Cut and Thrust (20 page)

L
ate in the afternoon, as Stone was reading a book in his library, the phone rang, and he picked up. “Stone Barrington.”

“It’s Ed. I just want you to know that I’ve already hired a publicist, and he’s coming to Santa Fe tomorrow with a camera crew.”

“That sounds great, Ed.”

“What we’re going to do is a long interview that can be cut up to address different points, as a way of defending myself. I’m also doing another long interview that will address Barbara’s history of murderous conduct, her convictions, her prison sentences, and her changes of identity over the years. Depending on what she has to say in her first interview, we can be on the air immediately by sending TV stations all or part of the two interviews. Also, the publicist, whose name is Hal Henry, wants me to tell you to tell Ann to go ahead and call
60 Minutes
. She can tell the executive producer that they can review all the tapes we’re making and use as much or as little as they like, or they can send a correspondent out here to do their own interview, or I’ll go to New York and be interviewed there. I am at their disposal.”

“Sounds like you’re ready for anything,” Stone said. “I’ll talk to Ann at dinner and ask her to phone
60 Minutes
first thing in the morning.”

“That’s wonderful, Stone. Thank you, and please thank Ann for me, too. Now I’ve got to go and talk to Susannah—she’s writing a rough draft of what I’m going to say.”

“Ed, my advice, for what it’s worth, is don’t read from a script. You’re used to talking on your feet. Review your points and sell it like a closing argument.”

“That’s good advice, Stone, and I’ll take it.”

“And if you come to New York for interviews, I insist you and Susannah stay with me and, if you like, record interviews there.”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll keep you posted.” Eagle hung up as Ann entered the room. “That was Ed Eagle. He’s hired a publicist named Hal Henry, and he wants you to call your contact at
60 Minutes
.” Stone told her about Ed’s plans to record interviews. “Can you call him first thing tomorrow morning?”

Ann looked at her watch. “He’s a late worker, I’ll try him now.” She sat down in the chair next to Stone’s and picked up the phone. Stone went to fix them a drink, and when he came back, she was just hanging up.

Stone handed her a drink. “How’d that go?”

“Amazingly well,” Ann said. “One of his producers has already had a call from a publicist in San Francisco named Hugh Gordon, shopping the piece.”

“Uh-oh.”

“But there’s a twist,” she said. “They’ve also had a call from an interviewer named Pam Hale, at an independent TV station in San Francisco, who has an interview with Barbara scheduled for tomorrow and an exclusive in her market. The twist is, she’s already researched Barbara’s background, and she plans to let her make her case, then hit her with some hard questions. She’s offered her raw footage to
60 Minutes
, and they’re very interested.”

“That sounds good,” Stone said.

“They did a piece on Ed some years ago, about a trial he was conducting, and they like him. They’d like him to come to New York tomorrow and to be available for interviews.”

Stone picked up the phone, called Eagle, and told him about Ann’s conversation with
60 Minutes
. “If you want to do it, we’ll pick you and Susannah up in Santa Fe at around eleven your time tomorrow morning and take you with us.”

“Hang on,” Ed said, then put him on hold. He came back a moment later. “We’re on,” he said. “Susannah has told the publicist, and she thinks he should come, too. Have you got room for him and an assistant on the airplane?”

“Plenty of room,” Stone said. “Have him meet us at Atlantic Aviation at Burbank tomorrow morning at ten, and I’ll be happy to put them up at my house.”

“He’ll be there,” Ed replied. “See you here tomorrow at eleven.”

“Bye.” Stone hung up, called Mike Freeman, and told him what was up. “Can you handle the four extra passengers, Mike? Dino and Viv left after the convention. If it’s a problem, please say so and I’ll charter something.”

“No problem at all, Stone. You always bring along such interesting people. I’ll see you at the airport, and I’ll let our pilot know to include Santa Fe in his flight planning.”

Stone hung up and called Joan Robertson. “It’s Stone. Sorry to call so late.”

“Hey, there. You still coming home tomorrow?”

“Yes, and I’m bringing four guests: Ed Eagle and his wife, Susannah Wilde, a publicist named Hal Henry and his assistant. Please have the second-floor suite freshened up for the Eagles and two rooms on the third floor for Henry and his assistant.”

