The Sleeping Beauty Killer Read online

  “So that’s it? I’m supposed to take your word for it and move on?”

  “Yes.” He made it all sound so easy.

  Laurie felt completely powerless. Ever since she began working on this case, she had been acutely aware of Alex’s absence, and it wasn’t just because Ryan Nichols was such an annoyance. Something about Alex put her at ease. When they spoke, ideas flowed like water. Following her instincts came easily, at least when it came to work. And now Alex was telling her to ignore the facts, based solely on his word, and her instincts were screaming in opposition.

  He reached for her again, and this time she let him pull her into a gentle embrace. He stroked her hair. “I’m sorry I can’t say more, but please trust me. Why won’t you trust me?”

  She stepped back so she could look him in the eye when she answered his question. “Because I think you’ve been lying to me.”

  “Laurie, I have never lied to you, and never will. If what you’re asking me is whether Mark Templeton was involved in Hunter Raleigh’s murder, I will personally vouch for his innocence.”

  “You’re still working for your client, aren’t you? Alex, I’m talking about us. I was here, in your apartment, with my family right after I first met Casey Carter. Even then, you seemed to be steering me away from the case. Why didn’t you tell me then that you knew some of the key players? You’ve been forcing me to drag every snippet of information from you, like it’s a cross-examination.”

  “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you everything.”

  She shook her head. She could not believe that the man she knew she loved was standing in front of her, defending the difference between a lie and a failure to tell her the full truth.

  “Please, Laurie, play back the conversation we had after you met Casey. You never once mentioned Mark Templeton, Hunter’s father, or the foundation. It was a fifteen-year-old homicide case, not a case about whatever may have happened years later at the foundation. And his murder was always thought to be about Casey and Hunter’s relationship, which I know absolutely nothing about. So even if I knew something about the foundation, why would I have brought that up, especially if I was forbidden to talk about it?”

  “You sound like the worst kind of lawyer right now—”

  “And you’re treating me like a suspect on your show.”

  “Okay, I get it, you’re never going to tell me the truth. But tell me this: Do you owe a duty of loyalty to your clients, even if they’re guilty?”

  He sat down on the sofa, resigning himself to entering a new phase of the argument. “Of course.”

  “And that duty is forever; I think you told me once that it extends beyond the grave.” He didn’t need to answer. They both knew where she was going. “So it follows that if one of your clients—someone like, hypothetically, Mark Templeton—were desperately afraid that a show like mine would reveal that he did something horrible—like, for example, kill his friend to cover up embezzlement—it would be part of your job to undermine that show.”

  “Yes. Yes, Ms. Moran, you’ve got me. You’re a better cross-­examiner than I am. You win. Are you happy now?”

  No, she was not happy at all. “You said you don’t have a choice, Alex. Well, neither do I. Just before he was murdered, Hunter was looking into hiring a forensic accountant to audit the foundation’s books. That gives Templeton motive. And his wife and children were asleep by the time he got home from the gala, so he has no alibi. Call your client: he can either talk to us on camera, or deal with the repercussions of what we choose to say about him in his absence. We plan to wrap filming in two days.”

  48

  Laurie nearly tripped over a soccer ball when she opened her front door. She started to pick it up but then saw all the other signs of Timmy’s presence scattered along the hallway floor: his trumpet case, video game cartridges, and enough sports equipment to teach a PE Class. Until Manhattan high-rises came with attached garages, this was the necessary decor, and it suited her just fine.

  “How are my guys?”

  Leo and Timmy were next to each other on the sofa watching the family’s favorite detective show, Bosch. An empty pizza box was sandwiched between two crumb-filled plates on the coffee table. This was Timmy’s version of paradise.

  “You started without me?” The three of them were supposed to be binge-watching together.

  Timmy hit the pause button. “We tried waiting, but the pizza smelled so good.”

  “We just started,” Leo said. “Go change clothes. I’ll reheat some pizza while Timmy rewinds.”

  She was on her second slice, engrossed in the show, when her cell phone buzzed on the end table. She stole a glance at the screen, hoping it was Alex. It was Casey. She decided to let it go to voice mail. She could return the call tomorrow from the Raleigh country house, where they’d be interviewing James and Andrew Raleigh. Casey and her family would be filmed last.

  Instead of a new message alert on the screen, her phone buzzed again, and then a third time. Casey was hitting redial.

  “Turn that off,” her father said. “It’s way past office hours.”

  “I remember Mom trying to tell you the same thing for years,” Laurie said as she carried her phone to the kitchen.

  Casey sounded excited on the other end of the line, skipping any kind of greeting. “I was just talking to Angela and my mom about the show. We think it would be wise not to mention the picture frame that was missing from the house.”

  Laurie quietly sighed. The last thing she needed was editorial notes from the show’s participants. “I’m a little confused, Casey. I thought you believed the missing picture of Hunter with the President was the most compelling proof that someone else was in the house that night.”

  “It is, and that’s why you shouldn’t describe the picture in any kind of detail. We were thinking you could say that something was missing—or maybe even that a picture was missing—without saying it was a photograph of Hunter and the President.”

