You Don't Own Me Read online

  Laurie and Ryan exchanged a quick glance. Apparently there had been some kind of run-in with the police at Dr. Bell’s office, and George had assumed they already knew about it.

  They took the new information in stride. “Why do you suppose he even called the police in the first place, George, unless he was frightened of you?” Ryan asked.

  “I didn’t mean to scare him, and I swear, I never meant to scare that kid either. I’m not such a scary guy,” he said, shrugging and looking down at his own soft frame. “I just wanted him to know the harm he was doing, just like I wanted that Connor Bigsby kid to know he shouldn’t text a friend who’s behind the wheel. I needed Martin Bell to know that he wasn’t saving people. He wasn’t a miracle worker. His drugs took the life out of Ma. I called him and called him, but he never picked up or called me back. So I showed up in person. What other choice did I have?”

  George stared into the lizard tank as he spoke. “I told the lady at the front desk I wouldn’t be leaving until he came out to talk to me, man-to-man. I was never going to hurt him, and I told that to the police when they came. They said Dr. Bell would file charges for trespassing if I came back, so I never did.”

  Ryan tried a new angle. “What about the gun, George? A Smith and Wesson nine-millimeter pistol was registered under your name. The same model used to kill Dr. Bell outside his home that night.”

  “I bought that thing years ago for Ma’s safety. There were some break-ins in the neighborhood and I wanted to be prepared. I had fun with it at first, going to the range to practice. But after Ma’s accident, I sort of forgot about it. I didn’t have time anymore, seeing as I was looking after her so much, so it sat in a closet. Sort of ironic it got stolen. Serves me right for trying to be such a tough guy. Not in my nature.”

  “Did you buy another one?” Laurie asked. “Didn’t the burglary confirm your fears about the need for protection?”

  “Nah. I had the thing to protect Ma. There’s nothing of value here anymore.”

  Laurie asked him the name of the range he used to frequent, and scribbled it down in her notebook. “And after Dr. Bell was murdered, did the police interview you?”

  George shook his head. “I kind of expected them to, but that misunderstanding in his office was more than a month before his murder, and there was no police report. So . . .”

  He didn’t finish the thought, but Laurie knew he meant that it had fallen through the cracks. Whatever police officer responded to a quick call about a man who wouldn’t leave a doctor’s office had probably never connected the dots to Dr. Bell’s murder over a month later. And Laurie was certain that the police hadn’t unearthed the details of George’s prior interactions with law enforcement, let alone the fact of his supposedly stolen gun. After all, they had been too busy investigating Kendra.

  “And the night of Dr. Bell’s death,” Ryan started, “where were you that evening?”

  “I was here,” George said, motioning to the space around him. “Alone.”

  The three of them sat quietly for a moment. The windows rattled as another plane flew overhead. “Will you go on camera to clear your name?” Ryan asked.

  George winced. “I’d like to speak with my psychiatrist first.”

  “Well, make sure he knows this reinvestigation isn’t going away,” Ryan said. He looked to Laurie to see if she had more to ask, but Laurie thanked George for his time and stood to leave.

  As they stepped into the bright sunlight and made their way back to the car, Laurie turned to Ryan. “What’s your gut?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t fix him up with my sister, but so far I’m not feeling him as a murderer.”

  She nodded, wishing that gut instincts were enough for her to scratch a suspect’s name from her board. Personally she wasn’t sure. It was obvious that George Naughten was obsessed in his belief that Dr. Martin Bell had caused his mother’s death.

  “Thanks for all your good work,” she said. “You were great in there.”

  “Thank you, Laurie. That means a lot coming from you. I know I wasn’t exactly a team player straight out of the gate.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but what’s changed?”

  Ryan hesitated, and Laurie noticed his brow furrow. “A woman I was seeing dumped me.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear—”

  He shook his head. “It was never serious. But, man, she really called me out when she broke it off. She said I was selfish—and entitled. Said I was born on third base and go through life thinking I hit a triple.” He shrugged sadly, then opened the back door of the car for Laurie, beating the driver to the task.

