The Cinderella Murder (20 page)

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Steve Roman’s thoughts were halted by the appearance of the bartender, his dark hair slicked back into a ponytail, his tight black T-shirt accentuating his biceps.

“Another club soda, sir?”

Steve snuck a glance at the woman, older gentleman, and child. The woman was signaling for the check. “I’m good,” he said. “Thanks.”

Steve tried to avoid any temptation to imbibe alcohol, but tonight, his presence at the bar in Mama Torini’s was unavoidable. This stool, just fifteen feet from the television woman’s table, allowed him to overhear her conversation with ease.

From what he could gather, Nicole Melling, née Hunter, was keeping her mouth shut about whatever beef she had with Advocates for God. If that were the only news to report, Martin would be relieved. Maybe he would even cut Steve loose from this assignment, and Steve could return to his former routine.

But now Steve had learned they had a new problem. From this bar stool, he had Googled “production of Under Suspicion.” He had immediately found a photograph of the woman he’d identified as the boss of the production team. Her name was Laurie Moran. She was the show’s creator and producer. He had also learned that Laurie was
a crime victim herself, and the daughter of a cop. One more search had confirmed that the older man at the dinner table was her father.

And now the woman had announced that her curiosity about Nicole was piqued and that she’d be taking a close look at her background.
I’m going to find out the truth about who Nicole Melling really was.

Martin would not be happy.

37

A
lex Buckley looked down at the suitcase and garment bag, packed up and still open on his bed. He had traveled long distances before for cases, and he was accustomed to appearing on television, but this was the first time he had combined the two. He had managed to accommodate six suits and a variety of more casual options in his luggage.

When Brett Young had called him this afternoon to ask him to move up his plans to fly to Los Angeles, Alex had wanted to check with Laurie. He had seen the way Young had surprised Laurie by calling without telling her. So he bought himself time by telling Brett he needed to check his trial schedule. In reality, he had used the borrowed moments to call Laurie, but she hadn’t answered. He had phoned Leo instead, who assured Alex that Laurie would value his early input. But now that his bags were packed, he had to wonder whether Leo might have his own reasons for wanting to bring Alex to California. When he got there, would he cramp Laurie’s rhythm with her production team? This would be the first time they’d worked together since developing a friendship outside of the show.

When he was invited to host
Under Suspicion
’s inaugural episode about the Graduation Gala Murder, he couldn’t resist. He had followed the case closely when he was a sophomore at Fordham and had always been convinced that one of the guests celebrating
at the gala was the killer. As it turned out, his suspicions were incorrect. The lasting mark of his participation in the show wasn’t the discovery of the true killer’s identity but his devotion to Laurie Moran.

“Do you need a car service for tomorrow, Mr. Alex?”

“How many times do I need to tell you to drop the ‘Mr.,’ Ramon? Alex is fine. Heck, you can even call me Al, as the song says.”

“That is not how Ramon rolls, sir.”

Alex shook his head and laughed. Occasionally he looked at his own life and could not believe it. Ramon was sixty years old, born in the Philippines. Divorced, with one adult daughter in Syracuse, he was Alex’s “assistant.” Alex preferred that term to “butler,” which had been Ramon’s title in his previous employment for a family that had relocated to the West Coast. The decorator who had ensured that Alex’s apartment was finished tastefully had recommended hiring Ramon when she saw that Alex was so busy at work that he frequently bought new undershirts because the laundry was backed up.

Alex’s apartment on Beekman Place, with views of the East River, had six rooms, plus servant’s quarters, much too large for a bachelor. But it had enough space for a dining room to entertain friends, a home office, Ramon, and Alex’s younger brother, Andrew, a corporate lawyer who visited frequently from Washington, D.C. In Alex’s mind, his home reflected his commitment to friends, family, and loyalty. And yet, he understood how it all probably looked to someone who didn’t truly know him.

What he really meant was how it probably looked to Laurie.

Last December, he thought it was all going to be easy. The man Timmy called Blue Eyes had tried to kill the boy and his mother. On instinct, Alex ran in and swept both Laurie and Timmy into his arms. For that brief moment, they almost felt like a family.

But, just as quickly, Leo had appeared, and Laurie and Timmy had pulled away from Alex’s embrace. Leo, Laurie, and Timmy
were the family. Alex was a friend. A coworker. A buddy. Not family. Not, most important, Greg.

At first, Alex reasoned that Laurie simply wasn’t ready for another relationship. Certainly he could understand the possible reasons. She had a demanding career and a child to juggle. She had lost her husband. She wasn’t over Greg yet. Maybe she never would be.

But now, the night before he was supposed to fly to Los Angeles to work with Laurie again, he wondered if her reluctance was specific to him personally. In addition to an apartment that might have seemed too large and a butlerlike assistant who called him “Mr. Alex,” he had somehow been saddled with a public persona fit for the tabloids.

How many times had he seen his own photograph in the society pages with a woman on his arm, the caption hinting at a growing romance? But because his part-time job as a trial commentator had made him something of a pseudocelebrity, these pairings always seemed to be blown out of proportion. Andrew had even told him about a website that purported to list every single person Alex had ever supposedly dated. Most were names Alex didn’t recognize.

