The Sleeping Beauty Killer Part 12

"Tennis," Laurie clarified. "In college."

"That's right. Hunter said she cleaned the court with him. And not to be bested, she certainly was catching up to him at his own sport. She was a very good shot."

"The police found bullet holes in the walls of Hunter's living room and bedroom, where he was actually killed. Does it strike you as odd that Casey would have missed twice?"

"That's hard to say. We only use still targets here. I never saw her shoot skeet or at another moving target. It's much harder than people realize. That's why in self-defense cla.s.ses, they say you're better off running from a gunman, especially if you run in an unpredictable pattern. Plus, adrenaline and, as I understood it, intoxication, may have affected her skills. So the fact that she missed is not a smoking gun one way or the other," he added with a smile.

Laurie thanked Antonio again for his time and promised she'd tell Leo he said h.e.l.lo. As far as her show was concerned, some photographs of this Greenwich Village treasure might be worth a few seconds of local color, but she was no closer to knowing who killed Hunter Raleigh.

32.

While she was waiting for Gabrielle, Mindy Sampson sat at a table in the back corner of the Rose Bar in the Gramercy Park Hotel. There was a time not many years ago when every person here, from the hostess at the front to the A-list actress at the booth to her right, would have recognized her face. For more than two decades, her photograph had graced the top of "The Chatter," one of the most read gossip columns in New York City. She'd take a new head shot like clockwork each year, but always wore pale makeup and dark red lipstick and kept her hair naturally jet-black. The look was iconic. Before the Kardas.h.i.+ans and the Kanyes and the Gwyneths, Mindy Sampson had understood the value of branding oneself.

And Mindy's brand was a.s.sociated with taste making. Who wore it better? Which celebrity couples were to be cheered for, and which scorned? Was the billionaire playboy guilty, or the victim of a reckless accusation? Mindy always had the answers.

Those were the days when papers still left ink on your fingers.

Then came the day when her managing editor told her to "hold off" on her annual tradition of getting a new photograph for her column. They might be making "changes," he warned.

Mindy was famous by then for gossip, but she still had a journalist's instincts. She'd seen what was happening in the newsroom. Advertising dollars were down. The paper got thinner each month. So did the workforce. The long-timers, seen in the past as the backbone of the paper, were too expensive to keep on the payroll. College interns were willing to work for free, and recent graduates didn't cost much more.

A month later, she was told "the news." They were turning her column, the one she had built and nurtured and branded, to "staff." No byline. No iconic photograph. She knew "staff" was shorthand for tidbits pulled from the wires.

She did not go easily. She threatened to sue for gender discrimination. For ageism. She even threw in a potential disability claim for chronic pain syndrome. The paper thought they were looking at years of litigation and a public scandal. But then she told her lawyer that she only wanted two things: six months' severance pay and the name. They could call their watered-down column whatever they pleased, but she would be taking the "Chatter" brand with her.

They may have written her off as an over-the-hill old-timer, but it wasn't the first time Mindy had been underestimated. She knew before they did that the new media was online. She used her severance pay to launch a website, and she became the one to hire unpaid interns. Now, instead of a salary, she earned money for ads that were sold, readers who clicked on those ads, and product placements. And instead of sifting her words through layers of editors, she could publish to the world with the click of a b.u.t.ton.

She hit send on her phone. A new story was filed, just like that, all while she was waiting for Gabrielle Lawson. Of all the personalities Mindy had known over the years, Gabrielle was among the most dramatic. She carried herself like an old-fas.h.i.+oned Hollywood dame. She lived like one, too, thanks to a trust fund from a wealthy uncle who'd never had children of his own, not to mention her settlements from three divorces. She was lucid and functional, but seemed to live in a parallel reality in which her inflated sense of self played a starring role.

For example, when she had something to tell Mindy, she couldn't just say it over the phone or by email. She liked to meet in the back corners of a bar. In her alternative universe, Mindy was Bob Woodward to Gabrielle's Deep Throat. What news would she have today?