  “Okay, and why would we do that?” She immediately regretted asking, but curiosity had gotten the best of her.

  “It’s like the way the police hold back one fact so they can test people who come forward with information. I assume your show will bring in potential tipsters. To separate the real ones from the crackpots, we could find out if they know anything about the picture. See what I mean?”

  What Laurie could see was that Casey and her family had been watching too many cop shows. “Let me think it over. We’ll probably ask you about it when we film, but just so you know, we always edit the interviews later. Hey, while I’ve got you on the phone, tell me more about Mark Templeton. How long had he known Hunter?”

  “Since freshman year at Yale. They were in the same residential college. Hunter was sort of a big deal on campus because of his family name. Mark was a financial-aid student, a bit out of his element at an Ivy. Hunter took Mark under his wing. That’s how he was.”

  “And was that always the dynamic of their friendship?”

  “That’s a fair statement. Hunter was a big personality. Mark was in his shadow to some extent. That’s what made me think it was even remotely possible that Mark might have been stealing from the foundation. Maybe over the years, he became resentful and felt like he was deserving in some sense.”

  Laurie had been wondering the same thing. “When the President decided to honor the Raleigh Foundation, did Mark also get invited to the White House?”

  “No. Hunter was only allowed to bring one other person.”

  Laurie asked who he had chosen as his guest, even though she was certain she already knew the answer.

  “He took me.” Casey paused as she realized the reason for Laurie’s question. “Oh my gosh, is Mark the one? Did you find more proof?”

  Laurie wasn’t sure what to think at this point, but she was certain of one thing: she already missed talking about
these issues with Alex.

  49

  Laurie was surprised to see a can of beer in Andrew Raleigh’s hand as a makeup technician applied powder to his face. She knew the man enjoyed a drink, but it was only ten-thirty in the morning, and he was about to be interviewed on camera about the murder of his older brother.

  Perhaps spotting Laurie’s wary look, he held the can up in her direction. “Only the one, I promise. Sorry, but being in this house always gives me the willies. I mean, this isn’t the same sofa, but it’s still the place where my brother was killed. I’ll be lying on the couch watching a game and suddenly picture him running down the hall to the bedroom where it all happened. It’s almost like I can hear the shots.”

  “I’m sorry.” It was the only thing she could think to say.

  “Wow, I really know how to lighten the mood, huh?” In the mirror he made eye contact with the makeup woman and asked, “How do I look, sweetheart? A work of beauty?”

  She took a final look at her handiwork and pulled the towel from his collar. “A regular Adonis,” she declared.

  Andrew winked. “I think that’s what they call sarcasm.”

  “Is General Raleigh here?” Laurie asked. They’d been at the house for more than an hour, and Laurie still hadn’t spotted him. On the other hand, the house had to be at least seven thousand square feet.

  “No. A driver’s bringing him and Mary Jane from the city. PTA twelve-thirty P.M.”

  “PTA?”

  “Precise time of arrival. Nothing about my father’s schedule is estimated.” Andrew shook his empty can. “I feel a second one calling my name unless we get started pretty soon. Is your guy ready to roll?”

  She turned to see Ryan clipping on his microphone outside the kitchen. “All good.”

  • • •

  As Ryan eased into a conversation about Andrew’s memories of his brother Hunter, Laurie thought about the remarkable progress her new host had made in just two days in front of the camera. He seemed completely comfortable, like a friend having a discussion in any normal living room. She turned to Jerry at her side. “What do you think?”

  “He’s actually getting good,” Jerry whispered. “Does this mean we don’t hate him anymore?”

  She smiled. “Baby steps.”

  Jerry pressed a finger to his lips. Ryan was about to get to the good part. He reminded viewers that the prosecution’s theory of motive was that General Raleigh was pressuring Hunter to break off his engagement with Casey. “Just how strongly did your father disapprove of Casey?”

  “Pretty strongly. But he wasn’t pressuring Hunter to do anything against his will. My father has a certain demeanor that comes from a military background, but at heart, he’s a dad who loves his sons, and he was worried Hunter was making a big mistake. He spoke up in the hope Hunter would see the light.”

  “See the light about Casey?”

  “Yes. He had good reason to be concerned. She was very temperamental. Impetuous, if you will.”

  Impetuous did not sound like a word Andrew would choose. This entire narrative sounded rehearsed and was a marked change from his tune when Laurie interviewed him at his father’s townhouse. Gone was any sign of resentment of his father’s heavy hand over his sons’ lives. And he no longer sounded vaguely amused by Casey’s willingness to rock the family boat.

  “She could be very grating, with an opinion about everything. And if Hunter even hinted that her behavior was inappropriate, she’d say things like Sometimes you’re just as stiff as your father.”

  Laurie found herself hiding a smile. She could imagine herself saying something like that if the situation called for it.

  “And she could be terribly jealous. She was all too aware that other women were attracted to Hunter, not to mention the fact that he’d previously been very serious with a socialite who was quite different from Casey.”