Why would a woman as smart and confident as Laurie trust someone like him? She had a career and child to worry about. There was no room for some six-foot-four, airbrushed, blow-dried lothario. Could she allow Timmy to become attached to another man who, as she perceived it, might fall out of his life?

Alex looked down once again at his bags and then replaced a flashy purple paisley tie with conservative navy stripes, knowing the swap wouldn’t make one bit of difference.

38

“W
ow, Mom. This is almost like that big breakfast they had at the hotel when we went to Aruba.”

The Aruba vacation last winter had celebrated the success of the first episode of
Under Suspicion.
Laurie felt like she’d been working nonstop ever since.

Laurie placed a hand on Timmy’s shoulder as she took in the breakfast options spread across the gigantic island in the middle of the kitchen. Laurie had been skeptical about the idea of their all camping out under one roof in Los Angeles, but with Brett already complaining about the show’s budget, she’d been in no position to challenge Jerry’s logic about using one house for both lodging and the summit-session filming.

Of course, she hadn’t anticipated the house in Bel Air would look like a Normandy estate. Nor that each of them—Jerry, Grace, Laurie, Timmy, Leo, and Alex—would have a separate room, complete with en suite bathroom and king bed topped with the smoothest sheets Laurie had ever felt. Now she and Timmy had woken up to find a fully catered meal waiting for them in the kitchen, courtesy of Jerry’s careful planning.

“Can I have a bagel?” Timmy said, starting to flip through the assortment on the tray.

“Please don’t touch every single one, okay?” Nine-year-old boys had no concept of germs. “And of course you
may
have one.”

“And
may
I have butter and cream cheese and lox and fruit salad?”

“You may. Just make sure you leave enough of everything for everyone else.”

“You mean, no hogging.”

“Exactly.” Where did he learn this stuff?

She was watching Timmy smear cream cheese on a poppy-seed bagel when Jerry walked in. He was dressed as casually as she’d ever seen him, in a yellow polo shirt and navy chinos. His hair was still damp from the shower. “Oh, excellent. Craft services has already been here.”

“You know we’re not filming here today, right?” Laurie clarified. “We’re doing our preinterview with Keith Ratner.”

“I know. But having them provide the food is really not much more expensive than going out to eat, plus it saves time. They’ll be here for all three meals with cleanup at night unless I call them off. And I figured, why not indulge on our first morning? Besides, we saved so much money on this house that we could afford to have the extra catering.”

She gestured for him to look at their surroundings. Next to the open kitchen was an enormous living room, complete with a fireplace and three separate seating areas. The dining room could easily accommodate sixteen people. Outside, a swimming pool fit for a resort sparkled in the sun.

“I find it hard to believe that this house fits within a budget set by Brett Young.”

“It does for us,” Jerry said, beaming with pride, “because we got it for free.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s right. When I called Dwight Cook to set an interview
schedule, I told him that the location for the summit session was to-be-announced and that we’d be finding a house near campus. Turns out he bought this place for his parents when REACH first hit it big. His parents decided a couple of years ago that they needed a smaller place, all on one floor. I guess he won’t sell it because of capital gains taxes or something I’m not rich enough to understand. He has a property manager handle it as a high-end rental for movie shoots and whatnot. But we got it for free. Are you mad?”

“That the house came from Susan’s coworker at the computer lab?”

He nodded. “I probably should have run it by you, but I figured you were busy enough without having to micromanage those kinds of details.”

She had been swamped, but it would have been nice to know that they were receiving a subsidy from Dwight Cook. It certainly was not the first time they had received assistance from someone involved in a case. For “The Graduation Gala,” they filmed the entire show at the home of the victim’s husband. He had even paid participants additional compensation out of his own pocket to guarantee their presence. Still, the journalist in her cringed a little.

Jerry helped Timmy pour a glass of orange juice. “I figured it was okay since Dwight’s not even a suspect. He was a friend of Susan, and let’s face it, he’s so successful that crashing in his empty house isn’t exactly a deep reach into his wallet. Plus in the Graduation Gala case—”

“It’s okay, Jerry. You don’t need to explain. I would have made the same decision. We just need to disclose it during the show.”

Laurie’s own job would be easier if she started trusting Jerry more to make autonomous decisions.

“The house is really pretty,” Timmy said, setting down his orange juice glass. “Thank you for finding this place for us, Jerry.”

“My goodness. If you could bottle up that sweetness and sell it in a can, Dwight Cook wouldn’t be the only one who was rich.”

Laurie turned at the sound of footsteps and saw her father and Alex Buckley walking into the kitchen.

“What’s all this?” Leo boomed.

“Jerry got us breakfast!” Timmy exclaimed.

“Even better,” Jerry said. “Jerry hired someone to get us breakfast.”

Alex gave her a quick good-morning peck on the cheek and headed straight for the coffee. He had an iPad in hand, which she knew he would use to peruse the
New York Times
. He had arrived so late the previous evening that they’d barely had a chance to say hello to each other.

She watched as Timmy leapt out of his seat to give Alex and his grandfather an overview of the buffet. Looking at the three of them, she realized she was smiling and still felt the warmth of Alex’s kiss on her cheek.

She deliberately glanced away at the empty place setting at the table. “So we’re all here except for Grace,” she said. “She’s probably still working on her hair and makeup.”