You Don't Own Me Page 13

  “Look, I’ve got to be honest—I’m biased. My mother has told me that Cynthia and Robert feel quite strongly that Kendra was responsible for Martin’s death, but I have no firsthand knowledge of that.”

  “But Martin did say something to you about Kendra?”

  She nodded. “Not in a personal way. We weren’t close enough for that. But when we were initially scouting out potential venues for the auction, he couldn’t make the time I suggested because he had a meeting with a lawyer. I didn’t think anything of it and started proposing other dates, but he kept going. He let out kind of a sarcastic laugh”—she mimicked the sound—“and said, ‘Hey, tell me if you and Dan know any really good divorce lawyers. Apparently, I’m going to need a shark if I have any hope of keeping my children.’ Honestly, it was more than a bit awkward. I told him I was sorry to hear that and went on with finding another date on the calendar.”

  It was yet another indication that Martin had been determined to divorce Kendra if only he could maintain custody of Bobby and Mindy.

  Laurie did not have anything else to ask Leigh Ann, and the senator hadn’t returned yet from his conference call. “So did the auction go forward without Martin?” she asked, making small talk.

  Leigh Ann smiled, appreciative of the question. “We sent out the invitations in his honor, in fact. His graduating class had a hundred-percent donation rate for the first time ever. Robert and Cynthia attended and even brought Bobby and Mindy. I thought all of us were going to break down in tears, those poor children. What hope do they have for a normal childhood after losing their father to such a ghastly crime?”

  Plenty of hope, Laurie wanted to say. Maybe they will be strong and resilient and full of love and light like my amazing Timothy.

  Leigh Ann looked up at the sound of her husband entering the room, and Ike and Lincoln immediately jumped down from the sofa to welcome the new arrival.

  “Wow,” Jerry remarked. “They may be the Papillon Presidents, but they surely are excited to greet the senator from New York.”

  “They do love their daddy, don’t they?” Leigh Ann cooed in baby talk as Dan bent over to give the dogs a few scratches behind their ears.

  “You have to forgive us,” the senator said. “You may have noticed we dote on these little fellas. If it hadn’t finally warmed up over the last few days, you would have had the pleasure of seeing them in their turtleneck sweaters. Before too long, they’ll be in Gucci booties and designer sunglasses.”

  “Stop it,” Leigh Ann teased. “They love their little outfits, don’t you, sweeties? You know how happy they make your mommy.”

  Daniel and Leigh Ann had had a blitz of positive media coverage when he was first named to the vacant Senate seat. He may have been the darling of the New York State Assembly, but he was suddenly a national name after his elevation to the United States Senate. Political reporters loved the entire package of his personal background, centrist policy views, and picture-perfect marriage to a dynamic and intelligent commercial litigator. If there was any misstep during the rollout of his introduction to a national audience, it had belonged to Leigh Ann.

  One of the cohosts of a daytime talk show, Dawn Harper, had asked Leigh Ann whether the couple ever planned to have children. Another one of the cohosts reprimanded Dawn for the question, and Dawn replied, “What? I’m just asking. Dan’s forty. She’s thirty-six. How about it, Leigh Ann? Is the biological clock ticking?”

  Some members of the live audience groaned at the intrusiveness of the question, but it was Leigh Ann’s response that drew the true fire. “With all due respect, I graduated at the top of my class from Columbia Law School, am about to make partner at one of the largest law firms in the country, and am an equal partner to my husband in every way. The last thing I need to make me feel whole as a woman is a child.”

  While some defended Leigh Ann’s comment as a rebuttal to Dawn’s assumption that all women were desperate for children by their mid thirties, many interpreted it as an attack against stay-at-home mothers. After a bruising twenty-four-hour news cycle, Dan and Leigh Ann made clear in a joint interview that they admired and respected all hardworking parents—both mothers and fathers, working inside or outside the home—but that they had made a personal decision not to have children. Laurie had been impressed at the time with their frankness about an intensely intimate topic. The pictures they had brought of their two “spoiled babies,” Ike and Lincoln, had helped soften Leigh Ann’s image.

