The Sleeping Beauty Killer Page 17

  Laurie did not remind her that her studio had agreed to make a generous donation to the foundation, which more than covered the expense. “The family was seated at the head table,” Mary Jane said, gesturing toward the round table closest to the dais.

  “And by the family, you mean . . . ?” Laurie already knew who was seated there, but she wanted to hear what Mary Jane had to say.

  She seemed put out by the question, but began listing the family members: “Andrew and Hunter, Casey and her cousin, the General and I.”

  Laurie noticed the way Mary Jane listed herself with the General, as if they were a pair. “Only six?” Laurie asked. “These look like eight-tops.”

  “Of course, the foundation’s chief financial officer was the other person. His wife did not attend because at the last minute their babysitter canceled.”

  “Right,” Laurie said, as if her memory was being triggered. “What was his name again?”

  Mary Jane’s expression was flat, and she said nothing in response. “You’ll probably want to get started soon. You absolutely must have these cameras out of here in three hours. Guests will begin arriving shortly thereafter.”

  “On that note, Mary Jane, you scheduled General Raleigh’s interview with us tomorrow in Connecticut.” Their plan was to question both James and Andrew Raleigh at the country house where Hunter had been shot. “But, as I hope my assistant made clear, we’d like to tape your segment today.”

  “Let’s see how the day goes. Right now, the fundraiser is my priority.”

  “But you’ve already agreed to participate. We need to keep to a schedule.”

  “And you will. Now, your three hours are fading fast. If worse comes to worst, you’ll have me at your disposal tomorrow. I’ll be accompanying the General to New Canaan.”

  Of course you will, Laurie thought. The man had served his country on every part of the globe, but if you believed Mary Jane, he could do nothing without her at his side.

  Other people might ooh and aah over the setting’s soaring ceilings, marble columns, and perfectly placed centerpieces, but Laurie was energized by this room for reasons that had nothing to do with the party that would start here in a few hours. Laurie was excited because she loved being on set. She loved the feeling that came with knowing that she was about to tell a story—not just with words, but with images, dramatic pauses, and sound effects. No matter what happened, she knew she would make a high-quality program. And with a little bit of luck, they might also obtain some justice.

  • • •

  She found Ryan pacing in the hallway, next to the pay phones. “Are you ready for your Under Suspicion debut?”

  He held up a finger until he finished mouthing words to himself from a note card. “I’m good.”

  He did not look good. He looked nervous and was still wearing the towel that the makeup technician had tucked into his front collar. Laurie had been afraid this was going to happen. Alex had been the rare attorney who was comfortable doing his job in front of a television camera. In contrast, some of the most gifted courtroom lawyers turned to stone once cameras were rolling, while the “talking head” types might be good on camera, but only with a teleprompter or canned sound bites. She had no idea whether Ryan could combine the two talents.

  “Are you starting a new fashion trend?” she asked, pointing to her own neck.

  He looked down, seemingly confused. “Right,” he said, pulling off the towel.

  “Have you found out anything more about Mark Templeton hiring a defense lawyer?”

  “I’m working on it.” He was still paying more attention to his notes than to her.

  “When you called the U.S. Attorney’s Office, what did they say?”

  “Like I said, Laurie, I’m working on it. Give me a little more time.”

  For all she knew, I’m working on it was code for I forgot all about it. But now was not the time to lecture him about workplace communication. They were about to start shooting and needed to focus.

  Their first witness, Jason Gardner, had arrived.

  43

  As Ryan questioned Jason Gardner, Laurie’s gaze bounced between the live conversation and the screen feed beside the cameraman, hoping that the televised version would somehow be better than reality. When she caught the cameraman’s worried expression, she knew there’d be no such luck.

  Jerry leaned down to whisper in her ear. “It’s like the two of them are having a contest to see who can talk faster. I can’t tell who’s more nervous. And what’s up with those note cards? Even if we zoom in to crop Ryan’s hands in post-production, his eyes will be downcast the whole time.”

  “Cut,” Laurie called out. “Hey, I’m sorry, guys. This is going great, but we’ve got a lighting issue. Too much glare off the chandeliers. It’ll just be a few minutes to adjust, okay?” She signaled for Ryan to follow her out to the hallway. Once they were alone, she held out a palm. “Give them to me. The note cards, all of them.”

  “Laurie—”

  “I’m serious. You don’t need them. We’ve gone over everything backwards and forwards.” She was no fan of Ryan, but his résumé was undeniable. He was never going to be Alex, but he could certainly be better than what she’d just seen in front of the camera. “This isn’t a Supreme Court brief. There’s no judge here. The judge is the audience. They need to trust you, and that won’t happen if you make them uncomfortable.”

  “But I’ve got all my questions here—”

  “No,” she said, snatching the cards from his hand. “You have them in that Harvard-trained mind of yours. Tell me five things we want to know about Jason Gardner.”

  He looked at her, clearly frustrated. “Pretend I’m Professor Bigshot and just called on you in a packed lecture hall. Quick: five things.”

  He rattled off five points as quickly as if he were reciting the alphabet. She was impressed.

