“Okay. Makes sense,” Rick said. “Anyone else?”
“He knew you and Tin Man were cool, would take his calls,” Sweet Pete said. “You dudes are righteous. You’d give him a fair shake, a good deal, a sweet trip.” His face tightened as his eyes swept over the conference table. “Hey, I thought J.T. said there’d be refreshments.”
To the side, Rick saw J.T. shrug. He ignored it, wanting to wrap things up as quickly as he could. “Okay, thanks. Who’s—”
Minnie Mac spoke. “He’s just a big freak, that’s all. Thinks he’s hot shit, calling up, saying he’s done this and done that.” He paused for a second, then belched. Grinned. “Sorry. Listen, First Time wants to be famous, but all he’s doing is killing people. Any freak can do that. That’s not the best way to get famous.” He stopped talking, but his mouth remained open.
Rick waited to hear Minnie Mac’s tips on achieving fame, but nothing came out. He’d returned to his hoagie. This was hopeless. Rick wondered why he’d decided to waste his time coming to this meeting. As soon as he found out Adams was going to be late, he should’ve excused himself.
“He’s probably a serial killer,” Dimitri said. He was a small man, about thirty-five years old.
“Go on.”
“This is probably the first in a long string of murders. I bet he’s got some kind of weird pattern in mind. Maybe he’ll kill one person from every radio show on the air. Or maybe it has something to do with the zodiac. Isn’t that something serial killers like to mess with?” Dimitri asked. He punctuated his sentences with odd little hand movements. A little twitchy, Rick thought.
“I’m not sure you can lump all serial killers together. Besides, he’s only killed one person so far. That doesn’t exactly make a serial killer.” Rick glanced at his watch. Where was Adams? Maybe he’d have better luck getting some useful information out of these guys. Probably knew some very effective interrogation techniques.
Lap Dog raised his hand.
“Yes?”
“Rick, I don’t think First Time is a loyal listener. If he was, he wouldn’t have called in. This is messing with the show. I don’t want to hear about people’s arms in the trash. I want to hear about you and about Tin Man. Your lives, your dreams, your insights. If I wanted to hear some retarded nutcases spewing forth, I’d hang around with these losers more often.” He looked around the table and smirked.
“Hey, fuck you, Lap Dog.”
“Eat me, you dipshit.”
“Your mama.”
“She was good, yo mama. Yes she was. So good, in fact, I had her twice.”
The insults flew as the room descended into anarchy. Minnie Mac tossed his soggy hoagie wrapper at Godman, and Godman chucked his half-empty water bottle back at him. Hard Core Harry picked up a chair and began brandishing it like a lion tamer. Whizzer hid under the table, barking like a dog.
J.T. dove into the fray, trying to restore order.
Rick slipped quietly from the room.
“M
Y GUEST SHOW
up yet?” Rick asked J.T. over the intercom. There was about a minute to air, and the psych professor from George Mason University hadn’t materialized yet. Probably stuck in traffic. Rick would have to find some other angle to explore until he arrived.
“Uh, boss. I think there’s been a change in plans. Celia said something about some different guests.” J.T. shrugged at Rick through the glass.
“What? Who?” Just what Rick needed right before going on, Celia screwing with his show. He should know better than to make deals with a program director.
Rick saw J.T.’s head turn. “Here they are now. Ten seconds to air. You’ll have to greet them live. Sorry.”
Rick cursed Celia. This was the last straw. He’d have it out with her after the show. J.T. pointed at Rick, mouthing the words,
You’re on
.
The door to the studio opened, and Celia ushered a man and a woman in. Rick nodded to them as he leaned forward toward the mic.
“Good afternoon everybody. This is Rick Jennings on the
Afternoon Circus
. Broadcasting from WTLK in Fairfax, Virginia. Syndicated across this great country of ours.” As he spoke, he gestured for the pair to take a seat on the two stools next to him, and pointed out their mics. “Pardon us for a moment, I’ve got two guests entering the studio now. Let me get them buckled in, and we’ll kick the show off.”
Rick helped them get positioned so they could reach the mics. “Hey, nothing like live radio to add a little zip to your day.” Rick loved live radio, as long as he was in control. It was the surprises he wasn’t fond of.