  Laurie could see now that they weren’t kidding when they said they treated their pets like their children.

  “I expect you’re ready for me?” Senator Longfellow asked, rubbing his palms together.

  Leigh Ann rose from the sofa and gave him a kiss on the lips before he took her place. “Make sure they read you your Miranda rights,” she called out as she walked away. “You’ve got a lawyer in the next room if you think you’re about to confess to anything, Senator.”

  34

  Laurie began by thanking the senator once again for agreeing to speak with them.

  “It was my pleasure. I gained a great respect for your fiancé during the confirmation process. He was honorable and unflappable, even when some of my more partisan Senate colleagues were threatening to raise hay about his defense of a certain swindler.”

  Laurie wondered if the barely veiled reference to the Carl Newman case was intended as a reminder that Longfellow had been instrumental in making certain that Alex was confirmed to the federal bench. She was determined not to let that sway her opinion.

  “I understand that the police interviewed you as part of the original investigation,” she said.

  The light, joking tone he had shared with his wife moments earlier was immediately replaced by a somber demeanor. She could picture him as a leader in the military. “It was surreal,” he said. “I never actually met Martin, but I used to joke with Leigh Ann that he was replacing me as her city husband while I was at the capital. Then we had just gotten back from D.C., suddenly on the verge of me getting appointed to the U.S. Senate, and she gets the phone call about his murder. It was all over the news the next day. I guarantee that if you look at the local papers from that week, two of the biggest stories were his murder and my Senate appointment. The phones in my Senate office were barely hooked up before I got a message that the NYPD wanted to speak to me and Leigh Ann. At first, I thought it might be about grant funding or something official, but then they said it was about Martin.”

  “At the time, what was your understanding of the reason your name would have come up in their investigation?”

  “Of course we assumed it was because of the work Leigh Ann had been doing with him for the Hayden School. A routine check of everyone in his phone records and whatnot. They met us here and then asked to speak to Leigh Ann alone, which didn’t strike me as unusual. In fact, your fiancé insisted on the same today,” he said. His smile was polite rather than warm.

  Laurie nodded, indicating for him to continue.

  “Then they spoke with me separately and asked if I could tell them where I was the night he was murdered. I almost started laughing, thinking they were hazing the new senator or something. But then I realized they were serious. I told them they could find photographs in the New York Times and Washington Post of me in D.C. that day. I gave them the name of the hotel where we stayed overnight and even offered to put them in touch with the Senate majority leader if they needed to confirm that I was still there for breakfast the next day. They looked quite chagrined, to be honest. Much respect for the NYPD, but it became immediately obvious they should have realized on their own that we weren’t even in the city that day. With that out of the way, I asked them why in the world they were even inquiring. That’s when they told me that Kendra believed that Martin and Leigh Ann were— Well, I can’t even say it, but surely you know the allegation.”

  “And what was your reaction, Senator?”

  “I was stupefied! It was . . . nonsense. And by then the news rep
orts had made it pretty clear who the number one suspect was. Innocent until proven guilty, of course, but I’ve always felt that the strongest sign of Kendra’s guilt was her baseless attempt to try to lay the blame at my door.” There was a momentary hint of anger in his voice, but he quickly gained control over it. “I wanted to make it a hundred percent certain that the police had absolutely no doubts about my involvement. I sent them my hotel receipt, including proof of overnight parking, my E-ZPass toll records, and the articles about my visit to D.C. And I had read the insinuations in the media that Kendra might have been hoarding large cash withdrawals to pay someone to carry out the attack on her behalf. To prevent anyone from saying the same about me, I even, without being asked, gave the police my bank records.”

  “That does seem like full disclosure.”

  “I had nothing to hide then or now,” he said firmly. “We have this beautiful apartment thanks to my brilliant and hardworking wife, but I insist on covering my half on a politician’s salary. Trust me, there’s no room left for a hit man slush fund. I figured the quicker they could check me off their list, the more time they’d have to find the real killer.”

