“If only I could replicate that effect with jurors.”
She gestured for him to sit in the gray swivel chair facing the windows and then positioned herself on the sofa across from him. “How have you been?” she asked.
“Good. Busy. I’ve tried calling a couple of times.”
She nodded and smiled. “I’m sorry. Time gets away from me. Between work and Timmy…” Her voice trailed off. “You wouldn’t believe this kid’s activities. I feel like I need an appointment to see my own son. He’s taking karate lessons now. Plus, of course, soccer. And now he says he wants to take up the trumpet, ever since he accompanied his grandpa to a police benevolent association party and saw a brass band in action. Now Dad has him watching YouTube videos of Louis Armstrong, Miles Davis, Wynton Marsalis, and Dizzy Gillespie. Timmy just stares at the screen, mimics the movements with his hands, and puffs out his cheeks like a blowfish. Who knew there was such thing as air trumpet?”
She was rambling, and they both knew it.
“Leo told me about the trumpet obsession. Rangers game last week.”
“Right, of course.”
Her father had reminded her afterward to return the messages Alex had left her about trying to get together for dinner.
“So,” he said, clasping his hands together, “that Brett Young’s a little crafty, isn’t he? He told me before you came into the office that you were the one saying the Susan Dempsey case would only work if I agreed to be the host.”
“ ‘Crafty’ is a word that suits him well. But, to his credit, you are the right person for the job. I don’t think Frank Parker will exactly be forthcoming.”
“I saw your expression when you saw me in Brett’s office. He sprang this on you. The last thing I want is to be around if you don’t want me there.”
“No, I-” She forced herself to slow down and choose her words carefully. “I had been waiting to hear from Brett all day. So if I looked surprised when I walked in, it was only because I expected to find him alone. But of course I’m delighted you’re available. I care about this case. Susan Dempsey was only nineteen years old when she was murdered. And now her mother has gone twenty years without any resolution. Can you imagine what that must be like for her? Her only child? Two full decades?”
It would be an even bigger hell than the five years Laurie had experienced without knowing who killed her husband. The loss of a child would devastate her.
“How can you do it, Laurie?” Alex asked. “You are drawn to these horrible, haunting stories. Aren’t you ever tempted to-I don’t know-produce a fluffy show about dating or models?”
“I guess some women know romance and fashion. I know people like Rosemary Dempsey.” She gave him a sad smile. “I honestly feel like this show can help people, Alex. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if-” She stopped herself from completing the thought.
“If someone had done for you what Under Suspicion has done for others.”
She nodded.
“And you’re really okay with me helping?”
“I want you to,” she said. For Rosemary, she thought to herself. She had originally asked for Alex as a host for the launch of Under Suspicion because of his uncanny ability to get witnesses in the courtroom to blurt out information they had vowed to keep secret. He was a present-day Perry Mason, but much better looking.
“Then I’ll do it. Tell me what I need to know.”
Susan could have handed him the files and gone home. Instead, she gave him the rundown on every person she’d lined up for the show and answered his follow-up questions the best she could. How certain were police about the time of Susan’s death? Could anyone confirm Frank Parker’s whereabouts besides Madison Meyer? How solid was Keith Ratner’s alibi?
She was impressed all over again by the laserlike precision of his questions. It was this kind of interaction that had led to the attraction between them in the first place when they reinvestigated the case of “The Graduation Gala.”
Without the show to work on together, they had fallen into a comfort zone where they might share an occasional meal, or Alex might take her family to sports events. But now he’d be back in her life on a daily basis, and together they’d pore over motivations like love, envy, and rage.
She took a deep breath to keep her thoughts from racing forward. “Well, now that it’s all official, it’s time to get ready for pre-production. I think I blacked out how much work it is. How did Brett get you to sign on again?”
“You know Brett. His main focus was explaining why I was so much better than anyone he could possibly imagine. The man must think the way to my heart is through my ego.”
“We were successful enough last time that the studio has upped my budget. The aesthetics of the show will be a little better, but I’ve put most of the money into information gathering. Instead of putting each person in front of a camera, we’re doing more research beforehand. We’re trying to do preliminary interviews with everyone, mostly off-camera. Hopefully the process will get them comfortable. Maybe even produce leads.”
“The way lawyers sometimes use depositions. Do your fishing expedition outside of the courtroom. Go in for the kill in front of the jury.”
She smiled, flattered, and then looked at her watch. “I’ve got to get home to Timmy. And as Brett said, that red-eye took its toll on me. I feel like a wreck.”
“Well, you don’t look it.”
She forced herself to break eye contact and then rose from the sofa to walk him out. Her focus right now was on her family and on telling Susan Dempsey’s story. There was no room for anything-or anyone-else. Not yet.
20
“What are you going to have?” Lydia asked, perusing the menu. “Probably something healthy, I bet. I still can’t get over that wholesome selection of groceries you brought home the other day.”
Rosemary wished her neighbor hadn’t brought up the contents of her shopping bags. It reminded her how annoyed she had been at the woman’s nosiness. She pushed away the moment of irritation and reminded herself why she was having lunch with Lydia in the first place: because she was a neighbor, and her act of assistance that day had been generous, and Rosemary had not made any new friends since she had moved to Castle Crossings nearly a year and a half ago.
Rosemary’s first attempt to return the gesture had come yesterday morning, when she’d brought Lydia a jar of jelly beans, which she had mentioned as her favorite vice. Now they were having their first real outing together, a lunch at Rustic Tavern. It was a gorgeous day, so they had agreed on a quiet table on the restaurant’s garden patio.
“I’m not nearly as virtuous as my groceries would suggest,” Rosemary said, closing her menu. “And to prove it, I’ll have a bacon cheeseburger with french fries.”
“Oh, that sounds delicious. I’m doing it, too. And a salad to start, just so we can say we ate a vegetable?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
They had finished their salads and ordered refills on their glasses of cabernet when Rosemary asked Lydia how she had ended up living in their shared neighborhood.
“Don was the one who wanted the extra security,” she explained. “It seemed weird to me, since the kids were out of the house by then. But we take the grandkids one weekend a month, and you see all these horrible stories about kids snatched when the adults aren’t watching. Oh, Rosemary, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-”
Rosemary shook her head. “No, please, go on.”
“Anyway, Don said it would be safer for the kids in a gated community. Like he says, he can’t crack heads like he used to.”
Rosemary was silent, wondering if she’d misheard, but Lydia obviously saw the confusion register on her face.