The Sleeping Beauty Killer Read online

  “You coming in?” she asked.

  “No thanks. Never met a defense lawyer I liked until Alex. I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead.”

  The lawyer Laurie was going to see was Casey’s trial lawyer, Janice Marwood.

  39

  Laurie rang the bell of Janice Marwood’s office. When no one answered, she opened the door and stepped in. This is an office, she thought. At a glance she could see that the space had probably served as a family home in the early twentieth century. On her left, what used to be the living room was now a reception area with several chairs and a table with magazines.

  What was missing was any sign of life—not a person in sight.

  “Hello?” Laurie called out, as she stepped into the reception area. She heard footsteps coming down the hall.

  A woman emerged from the back of the house, a jar of peanut butter in one hand, a spoon in the other. “I’m here—Oh.”

  Oh, Laurie thought. She introduced herself even though she strongly suspected from the woman’s reaction that she already knew who she was. “I’ve called a few times on behalf of Casey Carter.”

  Marwood finished swallowing the lump of peanut butter in her mouth and freed her hands for a quick shake. “Sorry, I’m juggling a ton of cases right now. I swear I was going to call you today, come hell or high water.”

  Laurie didn’t believe it for a second. “Did you get the waiver we faxed over? I’m eager to talk to you. We start production in two days.” Faxed over in this context meant faxed, emailed, and sent certified mail. Called a few times translated to daily phone messages. And yet Laurie had not heard one word from Casey’s trial lawyer. “The courthouse doesn’t allow cameras inside, but we have permits to film out front. Or we’d be happy to do it here if that’s more convenient. Most of all, I’d love to pick your thoughts. It’s been fifteen years, and Casey has never wavered once about her innocence.”

  Janice worked her jaw as if she were still eating. “Yeah, about that. It’s Casey’s right to forgo attorney-client privilege, but I’ve looked into the issue of whether I’m obliged to participate in a television show against my own desires. The answer is no.”

  Laurie had imagined multiple scenes that might have played out when she arrived at Janice’s office, but this hadn’t been one of them. “You owe a duty of loyalty to your client. She spent a good part of her life in prison and is now desperate to clear her name. You’re supposed to be her advocate. I’m sorry, but I don’t understand the conflict here.”

  “My job is—was—to fight for her at trial. And on appeal. But the litigation is over. I’m not some reality TV star. It’s not my job to appear on camera.”

  “Casey signed the papers.”

  “That’s fine, but she can’t order me to talk to you any more than she can tell me where to go to dinner tonight. I did pull her case files from storage. She has every right to those materials. And she’s welcome to call me for any type of consult she’d like. But as far as your show goes, I won’t be participating.”

  Once again, Laurie found herself wishing that she had Alex by her side. She had assumed that Casey’s lawyer would at least feign an interest in taking up the gauntlet on her former client’s behalf, but now that Marwood was resisting, Laurie had no authority to contradict her. Before she even realized what was happening, the attorney was walking her across the foyer into a room with a conference table, where two banker boxes marked “C Carter” were waiting on the table.

  “What would have happened to these if I hadn’t driven up from the city today?” Laurie asked.

  “Like I said, I was about to call you. FedEx would have picked them up in the morning.”

  Once again, Laurie didn’t believe a word she was saying. “During the trial, someone was trolling Casey with negative comments online. Did you ever look into that?”

  “Everything I have is in the files.”

  “One of the jurors was even told by his daughter about a comment claiming that Casey confessed. He reported it to the judge. Why didn’t you ask for a mistrial?”

  She pushed one of the boxes in Laurie’s direction. “With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t owe you any explanations about trial strategy. Now do you need help taking these boxes with you? Because that’s all I have to offer.”

  Alex had graded Janice Marwood as a C-minus lawyer, but Laurie wanted to give her a giant F.

  When she walked outside, file boxes in tow, she could see her father in the rental car, fingertips tapping against the steering wheel. She suspected he was listening to the sixties channel, his favorite station on satellite radio.

  He popped the trunk when he spotted her and hopped out to help. “Looks like that went well,” he said, grabbing one of the boxes.

  “Not at all,” she said. She had no proof, but found herself wondering whether Hunter’s father could have gotten to Casey’s own lawyer.

  40

  It was five-thirty by the time Leo and Laurie got back to the city. Leo tried to get Laurie to go straight home, but she wanted to type up her notes from the trip to Connecticut and always worked better at the office.

  She was used to finding Jerry late at his desk, but was surprised to see Grace still at work, too. She was even more surprised to see Ryan wave as he passed her in the hallway, a coffee from Bouchon Bakery in his hand.

  “Why is Ryan here?” she asked Grace.

  “He’s been waiting around for his office to be ready. It was supposed to be done hours ago, but you know how slow the maintenance staff can be. They didn’t even start painting until this morning. Anyway, he used the time to get to know Jerry and me a little better. I think he’s eager to no longer be the new kid at school.”

  Laurie noticed a Bouchon pastry bag on Grace’s desk that matched Ryan’s cup. She had a strong feeling why Grace had stayed late.

  Laurie stopped by Jerry’s office and knocked on the open door.

