‘No, I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘Did you know they confiscated our tape?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean they made Jack give them his cassette.’
‘No,’ I protested. ‘What I wanted to know was whether you meant “No, you don’t think I’m being paranoid,” or “No, you don’t think people are looking and whispering”.’
‘Oh, they’re looking and whispering alright,’ Kate confirmed.
Great.
‘Anyway,’ Kate continued, ‘I thought the kid was going to chain himself to the tapes. He was arguing with the police and citing the First Amendment when I left.’
You had to wonder why a college student was more concerned about freedom of the press than the press, herself.
‘Good for Jerome,’ I said. ‘At least he has the courage to stand up for what he believes.’
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ Kate said, rolling her eyes. ‘But let’s get back to you and the whispering and the pointing. Rumor has it you burned down Janalee’s to steal Amy and that LaRoche knew it.’
Kate was trying to get a rise out of me again for her newspaper, and I had no intention of confirming or denying what Marvin LaRoche had said to me. I didn’t spend all those years in public relations for nothing.
‘Why would you say that?’ I said evenly. ‘If LaRoche or anyone else thought I had something to do with the fire, they’re mistaken.’
As I spoke, Kate was fishing through her voluminous handbag. I heard a muffled ‘click’ and then a whirr.
A tape recorder – I couldn’t believe it, even of Kate.
‘You’re trying to tape me,’ I said. ‘After all we’ve been through together the last few days. How could you? We’re partners.’
She pulled the tape recorder out of her bag. ‘Partners? We have a seventy–thirty split, your favor. And you’re the star. You consider that partners?’
Worked for me. ‘Seventy percent of nothing is nothing,’ I pointed out. ‘We have no profits and no program.’
‘Only because you killed the chief judge.’
‘I did not kill LaRoche,’ I said, perhaps too vehemently. The exhibit hall went silent. Now people definitely were staring.
‘Arson and murder.’ Kate smiled blissfully. ‘If you thought there was speculation before, just you wait.’
‘Kate.’ Jerome came up to us before I could answer. Or slap her silly. ‘I’m glad I found you. I’m concerned about our footage. Maybe if you spoke to the police―’
‘Not now, Jack,’ Kate said. ‘I have more important fish to fry.’ She threw me a dirty grin and walked away.
‘What could be more important than the First Amendment?’ Jerome asked me, looking shocked.
‘The Eighth, perhaps?’ I muttered, watching Kate stop to talk to a group of people. They all looked our way. ‘Cruel and unusual punishment.’
He gave me a knowing grin. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with worse.’
I’d been thinking about Kate torturing me – guess I wasn’t the only one. While a case could be made that I was capable of taking care of myself, picking on Jerome was like teasing a puppy. A very smart, bespectacled, Mr Peabody-like puppy.
‘Listen,’ I said, linking arms with him. ‘I assume you have some time on your hands now. Want to help me?’
‘I’d be honored,’ he said, looking pleased.
‘Great. You and Jill have been going around taping people – sort of the sights and sounds of Java Ho, right?’
I had two reasons for asking the question. First, something they had inadvertently captured on tape might suggest who had wanted LaRoche dead. Second, I wanted to make sure they hadn’t caught me on tape, sounding like I wanted LaRoche dead.
‘Correct,’ he said, turning to me. ‘For B-roll.’
The term B-roll is a throwback to when film was edited from reels or rolls. Editors would use B-roll, or secondary footage on another reel, to provide segues and context between segments of the main event: the A-roll.
‘But since the police took everything we shot this morning,’ he went on, ‘I guess B becomes A, doesn’t it?’
‘Or, since there is no barista competition,’ I countered, ‘it’s all B-roll. Garbage.’
‘Never garbage,’ Jerome said, aghast at the thought. ‘Tape and film – they are what we chronicle our lives and our times on. What would we know about the 1940s or 50s or 60s without TV or movies?’
‘Well, some of us actually remember a few of those years,’ I pointed out.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . . I mean, you look so young.’
Yeah, right. I waved him off. ‘I know, I know, to someone your age, Raiders of the Lost Ark is a classic. Me, I’m more Rear Window or North by Northwest.’
‘Quite honestly, I love old movies,’ Jerome said. ‘It’s one of the reasons I decided to study Communication and Theatre Arts.’
Interesting kid, this one. ‘I’m afraid I’m a bit of a movie junkie myself,’ I admitted.
‘My father says that we’re all addicted to something,’ Jerome said. ‘The trick is to make sure it’s something that’s good for us.’