“Will do. What time will you be in?”

Stone did some rough mental calculations with flight times and time zones. “We should be at the house between four and five. Send Fred and the Bentley for us and the Eagles, and another car and driver for the publicists.”

“I can do that.”

“And tell Helene we’ll be six or eight for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Right. Anything else?”

“I’ll call you from the airplane if I think of anything else.” Stone hung up. “I think we’re all set,” Stone said.

Ann looked at him. “I’m impressed with your organizing skills,” she said. “How would you like to work on Kate’s campaign full-time?”

“Thanks, but I still practice a little law now and then, and Woodman and Weld are wondering where the hell I’ve been for the past ten days.”

S
tone, Ann, the publicist Hal Henry, and his assistant, who turned out to be a beautiful blonde of about twenty-five named Tina, took off from Burbank Airport a little after ten
A.M.
and were soon cleared direct to Santa Fe, with a detour over the Grand Canyon that Stone had requested.

As they approached the Canyon, Stone told everyone to raise their window blinds. The view from the G650’s big windows was spectacular.

“You know,” Ann said, “I’ve never seen it before. It’s so much bigger than I realized.”

“Yes. And if we hadn’t been doing six hundred knots over the ground with a tailwind, it would have seemed even bigger.”

The big jet set down at Santa Fe and, with its large tanks, didn’t need refueling. The pilot shut down the engine on the side of the airplane with the door and Ed, Suzannah, and their luggage were aboard in less than a minute while the copilot got their clearance for Teterboro. The pilot restarted the engine and they were wheels-up after a stop of less than fifteen minutes.

The stewardess served them a lunch of lobster salad with a Cakebread Chardonnay from California, and they were on the ground at Teterboro a little after four. Rush-hour traffic was heavy, but they were at Stone’s house at five-thirty, where Fred and the driver of the other car got their luggage into the house.

“Everybody freshen up and get some rest, if you like,” Stone said to his guests. “Drinks are at seven, with dinner to follow.”

“Dino called and asked if he could bring a couple of guests,” Joan said, as she gave Stone his messages. “I’ve alerted Helene.”

“Fine. Did he say who?”

“Nope.”

—

IN SAN FRANCISCO,
Pam Hale welcomed Barbara Grosvenor and her publicist, Hugh Gordon, to her television studio.

“I’m
so
sorry you’ve had all this trouble with your former husband,” she said to Barbara, clasping her hand in both of her own.

“Thank you so much,” Barbara said.

“I hope that what we do here today will go a long way toward rectifying the situation.” She handed Gordon a sheet of paper. “Please look this over and have Barbara sign it,” Pam said.

Gordon scanned the sheet. “Minimum of half an hour,” he muttered, “nonstop. That okay, Barbara?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Wait a minute—no editing?”

“Oh, there’ll be editing for time, but that’s our professional responsibility,” Pam said smoothly. “And, of course, we own the copyright.”

“That’s fine with me, Hugh,” Barbara said. She took the document from him, signed it, and handed it back to Pam, who handed it to her producer. “Put that in your safe right now,” she said to him, sotto voce
.

They had made up a set to resemble a corner of a living room, with a vase of plastic flowers on a table between two wing chairs. An assistant wired up Barbara, and Pam settled her guest into a chair and put a bottle of water and a glass on the table for her, while an assistant took Hugh Gordon into the Green Room, where he could watch a monitor. “All ready?” Pam asked. “Comfortable?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Pam got the signal through her earpiece, and she looked into one of the three cameras. “Hello, I’m Pamela Hale. My guest is Mrs. Charles Grosvenor—Barbara—who is one of San Francisco’s leading socialites and a large contributor to many local arts programs.” She turned to Barbara, and the director cut to a two-shot. “Barbara, you’re talking with us today because, as you have put it, you have been subjected to a campaign of terror by your former husband, well-known attorney Ed Eagle, of Santa Fe.”

“I’m afraid that’s true, Pam. I wish it weren’t, but that has been my lot for years now. Mr. Eagle has made repeated attempts on my life, then blamed me for them, and the police have been able to do nothing.”

Pam took Barbara patiently through her allegations, drawing out all the pain and suffering she said she had been through, and doing more listening than talking. Barbara relaxed and let the venom pour from her lips in honeyed tones laced with sadness and regret.