“Okay. Everybody settled in? Great. Why don’t you introduce yourselves? Just speak into the mics, like you were talking to your neighbors over a cup of coffee. Okay?” Rick smiled, trying to put his guests at ease. Then he tapped off an IM to J.T.
Who are these people?
The man moved his mouth up to the mic. “My name is Barney Danzler. I’m here with my wife, Miriam.” She didn’t lift her face, content to examine her hands in her lap. A curt nod was the only sign she’d heard what her husband said.
Oh fuck.
Ted Danzler’s parents. What was Celia doing? “Uh, I’m terribly sorry for your loss. It was a terrible, terrible tragedy.” Rick looked into master control, searching for Celia. She was seated, engrossed in something on the desk. She knew better than to make eye contact with him now. On the monitor, J.T.’s IM popped up.
Sorry, boss. Not my idea
.
Barney leaned closer to the mic, while Miriam kept her eyes cast downward. “Devastating. To lose a child. Might as well have killed me too,” Barney said as he gently, almost reverently, set a small picture frame on the console before him and angled it so his wife could see too. If she raised her head. A photo of Ted in a graduation gown and tasseled mortarboard.
“I can’t begin to imagine your loss.” Rick mentally spun through a dozen questions to ask, but had trouble deciding on a course for the interview. What did Celia expect from him? Tearjerkers weren’t usually his strong suit. “Is there something I can do to help ease your pain?”
Barney glanced at Miriam, but his wife wasn’t looking. “We don’t want what happened to us to happen to anyone else.” Barney swallowed, choking back the tears. “So we’re asking. Begging. If you have any information about Ted’s murder, please let us know. Please.”
“Well, I think maybe we’ll leave that to the pol—” Rick said.
Barney spoke up. “We last saw him eighteen days ago, on Sunday, January 9. We’d just had dinner at O’Tooles, by the university. They were on break then, and he seemed so relaxed. Said he was going to meet some friends later that night. He never made it.” A single tear dripped down Barney’s face. He backhanded it away. “I shook his hand goodnight at about 9:10. It was the last time I saw him.”
“Tragic, Barney. You must be heartbroken.” Rick knew how it felt to be terrified for a child’s life. The horrible what-ifs took over your life, possessed every waking moment. And too many of the sleeping ones.
“Please, my wife and I are begging you. We want this monster caught. If you know anything, or saw anything, that might lead to his capture, let us know.”
The phone lines lit up. Seemed people wanted to talk to the Danzlers. Rick eyed the board. Should he take calls? Or was that just inviting trouble? He shot a look into master control, this time found Celia staring back at him. He watched as J.T. slid the keyboard over to her. An IM popped up.
Take some calls. Let the Danzlers talk to the listeners.
Rick shook her off, turned to his guests. “Barney? Why don’t you tell us a little more about Ted? I’m sure the listeners would like to get a better sense of who he was.”
While Barney talked about his dear son, Rick pulled his keyboard closer, typed out an IM to Celia.
What are you doing? This is a disaster about to happen.
Celia replied.
This is good radio. It’s what people want. Take some calls, you’ll see.
I can’t believe you set me up like that,
Rick typed.
Get over yourself, Rick. We’ve got a show to do. Get cracking. Take the calls. Now!
On the other side of the glass wall, Celia stood, crossed her arms.
Celia should be careful what she wished for. After a few callers, she’d see what a colossal mistake this was.
“…and he really loved his time here at the station. He often talked about how much he’d like to be a talk show host.” Barney stopped to take a breath. Looked at Rick for direction.
Rick set the keyboard aside. “Barney. Miriam. We all feel your pain. How about if we take some calls? Let you talk with some of our listeners? Let them express their sympathy.”
Finally, Miriam looked up. She and Barney exchanged glances. Miriam looked like a deer in the headlights, but Barney seemed to brace himself. Putting on a brave front for his wife. For himself. “Okay. Sure,” Barney said.
Rick felt sorry for him. Barney had no idea what he’d agreed to. Rick checked the phone queue, hit line three. “You are live, Jill! Speak to us.”
“Hi Rick. Hello Mr. and Mrs. Danzler. I’m so sorry for your loss. I knew Ted. He was in my journalism class at Mason. He always knew all the answers.” Jill paused. “That’s all I wanted to say. They’ll catch him. They will.”
“Thank you, Jill.” Rick glanced at his guests. Miriam had her eyes closed and was sobbing quietly. “Sounds like Ted had a lot of friends.”