  “Please tell me Ryan didn’t start dating my assistant while I was out of town for the day.”

  Jerry laughed. “You know Grace. She’s a born flirt, but that’s all it is. Besides, Ryan Nichols is much too high-maintenance for her. The only reason his office isn’t ready is because he’s been telling the building staff where to place every item and hang each picture of himself, down to the centimeter.” Laurie took a small amount of satisfaction in the eye roll that followed.

  She couldn’t believe that Brett had given Ryan an office. The idea of providing one for Alex had never even been raised.

  “I was actually about to call you,” Jerry said, sounding more urgent. “I think I found something important.”

  • • •

  Once they were seated in her office, he explained his excitement. “I was thinking about the ‘Whispers’ piece we found—the one that was probably about Hunter.”

  Shortly before Mindy Sampson published the photograph of Hunter with Gabrielle Lawson, her paper’s “Whispers” column had published a “blind item” reporting that one of the city’s most sought after men was about to become un-engaged. Laurie said she remembered it.

  “It made me think we might have missed something when we were researching Mark Templeton. The write-ups about his departure from the Raleigh Foundation only hinted at improprieties, at worst.” The reports simply noted that he’d left, that assets were down, and that he hadn’t announced a new position. Perhaps there was wrongdoing at the foundation, and perhaps Templeton was involved, but there wasn’t enough evidence for the reporters to raise the possibility directly.

  Laurie could see where Jerry’s thought was going. “That’s when gossip columns resort to blind items,” she said. “The paper can’t get sued if they don’t name names.” When she had researched Templeton, she had conducted a media search for any mentions of either his name or the Raleigh Foundation. But a blind item that intentionally omitted the specifics would never turn up in su
ch a targeted search. “You found something?” she asked.

  “I think so.” He handed her a printout from an archived “Whispers” column, dated several months after Templeton resigned as CFO of the foundation: What unnamed former fiduciary of what unnamed political-royalty non-profit was seen walking into the federal courthouse with a criminal defense lawyer two days ago? Are charges forthcoming? Stay tuned.

  “This is good work, Jerry. I suppose it’s possible they were talking about someone else, but a ‘political-royalty non-profit’? This sounds like it has to be Templeton. Can we feel out the reporter who published it? They might confirm off the record.”

  “Unfortunately, I tried that already. ‘Whispers’ never gave bylines to its contributors. I took a stab in the dark and contacted the guy who was the paper’s main financial reporter at the time, but he said it didn’t ring a bell. He said it’s possible their crime beat reporter came up with it, but he passed away several years ago.”

  If they couldn’t nail down the specifics of the story through the reporter, they’d have to find another way. Templeton had made it clear he had no plans to talk about his work for the Raleigh Foundation. That left only one other option.

  She asked Grace which office the studio had given Ryan, then found him there, adjusting the throw cushions on his new sofa. “Do you still have contacts at the U.S. Attorney’s Office?”

  Ryan had only worked at the federal prosecutor’s office for three years after his Supreme Court clerkship, but he’d racked up an impressive trial record prosecuting white-collar criminals. “Sure,” he said. “Not everyone can be rich and famous.”

  The wink that followed made her want to point out that, so far, he was neither. His uncle’s friend may have given him a job and an office, but Laurie knew what he was being paid. Brett’s frugality bent for no one.

  Laurie handed him a copy of the blind item that Jerry had found. “It’s possible that whatever happened between Mark Templeton and the Raleigh Foundation was serious enough that he hired a criminal defense lawyer. What would it mean if he went to the courthouse with his lawyer, but there’s no record of any actual charges?”

  Ryan took a quick glance at the printout and then exchanged it for a baseball from the top of his desk. He tossed it from hand to hand. “It’s possible he was testifying, maybe in front of a grand jury. More likely, he could have been meeting with prosecutors, possibly as an informant.”

  “Any chance you can look into that?”

  “Sure. But even if something fishy was going on at the foundation, it might have nothing to do with Hunter’s murder.”

  “If Templeton knew Hunter was onto him, that would be a powerful motive to silence him.”

  “I just don’t see it.” He continued passing the ball from side to side. “White-collar types don’t like to get their hands dirty.”

  She resisted the temptation to list all of the stories she’d worked on that challenged his assumption. “Can you ask around or not?”

  “Like I said, no problem.”

  She had thanked him and was almost out of his office when she heard his voice behind her. “Laurie, think fast.”

  He looked surprised when she effortlessly caught the ball headed her way. “Thanks,” she said, slipping it into her jacket pocket. She smiled as she returned to her office. Maybe she’d even give it back to him at some point.

  • • •

  She was about to leave work when she got a text from Charlotte. Short notice but time for a drink?

  Laurie barely remembered the days when she could do whatever she wanted after work. My kid may stop recognizing me if I don’t go home. Want to swing by my place?

  She felt silly the second she hit send. She couldn’t imagine that Charlotte would want to spend a Friday night in her apartment with her son and father.

  Only if your cute dad will be there, too. I’ll bring the wine.

  Laurie smiled. Now that was a good friend.