  “I imagine you had other considerations in addition to helping the police. Despite the massive media interest in the case, it would appear that no outlet ever reported that the police interviewed you and your wife as part of the investigation.”

  “Can you imagine the circus that could have been? Newest U.S. senator wrapped up in a homicide case?”

  “There’s a reason you didn’t want to meet today at either my studio or your office.”

  He nodded. “Of course. In fact, I’m not ashamed to admit that I even made a call to the commissioner’s office. I wanted the police to know at the very highest level that I would cooperate in every imaginable way, but I didn’t want us swept into a media frenzy just because I happened to be having my own fifteen minutes of fame. He assured me I had provided more than sufficient evidence to establish my innocence. I got the impression they had even spoken to other members of the Hayden School Alumni Board, who had confirmed that it was simply impossible to imagine Martin and Leigh Ann together. But now here we are again,” he said, smiling but holding Laurie’s gaze sternly.

  She could hear his unasked question, so she gave him the closest thing she had to an answer. “We don’t air theories about alternative suspects unless we believe there’s a good-faith factual basis for doing so.”

  “That’s comforting to hear, Laurie. I’ve seen every episode of your show, by the way, and I admire the work you do. But just between us? I think this time the one person under suspicion—Kendra Bell—deserves every bit of it. I hope you’re able to prove it once and for all.”

  35

  As soon as Laurie and Jerry were settled into the back of the black SUV that had been waiting for them outside Senator Longfellow’s apartment, Jerry clapped his hands together in a tiny round of applause. “That was a first for me,” he said. “I’d never met a senator and his wife before. And they were every bit as charming as everyone says. They’re both stunningly gorgeous, and so . . . real. I totally get the hype now. We may have just met a future president and first lady, Laurie!”

  “Before you’re ready to put them in the White House, maybe we can talk about their connection to Martin Bell?”

  “Sorry.” Jerry nodded. “You know how crazy I get around celebrities, and they felt like movie stars—only smarter! But yes, you’re right. No more fawning. Look, we knew going in that the only reason to question the Longfellows at all was because Kendra insists that he had something going on with Leigh Ann, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “And it was at best a hunch of hers, right? No hotel receipts. No reports of hand-holding or stolen kisses outside the Hayden School Alumni Board meetings?”

  “Nothing but time spent together and phone calls, combined with a wife’s instinct that he was seeing another woman.”

  Jerry shrugged. “Well, we have a perfectly good explanation for the contact between them, and absolutely nothing to back up Kendra’s suspicions.”

  Laurie continued the thought. “And Kendra isn’t exactly the most credible person. She claims that Martin was—quote, unquote—‘gaslighting’ her, but, by her own account, she wasn’t in the best condition at the time.”

  “Besides,” Jerry added, “do you really think Leigh Ann would step out on her husband for Martin Bell?” The way he said Martin’s name made it clear that he believed Leigh Ann was too good for the deceased physician.

  “They do seem like polar opposites,” Laurie said. “Martin may have been looking to get out of his marriage, but, by all accounts, he was determined to maintain custody of his children. No matter what, that was his first priority. Leigh Ann, on the other hand—”

  “Go ahead and say it,” Jerry said. “The woman obviously hates kids.”

  Laurie smiled. “Well, let’s just say she prefers the company of pets. I certainly can’t see her playing stepmom to little Bobby and Mindy.”

  “And it’s not just a matter of the kids,” Jerry said. “Don’t forget that Martin and his parents pushed Kendra to stay home after the children were born. Martin wanted a stay-at-home wife and mother, not a power-broker law partner. You saw those two together: Leigh Ann’s clearly the senator’s right-hand woman. Do you think Martin Bell wanted that?”

  “Oil and water,” Laurie said.

  “Exactly. Any motive Daniel Longfellow would have to kill Martin depends on an affair between Martin and his wife, which seems unimaginable. Not to mention, he has an ironclad alibi. It’s not just Leigh Ann’s word regarding his whereabouts that night. He had receipts, photographs, witnesses—the works.”

