Let Me Whisper in Your Ear (25 page)

Possibly Matthew could be that balance. If she would only let him.

Matthew had the pizza waiting when she arrived. They ate and drank and laughed, making macabre jokes about Joel and
KEY News
as the time passed until
Hourglass
was scheduled to begin.

Laura looked at her watch. “Where's the remote control? It's about to start.”

A devilish expression came to Matthew's good-looking face.

“What?”

“Want to be wicked and rebellious?” he tempted.

Laura waited.

“Let's not watch the damned show.” His eyes twinkled merrily.

Laura laughed. “Come on. You're kidding, right?”

Matthew paused to consider. “No, I'm not. We've seen everything already. Why put ourselves through it all again? Plus, the idea of daring not to watch Joel's ratings masterpiece appeals to the heretic in me.” Matthew walked across the room and took a seat next to Laura on the sofa. “Besides, I can think of a much more worthwhile way to spend our time.”

He leaned forward and gently kissed her mouth. Pulling back, he looked into Laura's face and stroked her shining blond hair. “You're even more beautiful without your makeup,” he whispered. He pushed back the bangs and kissed the scar on her forehead. “What do you say, Laura? Do we watch the show or not?”

Neither one of them thought about the remote control again that night and, by the time morning came and Matthew held her in his arms, Laura had told him a good deal about her life growing up with Emmett.

95

Wednesday, January 19

A
PUSH OFF
a rooftop, a pair of scissors to the jugular vein, a box cutter to the neck. How easy it was to find the tools to kill! All one had to do was pay attention and keep one's eyes open. The media was full of great ideas.

Just this morning, the newspaper ran a story about a high school student who was killed after unsuspectingly drinking a glass of Mountain Dew laced with GHB, the “date rape” drug. “Liquid G,” as it was called, was a highly addictive chemical compound that depressed the central nervous system. Because GHB could render someone unconscious or unable to remember what happened next, the drug was being used by sexual predators across the country who put it into women's drinks.

The newspaper article reported that GHB, gamma hydroxybutyrate, was colorless, odorless and virtually tasteless. While small quantities of the drug produced a temporary euphoria or hallucinations, larger quantities caused unconsciousness or even respiratory failure and death. The drug could be lethal even in tiny doses, especially if it was poorly prepared. After ingesting her drink laced with Liquid G, the sixteen-year-old girl in the story went into a coma and died.

The drug broke down quickly in the body and was extremely difficult for laboratories to detect.

Perfect.

And finally, thank you very much, the police toxicologist quoted in the newspaper story said that GHB was easily made by people who got the recipe off the Internet.

Hi ho, hi ho. It's off to the Web we go!

Just in case.

96

H
E HAD BEEN
avoiding the chore of looking through Emmett Walsh's scrapbook, but after last night, he felt he really should get to it. Though he had not voiced his concerns to Laura, he was really worried about the Palisades Park piece. They just didn't have enough good material. Matthew hoped that there would be something in the scrapbook they could use, but he was not counting on it.

He carefully studied the photographs that were pasted onto the heavy black paper pages. There were pictures of the Cyclone taken from every conceivable angle. Laura's dad really must have been in love with that old roller coaster.

Funny, from the little he had observed, Laura seemed so very different from her father. She looked nothing like him, either. She must have taken after her mom.

Matthew continued to flip through the scrapbook pages. Emmett had been a real pack rat, saving matchbook covers, discount coupons, ride tickets and bumper stickers. Maybe the graphics department could work up something with them. Matthew marked the page with a yellow Post-it note.

Toward the end of the scrapbook there were more pictures, several of the Free Act Stage with performers on it. He easily recognized Diana Ross and the Supremes and the Jackson Five.

On the last page was one final picture of the roller coaster with a young man and woman standing arm in arm in front of it. Squinting, Matthew was certain that the dark-haired guy was a youthful Emmett. The female had dark hair as well, long and parted in the middle. If that was Laura's mother, where had Laura gotten the blond hair from?

He'd have to ask her about that. There was so much he wanted to ask Laura.

97

Thursday, January 20

O
N HER WAY
to work Thursday morning, Laura stopped in the laundry room and tacked a notice on the bulletin board advertising most of the contents of her apartment for sale. Her clothes, her books, her computer and her framed pictures and prints were just about all she planned to take with her when she moved.

She wished she had been able to contact Delia to tell her that she and Francheska were coming on Sunday to move in some of their stuff. But it looked like Delia had taken off. Laura couldn't really blame the maid. After reading what Gwyneth had left Delia, Laura figured she must be pretty disgusted.

Walking briskly down Broadway, Laura stopped and bought a dozen yellow roses from a Korean grocer. A big six dollars. She could afford to splurge. She still could not imagine that she would never have to worry about money again.

But if there wasn't one thing to worry about, there was another. That was just life, she reflected. The deadline for the Palisades Park story was looming and it was still far from completion.

Tommy Cruz's parents still had not gotten back to her about an interview and she had not wanted to press them. But she had to call them today and get their answer.

She still had not gotten hold of that retired cop in Florida to get his memories of the case.

And the worry that her father may have been somehow involved in what had happened way back then bothered her most of all.

Thank God she had Matthew working with her on this.

98

“C
OME ON
, I'
LL
take you to lunch. We have something to celebrate!” Laura smiled brightly as she stood in Matthew's office doorway.

He looked up from his desk with pleased surprise. “Let me guess. Our evening together?”

“Sshhh!” Laura advanced into his room. “We don't need the office knowing our business,” she whispered.

“I wouldn't mind.” He smiled. “In fact, I'm pretty darn proud of it. Besides, sooner or later, everyone knows everything about everybody around here.”

“Well, let's just keep this to ourselves for as long as we can, okay?” Laura touched the sleeve of Matthew's shirt, feeling his strong shoulder beneath.