Just then I caught a glimpse of Sarah heading out of the door of the exhibit hall. ‘Listen,’ I said to Jerome, ‘I need to do a few things first, but how can I get a look at those tapes?’
‘The editing suite at the school would probably be easiest,’ Jerome said. ‘There’s a lot of footage, and we can get through it faster there.’
‘Perfect.’ I checked my watch. Could it only be one thirty? ‘Want to meet there at say, three?’
‘I’ll be there.’ Jerome gave me directions and then hesitated.
‘Something wrong?’ I asked.
He cocked his head. ‘I’m just wondering when you’re going to tell me what you’re doing. As you said, there’s no hope in salvaging the show.’
What did I say to him? I’m afraid my boyfriend is going to arrest me for murdering my competitor, burning down his shop and stealing his barista?
Jerome would think I was a lunatic. But the truth was, that’s exactly what I was afraid of.
‘I’m afraid my boyfriend is going to arrest me for murdering my competitor, burning down his shop and stealing his barista.’
I braced myself, waiting for Jerome’s reaction. Surprise, reassurance, commitment – probably of me, to an insane asylum.
But he just nodded. ‘Makes sense. See you at three.’
Yeah, see you at three.
Chapter Fifteen
I found Sarah with the smokers outside the revolving door. I was reminded of Jerome’s dad and his thoughts on addiction.
‘Maybe you should take up red wine,’ I said. ‘At least there are health benefits to that.’
‘I’m not smoking,’ Sarah protested. She was standing next to a red-haired woman with permanently-pursed lips and nicotine-stained hands. When the woman exhaled, Sarah centered herself in the cloud of smoke and breathed deeply. ‘Oh, God, that’s so good,’ she said, as Red looked at her uneasily.
I pulled Sarah away. ‘Have you lost your mind? You’re exchanging air with that woman. Her germs, her breath, her smoke. In some cultures you’d have to marry her.’
Sarah waved me off. ‘I’ve had a bad day. You were there. We found Marvin LaRoche dead. I’ll breathe anybody’s air I want to.’
I have to admit I hadn’t given much thought to Sarah’s reaction to the death of LaRoche, a longtime client. Questionable tactics aside, Sarah had tried to help me in the competition room. The least I could do was offer her a shoulder.
‘I’m sorry, Sarah,’ I said, patting her arm. ‘You knew LaRoche better than I did. How are you doing?’
My friend looked surprised that I was being so solicitous. ‘Why . . . why, thanks for asking Maggy. I do feel a little light-headed.’ She put a hand to her head. ‘Perhaps a cigarette might get me past the worst of it.’
‘Shame on you,’ I scolded her. ‘At least I’m honest enough to admit I didn’t like LaRoche―’
Janalee LaRoche chose that moment to rotate out of the revolving door, though ‘chose’ wasn’t the right word. Janalee didn’t look like she was capable of making any decisions, including walking and talking.
I touched her shoulder, the one without Davy on it, praying that she hadn’t heard me. ‘Janalee, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?’
Janalee had a cloth diaper draped over the baby’s face and all I could see of him was a pair of eyes. Apparently she was trying to shield him from the smoke, though the widening wet spot on Davy’s bottom argued that the diaper might be better employed on that end.
Janalee waved me over to an area that was relatively smoke-free. Sarah didn’t follow us. Instead, she edged closer to the redhead, who, in turn, edged away. Any minute now they’d be in the bushes.
‘I can’t believe this is all happening.’ Janalee took a deep breath. ‘First the fire and now Marvin? It’s just too much, and with Amy leaving, too . . .’ Tears started to flow.
‘I’m so sorry about that,’ I said, tears welling up in my eyes, too. ‘Why don’t you just keep Amy?’ Caron was going to kill me.
But Janalee just smiled sadly. ‘You’re sweet, Maggy, but Amy’s not my property. We’ll have to let her decide what she wants to do.’
I guess we did, dammit. And now that LaRoche was gone, I wondered whether she would, indeed, stay with Janalee.
‘But there is something you can do for me,’ Janalee was saying as she patted Davy on his wet butt.
‘Of course, anything,’ I said, hoping she didn’t want me to change him. Or babysit.
‘Take over Java Ho in Marvin’s stead.’
Even worse.
‘But don’t you think we should cancel the rest of the convention?’
After all, Sunday was always the slowest day at a convention. People getting ready to leave and all. The exhibit hall would be open, of course, and there was a frothing clinic and a cupping – the coffee equivalent of a wine-tasting. Neither would pull in the kind of numbers . . .
