Death in Paradise (22 page)

There was a noticeable change in everyone after Billy's announcement. It was only as they filed out that I understood what had just happened. All the caution, all the restraint, all the unnaturally formal behavior or unusually boisterous camaraderie, and all the strain I'd seen on everyone's faces had resulted, in part, from a fear—a suspicion—that one of the group had killed Martina and killed her in a particularly vicious and ugly way. Billy's information that it might have been the work of an anonymous stranger really had been a cause for relief. It made me feel rather naive and trusting that I hadn't assumed it was one of us—unless Lewis Broder counted as one of us—and I was the one most familiar with murder.

The group dispersed and I stayed behind with Jolene and Billy to work on the introduction to the speech. Billy also wanted my advice on a number of other things, and there was stuff he wanted faxed from my office back in Massachusetts.

"But Billy, it's Saturday. There's no one in the office."

He shrugged. "Call someone. Surely you must have staff."

"Your problem is that you work in Washington. You think the world revolves around putting the right spin on everything. Back home in Massachusetts, we don't like our names in print. And we still take the occasional day off."

"Maybe they do, but you are a workaholic."

"Not me. I'm even taking the afternoon off. Going snorkeling at Molokini."

He looked surprised. "Maybe in Hawaii you'll play, but if I were here and you were there, I'd be able to get what I wanted, Saturday or not."

"Not anymore. I'm busy on weekends."

"The burly cop?" I nodded, I knew who he meant, even though I never would have called Andre burly. "Pity," he said. "Well, isn't there someone you can call who can get in there and fax us some stuff?"

"Let's make a list of what you need, and then we'll see."

Jonetta stuck her head in. "Sorry to interrupt. When you're done, Thea, let's pay a call on Rory, shall we?"

I checked my watch. "If we have time. Where will I find you?"

"In my room."

Billy had a list in front of him, and he went straight down it, giving instructions and telling us what he needed. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "Damn!" he said. "I forgot. While the board was all together, they should have appointed Joly here as acting director." Jolene lowered her eyes and stared at her intertwined fingers. "Don't look so modest. It's not like this is news or something. You know it's what the board wants."

"Not now, Billy," I said. "It would look terrible to replace Martina so quickly."

"I only said 'acting' director." He sounded sulky. He even looked sulky.

"Don't sulk," I said. "It's not becoming. Let's get to the speech. If only we had Martina's papers, this would be a cinch. I put the stuff together for her because we found the speaker. But it's just an introduction."

"You don't have her papers?" he interrupted.

"Of course not. The police have her papers. This is a homicide, Billy. They take everything. I had to steal back my own speech yesterday. They weren't going to let me have it. You can imagine what a disaster that would have been. They made me give it back afterwards."

He nodded and moved his chair closer, then said, in a lower voice, "You think I'm callous, don't you? You think I'm taking this too lightly, right?" I started to shake my head. "Don't deny it," he said. "I read minds, remember? Anyway, for the record, I'm not. I'm doing exactly what you're doing."

"Which is?"

"Getting immersed in the job so I won't have to think about what happened to Martina. That's what we're all doing, isn't it, Joly?"

Jolene nodded cautiously, as if she didn't quite trust what she was agreeing to. "I've been thinking, maybe if I'd tried harder, I could have worked with her," she said. "I've been wondering how much our disapproval, which she has to have known about, contributed to her downfall...." She trailed off and for the first time I noticed how pale she was and how unlike herself she looked. There was nothing flashy about Jolene, but she always had a quiet luminosity, a way in which the good person and the good intentions showed through. Today she looked plain and tired, as though someone had turned the internal light off. We all looked plain and tired.

"You didn't fail her, Joly," Billy said. "She failed all of you. All of you and all the girls whose brighter futures depended on her success."

"Let's not get too dramatic here, Billy. Setting aside the idea that we mustn't speak ill of the dead, it isn't true that Martina was a failure, she'd just... she was in a slump," I said.