“Okay, if that's the way you want it,” he agreed, forcing himself not to pull her down into his arms. “But if it's not us you want to celebrate, what is it?”

“I heard from the Cruzes,” Laura answered excitedly. “They've agreed to the interview! It's all set for Monday morning.”

99

M
IKE
S
CHULTZ ORDERED
a cheeseburger and an extra-large order of fries from the Station Break grill.
Screw the doctor's orders.

He paid for his lunch and searched the crowded cafeteria for an empty table, spying one in the corner. Usually he brought his lunch upstairs and scarfed it down at his desk, amid at least a half dozen interruptions. But not today. Today he needed to sit quietly and relax for twenty minutes.

It was not going well at home. He was worried about Nancy. She was so negative and down all the time, and it was getting to him.

Yeah, they had some financial problems. But nothing they couldn't work out eventually. They had three great kids. They were all healthy. That was all that really mattered, wasn't it?

He was losing patience with his wife. When he came home after a stressful day at the Bulletin Center, he wanted their home to be his refuge. Instead, he would find Nancy complaining about her day and all she had to do but had not accomplished. He wanted to shake her.

Why was she so unhappy?

He had a few comp days coming to him. Maybe he could book a flight to Florida and they could get away together for a long weekend. Just the two of them.

He knew that Nancy would say they couldn't leave the kids. So he would have to arrange that, too. He would call the mothers of each child's playmates and ask if they would take one of them for a couple of days. The Schultzes could reciprocate later.

Yeah, a few days relaxing in the sun might do their marriage a lot of good.

Mike munched on his cheeseburger, making plans, and did not notice as Laura and Matthew approached from across the busy lunchroom.

“Hi, Mike,” Laura greeted him. “Mind if we join you?”

Mike gestured with his large hand to the seats across from his. “Please do.”

As Laura and Matthew slid their trays onto the table, Mike laughed. “You guys must be going berserk up there with all that's happening.”

His lunch companions groaned in unison.

“How's Joel holding up?” asked Mike, dumping a cluster of french fries into ketchup and popping them into his mouth.

“Pretty damn well, for a guy whose wife was just murdered,” answered Matthew grimly. “You know how it is, Mike, the show must go on.” Matthew shook his head in disgust.

“Yeah, what's going on with that anyway? Anything new on Kitzi's murder?” Mike asked.

“Nothing that I know of.” Laura opened a packet of mustard. “But you can bet Joel will pull out something before next week's
Hourglass.
”

Mike sighed heavily. “Man, as much as I detested the way Malcolm treated me, it was a blessing in disguise that I got fired from that show. Gwyneth and Joel did me a favor.”

“You never did tell me what happened there, Mike,” urged Laura. “And I didn't want to ask you.”

Mike nodded toward Matthew. “He can tell you, can't you, Matt?” Not waiting for Matthew's response, he added, “It was all pretty sickening.” Mike rose with his plastic cafeteria tray. “I've got to get back upstairs.”

100

Friday, January 21

R
ETIRED POLICE OFFICER
Ed Alford was unpacking the clothes from his suitcase when the telephone rang in his Ocean Ridge, Florida, condominium.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. Alford?”

“Speaking.”

“Mr. Alford, my name is Laura Walsh. I'm a producer at
KEY News.
And I'm working on a story that I'm hoping you can help me with.”

Alford looked out the bedroom window at his prized view of the Intercoastal Waterway. “What's the story?” he asked brusquely. He wasn't going to commit to anything until he heard what she wanted.

“It's a story on the disappearance of Tommy Cruz. After thirty years, his body was recently found.”

“Yeah. I heard.”

“I understand you worked on that case?” Laura led.

“That's right.”

“Well, we'd like to interview you for
Hourglass
about that time. Your impressions, memories, that sort of thing.”

Alford twisted the phone cord. “I don't know,” he began uncertainly. “What are the Cliffside Park police saying?”

“Not much,” Laura said truthfully. “They say they don't want to comment on an ongoing investigation.”

“That makes sense, doesn't it, Miss Walsh?”

Laura ignored Alford's question. “We'd be asking you about what happened back then. What the police thought at the time.”

“I could only speak for myself. I could only say what I thought.”

“That would be fine,” Laura answered hopefully. “What
did
you think then?”

“Obviously we couldn't prove it at the time. But after many interviews with his parents, neighbors and teachers, I knew that boy was no runaway—my gut told me that Tommy Cruz died at Palisades Park. I was sure of it.”

“Would you be willing to say that in front of a camera?”

Alford paused to consider.
Why not? That wouldn't hurt the present investigation any.

“You'd have to interview me down here. My wife and I just got back from up there, visiting my son and daughter-in-law and the grandkids on Long Island.”

So that's why she hadn't been able to get hold of him all these days, she thought. Too bad she hadn't known he was up north.

“Fine, Mr. Alford. We'll come to you.”

101

N
ANCY
S
CHULTZ STIRRED
the Campbell's chicken noodle soup in the pot on the stove and thought she would go out of her mind.

Brian was home again from school with a cold. Last week it had been Aaron. And if experience was any guide, next week Lauren would get it.

She loved her kids. Of course she did. But being cooped up in the house all day was really getting to her.

Nancy looked out the kitchen window at the winter grayness outside. Maybe she should agree to Mike's suggestion and take the trip to Florida. He was right. Mike needed a break from the stress at work. And she needed a break from mommying.

As if on cue, Brian called plaintively from the family room where he lay snuggled under a comforter watching television.

“I'll be right there, sweetheart,” she answered with a sigh.

She arranged the bowl of soup, a paper napkin and a spoon on a tray and carried it to her son.

“I'm bored, Mom,” Brian complained, his six-year-old voice thick with congestion.