His face looked like a balloon that had been popped with a needle. “Then why was it so urgent for us to trek out to the wilderness tonight?”
“I started working at GNZ when I was seventeen. The place will always be part of me, and I hate to see it struggle. So I wanted to give you a scoop about something big going down here in Rockfield.”
“What big event could possibly take place in this Podunk town?”
“You mean like the brother of a certain celebrity journalist dying in a tragic accident last month?”
“I’m sorry, JP, I forgot to mention to you how sorry we at GNZ are for your loss.”
“The only thing you’ll be sorry about is if you don’t follow up on the lead I’m about to give you. Here’s the scoop-Noah’s death wasn’t a suicide. Do you remember those terrorists who put a bounty on me last year?”
His eyes grew wide behind his spectacles. “You’re telling me that Al Muttahedah killed your brother in an act of revenge?” he asked with a little too much excitement.
“No, what I was going to tell you is that when it’s revealed who was behind Noah’s death, it will be bigger than that.”
Right on schedule, Lauren returned. “So have you come to your senses, John Peter, and decided to come back to work for me at GNZ?”
When she realized that the answer was no, her face flushed with anger.
But before the tongue lashing commenced, Cliff spoke, “JP won’t be re-joining us at this time, but he offered us a lead on a big story.”
Her pouty look perked up. “How big?”
“Huge,” I said. I’d broken so many big stories over the years that they couldn’t completely dismiss me. “There will be a press conference here at Rockfield Town Hall first thing tomorrow morning, at which the police will announce the arrest of the man who killed my brother. And when the name is released, it will be the biggest story of the year, I promise you. I took the liberty of booking you both rooms at the Hastings Inn here in town, so you can be there bright eyed and bushy tailed.”
Sutcliffe didn’t need convincing, GNZ hadn’t broken a big story since I’d left. Lauren appeared visibly intoxicated. This was too easy-like shooting fish in a barrel. Although, I once watched Carter try to do that and it wasn’t really that easy.
The game ended with Rockfield winning 52-6. “You want an interview tonight?” I asked.
“Of course, John Peter,” Lauren could barely contain herself.
I led them onto the field and introduced them to my brother Ethan, who was sporting the smile of a victorious coach.
Lauren looked indignant. “I thought you wanted me to interview you, John Peter-your first official interview since being captured. Why would I interview him?”
I shrugged. “Because he’s the winning coach. They always interview the winning coach.”
I guess she wasn’t interested because she stormed off, muttering to herself. Sutcliffe followed, but gave me a thumbs-up to indicate they’d be at the press conference.
I congratulated Ethan on the win, and he predictably gave credit to the players.
On my way out, I again made eye contact with the man claiming to be Officer Jones. I smiled at him, which seemed to momentarily confuse him. I might not be cutting edge, but this old dog still had a couple tricks up his sleeve.
Chapter 80
Rockfield Town Hall
October 8
Rain fell steadily on Saturday morning. A group of reporters gathered under the dark skies outside the Rockfield Town Hall, holding umbrellas and wearing rain-slickers.
For those who claimed I’d inevitably return to the life of chasing the big story, I guess they were right, because even though I stood off to the side as an observer, I was directly in the eye of the storm.
Just as I suspected, and was counting on, Lauren was unable to keep her yapper shut. Which explained how everyone from NBC to CNN showed up to provide national coverage of the arrest of Grady Benson. He always wanted his story to be grandiose. The lesson: be careful what you wish for … you just might get it.
Lauren flashed me a dirty look across the press row, unhappy that word of the press conference spread to other networks-oblivious that she was the one responsible for the leak.
Most of the reporters on hand looked as if they’d just graduated college. It used to be that when word leaked of GNZ covering a story, everyone would follow them with their ‘A’ team. That wasn’t the case anymore, which I took into account. With the JV on the story, I wasn’t sure they’d ask the right questions, so I planted Christina in the crowd with a list of questions I wanted answered.
At exactly nine o’clock, Maloney burst through the front doors of Town Hall, wearing a dark pinstriped, three-button Tasmanian wool suit. If this didn’t work out, he could very well be buried in the same suit in a few days’ time. He walked in front of the reporters in an informal style, trailed by two uniformed Rockfield police officers. One was Chief Rich Tolland, and to my delight, the other was Officer Jones, aka the real Grady Benson.
Maloney looked nervous, which seemed reasonable, considering his life was on the line. I was more interested in Gwen’s life and encouraged him to “get on with it” with an impatient nod of my head. Once the lies started flowing off his tongue he seemed to find his comfort zone.
His voice was confident, but muffled by the click of flashbulbs and the pitter-patter of rain on umbrellas, “Thank you all for coming. I know the conditions are not the best, but I have an important announcement to make. We’re here to announce an arrest in the death of Noah Warner.
“Original reports of a suicide were premature, and we have continued to explore all possibilities this past month. Last night, a local drifter named Grady Benson was picked up for questioning and subsequently arrested for the murder.”
I examined Benson’s face. He remained stoic, but watchful.
Maloney went on, “Without provocation, Mr. Benson confessed to the crime. The police were initially skeptical, but the bullet found in Noah Warner matched the weapon we found in possession of Mr. Benson.”
Christina shouted over the buzzing reporters, “Mr. First Selectman, if you knew about the gunshot, why was it originally listed as a suicide?”
Maloney introduced Chief Rich Tolland as someone more qualified to answer. Unlike his cohort, he wasn’t a very good liar so he spoke in a nervous tone. “Our strategy was to make the guilty party feel comfortable. Our investigation never stopped treating Noah’s death as a homicide, and the family was informed about our investigation. They understood that the killer could have slipped out of town if he felt threatened.”
Maloney introduced Kyle Jones as the police officer on the scene. Only Gwen’s precarious situation kept me from breaking into a big grin.
“Is it true that Officer Jones didn’t hear the gunshots that night, and the bullet was discovered later?” Christina again bullied the rest of the national media to get her question out. She had a future in this.
Rich stepped forward once again. “That is correct. Officer Jones attempted to convince Mr. Warner to get down from a position on top of Samerauk Bridge, trying to prevent him from harming himself. That’s where his focus was, and should have been. There was also loud thunder present on the night in question, making it hard to hear. It was logical that Officer Jones believed Noah Warner’s fall was intentional, as we all did at first.”
The still-too-young-to-be-cynical press clapped for Officer Jones. I held back any applause for the man who killed my bother. But I did wish I could have been a fly on the wall when Maloney and Rich Tolland informed the real Grady Benson of the arrest.
“Was there a silencer used?” asked a young female reporter from CNN. They were catching up quick.
“I can’t get into the specifics of the investigation at this time,” Rich stated.