"Like a baseball player?" he said. "You think a good batting coach could have nudged her out of it? Give me a break, Thea! Martina Pullman had a good, maybe a great, cause to work for. She used that cause to promote herself... no, wait!" He held up a hand to keep me from interrupting. "I know you think you've got to protect her, but let me finish, okay? We are... were... all of us... you, me, Joly, Jonetta, Shannon, Rob, Zannah, your partner Suzanne, and even poor Rory, props of Martina Pullman, Inc. Why? Because we got paid to be? Some of us, some of the time. Me, I'm a very good hired flack, but—"

"Billy—"

He reached out and put a hand over my mouth. "Let me finish," he repeated. "Thea, my lovely, you are a beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful, caring, more than hardworking stand-up gal, but even in your perfection, you are not always right."

It was a sentiment my own hardworking, gorgeous stand-up guy, Andre Lemieux, had voiced as well. I exerted self-control and stopped trying to get my own oar in. Maybe, for once, I should listen. I nodded to indicate my cooperation. Jolene was watching the two of us with a shocked look on her face.

"As I was saying... people like you and me, like Suzanne and Rory, we're here because we get paid to be here. The others are on the board because they believe in the mission of the association. But even the two of us, you and I, also do this because we think that equity in education, or finding better ways to educate the underserved half of our population, is important, right?" He didn't wait for a reply. "I don't know whether Martina once passionately believed in the education of girls or whether she had just found an issue that she could successfully manipulate. I like to believe it was the latter—"

"Excuse me," Jolene interrupted. "Where are you going with this, Billy? We all know that Martina was committed to educating girls—"

"Then why did she stop paying tuition for her stepdaughter, Melissa, at a private girl's school, forcing her back into a coed public school?"

"Maybe that was Jeff's decision, or the mother's. Maybe Melissa wasn't doing well and was asked to leave."

"Can we get on with this meeting?" I interrupted. "I've got things to do."

"Thea, you will die with things to do," he said. "We all
will
. I
just want to get this out on the table, okay? For the record, Melissa was doing fine, and her mother wanted her to stay there but couldn't afford it, and Melissa loved the school and wanted to stay. My point is that Martina could easily have kept her there but wouldn't... a classic case of not putting your money where your mouth is. But that's not what I wanted to say."

He cleared his throat, waiting to see if I would interrupt again.

Looking at him, I realized that like the rest of us, Billy was getting older. He no longer looked like a gawky teenager trying to figure out how to be a grown-up. He was a grown-up. Still geeky, but he'd matured, while I'd looked at him once, formed an opinion, and stopped noticing. "For the past eighteen months, two years, Martina has been coming apart, drinking heavily, forgetful, erratic, abusive not just to co-workers like you two and subordinates like Rory, but to people she needed as supporters and friends," he said. "She's made an ass of herself at parties and dinners, called press conferences and then forgotten what she wanted to say. Wrapped herself around other men when Jeff was present."

He stared down at the table. He wanted to tell us this but it wasn't easy for him. "Poor Jeff has been carrying a terrible burden. He and Rory have worked their tails off, trying to keep her from ruin. Plenty of nights, Rory had to see her home and put her to bed. She was practically living there, from what I hear. I've pulled Martina back from the brink, played wet-nurse, scraped the mud off, and made the best of things so many times I've lost count. I have read her press releases while she stood there barely staying on her feet, breathing her fetid alcoholic breath in my ear."

"Billy, she's dead," I said.

"Goddamn it, I know that!" Billy Berryman, Mr. Cool and With It, Mr. Manipulation and Spin Control, started to cry. "Shit!" he said. "I can't believe this. I didn't mean... I used to admire her so much. When I started working with her, I used to think she was a shining model of exactly how a person should be.... She was one of my heroes, you know? I thought I was so lucky to be able to work for one of those rare people who can make a difference." He unbuttoned the top button of his collarless linen shirt and pulled it away from his throat like it was choking him. I passed him some tissues.

"This is ridiculous... I can't believe I'm sitting here crying about this," he said. "There was a time, a few years ago, when I used to think I was in love with Martina, when I'd listen to her speak and I'd listen to her ideas and it was all so inspiring and then..." He blew his nose and apologized. "Then I began to see what was really going on. How she stole from people, how she used them... how she was never willing to give credit where it was due, never wanted to share the spotlight. It was like lifting the cover on a beautiful box and finding the inside crawling with maggots...."