Barney said, “Oh, he did. Always hanging out with his buddies, going to parties. Everybody loved Ted.” Barney reached out and grabbed Miriam’s hand. Her sobbing intensified.
Rick reached over, gripped Barney on the shoulder. Managed a weak smile and lowered his voice. “Let’s take another call. You are live. Speak to me, Dylan.”
“I know where the rest of Ted’s body is.” Giggles in the background.
Rick disconnected him. Shit. It didn’t take long for the nuts to come crawling out of the woodwork, like roaches when the lights go out. “Sorry about that. No matter what the situation, we get jerks calling in. On behalf of the entire
Circus
, and all its normal fans, I apologize.”
Rick eyed Celia in the control booth. Her gaze was transfixed on Barney and Miriam. This whole thing was Celia’s idea. She
knew
the calls would be out of control. Wanted the spontaneity to be broadcast live. For ratings. The bitch had no shame.
“Not your fault, Rick,” Barney said. “Why don’t we try again?” His voice wavered, but he held his jaw firm. “Please.”
Rick wanted to shut off the phones, end the interview, leave First Time way behind. But the boy’s father wanted another call. Needed to confront the evil face-to-face. If he couldn’t go up against First Time, then taking on callers would be the next best thing.
Rick checked out the phone queue. J.T. better get his ass in gear and do a better job of screening. He didn’t need any more dipshits getting through.
“Okay. You are live! Speak to me, Kyle.” Rick offered a reassuring smile to Barney.
“This is Kyle. About their missing son…I’m guessing he was into drugs. Or gambling, maybe. He probably was—”
Rick pulled the plug on the call. Barney’s face went white, and Miriam kept the steady stream of tears coming. Enough. “This is the
Afternoon Circus
. We’ll be back after these words.”
Barney Danzler was staring straight ahead, body vibrating. Miriam covered her head with her hands, as if shielding herself from the callers’ agonizing attacks.
Rick no longer felt uneasy. Instead, anger had blossomed, rooting in his chest and radiating outward. Rick pictured the anger as a physical entity, spreading through his body like blood.
Without a parting look at his guests, Rick flung off his headphones and rushed from the studio, straight for the control booth. He got there before Celia had time to escape. “What the hell are you doing?” Rick spat out the words, trying to catch his breath. Celia’s eyes grew for a second, then returned to normal size as she regained her composure. Behind her, J.T. sat in his chair, eyes glued to the monitor.
“Running a radio show. A damn good one, too.”
“You’re unbelievable. You brought them in to exploit them. Get them to break down on national radio. You’re despicable.” He felt like reaching out and grabbing her skinny little neck and choking, choking, choking.
Celia held up her hands. “Easy, Rick. They called me. Wanted to get their feelings out in a public forum. Catharsis, I guess.” She put her hands down. “I know you. You wouldn’t have gone out there if I told you.” She arched an eyebrow. “Would you?”
“No fucking way,” Rick said. Through the glass window, he noticed Damon Oh slipping into the studio. “What’s he doing?”
Damon took Rick’s chair and put the headphones on. “What’s going on? Why’s he in there?”
Celia planted herself in front of the door. “He’s taking over the interview.”
“What?”
“I prepped him. Had him ready. Just in case.”
“In case what?”
“In case you got stuck up on your high horse and refused to come down.” Celia pointed to the studio. “Why don’t you listen to how a real interview is done?” Smirked.
“Celia, this is a big mistake. He’ll fuck everything up. He’ll leave the Danzlers in pieces. In case you haven’t noticed, our callers can be real assholes.”
“Sorry, Rick. He’s finishing it up. You’re too emotional.” Celia remained planted in front of the exit. “J.T., bring us out of the break.”
Rick stepped toward the door. “Move. Let me out. Back to my show.”
“No. Sorry.” Celia crossed her arms, tilted her chin up. In the background, Rick heard Damon going on-air.
“So help me, if you don’t let me back out there, I’m gone. We had a deal.”
Celia didn’t budge.
“Celia, I quit.”
A tiny smile grew on Celia’s face, and it set Rick off anew. She didn’t believe him. Thought it was another of his baseless threats. Was she in for a surprise.
“This time, it’s for real. I’m outta here.” He shouldered past Celia, opened the door, and headed for the exit.