  Andrew continued a monologue devoted to every one of Casey’s faults. He was on his fourth anecdote about Casey speaking out of turn in “proper company”—this time at the gala the night Hunter was killed. “We were all concerned that she might have had too much wine.”

  Ryan interrupted. “Let’s be fair here, Andrew. It’s not unusual for people to partake a bit at these sorts of functions, right? In fact, weren’t you also hitting the bar pretty hard at the gala?”

  Andrew laughed like he’d heard an inside joke. “Unfortunately, that’s probably true.”

  “Do you recall encountering Gabrielle Lawson? She said you were in a somber mood that night, talking about your father’s interference in Hunter’s relationship. In fact, according to her, you said your father would have no problem with Casey if she were marrying you. She just wasn’t good enough for Hunter. She quotes you as saying that if your father wasn’t careful, you’d—quote—be the only son he had left.”

  Andrew’s face suddenly fell. “I was hungover when I found out my brother was dead, and that was the first memory I replayed in my mind. I’m ashamed every time I think of that night. It was a horrible choice of words. Obviously I had no idea we’d lose Hunter within hours.”

  “So what exactly did you mean?”

  “I didn’t mean anything. Like Gabrielle apparently told you, I was drunk.”

  “Really? Because in context, it sounds like you were saying that your father might lose his relationship with Hunter. It gives the impression that your father was pushing Hunter to decide between him and Casey, and you believed your brother was going to choose Casey.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know; it was a long time ago.”

  Ryan looked quickly to Laurie, and she nodded. Viewers would see the point. Andrew believed that Hunter was going to disobey his father, which undermined the prosecution’s theory about Casey’s motive for murder. It was time for Ryan to move on.

  “Let’s return to the subject of your brother’s work for the foundation. By all accounts, he poured himself into it. It has been fifteen years since that night. How has the foundation fared without Hunter?”

  “Pretty well, I think. We just had an event for donors last night at Cipriani. Every time we’re there, we always have a moment of silence for both my mother and brother.”

  “Did you step into Hunter’s shoes at the foundation?”

  Andrew chuckled. “No one could step into Hunter’s shoes in any aspect of his life. I work with staff on the silent auction for the annual gala, meet with press on occasion, but no, I’m definitely not engaged at the same level as Hunter. But thanks to his groundwork, the foundation is largely able to run with staff.”

  “But that staff no longer includes Mark Templeton, your former chief financial officer, correct?”

  Andrew’s expression remained blank, but the change in his body language was unmistakable. He shifted uncomfortably on the sofa and folded his arms.

  “Mark was your brother’s close friend, correct? It seems like he would have been a natural successor in leading the foundation. But instead, he resigned just a few years after your brother was killed. Were there problems?”

  “No.”

  Ryan paused, waiting for further explanation, but Andrew remained silent.

  “Have you stayed in touch with him?” Ryan asked.

  Andrew smiled politely, but his usual charisma was gone. “He was more Hunter’s friend than mine.”

  “How about your father? Is he on good terms with Mark Templeton?”

  “Why are you asking so much about Mark?” When he began to reach for the microphone clipped to his shirt collar, Ryan effortlessly shifted gears back to Andrew’s favorite memories of his brother.

  Good job, Laurie thought. We weren’t going to get any more information out of him, and you kept him in his seat. Ryan was finding his sea legs.

  Once the interview had wrapped, Ryan immediately asked Andrew if he could show Jerry and a camera team around the property. “We
want viewers to see why your brother considered this his home.”

  When Andrew and Jerry walked out the back door, it was 12:17. General Raleigh’s “PTA,” as his son had called it, was in thirteen minutes. Just as they’d planned, Andrew’s tour of the grounds should keep him from notifying his father that they’d been asking about Mark Templeton.

  But then twelve-thirty became twelve-forty and then twelve-fifty. Laurie’s phone rang shortly before one o’clock.

  “This is Laurie.”

  “Ms. Moran, this is Mary Jane Finder calling for General Raleigh. I’m afraid the General won’t be able to make it to Connecticut today.”

  “We thought you’d already left the city. We’re already filming.”

  “I understand that. I’m afraid time got away from us. But Andrew is there. He should be able to get you whatever you need in terms of access to the house.”

  “We need more than access to the property. Both you and the General agreed to tell us whatever you know about the night Hunter was killed.”

  “Frankly, Ms. Moran, the evidence speaks for itself, doesn’t it? Not that you asked my opinion, but I’d say Ms. Carter has cost the Raleigh family enough without wasting their time with this futile reality show.” She said the words reality show as if they were dirty.

  “I was under the impression that General Raleigh still believes strongly that Casey Carter is guilty. We thought he’d want an opportunity to express his beliefs. You found a reason not to sit down with us on camera yesterday. Did you persuade your employer to stand us up today?”

  “You underestimate General Raleigh if you think anyone pulls his strings. Please, Ms. Moran, I’m sure your show craves drama, but there’s no conspiracy here: he is on a very tight writing schedule right now for his memoirs, which, with all due respect, are a better venue for his thoughts than your program. You’re free to do whatever you want with your production, but General Raleigh won’t be able to participate in the coming days.”