Do You Want to Know a Secret? (12 page)
Read Do You Want to Know a Secret? Online
Authors: Mary Jane Clark
Range stared at the video image of Eliza. Some thoughtful soul had made copies of the
Mole
article and tacked them on bulletin boards around the broadcast center. Eliza must feel horrible. He silently admitted to himself that, as a result of the
Mole
article, he was scrutinizing her, watching for weakness. It probably wasn’t fair, but that was the way it was. And he’d bet that, despite her protestations to the contrary, Yelena was watching for soft spots, too.
“Okay,” Range continued. “Now, wallpaper the sentence about Carlson taking over with some video from tonight’s broadcast, then drop in the Carlson bit about feeling like LBJ after Kennedy was assassinated and wanting to do his best, cover the last part about the memorial service with some more pictures of ‘Bill looking great’ file tape and freeze the last shot.”
God almighty, Pete Carlson is the new Bill Kendall. How am I going to deal with that pompous ass, Bullock wondered.
There must always
be an exchange. The voices told him so.
He had waited all day—waited for night to come. The homeless man pushed his cart into a dark alleyway between buildings on East Eighty-eighth Street. He ripped through the plastic garbage bag at the bottom of the cart, feeling the smooth, cool animal heads inside. Finally, he came upon the thin steel rod of the screwdriver and the roundness of the can of spray paint.
Poking his head from the alley entrance, he looked up and down the block. Once the lone person walking a dog disappeared around the corner, the man crept from his hiding place.
The shiny doorknocker came off easily.
“Tit for tat, tit for tat. Spray them an elephant, this for that.”
The yellow cab
let Eliza out in the rain on the corner of Eightieth Street and Lexington Avenue. She walked quickly toward Dr. Karas’s office, her trenchcoat flapping against her legs, whipped by a wind that felt more like March than May. She pulled her collar up around her face, eager to get to cover.
When she first came to see him, Dr. Karas, with his shaven head, had reminded her of the Great Oz in
The Wizard of Oz
. A giant brain with no body, godlike, possessing all the answers. That was when she’d been at her weakest and neediest. As therapy went on and Eliza progressed and became stronger, she realized that Dr. Karas was human. He still had that big brain, though, and she trusted him. Completely.
She sat in the straightbacked armchair and stared for a few moments at the green rug with black flecks that carpeted the austere office. Dr. Karas was seated in his customary place across the desk. He waited for her to start.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. But I needed to talk.” She lit a cigarette.
“I’m glad you called. Of course, I know about Bill.”
“It just seems like some sort of bad dream. One minute, everything seems to be going pretty well. I have my life basically on track again. I’m feeling good, Janie is healthy and happy, work is going really well, John is popping up in my mind less and less. Even the dreams are stopping. I’m feeling as though I’ve weathered the storm. That I’ve survived. Then, bang!” Eliza snapped her fingers. “Bill’s dead and I’m announcing it to the entire country. And then not only is he dead, but it turns out that he killed himself. And, at the same time, the intimate details of my life are smeared across a national newspaper for anyone who wants to take a look.”
She pulled a copy of the
Mole
story from her bag and handed it to Dr. Karas. She studied his face while he scanned the article. She noticed the corner of his mouth twitch slightly. Finishing, Karas looked up through his wire-rimmed glasses, expecting her to continue. He didn’t have long to wait.
“Nice, huh? What in hell is going on? Bill was one of the most decent men I’ve ever known. It makes me sad. No, it makes me angry that he was so depressed or so desperate about something that he would choose to end his own life. Why?”
Leo Karas knew why but could not answer. Not waiting for a response, Eliza reflected, “You know, for protection, I have a gun, well hidden, at the top of my closet. But no matter how bad things got, and they got pretty bad after John’s death, I never once seriously thought of killing myself. Poor, poor Bill.”
Karas listened.
Eliza shook her head slowly back and forth and took another drag on her cigarette.
“And why did this article on me come out now, of all times? The whole thing happened four years ago. Four years ago! Why is somebody digging this up now?
Leo Karas had his suspicions.
At the end of their session, Eliza asked, “By the way, the show wants to do a piece on suicide. Not Bill’s specifically, but suicide in general. Would you mind, terribly, if I brought a crew over and interviewed you?”
Detective Bob Colburn
had twinkling eyes, an easy smile and a receding hairline which he was not crazy about. He also had a job to do. Catch the graffiti artist who was scarring up some of the most expensive real estate in Manhattan.
The 19th Precinct had been deluged with angry calls. Townhouse owners were enraged over the vandalism. Though all the affected property appeared to be in the same Upper East Side neighborhood, no one outside of police circles had put together the common denominators. The graffiti always reflected the animal doorknocker stolen from the nearest townhouse.
At first, Colburn had been less than sympathetic to his wealthy callers.
“What did you say he painted on your wall, ma’am?”
“It looks like a unicorn.”
“A unicorn? Like a horse with a horn on its forehead?”
“Yes, like the one on the Bloomingdale’s bag.”
Now, this.
Last night, someone had taken the brass knocker from Bill Kendall’s townhouse door. In its place, the thief had spray-painted a primitive version of an elephant.
Detective Colburn picked up the phone. It could be just a coincidence. After all, the
KEY News
anchorman’s death had been ruled a suicide. But just to cover all bases, Colburn wanted to fill in the guys in Homicide about his search for the thief/graffiti artist.
It’s going to
be a media field day! Win has to be in Washington for the Senate vote. He’s the sponsor of the goddamned bill. You have to be our representative. We need a presence there.” The campaign manager’s voice burned in Joy’s ear.