  “There, you’re ready.”

  • • •

  Five minutes into the next session, Ryan was walking Jason through his time line the night of the gala. His body language was comfortable and his confidence seemed to grow by the second. Laurie could feel her fists begin to unclench.

  According to Jason, he spoke to Casey only briefly after he first arrived at the gala at about eight-thirty. At that point, she seemed as if she might have enjoyed a glass of wine or two, but did not appear impaired and did not complain of any kind of illness. Jason noticed Casey leave with Hunter, but stayed with his co-workers until the end of the party, then went home alone. By the time Ryan wrapped up the time line, he had already met one of his five goals for Jason’s session: he had established that Jason had no alibi for the time of Hunter’s murder.

  “Now, you said your employer had bought a table at the gala, correct?”

  “That’s right. Taking a table is one way for a firm to support a charitable cause.”

  “And your firm had only one table?”

  “Yes, as far as I recall.”

  “That’s eight seats. But your firm had more than a hundred financial analysts, not to mention support staff and other personnel. So how does the firm determine who attends any given event? Do they force you to go?”

  “Oh no. It was a volunteer type situation.”

  “So you knew in advance that you were attending a gala to benefit the Raleigh Foundation?” Ryan asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Then you certainly would have anticipated bumping into your ex-girlfriend and her fiancé, Hunter Raleigh.”

  Jason finally seemed to realize where the questions were heading, but it was too late to avoid the obvious implication. “Yes, I suppose that’s right.”

  “Here’s what confuses me, Jason. Your book, My Days with Crazy Casey, describes a woman and a relationship that—well, I think the title says it all. If you believed Casey was volatile to the point of insanity, w
hy would you purposefully show up at a gala that her fiancé’s family was hosting?”

  “Well, I thought it would be a nice gesture.”

  “So you were still on good terms with her?”

  He shrugged.

  “Even though, as you wrote in your book, you bolted yourself in your apartment bathroom one time because you were afraid that she was going to attack you physically?”

  “I’m not sure afraid is the right word.”

  “Should we get a copy of your book? I believe your exact words were that you feared for your life and wished you’d hidden the kitchen knives.”

  “That might have been an exaggeration. Obviously, the publisher wants to sell books.”

  Ryan was finding a rhythm. He had just nailed down a second point: Jason’s book was not the same thing as testimony under oath.

  “Speaking of your book, it was published by Arden Publishing. I believe your editor was a woman named Holly Bloom. Can I ask how you came to be published by Arden?”

  “What do you mean? I had an agent and he helped me.”

  “Right. But did the agent send the book around to all the New York houses, or did he go straight to Ms. Bloom?”

  “I’m not really sure. You’d have to ask him. His name’s Nathan Kramer.”

  Laurie recognized the name as the same agent who had negotiated the deal for James Raleigh’s upcoming memoir, also to be published by Holly Bloom with Arden. Ryan confronted Jason with those coincidences. “Jason, isn’t it true that General Raleigh helped you obtain the publishing deal for the extremely negative book you wrote about Casey?”

  Jason’s eyes darted around the ballroom, searching for guidance. Ryan leaned forward, and Laurie braced herself for whatever sarcastic, alienating comment was going to come out of his mouth.

  Instead, Ryan placed a comforting hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Hey, it makes perfect sense. The General’s son had been murdered. You were Casey’s ex. Once he realized you had a story to tell, why wouldn’t he help you? It was a win-win.”

  “That’s right,” Jason said nervously. “We both wanted the truth out there.”

  A third point was on the board: Jason’s book had General Raleigh’s fingerprints all over it.

  “But then some things got exaggerated along the way,” Ryan added.

  “Right.”

  “Jason, I want to thank you for being so forthcoming today. I just want to ask one more question that could really help us make sense of something Casey and her family have told us. We won’t have a he-said, they-said scenario. I think we all know that love can be complicated. Relationships are on and off. One day, we’re head over heels, the next we’re full of resentment. Am I right?”

  Ryan actually had his arm around Jason now, like old buddies telling war stories from the dating world.

  “You’re telling me,” Jason said. By now, he was agreeing with every­thing Ryan said.

  “Okay, so I just want you to come clean about one last thing. You still loved Casey, didn’t you? In fact, that’s why you went to the gala that night. She didn’t think you should be in contact anymore now that she was engaged. So you went to the gala to ask her one last time to take you back.”

  Jason said nothing. Ryan pushed. “Casey already told us. Her cousin, Angela, did, too.”

  “Yes, okay. It’s like you said: it was complicated. We were toxic for each other, until we weren’t, and then it felt like magic. Our relationship was crazy. We were crazy.” Ryan had just nailed down his fourth point, and the word choice couldn’t have been better. “I thought I’d try one last time—a grand gesture to declare my love, and if she chose Hunter, I’d let her go.”

  “So you surprised her by going to the gala and poured your heart out to her. But she didn’t take you back, did she?”

  He shook his head. “She said she finally understood how love should feel. That it didn’t have to be difficult. I’ll never forget: she said Hunter ‘felt like home.’ ”

  “And how did that make you feel? That you made her crazy, and he felt like home?”

