“Before or after we waste time at RCK looking for a theoretical blue Mustang?”
“You’re right,” I say. Truth be told, I don’t want to face Randall Kindell right now. “It was a bad idea. And I don’t have Michael Borum’s VIN with me, so we couldn’t check it, even if we had the opportunity. Let’s head back to the station. You can track down the Beacon Valet info while I call more renters. That may be more important at this point. And we can get lunch.”
Franklin, with an affected sigh, flicks on the left turn signal. Mr. Drama.
“You’ve gotta stop trying to be two places at once,” he says.
“I’m in Kevin’s office. On speakerphone. Can you come down?” J.T. and I have a great idea. But I don’t want to float it to the news director without Franklin there.
“On my way,” Franklin’s voice buzzes through the receiver.
I can’t wait. But I have to. And it really proves what a team player J.T. is.
“Hey, all,” Franklin says. It’s taken him about thirty seconds to arrive at Kevin’s doorway. Franklin shoots me a questioning look. I smile back from across the room, trying to communicate “it’s a good thing.”
“Hello, Franklin,” Kevin says. He gestures to a place on the couch, next to J.T. Franklin sits on the edge, as far away from J.T. as he can.
“Charlie just told me all about your VIN-cloning story,” Kevin continues. “Great job. Sounds like a winner. Now she says she and J.T. have an idea. But they wouldn’t explain it until you were here.”
J.T. points to me. “Showtime, McNally.”
I get up from my chair, rebutton my gray flannel blazer over my chunky black turtleneck dress and take center stage.
“Okay, the plan. It was really J.T.’s idea, to give credit where credit is due, but he wanted me to pitch it. I had told him about what we found out today, and he suggested-well, listen. What if we were to rig up two, maybe three hidden cameras inside J.T.’s Audi? It’s a cool car, very desirable, Audis are number eight on Boston’s most-stolen list. J.T. will drive it to the Longmore. He’ll turn on the cameras, then hand the car over to the valets.”
“It’s a complicated camera setup,” J.T. says. He leans forward on the couch, propping his elbows on the knees of his dark-wash jeans. “But at the network, we did it all the time. Caught a bunch of mechanics faking repairs, that type of deal. And it’ll work.”
“Then we leave it at the place, pick it up in the morning. Make it clear we’re staying overnight,” I continue. “We can say we’re having a big celebration, late night, couldn’t possibly drive home. Letting them know, see, that we’re not going to come get that car.”
I check Kevin’s face to see how he likes the idea. Unreadable. I plow ahead.
“And when we get the car back, we’ll have all the video. A complete record of what happened and who did it. We’ll take it to a mechanic, the Power House or someplace, and confirm the air bags are gone.”
“Here’s the rest of it,” J.T. adds. “The three of us will be in an unmarked car outside. Staking out the place. We’ll follow wherever they take the car. And get video of that, too.”
“Right. And of course, then we’ll know where their headquarters is. Or at least, what garage they’re using to do the work. And who’s doing it. Perfect, huh?”
“Cool, huh? Very network.”
Kevin looks as if he’s trying to hide a smile. “Franklin, what do you think about that plan? I gather this is the first you’ve heard of it.”
Franklin takes off his glasses and holds the lenses up to the light. He puts them back on. And looks only at Kevin. “I must say it sounds like J.T.’s quite the team player. I wouldn’t hand over my Passat to such an enterprise.”
“My point exactly.” Kevin’s eyes twinkle as he looks between me and J.T. “J.T., you want the bad guys to rip out your air bags? Who, might I ask, were you planning on getting to pay to replace them? Just put it on your expense account? I’m afraid Gigi in accounting would steamroll right through my door if that happened. Not to mention the station lawyers.”
J.T. and I exchange glances. We don’t really want to use J.T.’s car, of course. Now we’ll see if Kevin has taken our bait.
Kevin stands up, hands planted on his wide desk. His tie, complicated rows of giraffes today, hits a pile of yellow pads in front of him. “But I must say, I admire your dedication. And the video would be beyond compelling. So let’s do this.”
He smoothes his giraffes, then comes around and leans against the side of his desk. “Let’s use a station car. One of the new Explorers.”
I look at J.T. with a secret smile. Our plan worked.
“The registration is in the station administrator’s name, so it won’t come back to Channel 3. Insurance should cover the damage. If there is any damage, of course.”
Kevin winks at me. And I get it. If the story works, it’ll be his triumphant swan song at Channel 3. If it’s a bust, he won’t take the heat. Because either way, he’s outta here, headed for New York and the network. And I bet he thinks I’m going with him. But Franklin and J.T. don’t know any of that.
“I’ll check with the lawyers,” Kevin says. “But let’s get this show on the road. Can you rig it up for tomorrow night, J.T.?”
“You got it, boss.”
“And, Charlie, you and Franklin work a late shift tomorrow. Come in late. You could be on stakeout overnight. Don’t want to overwork my investigative team. Too much.”
Franklin nods, still looking only at Kevin. “Of course.”
“Sure,” I say. I can’t stop smiling. “Thanks, Kevin. This’ll work. Thanks, J.T.”
“Then we have a plan,” Kevin says. He lifts a wrist and points to his watch, then gestures us to the door. “Sorry, guys, my nightside producers’ meeting.”
“So do you love it?” I say to Franklin. We’re walking through the newsroom, out of Kevin’s earshot. I wave a happy goodbye to J.T., who’s heading downstairs to the engineering department. “It’s going to be fantastic. J.T.’s the brain behind this one. Terrific, huh?”
“Terrific?” Franklin says. “Making you present a hare-brained scheme to rip out his own air bags? No news director would ever have agreed to that.”
“Oh, piffle.” I wave him off. “Like you said. He’s just trying to be part of the team. And listen, of course we wouldn’t use J.T.’s car. It was all part of the plan to bring Kevin in. Make him think he’s participating. The whole point was to get Kevin to offer us a car from the station. You know? Psychology. And it all worked perfectly. Beyond perfectly.”
Franklin stops, middle of the newsroom. He picks up a yellow pencil from someone’s desk, suddenly fascinated by it. Then he looks at me.
“Part of the team, huh? Part of the plan? What if I had left you out of something big, Charlotte? If J.T. and I cut you out of the loop and went straight to Kevin with some-psychology? How teamy would that be?”
“But, I-”
Franklin puts up both palms, shaking his head. Then he turns on his heel and walks away. I’ve never seen Franklin this angry. And I didn’t mean to leave him out. Still, being a team doesn’t mean you have to do everything together.
Does it?
Chapter Twelve
“Chocolate chip cookies for breakfast? You totally rock, Charlie Mac.” Penny, today in an Annie-clone outfit of knee-length heather-blue sweater, black leggings and bright orange plastic clogs, plops herself onto a kitchen stool and props her elbows on the counter. Botox follows her into the room. The cat has, somehow, been won over. Even sleeps in Penny’s room sometimes. I suspect Penny is sneaking her tuna. “It smells yum.”
“The chocolate cookies are not for breakfast, my darling child,” I say, closing the oven door. I set the timer for five more minutes. I turn to her, smiling. “I’m taking them to someone later this morning, but I’ll save some for you. What time is Annie coming? You two got big plans? Cheerios or Special K?”