When Gabrielle arrived, they spent the first few minutes sipping champagne and engaging in small talk. As always, Mindy a.s.sured Gabrielle she would run a flattering photograph of her. It was an easy promise to make. Gabrielle had been a good source for her over the years, so she wanted to keep her happy.

On this particular occasion, however, the clandestine meeting was a waste of time. Gabrielle didn't tell her anything she didn't already know. When it came to Casey Carter, Mindy had never been lacking information.

33.

That night at dinner, the smell of b.u.t.ter, thyme, and a perfectly roasted chicken filled Laurie's apartment. "This was such a treat, Dad."

Leo was supposed to have had a mini-reunion with some of his police pals at Gallagher's Steakhouse. To Laurie's surprise, he had dinner warming in the oven when she came home. The men's night had been canceled when two of Leo's friends, still on the job, had been called to Times Square on reports of an unattended van containing a suspicious package. Two hours later, the NYPD confirmed that the panic was a false alarm. The van's driver had inadvertently left the engine running while he ran upstairs to his sister's apartment to give a toy to his niece, and then stayed to visit with his family. The city was safe, and Laurie had enjoyed a delicious home-cooked meal.

Timmy was breathlessly replaying the reports that had come to Leo's phone earlier in the evening. "Mom, they evacuated three blocks-in the middle of Times Square! They had swat trucks and bomb-sniffing dogs. And Grandpa knew it all, before the news even reported it."

Leo reached over and patted Timmy on the shoulder, but looked melancholy.

After Timmy asked to be excused, Laurie asked her father, "Do you miss it? The job? Being in the middle of the action?"

She had probably asked him that same question a hundred times in the last six years. His answer was always some variation of saying that the best job he ever had was helping to raise his grandson. But tonight, he was absolutely honest. "Sometimes, yes. I remember that awful day in 2001. We all knew the world was changing in unimaginable ways, but I felt like I was helping. Tonight, I made a chicken. It's a quieter life."

She didn't know what to say, so she remained silent, kissing him on the cheek before clearing the dishes.

She was not surprised when Leo followed her into the kitchen and asked how the show was coming along. She had a hard time explaining her mixed feelings. On the one hand, she'd been lucky to get so many pieces connected quickly.

In theory, Gabrielle and Jason were both credible alternative suspects. She knew from the original police reports that both of them had said they went home alone after the gala, meaning either one of them could have gone up to Connecticut and killed Hunter. But she still lacked strong evidence pointing to a killer other than Casey.

"I don't know, Dad, maybe you were right. I may not have more to add to the original investigation after all."

He leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms. In her eyes, she remembered him at the head of a squad room before roll call on Take Your Daughter to Work Day. She couldn't believe that since then a quarter of a century had pa.s.sed.

"Look," he said, "I happen to think the system works 99.9 percent of the time, which means-yeah-I think the odds are slim this woman is innocent. But I'm also your father, so in the end, I'm on your side. With every production, you find yourself overwhelmed by the number of stories floating around. You manage to turn it into a riveting show, and you've delivered an impressive amount of justice in the meantime. Just remember that your main goal is to put out a fair and fine piece of television. Let the viewers decide what they think about Casey."

It was good advice, but her own desire for the truth always had a way of taking over. "Maybe I should have been a cop instead."

"Too rebellious," he said with a wink. "Besides, Timmy's going to be the next family member with a badge. Just you watch. Have you run any of these characters past Alex? He's always a good sounding board for you."

"He has been in the past," she said, involuntarily emphasizing the last word. "Now that he's not working for the studio, I'm not sure how much to burden him with work talk."

Leo shook his head. "When are you going to accept that nothing you ask of him is a burden? Alex cares about you. If you let him in, I'm sure he'd be more than happy to lend you an ear."

Alex cares about you, she thought. If you let him in . . . The words were echoing in her head and then, out of nowhere, she was crying.

Her father immediately grabbed her shoulders. "Laurie, sweetie, what is wrong?"