  Jerry was right. Laurie owed it to Kendra to pursue every possible lead, and had lived up to her responsibilities as far as the Longfellows were concerned. She was ready to check the senator off her list of possible suspects.

  Jerry held up an index finger as if an idea had suddenly come to him. “Sorry, driver, we may have a change in plans,” he said. “Laurie, I was thinking of including some background shots from the church where Martin and Kendra were married. It’s pretty much on the way back to the office. Do you mind if we swing by so we can scout it out?”

  She looked at her watch. It was approaching five o’clock. Knowing that Alex was out of town at a conference, Charlotte had invited her for a quick drink after work, but she figured this would be a brief stop. “Sounds good.”

  Jerry gave the driver an address in the West Forties. Laurie tried to think of a church in the theater district that would be up to the Bells’ standards, but nothing came to mind.

  “Pretty soon, we won’t need to use a car service for trips like this,” Jerry said. “The dealer thinks they’ll have my car in stock this week.”

  Jerry had been talking for weeks about the plug-in hybrid BMW he had decided to purchase. Laurie thought it was crazy for a young person to own a car in the city, but she knew how much Jerry enjoyed going to Fire Island on weekends in the summer. Instead of cramming himself like a sardine onto the crowded Long Island Railroad, Jerry’s approved “clean” car would entitle him to a comfortable spot in the express lane. Laurie could already picture him cruising down the Long Island Expressway with a carefully curated playlist of his favorite tunes.

  When the driver pulled to the curb on West 46th Street and they stepped out of the car, Jerry told the driver that he didn’t need to wait for them. “Jerry,” Laurie said, “I assumed this would be a few minutes. I’ve got to be back at Rock Center by six.” She was meeting Charlotte at Brasserie Ruhlmann near the studio offices.

  “We’ll just get a cab,” Jerry said. Laurie opened her mouth to speak, but the driver had already pulled away.

  “I don’t know why you did that—”

  Jerry gently placed a hand on her back and began guiding them to their destination. She did not see a church anywhere on the block.

  They had taken only a few steps when he s
uddenly halted. He looked at her and grinned, gesturing toward the sign at the establishment next to them.

  “Fancy’s,” in hot pink neon letters. Broadway’s hottest male dancers.

  No, she thought, this is not happening.

  The tinted glass door opened, and Charlotte and Grace appeared, wearing matching purple boas. They both screamed out a high-pitched “whoooo!” sounding like the young bachelorettes competing for a single man on one of Fisher Blake’s most successful reality shows.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Laurie said drily.

  “Come on,” Charlotte said. “You and Alex have been so low-key with your engagement. We’ve been plotting for weeks and decided you needed a lowbrow night of celebration.”

  “By acting like an idiot swooning over scantily clad men? Not in a million years.” Laurie now understood why Grace and Jerry had been so skittish around her recently while they were huddled over their computer screens. They had been planning this absurd event with Charlotte.

  “But I already paid a guy named Chip for your first dance with him,” Grace said, pouting her lower lip in disappointment.

  Laurie glanced at their three eager faces and decided this was her punishment for always being the serious one. They were determined to force her to have brainless “fun.”

  She had taken two steps toward the door, accepting her fate, when Charlotte and Grace jumped outside and gave her a big hug. “We had you going!” Charlotte said, adding “good job” as she handed out high fives to both Jerry and Grace.

  Jerry was smiling sheepishly. “We were just messing with you, Boss. Please forgive us.” He pressed his palms together into prayer hands.

  Laurie felt a wave of relief wash over her, grateful she did not actually have to go inside. “Wait, does this mean we’re not going out?” she asked.

  “Oh, we’re definitely having drinks,” Charlotte said. “Just not here.”

  Jerry and Grace pointed to a spot across the street. Don’t Tell Mama, it was called. Laurie had been there once before with Grace and Jerry and had told them she enjoyed it. It was a dimly lit piano bar in the theater district, relatively quiet compared to Fancy’s with the male dancers. Broadway actors would sometimes pop in to sing a tune, and customers were free to do the same.