Missing Persons (13 page)

“You don’t think she had a secret life? Maybe a lover somewhere?”

He shifted a little. “I didn’t know Theresa well enough to know what social activities she engaged in, but I think that sort of speculation is without merit.” His voice was even but firm. “I think to even suggest it damages a good person who can’t defend herself.”

I was kind of amused by how politely he was telling me off.

“What do you think happened?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” His voice softened, almost to a whisper. “I hope she’s alive. I hope she comes home soon. She had her whole life ahead of her. I just hope she gets the chance to live it.”

As the words came out of his mouth, I knew his last two sentences would be the sound bite that ended the episode, a photo of Theresa with Wyatt or her family on screen as he spoke.

“That’s it,” I said. “I have what I need.” Behind me, I heard Andres shut off the camera.

Gray sat back. “I forgot I was on camera. You have such a conversational interview style. I did some interviews, when I was in the state’s attorney’s office, where producers practically told me what to say. Can you imagine that?”

“No,” I said with a straight face.

He stared at me for a long moment then snapped out of it. “Let me show you something in my office.” He put his hand on my arm, leaving me with the feeling I wasn’t being asked. I was being told.

H
is office was large with expensive midcentury-looking furniture and a window that faced the Chicago River. There was modern art on the walls and a photo of a Grace Kelly–type blonde on his desk.

“Your wife is beautiful,” I said.

He nodded. “No idea what she saw in me.” False modesty. Smoothly delivered.

On his desk I noticed a copy of the
Tribune
, opened to the society page. Gray and his wife were photographed at some party. Underneath it the caption read, “Elizabeth Meyer, Chairwoman of the Help for the Homeless Dinner Dance, pictured with her devoted husband, Gray Meyer.”

“Nice photo.”

He rolled his eyes. “One of the other lawyers brought it in to give me crap about it.”

“I’m glad somebody did.” I waited as we just stood and stared at each other. Eventually I said, “I need to get back to my crew.”

“Right. Won’t take a minute.” He rummaged around in a file cabinet before coming up with a business card. “This is the bar where Wyatt and Theresa met. Did you know about this place?”

“No. They met several months before she disappeared, so I’m not sure that’s something that will get into the story.”

“It’s an interesting place. Theresa spent a lot of time there with Wyatt.”

“We only have twenty-two minutes to tell the story,” I explained. “We focus on the disappearance mostly.”

He handed me the card. “Well, in case you want to stop by there.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I could tell there was something else he wanted to say, but I had to get to Jason’s interview, so I walked to his office door.

“Kate,” Gray said, with a touch too much familiarity, “I feel bad I said anything about your husband. I could tell you weren’t expecting it.”

“I wasn’t,” I admitted. “The people I interview don’t usually check into my background.”

“I understand. I guess I’m just used to being careful.”

“Well, there’s no need to be. You’ve done enough media to know that the hour we spent interviewing you . . .”

“Will end up being about thirty seconds of screen time,” he said, finishing my thought.

“Exactly. This story isn’t about you. It’s about Theresa.”

“Which is why I wanted to help.”

“You like to help, don’t you?”

“I do. When I feel that something isn’t right, I want to do something that may help make it right.”

“Superman complex?”

He smiled. “Maybe. I think everyone in law enforcement, in the law, and in politics all starts out with a bit of a need to be a superhero.”

“It seems to me a lot of people lose that need along the way.”

“I suppose. Hopefully I’m not there yet. Which is why I wanted to say that if you need anyone with you when you talk to Detective Podeski next time, I’m available. Or I can recommend someone.”

It took me off guard but I tried not to show it. “A lawyer, you mean.”

“Yeah. Just if you felt you needed someone.”

“Why would I need someone?”

“If you were questioned.”

I closed his office door and walked toward him. “Why would I be questioned?”

He moved back a few steps, as if he were slightly intimidated. I took this as a small victory. “I was in the state’s attorney’s office for fourteen years,” he said. “I know a lot of people in the police department.”

