The Sleeping Beauty Killer Page 8

  “She probably threw it at him when they were fighting, cleaned up the shards, and buried the picture in the woods before calling 911, or she took it with her as a souvenir after she wasted him.”

  Jerry wasn’t convinced. “Then why wait until now to mention the missing picture? Her lawyer could have used it back then to create reasonable doubt at trial.”

  They were interrupted by the sound of Laurie’s desk phone. Grace answered, “Ms. Moran’s office.” As she hung up, she said, “Speak of the devil. Reception says there’s a Katherine Carter and an Angela Hart here to see you.”

  19

  “Laurie, are you following all of this?”

  The question was coming from Angela. Laurie found herself looking at Casey, remembering Grace’s “crazy eyes” comment. Laurie had noticed a spark in Casey’s eyes that she attributed to intelligence and humor. But now she could imagine a fire smoldering behind them.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I’m following. It’s a lot to take in.”

  Casey and Angela had arrived at Laurie’s office with printouts of online comments made over the weekend on stories covering Casey’s release from prison. As far as they could tell, the first one had appeared on a gossip website called The Chatter. It was signed, “RIP_Hunter.” “I found four other RIP_Hunter comments posted on other sites,” Casey said. “They all say essentially the same thing: I’m a narcissist who killed Hunter so no one would know that he was going to break up with me.”

  Angela placed a protective hand on Casey’s knee. “Nothing good ever comes from reading the comments section on the Internet.”

  “How can I not read it?” Casey asked. “Look what they’re saying about me. I feel like it’s fifteen years ago, all over again.”

  “Except you’re not on trial,” Angela reminded her. “You’re free. Who cares what some Internet troll thinks of you?”

  “I do. I do, Angela.”

  Unfortunately, Laurie knew a thing or two about the “trolling” that took place on the Web. A few years after Greg died, she made the mistake of going to a message board where armchair detectives opined about unsolved murders. She couldn’t sleep for a week after reading the comments of strangers who were convinced that she had hired a hit man to execute her husband in front of their three-year-old son. Laurie flipped again through the comments that Casey had printed out for her.

  Anyone who knows Casey . . . We’re all afraid to talk to reporters in case she comes after us, too . . .

  “He—or I guess she—talks as if they know you personally,” Laurie observed.

  “Exactly,” Casey agreed. “And this happened back then, too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “During my trial, Internet news coverage was still fairly new. Most people still got their information from papers and television. But there were message boards to talk about my case. You can guess the tone of most of it. But here’s the thing: someone kept posting, pretending they knew me, offering supposedly firsthand information that made me seem guilty. And they were all signed ‘RIP_Hunter.’ ”

  “Why do you assume it’s a stranger?” Laurie asked.

  “Because no one who knew me would say anything like that, because it’s not true.”

  “Not even an acquaintance who didn’t like you?”

  Casey shrugged at the idea. “I suppose it’s possible. Or it’s someone who was obsessed with Hunter. The comments would go on and on about how wonderful he was, what a good mayor or even president he would have been. That I had stolen not just his future, but all the good things he would have done for the rest of society. I tried to find the old posts online last night, but didn’t get anywhere. If Hunter had a stalker, he or she could easily have purchased a ticket for the gala that night. Maybe that’s who drugged me, then followed us home. Maybe Hunter got the gun in self-defense and something went wrong.”

  “Is there a way for us to prove that someone using that same exact user name was trolling you during the trial?” Laurie asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Casey said. “I told my lawyer about it. And one of the jurors even saw one of the worst comments. He sent a note to the judge about it.”

  This was the first Laurie had heard of any juror note. “What did the note say?”

  “The juror said his daughter was reading about the case on the Internet and tried to talk to him about it. He told her he wasn’t allowed to speak to anyone about the trial until it was over, but then his daughter blurted out that someone on the Internet was saying I had confessed to them. The comment said something like, ‘Casey Carter’s guilty. She told me so. That’s why she’s not testifying.’ And of course it was posted by RIP_Hunter.”

  Laurie wasn’t a lawyer, but she was fairly certain that exposure to a comment like that would be grounds for getting the juror dismissed. It could even be the basis for a mistrial. “That’s terribly prejudicial,” Laurie said. “Jurors aren’t supposed to read outside information about the case or speculate about the reasons a defendant doesn’t testify. Not to mention that the author claimed you confessed.”

  “Which I absolutely didn’t,” Casey exclaimed.

  “I didn’t see anything about a juror note in the documents you gave me.” She certainly would have remembered a note like the one Casey was describing. “Did the juror get excused? And did your lawyer ask for a mistrial?”

  Angela jumped in, sounding outraged. “You mean that excuse of a lawyer, Janice Marwood? She didn’t do anything. The judge read a blanket statement to the entire jury, reminding them to avoid any outside influences and to focus only on the evidence admitted in the courtroom. And when Casey asked Janice about it, Janice told her she needed to start trusting her more and not second-guess every strategic decision she made. What kind of strategy is that?”