  Once he was settled into the seat next to her, he said, “Anyway, I realized she might just have a point. So consider me humbled.”

  Laurie wasn’t sure how to respond to this unprecedented moment of vulnerability from Ryan, so she opted for humor. “Humbled, perhaps, but not quite humble.”

  “Never,” he said, breaking out into a broad grin. “Ryan Nichols doesn’t do humble.”

  32

  Laurie and her assistant producer, Jerry, arrived at the Longfellows’ Upper West Side apartment on West End Avenue at 3:30 on the dot, precisely as scheduled.

  “These ceilings!” Jerry marveled as the elevators opened on the nineteenth floor. “They must be thirteen feet high. And I love the finishes. So classically art deco.”

  “Maybe you should be my Realtor,” Laurie quipped. She had decided that she needed to bring someone else with her in case she learned important information from the Longfellows and needed a witness to back up her version of events. As much as she and Ryan had been getting along lately, she thought that bringing the show’s host and a former prosecutor might set the wrong tone. After all, Alex had asked the senator a personal favor by arranging the meeting. Unlike Ryan, Jerry was impossible not to like.

  The chime of the Longfellows’ doorbell was immediately followed by a crescendo of high-pitched dog yips. “Ike! Lincoln!” A woman on the other side of the door was making shushing sounds. The barks decreased in volume and eventually settled into the whining noise Laurie associated with attempts to get treats. “How many times do I have to tell you? Be nice when people come to visit.”

  As the door opened, two small dogs greeted them, running in circles around them and smelling their shoes. The woman following them extended her hand and said, “Hello, I’m Leigh Ann Longfellow.” She was wearing a classic navy sheath dress and nude pumps. She wore her dark brown hair in a neat, shoulder-length bob, much like Laurie’s own style. Her alabaster skin was as creamy as milk. “Sorry about these two scoundrels. You’d never know they’re actually quite well trained. Unfortunately, they seem to decide for themselves when to turn it on and off. Right now, I think they’re excited to have Mommy and Daddy home so early in the afternoon.”

  “No problem,” Laurie said, returning the introduction. “I love dogs. They’re—Pomeranians?”

  “So close. Papillons. They’re eight years old, but they still act like little puppies when they meet someone new.”

  Jerry was already crouched on the floor, allowing the dogs to crawl up on him and lick his face. He grinned upward between their kisses. “Hi, I’m Jerry,” he said with a quick wave. “Laurie’s production assistant.”

  His official title was assistant producer, but Laurie knew he was trying to keep the tone friendly and informal.

  Leigh Ann led them into a spacious living room with tasteful, modern furnishings layered in neutral tones. The only hint at clutter was a large dog bed near the fireplace with an array of stuffed toys around it. From the looks of a decapitated fleece lamb surrounded by white cotton stuffing, Ike and Lincoln had recently finished a fierce round of tug-of-war.

  Laurie and Ryan were just about to sit when Senator Longfellow walked into the room. He was as striking as he appeared in his campaign ads and press conferences.

  Laurie was familiar with the background that had catapulted Daniel Longfellow to several national sh
ort lists of “young politicians to watch.” The only son of a doorman and a housekeeper, he had attended West Point and earned a Bronze Star with Valor for his service in Afghanistan after 9/11. Laurie remembered the campaign video highlighting his personal biography. He said he had returned to New York from the military determined to help the city he loved to be a safe and prosperous place for all.

  He was tall, probably around six-foot-three, with dark blond hair and bright blue eyes. When he stood next to Leigh Ann and placed an arm around her, it seemed completely natural.

  “I see you met the kids already,” he told Laurie and Jerry, gesturing at the two dogs panting at his feet.

  “They made sure of it, Senator Longfellow,” Laurie said, then introduced herself.