Then, halfway through their half hour, Pam tacked onto a new course. “Barbara,” she said, smiling, “I’ve been carefully through the public record of your life, and have interviewed others who’ve known you along the way, and there are some things in your background we need to address. Let’s see, you were born the daughter of a pawnbroker in the Midwest, then moved to New York in your late teens. There you married a much older man, a diamond merchant.” She looked inquiringly at Barbara for confirmation.

“Yes,” Barbara said tentatively.

“Then, shortly after your marriage, you became involved with another man, a convicted felon with a history of violent crime, and with your help, he conducted a robbery of your husband’s diamond business, during which he shot and killed your husband.”

Barbara was looking nervously around for Hugh Gordon. “Well, that’s a long story,” she said.

“As a result, your lover was caught, tried, convicted, and given a life sentence, and you were convicted of accessory to murder and sentenced to seven to ten years, is that correct?”

—

IN THE GREEN ROOM,
Hugh Gordon, who had been half dozing, sat bolt upright in his chair. “What?” he yelled. But there was no one to hear him. He ran to the door, but it was locked, and hammering on it and shouting brought no response.

—

“IT WAS THERE,
was it not, that you first met Ed Eagle, who came to interview you for information on another case. He took a liking to you and offered his help when you were released?”

“Yes, that was good of him,” Barbara said.

“Then you obtained an early release from prison as a result of a court order aimed at ending prison overcrowding, and very shortly, you turned up in Santa Fe and renewed your acquaintance with Ed Eagle?”

“Yes,” Barbara said.

“He gave you a job, and the two of you began to go out. Then, a few months later, you were married.”

“The worst mistake of my life,” Barbara said.

“Then, after a year or so of marriage, having gained your husband’s trust, you emptied his bank and brokerage accounts and disappeared into Mexico.” It wasn’t a question.

“Well, you see, Ed had become very violent.”

“Did you ever call the police?”

“No, I . . .”

“Did anyone else ever witness this violence?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Did you have any visible injuries?”

“No, I . . .”

“Then, in Mexico, after being reunited with one of your sisters, who also had a criminal record, the two of you became involved with a young Mexican man in a sexual threesome, then you tortured the young man, mutilated him by cutting off his penis with a straight razor, and murdered him.”

“That’s an outrageous accusation!” Barbara nearly screamed.

“Perhaps so, but true,” Pam said. “You were tried, convicted of murder, and sentenced to life in a Mexican prison, were you not?”

“It was a terrible miscarriage of justice.”

“In prison, you formed a sexual liaison with the warden, did you not? Then you drugged him and escaped from a bathroom window in his apartment, and were met by an old friend from Los Angeles and spirited out of the country in a small airplane.”

“It was the only way I could get away from being raped daily,” Barbara said, rallying.

“After that you changed your identity and went to Los Angeles, where, one night, you entered a suite at the Bel-Air Hotel, where you believed Ed Eagle to be staying, and shot the occupant to death while he slept. You were arrested, then tried, and while you were waiting for the jury’s verdict, you escaped from the courthouse and hid at a resort near Palm Springs, where you met your next husband, Mr. Grosvenor.”

“I was acquitted!” Barbara shouted.

“Right, but you still had to plead to a charge of escaping from custody. After that, there was a series of attempts on the life of Ed Eagle, culminating in a knife attack by a killer you hired, which left Mr. Eagle in critical condition in a Santa Fe hospital.”

“I had nothing to do with that!”

“Are you saying that Ed Eagle staged a nearly fatal knife attack on himself?”

“Of course he did. I’m not taking any more of this!” Barbara got to her feet and began ripping the wires from her body.

“Well, there’s a great deal more here,” Pam said, holding up her clipboard. “I guess I’ll just have to continue without you.”

The camera followed Barbara as she searched for a way out of the room, then Hugh Gordon appeared, breathless and red-faced. “This way!” he shouted, and the two of them made their escape from the studio.

Pam turned back to the camera. “In the absence of Mrs. Barbara Grosvenor, let’s go through the rest of her history, which culminates with the explosion of Ed Eagle’s jet airplane at Santa Monica Airport a few days ago.”

Occasionally consulting her notes, Pam went on.