Nowhere to Run (19 page)

His lawyer might have taken weekends off, but the FBI sure didn’t.

“I won’t say anything without my attorney, and I won’t be able to reach him until tomorrow.”

John Lee used all his concentration to stay calm. Federal agents hovering in one’s home, insinuating that one was going to be implicated in anthrax poisoning, were enough to terrify anyone. But he couldn’t panic.

“Your confederate at the lab has admitted now that he gave you the anthrax to smuggle out. You yourself boasted of it on national television. Of course, we have the whole thing on videotape,” Special Agent McGillicuddy declared. “Now, anthrax has one of your coworkers in critical condition, and it’s a good bet that he isn’t going to make it. Yes, Dr. Lee, I suggest you do call your lawyer.”

“But the tube I displayed only had sugar in it,” Lee protested. “And I heard on the news that they found a container of anthrax in Jerome Henning’s house. He could have poisoned himself.”

“We’ll see, Dr. Lee. That material is being tested further. They’ll be able to determine if that anthrax is the same strain as the one you got from the lab. This would be a good time for you to cooperate, before anyone dies.”

Special Agent Lyons stared into the physician’s eyes. “Tell us why Jerome Henning had that anthrax, Dr. Lee. Were you and Henning in cahoots on this?”

Lee cleared his throat and swallowed. This shouldn’t go any further. He walked to the front door and opened it.

“Please leave now. I have nothing more to say until I have a chance to talk to my attorney.”

Beth eyed the tray of cheesy nachos and debated in her mind. Were a few delicious bites worth all those points? They just might be.

“Cheese is the fat man’s candy.” Her Weight Watchers leader’s dictum ran through Beth’s head as she passed on the nachos and searched in vain for a vegetable platter. This party was going to be a challenge. Everything Linus was serving was so caloric. She should have eaten before she came.

Linus wasn’t paying her a bit of attention. He was talking to everyone else, regaling them with his stories. How could she draw him into conversation?

Football. Linus loved football. While Beth couldn’t have had less interest in what she considered a brutal sport, a bunch of big men fighting viciously for a silly brown ball, she had made it a point to read the sports section this morning for some insight on the game. The New York Giants were playing the Houston Texans. Linus should be happy, as the Giants were favored to win.

Beth waited for her opportunity. When Linus went to get another beer, she snagged him. “The Giants really need to control the ball and the clock and keep their defense off the field, don’t you think, Linus?”

“You’re right.” He seemed impressed at her observation. “And they have to run that damned thing.”

But he couldn’t have been too impressed, and he definitely didn’t want to engage Beth in further conversation. He had turned and made a beeline for the staircase, where Lauren Adams was making her grand entrance.

She looks like Audrey Hepburn,
Beth thought as she viewed with envy the pencil-thin figure in the simple black dress. Lauren had swept her hair up into a French twist. All she needed was the cigarette holder and the long gloves, and the look would have been complete.

Linus was fawning over her.

Beth went to find the nachos.

Sipping her glass of Chablis, Annabelle observed Beth Terry’s sad gaze. It was obvious to the people in the office that Beth had a thing for Linus. And just as obvious that Linus couldn’t have cared less about his unit manager, except to the extent that she benefited
KTA
.

She felt sorry for Beth. Though she hadn’t been around for it, and Jerome had never spoken of it to her, Annabelle had heard about Beth’s involvement with Jerome, how he had dated her right after Annabelle married Mike. Very rarely did anybody get away with keeping office romances private at KEY News, and social histories were often recounted in whispers.

Annabelle suspected that, when things ended with Jerome, Beth hadn’t taken it well. Annabelle remembered Beth as having been quite thin then. All the weight she had put on suggested lots of comfort eating.

Had Jerome written about Beth in his manuscript? she wondered.

Annabelle hoped not. It was one thing to put down on paper events that happened in a professional setting. It was quite another, and despicable, to reveal the most personal things that occurred between a man and a woman.

At Essex Hills Hospital, Jerome Henning was not alone.