  Laurie remembered Alex describing Janice Marwood as a ­C-­minus lawyer. The conversation reminded her that Casey had offered to sign a waiver of attorney-client privilege so Laurie could contact Marwood directly and have access to the case file. She opened the office door momentarily and asked Grace to work with Jerry to draft the relevant paperwork for Casey’s signature while she was here.

  Given the circus atmosphere surrounding Casey’s trial, it didn’t surprise her that crackpots would make outlandish allegations under the Internet’s cover of anonymity, but it seemed to Laurie that she was more troubled by the return of whoever was calling himself or herself RIP_Hunter. The continued use of the same pseudonym was likely intended to rattle Casey psychologically. If so, the move appeared to be working.

  Laurie closed the door again.

  “Casey, do you know if your lawyer looked into the Internet posts?”

  “Who knows?” Casey asked wistfully. “I look back on it now and realize I was much too deferential to her. Sometimes I wonder if I would have been better off representing myself.”

  Laurie assumed that there had to be a way to track down the original posts that were written during the trial. As they say, the Internet never forgets. She was jotting down a reminder to call the studio’s tech people for help, when she noticed the time.

  “I’m sorry to run out on you like this, but I have a meeting with the head of the studio. If you have time to wait, Grace will have some paperwork for you to sign. One’s the waiver of attorney-client privilege that we talked about. And the other one’s our standard participation agreement. There will be one for you, too, Angela, since you saw Hunter and your cousin just hours before the murder.”

  An awkward pause fell between Casey and Angela. “I thought—” Angela began.

  “Angela,” Casey said, “I need you to support me for this. You asked me to wait a few days, and I have. I’m more certain than ever. Please.”

  Angela grabbed Casey’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “Of course. It’s not the decision I would make, but I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  “Fan
tastic,” Laurie said. “I’d also like to get a list of people who knew you and Hunter as a couple, Casey.”

  “Well, there’s Angela, of course. And Hunter’s brother, Andrew, but I can only imagine the horrible things he’ll say about me now. There was a time when I felt like I knew anyone and everyone in New York City, but I lost my friends one by one. When you get arrested for murder, you’re pretty much a pariah.” Casey’s eyes suddenly brightened with a new idea. She turned toward Angela. “What about Sean? The four of us used to double-date all the time. Boy, that was awkward at first.”

  The giggle told the story of an inside joke that Laurie wasn’t privy to, but she could feel the camaraderie between these two women. Casey might have been in prison for fifteen years, but Casey and Angela were bonded as if they’d never been apart. Casey leaned forward as if she were telling a secret. “Angela and Hunter were an item before I met him.”

  Angela laughed. “To call us an ‘item’ is a gross exaggeration. It was a few dates. Not even—more like platonic plus-ones. If I wasn’t going out with anybody but wanted to bring a date to an event, if he was free, he’d come. I used to do the same for him.”

  “Really?” Laurie asked. “Were those dates before or after Hunter met Casey?”

  “Oh wow, long before. Casey had just moved to the city after graduating from Tufts. Then a couple years later, she told me she was seeing an amazing man she met at Sotheby’s. When she said it was Hunter Raleigh, I probably threw her for a loop when I told her we’d gone out a few times. Anyway, it was no big deal. It became a running joke that Hunter and I would have made the worst couple. But Sean, that one was serious. I thought we might actually get married,” Angela said wistfully. “But I have no idea how to get hold of him now.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Laurie said. “We’re very good at finding people. What’s Sean’s last name?”

  “Murray,” Angela replied. “So do all these questions mean that you will consider using Casey in your next Under Suspicion special?”

  “I can’t make any promises until I talk to my boss. But, Casey, I am happy to tell you I’m officially pitching your story as our next special.”

  “Really?” She leapt from the sofa and nearly knocked Laurie over with a hug. “Thank you. And thank you, Angela, for making this happen. This is the first piece of hope I’ve had in fifteen years.”

  As tears formed in them, Casey’s eyes did not look the least bit crazy to Laurie.

  20

  Laurie should not have been surprised to see Ryan Nichols waiting on Brett’s office sofa when she arrived for the meeting. He seemed to be getting more comfortable by the day. Maybe by next week he’d have a bed and nightstand in the corner. She still couldn’t believe that Brett had hired his best friend’s nephew for the job.

  “Ryan, how are you managing to juggle your schedule to make time for the show? As Brett may have mentioned, we lost our previous host, Alex Buckley, because the pressures of a law practice were too much to balance with our production needs.”

  “Didn’t Brett tell you? I’m taking a break from practice. I’ve got a full-time exclusive contract here at Fisher Blake Studios. In addition to hosting Under Suspicion, I’ll be pitching in on the other news programs, giving legal opinions on the entertainment shows when celebrities get into court trouble, that kind of thing. If it works out, I may produce a show of my own.”

  He said it as if creating a television show was a little hobby. If I take to playing in the sand, I may even build my own castle.

  Brett gestured for her to take a seat next to Ryan. “I’ve got to tell you, Laurie, I give you a hard time about putting journalistic principles over television ratings, but you hit the jackpot this time around. The Sleeping Beauty is back in the headlines, and as far as I can tell, she hasn’t spoken to anyone but you.”

  “Not other reporters. Just her family.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “I can’t count the number of times we’ve been burned by sources who told us we were their one and only.”

