No one will ever recall one kind thing about me, Casey thought, as she began to undress. She was a persona, a caricature, a punch line.
Unwillingly, she thought about Mindy Sampson. She was the one who had coined most of those nasty nicknames for Casey.
She would have thought Mindy would be retired by now. She knew Mindy had been fired by the New York Post. She hadn’t realized until tonight that Mindy had taken her column online instead, to a blog called The Chatter.
The medium may have changed, but her garbage remained the same. Even before I was arrested, Casey thought, Mindy was out to get me. She was the one who ran that awful photograph of Hunter standing next to that miserable Gabrielle Lawson. The day it ran, I could hear the other women at Sotheby’s whispering I-told-you-so’s and I-knew-it’s. I told you she couldn’t hold on to him. I knew they’d never make it to the vows. So many people were jealous of what she’d had with Hunter, and Mindy had cashed in on that jealousy to sell papers.
Now Mindy was at it again to get more publicity at my expense for her website, Casey thought.
Casey put on her new pajamas, then picked up her new cell phone, which she’d been using to read The Chatter’s posts about her release. She used her fingertip to refresh the screen the way her mother had shown her and scrolled down to the comments. She felt an old, familiar chill run down her spine when she saw a new message in the comment section. No surprise. Everyone who knows Casey can tell you she’s a narcissist. In between shooting Hunter and drugging herself, she probably freshened her makeup to be ready for the cameras. The user had signed the comment with a nickname: RIP_Hunter.
The room was quiet, but Casey could almost hear her heart thumping in her chest. The top of the little screen told her it was a little after ten o’clock. Thank heavens she still had one person who’d take her phone calls, no matter the hour.
Her cousin answered after two rings.
“Angela,” she said, her voice breaking. “Go to Chatter.com and put in my name. There’s another horrible comment about me from RIP_Hunter. I swear it must be Mindy Sampson getting dirt from Gabrielle Lawson. They’re throwing knives at me again.” She began to sob. “Dear God, haven’t I gone through enough?”
18
The following Monday, Laurie’s thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of Grace and Jerry outside her office, comparing notes about their weekend. From what she could make out, Jerry had binge-watched an entire season of a show she’d never heard of, Grace had had a third date with someone named Bradley, and Jerry was now pressing for all the details.
It was rare that Laurie beat Grace into the office, let alone early-bird Jerry, but today she planned to tell Brett that she wanted to use Casey’s innocence claim for their next special. She needed to be prepared.
“So have you and Bradley picked out the china pattern yet?” she asked, popping open her office door.
“Sorry,” Grace said, “I didn’t realize you were here. You need coffee?”
Laurie held up the Starbucks Venti Latte she’d picked up on her way in.
“There will be no wedding,” Grace announced, “nor any more Bradley for that matter.”
“Oh boy,” Jerry quipped, “what’s wrong with this one?”
Grace had no difficulty finding fans among the opposite sex, but the reverse was not always true. “He asked me to be his date at a company party next weekend. And before I had a chance to accept, he said, ‘And of course I’d pay for an outfit that would be appropriate for the setting.’ ”
“And is Bradley still breathing?” Laurie asked with a laugh.
Grace smiled. “I let him live. I wouldn’t want to wind up featured in our next special, would I? But I blocked him from all my social media. He’s a ghost as far as I’m concerned.”
Laurie admired Grace’s talent in the sometimes cutthroat world of modern dating. Before Laurie met Greg, she had never felt comfortable navigating romantic relationships. She found nothing more miserable than a disastrous date. Grace, on the other hand, always found a silver lining. Even a bad date was worth a good story down the road. And, above all else, she loved herself just the way she was, and that was all that mattered.
“Speaking of our next special,” Laurie said, “I want to run my pitch past you before I roll it out for Brett. And tell me if you think it’s okay.”
They both pulled up chairs. “We’re all ears,” Grace assured her.
She had spent so much time preparing that she seamlessly laid out the core evidence against Casey, along with the new information she’d gathered since meeting her.
Jerry gave a quick round of applause when she finished speaking. “That was amazing. I’m not sure we need a new host after all.”
Grace held up a stern index finger. “Don’t you get between me and that Ryan Nichols. That could be a very dangerous place, Mr. Klein.”
Having met Ryan, Laurie had a feeling he might not find Grace’s banter quite as humorous as Alex had. “Please try to refrain from sexually harassing our new host, Grace. Besides, you may not be so fond of him once you meet him.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds like someone’s on your bad side already,” Grace remarked.
“Do tell,” Jerry urged, leaning forward for the details.
“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything. So what do you think? Is this case good for the show?”
When Laurie had first met Jerry, he was a socially awkward college intern fetching sandwiches at lunch for production crews. Over the years, he had grown, not just figuratively but literally, as he no longer slouched to hide his tall, lanky frame. Under Suspicion had begun as Laurie’s baby, but it was now a team project. Jerry had an eye for taking a reporter’s story and transforming it into a visually compelling television show. And Grace had become their most valued test audience, able to pinpoint in an instant how viewers would respond.
Jerry spoke up first. “You know me, I always think first about setting. I love the idea of recreating the gala at Cipriani. Very ritzy and elegant. Then the transition to the pastoral Connecticut setting of the country house will be very dramatic. So it works from a production perspective. The Raleigh family and Casey herself are major audience draws. I’m less confident about how to present the financial stuff with the foundation, but I’m sure we can find a way to spell it out in compelling terms. What else do we know about the former CFO of the foundation?”
“His name’s Mark Templeton,” Laurie said. “I did a news search. When he first resigned, a reporter looked at the foundation’s public filings and noticed that the assets had decreased substantially over the last few years, suggesting a possible link between his departure and the dwindling finances. But Hunter’s father, James, quickly put the speculation to rest by saying that fundraising had decreased since Hunter’s murder. He hired a new, full-time fundraiser and CFO, and since then, the foundation looks like it’s been on sturdy footing. As for Templeton, he’s now the director of Holly’s Kids.”
“What’s that?” Jerry asked.
“A nonprofit dedicated to shelters for homeless teenagers. Sounds like a solid group, but he had an eight-month gap after leaving the Raleigh Foundation. Could be time off, or a sign that those rumors took their toll on his employability. I left a message for him late Friday, but haven’t heard back.”