  41

  “Should I open another?” Leo was holding up a bottle of Laurie’s favorite Cabernet.

  Charlotte held up her empty glass. “Well, let’s see. The three of us just finished an entire bottle of wine.”

  “So that’s a no?” Leo asked.

  “Of course not. Pop the cork, Lieutenant Farley.”

  “Actually,” Laurie corrected, “Dad retired as first deputy police commissioner.”

  “My apologies for the demotion, Leo.” As Timmy cleared the last dinner plate, Charlotte looked impressed. “That’s some young man you’ve got there.”

  Laurie could feel herself beaming.

  “If you guys are having more wine, does that mean I can have ice cream?” Timmy asked from the kitchen.

  “I suppose that’s fair,” Laurie responded.

  Timmy was back with one scoop of chocolate and one scoop of vanilla by the time Leo was finished pouring the wine.

  “So tell us more about the fashion show you’re planning, Charlotte,” Laurie said.

  “Are you sure? I can’t imagine the men want to hear about that.”

  “Of course we do,” Leo said, even though Laurie knew her father was definitely not interested in the logistics of a women’s fashion show.

  “It’s not the typical runway show. Because we do sportswear for real women, we’re using famous athletes and actresses instead of typical models. We’ll even feature some of Ladyform’s employees and their friends. Just normal people.”

  Timmy’s teeth were stained with chocolate when he smiled. “You should use my mom. She’s a normal person, depending on your definition of normal.”

  “Nice,” Laurie said.

  “JK.” It was Timmy’s new version of just kidding. “Where’s it gonna be, Miss Pierce?”

  Charlotte smiled again at Timmy’s good manners. “In Brooklyn. Does anybody know where DUMBO is?”

  Leo jumped in. “That’s Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass.” Then he explained the nickname to Timmy.

  The area was between the Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges. It used to be a wasteland known mainly for its ferry landing. Then a savvy developer bought it and turned it into a hotspot for galleries and tech start-ups, and gave it the trendy name. Now DUMBO was a haven for hipsters.

  “We found the perfect spot,” Charlotte said excitedly. “It’s one of the last real, open warehouses. It’s been cleared out for a condo conversion, but the developer hasn’t found financing yet. So for now, it’s three stories of concrete floors and exposed bricks and beams. Very industrial. We’re going to have a different theme on each floor, and people will walk through the whole building, instead of watching models on a catwalk. I feel like we’re putting on a Broadway production.”

  When Timmy finished his ice cream, Laurie announced, “All right kiddo, it’s time to hit the hay. It might be Friday night, but you’ve got soccer practice in the morning.”

  “And I’m going to be there cheering from the sidelines,” Leo said, “so I’m heading home. It was nice to see you again, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte insisted on helping Laurie wash the wineglasses before leaving. “Thanks for a very lovely night, Laurie. You may have ruined my life, though. I think I need to have a kid.”

  “Really?”

  “No,” she said with a laugh. “Or ‘JK’ as he would say. But seriously, he’s a keeper. I guess I should go. I’m dreading tomorrow. I have to call a guy from Accounting at home on a Saturday and tell him he’ll be attending sensitivity training first thing Monday morning. I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Looked at some extremely inappropriate websites on his company computer. Our Information Technology Department runs a monthly list of Internet usage.”

  “Wow. Is that typical?”

  “These days, it’s practically required. Your studio probably does, too.
I’m sure the policy is buried in the small print of an employee handbook somewhere. Anyway, I’ve got to nip that sort of thing in the bud, and I insist on doing it myself. We’re still a family-run business. I’m responsible for maintaining the culture of the office. Hey, before I leave, I wanted to ask how things are going with Alex.” Laurie had mentioned to Charlotte that things had been awkward between her and Alex lately, but hadn’t given details. “Any updates there?”

  She shook her head. “That’s a long conversation that we shouldn’t start now. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  Once she closed the apartment door behind Charlotte, Laurie checked the screen of her phone. No new calls.

  She was not at all sure that everything with Alex would be fine.

  42

  Two days later, Laurie stood in the Cipriani ballroom. She remembered coming here with Greg when they were choosing a venue for their wedding. Despite the astronomical prices, her parents had insisted that they look at it. “Are they crazy, Greg?” she had asked, as she marveled at the size and beauty of the space. “We could invite every person we know and still fill only half the room. This place is fit for royalty, with a price tag to match.”

  Despite Leo’s protests of you’re my only daughter and this is the only wedding I’ll ever pay for, they had insisted on using a more reasonably priced place. And everything had been perfect.

  She remembered Greg smiling at her as Leo walked her down the aisle.

  A voice pulled her back into the present. “It’s very festive, isn’t it?”

  “Beautiful,” Laurie echoed. In fact, the only thing in the room that was not festive was the person standing next to her, General Raleigh’s assistant, Mary Jane. The woman looked as though her face might crack if she tried to smile.

  “At the General’s instruction, I had the tables decorated early so you could film prior to our event tonight. As you requested, we even used decor similar to the gala that took place the night before Hunter was killed.” Mary Jane’s deepening frown conveyed her disapproval.