She looked at B.J. “I don’t get it,” she said. “Nine digits. The only nine-digit numbers I know are Social Security numbers.”

“But the spacing’s all wrong. And the dashes aren’t in the right places either,” said B.J.

“Well, it beats me,” said Annabelle, “and to tell you the truth, I’m too sleep-deprived to try to figure it out.” She got up from the chair. “But remember, you’d better make sure nobody else sees these pictures,” she said as she started to leave. “We don’t want to have them turn up on the air unless Eliza okays it.”

T
hroughout the broadcast, whenever she wasn’t on camera, Eliza checked the screen beneath the news desk to see what the wire services were saying about the Wheelock story. Just before 9:00
A.M.
, the Associated Press reported having a source who revealed that the medical examiner could tell that Innis Wheelock’s wounds were self-inflicted. After teasing the viewers about what would be on the next day’s broadcast, signing off for the morning, and waiting for the stage manager’s signal that they were off the air, Eliza removed her microphone and let out a long, deep sigh.

“Man, that poor bastard,” said Harry, shaking his head as he gathered up the pages of his script. “What was the matter with him? He had everything—success, money, family. What could be so bad that he’d go and stab himself—and like Jesus Christ no less? Was he sick?”

“I don’t know,” said Eliza, “though he looked unwell when I first saw him last night.” Eliza was on the verge of telling Harry about the conversation she’d had with Innis in the garden, but then she thought better of it. She enjoyed working with Harry, but he couldn’t always be counted on to keep a confidence. He’d go to jail—and had—to protect a news source, but when it came to KEY News and insider gossip, Harry enjoyed trading tidbits with the best of them.

“Well, it will all come out,” said Harry with a shrug as he started to walk away. “It always does.”

As Eliza cut across the studio on the way to her office, she bumped into Linus Nazareth emerging from the control room.

“Well, the video could have been better, but it was cool that you could say you were there when Wheelock died,” the executive producer said with satisfaction.

“I don’t know if ‘cool’ is the word I’d use, Linus.”

“You know what I mean, Eliza.”

“Yes, I’m afraid I do,” she said. “Reporter involvement and all that.”

“Don’t say it with such disdain,” said Linus. “That’s our business.”

“Maybe so,” said Eliza. “But there have to be limits. Let’s let them grieve in peace, Linus.”

Linus shook his head, a look of bewilderment on his face. “Come on, Eliza,” he said. “You know that’s not going to happen.”

Paige Tintle was waiting with a handful of messages when Eliza arrived at her office.

“We’ve already gotten a call from Valentina Wheelock’s secretary,” said Paige. “Mr. Wheelock’s funeral will be held on Wednesday morning at eleven o’clock at Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church in Tuxedo.”

L
acing up his athletic shoes, Zack Underwood was determined to go for a nice long jog. He had tossed and turned all night and was physically tired. Yet he knew that pushing his body for a couple of miles would make him feel better. Once he got into the run, he might be able to get his mind off the horrible thing that had happened the previous night.

How perverse of Innis to say he had something special planned for the evening, knowing full well what he was going to do.

During the months of work as architect on Pentimento’s renovation and restoration, Zack had spent hours and hours with Innis Wheelock. He was a strange duck, but it was his eccentricity and creativity that drew Zack to him. Innis was extremely bright, quite knowledgeable, and some of the things Innis had asked Zack to incorporate into the architectural plans had been challenging to execute but satisfying upon completion.

It had also been a pleasure for Zack to spend time talking with Innis. The man had had such a fascinating life, growing up in privilege, living with power. Innis Wheelock was a man whom others would say had everything—and then some.

Zipping up his hooded sweatshirt, Zack was at the front door when the thought occurred to him.
Could some of the things that Innis wanted incorporated in the Pentimento designs have anything to do with his death?

E
liza paced her office, stopping to look out the huge window. The cloudless October sky was clear and bright blue. The Hudson River sparkled below, reflecting the mellow autumn sunshine.

She still couldn’t decide which space she liked better. When she’d been anchor of
KEY Evening Headlines,
her office had been right above the central newsroom, and she could look down and watch the staff on the phones, at their computers, scurrying from desk to desk and interacting with one another. It was a constantly moving scenario that never ceased to fascinate and energize her.

When she’d come back to hosting
KEY to America,
she’d handed off her prized piece of Broadcast Center real estate to Anthony Reynes, her successor at
Evening Headlines.
Her new office, on a higher floor, was spacious and flooded with natural light. The view, looking out over the river to the shores of New Jersey, was more peaceful and serene, and she felt somewhat insulated and removed from the thick of things. That had its advantages.

But today the view did little to soothe her.

Eliza walked to the office door and leaned out toward the vestibule where her assistant sat. “Paige, will you see if Margo Gonzalez is here today?” she asked.

“Thanks for coming, Margo,” said Eliza as she gestured toward one of the upholstered chairs positioned on the other side of her desk. “Don’t tell Linus, because he’s under the impression that your job here is to act as a
KTA
mental-health contributor. He doesn’t understand that I need you to perform a far more important function. It’s nice to be able to call on my own in-house psychiatrist.”

Margo smiled. “Glad to be of assistance,” she said as she sat down. “What’s up?”

“Innis Wheelock was a friend of mine,” said Eliza.

Margo’s smile faded. “I gathered that might be the case after I heard you say on the air this morning that you’d been at a party at his home last night. Oh, I’m so sorry, Eliza.”

“And I had a private conversation with him shortly before he killed himself.”

Margo nodded. “So you’re feeling guilty, as though you could have done something to stop him.”

“How’d you guess?”

“Tell me what happened,” said Margo.

Eliza recounted the walk in the garden at Pentimento. “He came out and told me he was ashamed of himself, Margo. That he’d done things that were wrong, that he’d hurt and ruined people. I could tell he was troubled, but I never thought he was a candidate for suicide.”

“Why do you think he confided in you?” asked Margo.

Eliza considered the question. “I guess he trusted me,” she said. “He said I cared about right and wrong and that I would do what needed to be done.”

“What do you think he meant by that?” asked Margo. “What do you think he thought needed to be done?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” said Eliza.

Margo sat back in her chair and ran her fingers through her short red hair. “You know, Eliza, suicide is not a random act,” she began. “And the fact that Innis Wheelock actually chose the stigmata as a way of killing himself means he had planned this out very carefully.”

“I suppose that’s true enough,” said Eliza. “He told me he wanted to be like St. Francis, wanted to ‘unite himself’ with him in the most vivid way possible. By choosing the stigmata, he did that. But
why
? Why would Innis do it?”

“Suicide represents an answer to a seemingly insoluble problem; it’s a choice that the person makes thinking death is preferable to facing whatever it is in life that seems so dreadful.”

“Maybe Innis was sick, had some terminal illness,” said Eliza. “Maybe he didn’t want to face a pain-filled future and a miserable death.”

“Perhaps,” said Margo. “But the most common reason for suicide is intolerable
psychological
pain. Shame, guilt, anger, fear, sadness, in excruciating degrees, very often serve as the foundation for self-destructive behaviors. Suicide is the most self-destructive you can get.”

Eliza considered Margo’s words. “You know, when I look back on it, I think Innis
did
have a plan, a plan beyond taking his own life. I feel like he was trying to tell me something, something he wanted me to follow through on, something he was counting on me to do after he was gone.”