  Jason suddenly jerked away from his new friend. “Wait. You don’t think—”

  “I’m just asking questions, Jason.”

  “Look, I told you everything. My career wasn’t going as planned, and I was tight on money. I accepted the Raleigh family’s offer to help me get a book deal. We were all tired of Casey playing Little Miss Innocent. But if you think I killed Hunter and framed her, then maybe you’re the one who’s crazy. I’m calling a lawyer. You can’t air this,” he stammered, pulling off the microphone from his lapel.

  The second Jason left the ballroom Laurie raised both hands and gave Ryan a round of applause. “Not bad for the new kid.”

  He took a mock bow.

  Four facts were now established: Jason had still loved Casey, Jason’s book was an exaggeration, arranged by Hunter’s father, and Jason had no alibi. But had Jason murdered Hunter Raleigh? They still didn’t have an answer to Ryan’s fifth question, but they were making progress.

  And Ryan might not be Alex, but he had stepped up to the plate when it mattered.

  “Laurie,” he said while the crew took a break, “thank you for the pep talk. You were right. I just needed to be myself. I have the best instincts. Like they say, behind every great man is a woman.”

  She could feel her newfound goodwill toward him blow away, like air from a balloon. More like behind every cocky man is a woman rolling her eyes, she thought.

  Grace and Jerry were walking quickly toward them, looking excited. “Gabrielle Lawson’s here,” Grace announced.

  “And you will not believe what she is wearing,” Jerry said. “It’s a dream come true.”

  Laurie had instructed the show’s participants that business attire would be appropriate for filming, but Gabrielle Lawson apparently played by her own wardrobe rules. It was only three-thirty in the afternoon, but she arrived in a sequined ivory gown, her hair and makeup ready for a nonexistent red carpet. Something about the gown was familiar.

  As Laurie was thanking Gabrielle for coming, she realized where she’d seen the dress before. “Gabrielle, is that the same gown you wore to the gala fifteen years ago?”

  “It sure is,” she gushed. “I knew someday it would have historical importance. I was wearing it the last time I saw Hunter. I’ve preserved it in a bag for the day the Smithsonian calls. It still fits like a glove, too.”

  While Jerry got Gabrielle mic’ed up, Grace whispered in Laurie’s ear. “I know I said Casey has crazy eyes, but this lady takes the cake. Let me know if you need me to call the men with the straight-jackets and butterfly nets.”

  44

  Laurie checked the screen to make sure that what she was seeing in front of her was being captured on film. Gabrielle Lawson was leaning forward in her chair—almost at a forty-five-degree angle—staring intensely into Ryan’s eyes. Whatever damage Ryan had done with his abrasiveness at her apartment had been forgotten.

  Jerry passed Laurie a note he had jotted on a pad: Get a room!

  Ryan was handling the situation like a professional—­businesslike for the cameras, but warm enough to keep Gabrielle talking. He began by walking Gabrielle through a shorter version of her trial testimony. According to her, Hunter realized that Casey was too “coarse” and “unsophisticated” for him to marry. He was interested in pursuing a relationship with Gabrielle “after an appropriate amount of time had passed.”

  Ryan then moved on to the same line of cross-examination Janice Marwood had pursued, establishing that no one had been able to corroborate Gabrielle’s claims of a relationship with Hunter. Gabrielle had an explanation for everything. Hunter was “subtle.” They weren’t “crass” enough to be seen in public. They had a “special connection” and an “unspoken understanding” about their future commitment to each other.

  Ryan conti
nued to nod politely, but Laurie could tell he was about to move into unchartered territory. “Gabrielle, it’s been fifteen years, and there’s still no way to know for certain that Hunter was planning to leave Casey for you—which formed the basis of Casey’s supposed motive to kill Hunter. What would you say to people who think that you’re either lying about your relationship with Hunter, or perhaps even imagined it as a kind of wishful thinking or fantasy.”

  She let out a childlike giggle. “Well, that’s just silly.”

  “But here’s the thing. This wouldn’t be the only time you’ve been accused of doing exactly that. Can we talk for a minute about Hans Lindholm?”

  Not even the pound of makeup on Gabrielle’s face could hide the fact that she suddenly went pale. “That was a misunderstanding.”

  “Our viewers probably recognize the award-winning director’s name. They may also remember that he obtained a restraining order against a woman he met at a film festival. He suspected that the woman even planted a gossip report that the two of them were moving in together. What our viewers may not realize is that you were the woman named in that restraining order.”

  “That was a long time ago.” Gabrielle looked away from Ryan for the first time since the cameras began rolling.

  “And the gossip columnist who reported—falsely—that the two of you were moving in together was a woman named Mindy Sampson. That’s the same columnist who ran the photograph of you with Hunter, speculating that he might not be getting married to Casey after all.”

  “What’s the point of all this?” Gabrielle asked.

  “It seems as if Mindy Sampson has a way of knowing—or at least reporting—about your supposed romantic relationships, whether they exist in reality or not. Isn’t it true that you were the source of both reports?”

  “You’re twisting things around.”