“You obviously know Podeski. And you know he’s investigating my husband’s death.”

He nodded. “He thinks your husband was murdered.”

“By whom?”

“You.”

I leaned against his desk. I looked down at my slightly scuffed tan shoes against the deep-red Persian rug. A rug the color of blood.

“Can I get you a glass of water?” Gray asked.

I shook my head. “Why does he think Frank was murdered?”

“They found digitalis in his system. That’s heart medicine. It can bring on the symptoms of a heart attack in someone who doesn’t have a heart condition. He didn’t have a heart condition, did he?”

I shook my head again. It took me a minute to let it sink in, then I looked at Gray. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I’ve looked into the faces of thousands of criminals over the years. There’s something they all have in common. It’s in their eyes. I can’t tell you what it is. I just know it when I see it. It’s not in your eyes.”

“And so you’re sharing inside information on an ongoing police investigation because I don’t have a killer’s eyes?”

He flashed a small smile.

I looked up at him, studied his perfect features and bright green eyes. All I saw was the sincere, kind expression of a man who was truly interested in helping me. The same expression every politician has when they want something.

“H
is charm made her catatonic.” Victor poked me in the side as we drove west on Chicago Avenue toward Jason’s apartment.

“What was that for?” I snapped.

“Touchy, touchy.” Victor leaned back in his seat and looked hurt. “Guys like him have that effect on women.”

I could have told Victor and Andres about the conversation; they would have understood. But I didn’t want to say out loud that the police—that anyone—thought I had killed Frank. Instead, I checked my cell phone for messages. There were two. One was from Alex, asking me to call him when I got the chance. The other was from Jason. He was running late, he said. He’d call me when he was at his apartment. That could only mean cold feet. I dialed his cell and got voice mail.

“Jason, it’s Kate. My crew and I are headed over to your place. I can delay by an hour or so, but I’ve got to do this interview today if we’re going to include it in the show. I’ve talked with Theresa’s mom so I know what they’ve said about you, and I really think you should give your side. I’ll be at your place at two thirty, ready to set up. I hope you’ll be there.”

“So what do we do now?” Andres asked once I’d hung up.

“Lunch,” Victor suggested.

I thought about my conversation with Gray. I was being played, and by someone who had a lot more information than I did. I didn’t have his connections or his clout, but I knew how to lie. I was hoping that would be enough to get something that might level the playing field.

“I want to make a stop first,” I said.

Andres and Victor waited in the car, blasting the radio and arguing about what music to play. I walked into the police station.

“Hi, remember me?”

The receptionist looked up, stared at me blankly.

“I was here yesterday interviewing Detective Rosenthal.”

More blank stares.

“For the television show.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s not here. Do you want me to call her cell?”

“No, that’s okay. It’s just that she promised me a copy of the police report on the Theresa Moretti case and I was wondering if you could give it to me.”

She sighed, got up from her chair, and after ten agonizing minutes in which I wondered if it was a felony to lie to a police receptionist, she returned with a manila file folder.

“I made you copies.” She dropped into her chair. The effort had apparently exhausted her.

“Thanks. Really appreciate it.”

She was back to a blank stare.

 

 

I was barely in the car before Victor grabbed the back of my seat and shook it. “Lunch?”

“Yeah, lunch. Let’s go someplace near Wrigley Field. You guys really like that barbecue place on Clark, don’t you?”

“What’s the occasion?” Victor asked.

Andres knew. “She wants us to shoot something in that neighborhood.”

There was a Cubs game going on, so we overpaid to park and walked to a bar on Sheffield. It was midday, and the Cubs were in the fourth inning, so it would be a while before the place filled up. I asked the guys to get some exterior shots, just in case we would need them. I went inside to see if there was anyone to talk to.