He turned his face way to hide the tears, but he was with the two of us, instinctive comforters. Jolene and I moved in and put our arms around him. "I'm a hired gun," he whispered. "I'm not supposed to care... but I cared so much for what I thought she was... and when I saw what she truly was, I... I... I hated her. And now she's dead and she died while I was still hating her and I don't know what to do."

A couple of deep breaths and sobs and sniffs. We kept our arms around him. Finally he shook us off. "Let's get on with it. We've got work to do."

We gathered around the papers again. Billy gave me the list of things he wanted and gave Jolene another list. Then Jolene left, I opened my laptop, and Billy and I hashed out an introduction together. "This should do," he said, scanning the screen. "Maybe Rory's got the stuff you need to fill in those spaces."

We both stood up. It was only 8:00 a.m. and if the way I looked matched the way I felt, I was going to go out there and scare babies and small children. "Billy," I said, "I know how you feel. The best you can do, once someone is dead, is to try and remember the good stuff. The process of dealing is bad enough without filling your head with—"

He turned away. "Don't bother," he said. "Nothing is going to make me feel good right now."

"Billy, I've been there. You know how, at weddings, they tie a string of cans to the car and when it drives off, the cans come rattling along behind? Well, I've got a string of sad, complicated muddled deaths tied to my ankle, and everywhere I go, they come rattling along behind me. I'd give anything to be able to cut the string and leave it all behind but life's not like that. Your memory comes with you. You have to do your best to keep it from pulling you backwards and weighing you down. You gotta keep on walking...."

"I've got work to do," he said in a strangled voice.

"Me, too."

I left him alone with his grief.

Jonetta was waiting outside in the hall. "Shall we tackle Rory now?"

I shrugged, not looking forward to another emotional confrontation. "Might as well." I patted the laptop. "I just want to stop at my room and drop this off. It seems to weigh a ton today."

I wasn't eager to confront Rory again. I knew that shock took different people different ways. Unfortunately, the ways it was taking her were all the ones I scorned most. Hysterics, hyperbole, self-pity, drunken exhibitions, and a total abandonment of responsibility. Maybe because they were the weaknesses I feared most in myself.

Sometimes I felt like I'd been hanging on by my fingertips for years, about to fall off the ledge, and only willpower kept me from letting go. Sometimes I longed to stop being logical and controlled and disciplined and responsible. It was lovely to fantasize about throwing myself into Andre's arms and letting him take care of me. I imagined quitting my too-hard job and settling down with novels and bonbons. But not for long. I feared the loss of autonomy and being dependent too much.

"It's going to be just like yesterday," I said. "She won't answer the door and we're going to have to get security again."

"We'll do what we gotta do," Jonetta said. "There are so many people depending on us for a successful conference. We can't be letting one person screw up the whole thing because she's upset. Who
isn't
upset? Shannon's getting wilder by the minute, Rob's muttering dark threats about quitting, Jolene looks like someone drank a quart of her blood in the night, and our quiet Pollyanna Ms. Wu from San Francisco is nibbling off her nail polish and looking over her shoulder every five minutes. Even little devil-may-care Billy is upset and I didn't think he had feelings, only circuits and sound bites."

She stabbed the elevator button with an angry finger. "Damned media hog. The woman can't even die quietly."

"She didn't choose the way she died, Netta."

"I know. I know. Don't mind me. This thing wears me down, that's all. I thought I'd be walking through this weekend with my eyes shut, know what I mean? I was looking forward to some informative talks and good food and some lying in the sun. Plannin' on doing some thinking there by the pool. Closin' my eyes and plannin' out the future. Girl, I have got a lot of thinking to do, too. If I can't raise another half-million dollars in the next few months, we're going to be closing our doors, all those poor babies back out on the streets again. Makes me feel like a criminal, taking them in and giving them hope like I've done and now maybe I can't live up to my promises."