  “Ike and Lincoln. I call them the Papillon Presidents. And, please, call me Dan. Sorry, but the majority leader pushed back a conference call. Don’t tell anyone, but I just hit mute to come out and say hi. Why don’t you talk to Leigh Ann first and I’ll be right around the corner.”

  “Sounds good,” Laurie agreed, watching as he gave his wife a quick kiss on the lips before leaving the room. Laurie tried not to stare, but she could feel the energy between Dan and Leigh Ann. She remembered what Cynthia Bell had said about the two of them: they each think the sun rises and sets on the other.

  Laurie hadn’t asked a single question yet, but she was already certain of one thing: this was a couple that loved each other dearly.

  33

  Leigh Ann gestured for Laurie and Jerry to sit, and then positioned herself across from them on a matching light gray sofa. She seemed unfazed as the two Papillons leapt up and sat on either side of her.

  “I should start by congratulating you, Laurie. Dan told me that in addition to your own successful career, you’re engaged to our newest federal judge. That’s very exciting. Quite the power couple.”

  Laurie wasn’t sure how to respond. It had been a long time since she’d thought of herself as half of a couple at all, let alone a so-called power couple. “Thanks,” she said. “There’s still so much to do.”

  “Well, not that you asked, but my advice is to just enjoy it. Let it be about the two of you instead of all the wedding plans and whatnot. My parents talked Dan and me into the whole hullabaloo at the Central Park Boathouse. I had to have my cousin follow Dan around the whole night reminding him who everyone was.”

  Laurie smiled to herself. She and Alex still hadn’t told anyone else that they were planning a late summer wedding, precisely because they wanted a little more time before sharing the details.

  “Anyway,” Leigh Ann said, “you’re not here for wedding consulting. Dan told me you’re reinvestigating Martin’s case.” Her voice took a more somber tone. “I still can’t believe someone would do that to him.”

  “How did you hear about his death?” Laurie asked.

  “My mom called me. The police had gone to the Bells’ apartment to break the news to them in person. As it happened, my parents were with the Bells at the apartment having cocktails before going out to dinner with them. You can only imagine the reaction when they were told about the tragedy.”

  “Cynthia said you’d known Martin for a long time.”

  She nodded sadly. “Since I was a kid. He was six years older than I, so we weren’t exactly friends. But our parents were close, so we’d be at the kids’ table together, or the older kids would play hide-and-seek with the young ones. That sort of thing. And then when I joined the alumni board at the Hayden School, it turned out he was on it, too.”

  “Did you know Kendra?”

  “Not at all. Dan and I were invited to the wedding, but it conflicted with a campaign event Dan had already scheduled.”

  “He was already in the state assembly by then?” Laurie asked.

  Leigh Ann looked up at the ceiling, doing the math. “Running for his second term, so that must have been . . . a little more than ten years ago? Mom and Dad went, and they said Kendra seemed nice, but they didn’t really get to spend any time with her. And then Mom mentioned a few times over the years that Cynthia thought Martin had made a terrible mistake, but, as I said, I didn’t know Kendra at all, and only reconnected with Martin through the alumni board.”

  “Sorry to be blunt, but I’m sure you know why we wanted to speak with you. Kendra was convinced there was more to your relationship.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “I’m sorry to laugh. I feel horrible for her, but it really is absurd. We’d see each other once a month at best, in a conference room with twenty-two other alumni. Then we wound up serving as co-chairs of the auction committee, which is a ton of work between planning the event, drumming up attendance, and locking down donations. These days, I’d never have the time for something like that, but back then, Dan was in Albany more often than not”—her face made it clear that she was not a fan of the state capital—“and I wanted to continue to have a purpose in the city. So when the previous chair of the auction couldn’t handle it that year, I figured, What the heck. I’ll do it as long as I have someone to help me. And Martin was practically a celebrity by then, and we’d known each other since we were kids, so I twisted his arm until he relented. The only thing I can think of is that Kendra saw how many phone calls we had between us and jumped to conclusions. But I promise you: the sexiest thing Martin Bell and I ever talked about was where to place the ice sculpture.”

