“And how did Madison look when she arrived?” Alex asked. This was a question they had planned in light of Madison’s waffling about whether she’d been feeling sick the night of Susan’s murder.
“How did she look? Like a million dollars. That role called for an absolute beauty, and she fit the part.”
Laurie smiled to herself but was impressed that Alex kept his expression neutral.
“The coroner estimated Susan’s time of death as between seven and eleven P.M. She was expected here at seven thirty. You and Madison said Madison arrived here at eight thirty. The assumption has always been that you could not possibly have killed Susan, called Madison, returned Susan’s car to campus, and then returned home by the time Madison arrived.”
“No, I have not yet found a way to navigate Los Angeles traffic at hyper speed.”
“But our research has revealed a new wrinkle to the timeline,” Alex said. “We have learned that Susan had been having car trouble prior to her death, so she may have gotten a ride to her audition from someone else. That means you could have had a violent interaction with her upon her arrival and have been home before Madison arrived.”
“If I went to a movie studio and pitched a story where a culprit sets an appointment to meet with someone at seven thirty, then phones her dorm room at seven forty-five, and then for some reason chases her into a park and murders her by eight thirty or so, I would get laughed out of the room. Alex, you’re one of the best criminal defense lawyers in the country. Does that really sound plausible to you?”
Laurie watched Frank smile on the screen. She knew how this would play on television. The director was cocky, but he had a point. Unless they broke his alibi, Frank was in the clear. And so far, every part of the evidence supported his alibi: the phone records, Madison’s statements, the pizza receipt.
But Laurie still felt in her gut that the evidence was almost too perfect. What was she missing?
52
Talia lingered at the edge of the yard, in her carefully selected white sheath dress, wondering why she had bothered. By the time she met Frank, this was the starter house he would ask their driver to cruise by after he’d had too many drinks, eager to reminisce about his younger, less privileged days. It was probably worth two million dollars by now, but by comparison to their current homes-five total-this place was a shack.
Why had she thought for a second that the producers of Under Suspicion would ask her opinion? She wasn’t a part of the narrative. When the press wrote about Frank, at best an article might mention that the previously hard-to-get bachelor had now been married for a decade. But they never bothered to name his wife, or to mention that she was the valedictorian of her class at Indiana University, was an accomplished pianist and singer, and had had a semi-promising acting career before she’d fallen in love with Frank.
Though she’d never played out the full arc of her career, she knew enough about show business to recognize that her husband wasn’t hitting a home run on the screen right now, answering Alex Buckley’s questions. Yes, he had scored a single-maybe even a double-pointing out the ridiculousness of Alex’s theory: how could he have decided to kill Susan, executed the deed, and been back in time to answer his door in less than an hour’s time? Yet, at the same time, he sounded a bit too much like those guilty guys in bad movies who sneered while taunting, “Too bad you don’t have any evidence.”
In short, Frank had noted the lack of evidence of his guilt but hadn’t offered any alternative theory of his innocence. He had told his version of the story but hadn’t helped the show with theirs.
Talia watched the crew pack up the cameras into their overstuffed van. This clearly was not a high-budget operation. Why, oh why, had Frank even bothered participating? It would have been so easy for him to say he was too busy to help.
Their equipment was loaded, and the crew was ready to leave. Alex Buckley and the producer, Laurie, were thanking Frank again for his participation. They’d be heading to their cars soon.
She was about to miss her opportunity. How was she going to catch them without Frank’s seeing her?
Just as Alex and Laurie were walking down the driveway toward the black Land Cruiser parked on the street, Frank’s assistant, Clarence, stepped out of the production trailer, one hand covering the microphone of his cell. “Frank, I’ve got Mitchell Langley from Variety. He’s been trying to reach you all day. I told him there’s no truth to the rumors about Bradley pulling out of the project, but he wants to hear it straight from you.”
She overheard Frank offer a final good-bye before he followed Clarence into the trailer. She caught up to Laurie and Alex at the end of the driveway.
“My husband is being overly cautious.”
When they turned toward the sound of her voice, it was as if they were seeing Talia for the first time. At forty-two years old, Talia knew she was still beautiful, with high cheekbones, catlike green eyes, and shoulder-length waves of dark blond hair.
Laurie said cautiously, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Parker. We really didn’t get much of a chance to talk. You have something to add to your husband’s replay of the night?”
“Not directly. I didn’t even know Frank then. But I’m tired of this cloud hanging over him. I get it-her body was found a hop and skip from this house, and she was killed when she was supposed to be right here, alone with my husband. But, despite that, Frank truly has never understood why his alibi for that night hasn’t put him in the clear. In that respect, my husband can be a bit naive. Until someone comes up with a better theory, he will always be suspected. But, I’m telling you, you’re on the wrong track with the movie connection.”
“I understand your frustration-”
Talia cut Laurie off before she chickened out. “Susan Dempsey had a huge fight with her roommate just hours before her murder.”
“With Madison?”
“No, the other one; the third girl, Nicole. At least, according to Madison. You know how after Frank couldn’t reach Susan on her cell phone, he called the dorm room? Well, when Madison answered, she said that Susan had a knock-down, drag-out fight that afternoon with their other roommate, and maybe that’s why she was late.”
“This is the first we’ve ever heard of this,” Alex said. “Are you sure?”
“I wasn’t there, but I know for a fact that’s what Madison told Frank. It was so bad that Nicole even threw something at Susan. Then Susan called Nicole insane and said she was going to get her kicked out of the dorm, maybe even school, if she didn’t change her ways. Back when the police were clearly targeting Frank, he hired investigators to look into it. It turns out that Nicole suddenly quit school after Susan was killed. And she didn’t just take a semester or school year off. She left Los Angeles entirely and started all over again. Cut off ties with everyone. She was even using a fake name when she first moved. Then she changed her last name when she got married. Look into it: it’s like Nicole Hunter died right along with Susan.”
“Why didn’t your husband ever tell anyone this before?” Laurie asked.
“His lawyers admonished him not to,” Talia explained, clearly frustrated. “They were planning to use Nicole as the alternative suspect if he was ever formally charged.”
Talia watched Laurie look to Alex for guidance. “It’s probably what I would have advised too,” he said. “Better to say as little as possible and spring it on the prosecution at trial.”
“But there was never a trial,” Talia said. “And yet twenty years later, here we are. Formal accusations aren’t the only kind of punishment. Maybe now that you know the truth, you can ask the question the police never did: what happened between Susan and that other roommate?”