His brother and two nurses stood beside his hospital bed as the doctor switched off the ventilator.

Time of death: 5:34
P.M
.

During the halftime show, Linus decided that he should be the center of attention.

“I have a little surprise for everyone,” he announced. “Everybody gets an advance copy of
The “Only” Thing: Winning the TV News Game,
hot off the presses.”

The guests murmured and applauded politely. As the paperbacks were handed out, Constance elbowed Annabelle. “Oh, goodie. Linus’s book instead of an end-of-the-year bonus.”

Linus’s face grinned from the front of the book. Annabelle stroked the glossy cover. “Sure, I’d much rather have this than extra money, wouldn’t anybody?” she whispered back.

The party guests began leafing through the pages, looking for their own names and for those of their colleagues.

“What a crock.”

Annabelle turned toward the inebriated Gavin Winston, who had come up behind her.

“Shh,” she warned, holding her finger to her mouth.

Gavin waved her off. “Ah, he won’t hear me,” he said, nodding in the executive producer’s direction. “He’s too busy strutting around like a peacock.” Gavin held the book open to the introduction and began to read, slurring slightly. “I’m a television guy, so the idea of writing a book was a daunting one. But it’s been my pleasure to write this book. Every single word of it brought so many vivid memories flooding back.”

Gavin hiccuped. “Pardon me, Annabelle. But let me tell you something. If Linus wrote this book himself, I’m Marie Antoinette.”

Yelena was exhausted. She’d hardly slept the last several nights, and she just wanted to have a drink, take a warm bath, and forget about her problems for a little while. She didn’t want to go to the party, but she knew Linus would be insulted if she didn’t attend. The thought of his dog slobbering on her was more than she could bear right now.

The hell with him.
Linus would just have to understand.

She was pouring herself a scotch when Joe Connelly called. The poor guy hadn’t left the Broadcast Center all weekend.

“What’s up, Joe?” she asked wearily.

“I’m afraid I have more bad news, Yelena. Jerome Henning died. It looks like we may have two homicides on our hands now.”

“Look, kids,” Mike bargained. “If you take your baths now, you can watch Disney before you go to bed.”

It worked. He left Thomas and Tara soaking in the tub with the bathroom door open while he went about cleaning up the dinner mess. He wanted Annabelle to come home to a clean apartment. He felt a bit like a kid himself, wanting her to be proud of him. And, truth be told, it felt good to be doing something productive for a change. It felt good to
want
to do something.

If this was the medication talking—and it must be, since nothing else had changed—Mike was going to keep on taking it. Not that he had stopped worrying about the things that had been bothering him over the last months, but now the sharp edges seemed to be smoother. The unbearable, bearable. The burden, somehow lifted.

Better living through pharmaceuticals. For today at least. He’d have to take it one day at a time and hope for the best.

He went back to the bathroom and helped the twins get dried off and into their pajamas.

“Don’t forget, Daddy. I need more Bactine on my boo-boo.”

The antiseptic was sprayed on the small finger. Mike applied a colorful bandage at Thomas’s insistence.

“There you go, Sport. All set.”

“I love you, Daddy.” Thomas threw his arms around Mike’s waist.

“I love you too, son.” He bent to kiss the child on the top of the head. “I love you too.”

The microwave beeped. Mike pulled open the popcorn bag and emptied its contents into a large ceramic bowl. The twins were delighted as he set the bowl on the coffee table before them.

“It’s just like going to the movies, Daddy,” Tara observed.

“Even better. You can wear your pajamas, and there’s no tall guy in front of you blocking your view.” Mike squeezed in between the kids on the sofa.

Just as the Disney theme music began to play, the telephone rang.

“Bummer,” he whispered, getting up to go to the kitchen to answer.

“Annabelle Murphy, please,” said a man’s voice.

“She’s not here right now. Who’s calling?”

“This is Peter Henning.”

“Oh yes, Peter. I’m Mike. Annabelle’s husband. How is your brother doing?”

The man’s voice was flat as he delivered the news. “Jerome passed away an hour and a half ago.”