Janalee was patting my hand now, instead of Davy’s wet bum. ‘It was Marvin’s dream, and he would want us to see it through. Would you do that for him?’ Her blue eyes were overflowing again.
No, I wouldn’t do it for him. But I’d do it for Janalee, with her soggy eyes and her equally soggy baby. Especially if it would make her stop touching me with her soggy hand. ‘Sure, I’ll do it.’
‘Thank you.’ Removing the diaper from Davy’s head, she reached in and pulled a folder out of the sling. Mercifully, it was dry. ‘Here’s the information you’ll need. The banquet is tonight.’
‘Banquet?’
‘Don’t worry. Cocktails at six thirty, dinner at seven thirty, and everything is set with the caterers. Your contact with them is named Penny and she’s a marvel. Now Marvin was supposed to speak, but I’ve asked Levitt Fredericks of EarthBean to take his place.’
Not a bad idea. EarthBean’s agenda would have equal time to LaRoche’s.
‘And one more favor, Maggy?’
This time I didn’t say ‘anything’. ‘What is it?’
She played her hands through Davy’s downy hair, focusing on him. ‘I know I should come and say something about Marvin, but I just can’t.’ She looked up at me. ‘Would you? Would you tell people what kind of man he was? I’m afraid they will just remember his rant in the keynote speech. Marvin wasn’t like that.’
The hell he wasn’t. But those eyes were pumping water again. ‘Tell you what, Janalee. I think it would be much more appropriate for Sarah Kingston to do it, instead of me. She’s known LaRo . . . Marvin, so much longer.’ And she, at least, was unlikely to become a suspect in his murder. ‘Why don’t I ask her?’
Janalee clapped in joy, nearly catching Davy up-side the head. ‘Wonderful idea, Maggy. Marvin had great respect for Sarah.’
Everyone had great respect for Sarah. Or else.
‘Perfect. Then it’s settled,’ I said, happy to see that Sarah was still sucking smoke to my right. I wouldn’t have to track her down. ‘Now you go home and rest.’
‘I will,’ she promised and started down the sidewalk. Then she turned back. ‘And Maggy, just so you know. No matter what people may say, I know you didn’t have anything to do with either the fire or Marvin’s death.’
Pulling Sarah to the side, I broke the news.
‘Me? Speak? What am I going to say?’
‘Please, like you haven’t spoken at a million events.’
‘Real estate events,’ she clarified. ‘Most everyone is either talking or dead drunk.’
As opposed to our convention where they were just dead.
‘You’re not getting out of this,’ I said sternly. ‘You will do five minutes on Marvin LaRoche. You will be nice, but not too nice, or people will storm the stage. They won’t have forgotten his speech from Thursday night.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Sarah said, ‘people never badmouth the dead.’
‘Only because it’s not as much fun as badmouthing the living,’ I said. ‘I can’t believe we’re going ahead with this thing.’
‘You’re telling me,’ Sarah said. ‘I wasn’t even planning on going to the banquet. What am I supposed to wear?’
I took a sniff. ‘Something that doesn’t smell like smoked fish. You didn’t stink this bad when you were smoking.’
Sarah twisted her head toward her shoulder and got a whiff. ‘Whew, she smokes some cheap-ass cigarettes, I tell you.’
‘I don’t think huffers can be choosers,’ I said. ‘Listen, I’ll meet you in the Crystal Ballroom at six. Cocktails are at six thirty, dinner seven thirty, and I’ll start the program the minute the first person sets down his or her fork.’
I got out my car keys. ‘Believe me, tonight is going to be short and sweet.’
It turned out to be neither.
When I arrived at Brookhills Community College, it was three on the dot.
BCC is a two-year college that feeds into the four-year university system. Most of the kids who go there are local, often living at home.
Eric had considered attending BCC his first two years, before transferring to a bigger school out of state. I had encouraged him to go away to school. After all, living away from home is an important developmental step.
Besides, much as I love my son, I had imagined an adult lifestyle: romantic dinners for Ted and me, without first having to clear dirty socks off the dining room table. Nights at the theater, without being summoned away during intermission by a panicky text message. Drinks on the way home from work, without worrying about cooking dinner.
Now I could do all of those things. Only, alone. Moral: be careful what you wish for.
Jerome met me at the main door of the arts building and led me to the editing suite. ‘I’ve got everything all set,’ he said as he waved me to a chair at the console. ‘I just didn’t know where you wanted to start.’