"I've been trying, Dad. You have no idea how much I've been trying to let him in." Her father was cradling her, telling her that everything would be okay, but a wave of emotion overcame her. The night Alex told her he was leaving the show. The moment Brett said he was hiring his best friend's nephew. The exhaustion of the last several days, working morning until night. And, finally, that unavoidable feeling in her stomach that Alex had lied to her.

"When I tried to talk to Alex at his apartment about the case, he seemed uncomfortable. I thought my complaints about Ryan were making him feel guilty. But then it turns out that he knew Casey's cousin, Angela." The words were spilling out of her. "And he met Hunter and his family at a law firm picnic. Then when I asked him about it on Monday, he was . . . evasive. I could tell he was hiding something from me."

"Do you want me to call him? Talk to him man-to-man?"

She laughed and wiped the tears from her face. "How many times do I have to tell you that grown women can't have their fathers handle all their problems?"

"But this shouldn't be a problem, Laurie. We know Alex. He's a good, honest man."

"I know. But you're the one who has taught me always to trust my instincts. And I'm telling you, there's a reason Alex doesn't want me talking to him about this case. He's hiding something."

Her father was about to launch another defense of Alex when Timmy came running into the room. His iPad was outstretched in hands that were still small enough that both were required to hold his tablet. "Hey, Mom, I have something for you."

The last time he handed her his iPad, he'd gotten her hooked on a game in which plants battled against zombies. She couldn't afford that kind of distraction right now.

"I don't think I've earned enough free time for a new game, Timmy."

"It's not a game," he insisted. "I set up a Google alert on your name, and there's a new hit. Some blogger named Mindy Sampson wrote all about your next show."

34.

Is Crazy Casey Playing with Fire?

h.e.l.lo, fellow Chatterers. Have you been following the antics of Katherine "Casey" Carter since she flew the coop? Well, I have, and Casey has been awfully busy. It's not your everyday ex-con who goes directly from the prison exit to the closest fas.h.i.+on mall for a daylong shopping spree. Where was she planning to wear her new wardrobe? We all wondered.

But instead of making a comeback on the social scene, Casey seems to be on yet another shopping spree. This time, she's shopping for someone who might believe the same flimsy claims of innocence she's been spinning since the night she was found with Hunter Raleigh's blood on her hands.

At first, it appeared she might have found a sucker in Laurie Moran, the producer of Under Suspicion. The series, which reinvestigates cold cases, has been on a roll, solving cases that had long been written off as unsolvable. The Chatter is able to report that Casey has met with Moran three times in person since her release from prison, once at her home and twice in Moran's offices at Rockefeller Center. For Casey to land under such a respected brand would have been a coup indeed.

But, wait, not so fast! Moran might be making nice to Casey's face, but she appears to have other tricks up her sleeve.

Laurie could feel her father's eyes reading over her shoulder. "The mixed metaphors alone should be criminal," she muttered.

"Sshh," Leo urged. "Keep reading."

Casey may have thought that the television producer plans to present her side of the story, but she might want to think again. Turns out, her new pal Moran has been meeting with the likes of renowned anti-Casey types like Gabrielle Lawson and Jason Gardner. Savvy chatterers will recall that these insiders provided d.a.m.ning statements during Casey's trial.

Lawson was the luxurious lady who was ready to take Casey's place next to Hunter at the altar. Jaded Jason was Casey's ex-boyfriend who spilled the beans about her anger management problem.

With friends like these, who needs enemies? Twelve jurors unanimously agreed that Casey killed Hunter in a rage after he called off their engagement. Without a defense attorney at Casey's side, a successful journalist like Laurie Moran might convince the rest of the country that Casey is a cold-blooded murderer who got off easy.

Casey, if you're reading, you might think a television show can help you turn over a new leaf, but you better think twice. Do you really think Gabrielle and Jason will change their stories? You could be playing with fire.

The Chatter suggests you stay home, and stay silent.