  “But the police interviewed you when Martin died?”

  “Yes. I was absolutely flabbergasted. My mother told me later that Martin’s parents had warned her that Kendra had this crazy notion in her head, but no one had ever mentioned it to me while Martin was still alive. At first when they contacted me, the police simply told me that my number turned up frequently in Martin’s call records, so of course I explained the work we’d been doing on the auction. But then they told me that Kendra believed I was having an affair with Martin, and they wanted to know where Danny had been the night of the murder, in case he shared the same suspicions as Kendra.”

  “And?” Laurie asked.

  “He was in D.C. With me, in fact. The Senate seat had just become vacant, and we knew the governor was on the verge of naming Danny to the empty seat. In preparation, Danny drove down to D.C. to meet with several party leaders in the capital. I didn’t hold his hand through the meetings, of course, but I decided to take the trip down with him for moral support. And, well, to be honest, I much prefer accompanying him to D.C. than Albany. We stayed overnight so he could have breakfast in the morning with the Senate majority leader. We had just gotten back to the city when my mother called with the terrible news about Martin’s death.”

  If Leigh Ann was telling the truth, it would have been easy for the police to confirm Dan’s alibi for the night of the murder. Once again, Laurie wished that she could convince the police department to be more open with her about their investigation.

  “Having spoken to Kendra,” Laurie said, “I think part of the reason she suspected Martin of having an affair was that they were having serious problems within their own marriage. They were still living together, but it sounds almost as if they were estranged within the same home. I hate to be so personal, but how was the state of your marriage around that time?”

  Leigh Ann smiled, but Laurie could tell that her patience was being tested. “You’re right. That is quite personal. What can I say? Danny and I are one of those lucky couples that found each other early on and decided to build a life together. I was finishing law school at Columbia, and he was completing his master’s degree in International and Public Affairs after leaving the military as a junior officer. I dropped my international law book in the line at Starbucks while I was trying to get my wallet out of my backpack. He picked it up for me, and we just started talking about foreign policy and then everything else under the sun. We had an immediate bond. We must have sat in that coffee shop for three hours. I went home that night and told my roommate that I had just met the man I was going to marry. When he proposed,
he presented the engagement ring inside the paper coffee cup he had kept from that night. He said he immediately knew, too, that we were going to end up together.”

  Effortless, Laurie thought—the way it was supposed to be.

  “With your husband’s Senate appointment so imminent, you must have been concerned about your names surfacing in the media coverage of Martin’s murder. It was the top of the local crime news for a couple of weeks.”

  “Honestly, it never dawned on me to worry about us. I was just rattled that someone I knew was murdered. And I was sorry to hear that Kendra, on top of losing her husband and being left with two young children, had any doubts about my connection to Martin. But it was obviously only in her imagination. Besides, by the time Martin was killed, the governor had already told Dan that the Senate seat was his. The trip to D.C. was pro forma—to kiss the rings and whatnot. In fact, if I recall correctly, the governor had made the announcement by the time the police detective interviewed us.”

  Laurie had Googled the Longfellows to prepare for this interview. The outgoing senator had accepted a cabinet position ten days before Martin Bell was killed, and the governor appointed Longfellow—a forty-year-old, fourth-term assemblyman and war hero—to the vacant spot exactly two weeks after the senator announced his decision. If Leigh Ann’s recollection was correct, the police had taken at least five days to get around to interviewing the Longfellows. Laurie was raised by a cop. She knew exactly what that kind of delay meant: the police had not viewed the Longfellows as an investigative priority. It was yet another sign that the police had not found Kendra’s accusations credible.

  “Did Martin ever talk to you about Kendra or the state of their marriage?”

  “Not really.”

  Laurie smiled. “Not really isn’t the same as no.”