  “I’m quite sure, Brett. In fact, Casey just left my office with her cousin, and I have her word that she’s on board if we decide to run with her case.”

  “Her word?” Ryan said skeptically. The annoyed glance between the two men was unmistakable. “Did she sign an agreement?”

  “Actually, Ryan, she’s signing it right now. Do you need me to show you a copy? One of the biggest challenges of our format is getting participants to trust us enough to cooperate. I build that trust from the very beginning. Getting her to sign that piece of paper is a big deal to me.”

  “Don’t get so emotional,” Brett said. “I know you have your bonding thing with the subjects. What did you find out about that missing picture?”

  She told them about her meeting Friday evening with Elaine Jenson, who had a detailed recollection of the frame being on Hunter’s nightstand before he left for the gala.

  Brett seemed satisfied, but then Ryan interrupted. “That doesn’t mean anything. Police didn’t respond to the 911 call until after midnight. For all we know, the frame got broken during an argument and Casey managed to clean it up before calling the police. She’s using it now as a red herring.”

  It was the same counterpoint Grace had raised.

  “Then why didn’t she use it when her trial started to go south?” Laurie asked rhetorically. “Because it’s not a red herring. When Casey contacted me she said that at the time of the trial, she wasn’t even aware that the picture was missing.”

  Seeing Brett look at Ryan, Laurie feared the worst until her boss said, “I agree with Laurie. It’s possible to explain away the missing picture, but it’s enough of a mystery to hook an audience. It’s new evidence. So is the financial gobbledygook with the friend at the foundation. It keeps the show from being a rehash of a fifteen-year-old trial, and that’s all that matters. But here’s the thing, Laurie: Mindy Sampson is blogging 24/7 about Casey’s every move. Casey’s the flavor of the moment, and news cycles die fast. She’ll be old news before long, so we’ll need to film quickly.”

  With each Under Suspicion special, Brett’s ratings expectations went up, while his time line shortened. Unlike Laurie’s previous episodes, this case had already gone to trial, so she’d have the court record to work with, giving her a head start. “I’ll go into production as soon as feasible,” she said.

  “Where’s the Raleigh family on this?” Brett asked. “It’s hard to imagine the show without them.”

  Laurie was proud to have secured the participation of the victim’s family for every single episode so far. “I don’t know. I’ve left messages for Hunter’s father, but haven’t heard back. It doesn’t help matters that his assistant, Mary Jane, is on Casey’s list of alternative suspects. But I have an appointment to see his brother, Andrew, this afternoon.”

  “Very well then. You get someone from the family on board, and it’s a go.”

  As Laurie walked out of Brett’s office, she heard Ryan say, “I tried a major fraud trial on a week’s notice. We should be able to handle this.”

  She was beginning to wonder when the other half of the “we” was going to start earning his paycheck.

  21

  Andrew Raleigh had asked Laurie to meet him at three forty-five at an address on East 78th Street, just west of Park Avenue. She arrived to find a townhouse three times the width of the others on the block. The entrance was secured by a heavy black metal gate, overseen by a security camera. She rang the buzzer, and within moments the gate sprang open.

  She was less than a mile from her own apartment on 94th, but in a completely different world in some respects. This was one of the most prestigious blocks in all of Manhattan, occupied by the families whose names were on university buildings, theater lobbies, and museum walls.

  The woman who answered the ornate mahogany door wore an impeccably tailored navy suit and white
silk blouse. Her long black hair was pulled into a tidy ponytail at the nape of her neck. Laurie introduced herself, and said she was there to meet with Andrew Raleigh.

  “I’m Mary Jane Finder, General James Raleigh’s assistant. Andrew is on the second floor, in the Kennedy Library. He’s expecting you. I’ll escort you up.”

  This house not only had a library, but a library with its own name. A different world, indeed.

  Laurie paused at the bottom of the staircase and let the silence fill the foyer. She had learned that most people continued to speak when faced with silence. But this woman was not most people. Laurie’s calls to the General, both on Friday afternoon and this morning, had been answered by Mary Jane. On both occasions, the woman had been all business, saying she’d relay the message, but with no reassurance of a return call. Now Laurie was standing beside her, and still Mary Jane said nothing about Laurie’s prior attempts to reach the elder Raleigh.

  She appeared to be in her fifties now, and was still very attractive, but she would have been around Hunter’s age when she first began working for the family. Laurie wondered if the woman had always been so stony.

  Over the weekend, Laurie had read a profile that described Hunter Raleigh’s younger brother, Andrew, as a “big personality.” When he greeted her in the Kennedy Library, she could see why that phrase was fitting. She estimated his height at six-foot-three. Unlike his lean, athletic brother, he had a barrel chest and thick neck. Each of his hands was the size of Timmy’s baseball glove. His loose, brightly colored, tropical patterned shirt and khakis seemed out of place in this house.

  Even his voice was big. “Thank you much for meeting me here, Ms. Moran,” he boomed. “Is it all right if I call you Laurie?”

  “Of course.”

  She looked around at the paneled bookcases, the Persian rug, and the draperies on the windows. “This room is magnificent,” she said sincerely.