Laurie clicked the b.u.t.ton at the bottom of the tablet to blacken the screen, then handed the device back to her son.

"Mom, how does that website know so much about your show? Is all of that information true?"

Every word of it, Laurie thought. She already knew-or at least, strongly suspected-that Gabrielle had a habit of feeding information to Mindy Sampson, but this column contained more information than Gabrielle could provide on her own. Gabrielle knew that Laurie was planning to cover Casey's case for their next special. And she could probably make an educated guess that any responsible television producer would speak to the ex-boyfriend who wrote a tell-all hatchet job. But to know how many times Laurie had met with Casey, and where? Anyone who could guess that accurately should be playing the ponies.

She was replaying the entire column in her mind, thinking she had no idea who could have given Mindy Sampson the inside track on her production. And then suddenly, she thought of a moment that had pa.s.sed a few hours earlier. You may be a good lawyer in the courtroom, but you've now chosen a job that you seem to have little interest in learning about.

Ryan Nichols. Was he trying to teach her a lesson? She immediately tried to shake the possibility, telling herself she was being paranoid. But Grace, Jerry, and Ryan were the only people who could have leaked all this information. She trusted Grace and Jerry with her life, but knew nothing about her new host, other than that he was so hungry for time in front of a camera that he'd been willing to leave behind a promising legal career to pursue television full-time. Was he leaking inside information to create gossip that was certain to generate plenty of interest in the show? Was this his first step in trying to undercut me and push me out of the picture? His uncle's best pal, Brett, rewarded those whose ideas resulted in better ratings.

As they say, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean someone's not out to get you.

She was still wondering whether she should trust Ryan when her cell phone rang on the counter. It was Alex. For the first time since she'd known him, she hesitated before accepting the call.

Finally, after three and a half rings, she answered with a hey there.

"Hey there, yourself."

"How did your talk at NYU go?" She hadn't spoken to him since she'd shown up at his office asking questions about his prior dealings with the Raleigh family.

"Fine. My friend was beaming ear to ear over his induction as an endowed chair. Sounds like nothing but a t.i.tle to me, but it was good to see him honored. You would have been more impressed with the food, I think. They had those Baked by Melissa tiny cupcakes you love so much."

"They're both delicious and adorable. What's not to love?" She could hear him smiling over the phone. Before she knew it, twenty minutes pa.s.sed as they fell into a comfortable rhythm talking about a local political story in today's Post, a new client who'd retained Alex the previous day, and nothing in particular.

Just when she was beginning to feel silly for being so paranoid-about Ryan, about Alex-he suddenly asked about Casey. "So you made a final decision to cover her case."

It sounded like an observation, not a question. To her knowledge, only The Chatter blog had reported the news. She couldn't imagine that Alex was a regular follower of Mindy Sampson's posts. She knew Timmy had set up a Google alert of her name, but had Alex? Or had Alex made a special effort to stay up-to-date with any news about Casey? Or was all of this in her head?

There was only one way to find out. "I take it you saw the story?"

He paused. Or at least, she thought he did. "What story?"

"On a website called The Chatter," she said. Only after she spoke did she realize that his response hadn't been a direct answer to her question, just as when she'd asked him the other night whether there was a reason he didn't want her working on the case. "I don't know how Mindy found out about the show," Laurie explained. "And she also knew about two of my witnesses."

The other end of the line was silent.

"Are you there, Alex?"

"Sorry, just thinking."

"I guess with a case that high-profile, it's not surprising that word got out that I was asking around," she said, wondering out loud. "And the witnesses she mentioned by name would be obvious guesses."

"Or someone inside the production is feeding her information," Alex said. His tone was serious.

"It did cross my mind that Ryan Nichols could have ulterior motives."

"Or someone wants to make sure you have a hard time flipping the public's opinion about Casey. Is your decision absolutely final, Laurie? Maybe I can help you find another case that would satisfy Brett."

She could not ignore this feeling that he was holding something back, something vitally important. "Alex, please, if you have information-"

"I don't."