The way I saw it, Gray had either given me that card as an excuse to talk about Frank or he’d talked about Frank as an excuse to give me the card. If I could figure out which, maybe I’d know how seriously to take his revelation about the investigation into Frank’s death.

“Hi,” I said to a large man in his forties. He was standing behind the bar, looking bored.

“What can I get you?”

“I’m working on a television show.” I pointed to the crew outside. “We’re shooting an episode of a new show called
Missing Persons
. It’s an offshoot of the show
Caught!
”

“I love that show,” he said.

I smiled. That just made things a lot easier. “Yeah, it’s a great show,” I agreed. “The episode we’re doing is about a girl named Theresa Moretti . . .”

“Theresa? I knew Theresa. She dated Wyatt. Are you talking to him?”

“Yes, tomorrow. You know Wyatt?”

“He used to work here. That’s how they met. She came in and they got talking. Wyatt is a bit of a ladies’ man.”

“Were you here the night they met?”

“Yeah. It was a busy night and I couldn’t get Wyatt to wait on anyone other than a group of women sitting in that corner.” He pointed to the end of the bar. “After that, Theresa was in here all the time.”

“Did they make a nice couple?”

“Yeah. Okay. Not toward the end, though.”

“The end being a breakup, or her disappearance?”

“She went missing before they could break up, as far as I know, but I could tell that’s where it was going.”

“Were they fighting?”

“Just the one that I saw, but it was huge. Theresa was sitting over there.” He pointed to a stool at the end of the bar. “It was maybe three days before she went missing. It was a slow night and they were just hanging out in the corner talking. Then all of a sudden, she started telling Wyatt off. Yelling at him about something. He said later she was just drunk. But she stormed off, and then he left.”

“Did she drink a lot?”

“She could hold her own.”

“Which is a yes.”

He raised an eyebrow and considered the question. “Yeah, I’d say she drank a lot. But with Wyatt bartending, a lot of her drinks were free, so maybe that had something to do with it.”

“What was he like after she disappeared?”

“He went through the wringer. I don’t think he slept for the first week or so. He looked like hell when he’d come in. Then he just quit one day. Maybe two or three weeks later. I think he made finding her his full-time job, poor guy.”

“Do the police know about the fight?”

“Not from me. I don’t gossip.” Then he blushed, realizing what he was doing. “This is different. This is for a TV show. If you want I can say all of this again, on camera.”

Which, of course, I wanted.

W
e put the bartender outside in front of the bar, since the dark bar would have taken too long to light properly. He repeated most of what he’d said off camera. At first it was all compliments. Theresa was nice, friendly, polite, seemed close to her family and friends. Then he talked about the drinking and fighting, which were new parts to the picture, at least on camera. Theresa was still a wonderful person, but the halo was beginning to tilt a little.

When we were done with the interview, Andres got a couple of interior shots of the bar as quickly as he could, but we were behind schedule. Barbecue was out. We grabbed hot dogs from a stand and raced over to Jason’s apartment. We pulled up at two forty p.m., and I jumped out, hoping that Jason was curious enough about what the others had said to show up for the interview.

He was. He opened the door in a blue oxford shirt, khaki pants, and what appeared to be a new haircut. He looked like his mother had dressed him.

“I’m Kate,” I said casually. “This is going to be much easier than you think.”

“I hope so, ’cause I really don’t want to do this.”

As Andres and Victor set up, Jason and I went into the kitchen. I noticed one of those photo booth pictures. Four snapshots of Theresa and Jason smiling and making goofy faces. They must be required in the first few months of a relationship because everyone seems to have them, including Frank and me. Only this photo booth picture was beautifully framed and hanging in a prominent spot in Jason’s kitchen.

“You miss her,” I said.

He blushed a little. “We were really in love.”

I studied the photos. “I can tell. This is a nice place. Have you lived here long?”

“About a year.”

“Did you move after Theresa disappeared? I know her friend Julia wanted to leave the old neighborhood. Too many memories. Must be the same for you.”