Do You Want to Know a Secret? (46 page)

Joy looked sharply at Eliza. “I observed, Eliza, that while there are too many people who are HIV-positive or suffering from full-blown AIDS, there are, thank God, many people who are trying to help. They are trying to find cures, they are caring for the afflicted, they are trying to bring comfort to their fellow human beings. My husband has promised that he will do all he can as president to find an answer to this plague.” Joy stared at Eliza. Was there defiance in her look?

Eliza shuffled through her index cards. “To change the subject for the moment, Mrs. Wingard, figures released this morning show that violent street crime in America is on the rise. Realistically, what do you think your husband can do about a society where a man can be shot down in the street just for the few dollars in his pocket?”

This time, Eliza thought she might have hit a nerve. The color rose on Joy’s neck as the master of the smooth answer stammered a reply.

“Ah, I haven’t seen the statistics you, ah, speak of, Eliza. Ah. . . . off the top of my head, I’d have to say that our society is basically a good one, but . . . but we have problems that must be addressed. Street crime does not exist in a vacuum. It’s often rooted in hopelessness and, um, powerlessness. If we could work toward building a society where people felt better about themselves and their abilities to make decent lives, perhaps they wouldn’t turn to drugs and crime.”

Nice recovery, thought Eliza.

As both unclipped their microphones after the interview, Joy thanked Eliza, without looking her in the eye. Nate Heller stepped up in an attempt to break the awkward tension.

“Where are you staying?” he asked Eliza politely. It was the first question that everyone working at the convention asked each other.

“The Oaks.”

“Oh. We’re all staying at the Galleria.”

“I know.”

It was, of course, common knowledge where the presidential candidate and his entourage were headquartered. The two Westin hotels were linked by Houston’s famed Galleria, the glamorous, glass-covered shopping mall that featured Tiffany’s and Neiman Marcus, along with video arcades and an ice-skating rink.

“Are you planning to come to the party after the session tonight?”

“If I can keep my eyes open,” Eliza smiled.

“Good. Hope to see you there,” Joy responded perfunctorily.

The Houston Chamber of Commerce was throwing a party in the Westin Galleria ballroom. Members of the media were invited. The Wingards were scheduled to make an appearance.

As soon as Joy and Nate left, Eliza gathered up her convention handbook and her shoulder bag from the long control desk at the rear of the skybox. She picked up the nearest of the two dozen phones on the table and dialed the 212 area code. She felt a catch in her throat when the small determined voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Janie? Janie, honey, it’s Mommy.”

“Mommy! I miss you, Mommy.”

“I miss you, too, my sweetheart. Are you having a good time with Mrs. Twomey?”

“Yes. Mrs. Twomey made me pancakes in the shapes of an’mals for breakfast.”

“She did? Aren’t you lucky!”

“Here’s Mrs. Twomey.”

That was Janie. She might miss her mother, but she had no problem in getting off the phone if there was a more attractive offer on the television set. It was 9:15 in New York.
I Love Lucy
was on. Little though she was,
I Love Lucy
fascinated Janie.

Mrs. Twomey came to the phone and assured Eliza that everything was all right.

“Would you tell me even if everything wasn’t okay?” Eliza asked.

“Of course I would. Of course I would. But everything
is
just fine. Janie watched you for a little while on the TV this morning, just like she always does. Then she switched to
Sesame Street.”

That was a good sign. If she was obsessing over missing her mother, Janie probably would have glued herself to the screen.

“What are you two doing today?”

“We’ll be going to the park this morning while it’s cool.”

Eliza made a mental note for the thousandth time that she wanted to buy a house in the suburbs. A house with a swimming pool or a nearby outdoor swim club. A child should be playing outside in the summertime, not cooped up in an air-conditioned apartment. Maybe by next summer, Janie could be doing the jellyfish float in a nice, clear, clean pool.

“Thanks so much, Mrs. Twomey. I don’t know what I would do without you. Hopefully, the week will fly by, and I’ll be home before we all know it. I miss Janie so much when I’m away like this. I keep consoling myself with the idea that we’re going on vacation when I get home.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Blake. Janie is just fine. And the little faerie is excited about going to the beach next week, too.”

Putting the receiver back in the cradle, Eliza swallowed hard to keep back the tears she felt coming. The little faerie.

Being a mother with a career outside the home was conflicting enough. Being a single mother added another painful dimension. There was no Daddy for Janie, no other parent to be there for the little girl. And Eliza knew she was one of the rare, lucky ones. She was a single mother who made a lot of money. A single mother who could afford excellent child care. A single mother who could afford a beautiful, basically safe place to live. A single mother who didn’t have to worry about paying bills. Unless, of course, she were to lose her job.

She knew that was what kept her driven to do so well. Not just an inner need for success for its own sake, but the knowledge that the buck stopped with her. If she didn’t make her own money, it would all come tumbling down. Mrs. Twomey and the private nursery school and the expensive sneakers that Janie outgrew every three months. The doormanned building and the circus tickets and the Zabar’s treats. She liked her life, the life she was able to offer Janie. Without that paycheck, their world would be a very different, very scary place, one that Eliza did not like to think about. That’s why she rarely said no to an assignment. She wanted KEY to value her.

But at moments like these, a thousand miles away from the little girl watching
I Love Lucy
reruns, the little girl being cared for by someone else, Eliza would have gladly traded some of the glamour, money and excitement for the security and simple pleasure of watching Janie run under a sprinkler.

Chapter 104

Detective Colburn had
set his trap for the bold, persistent artist.

It was easy enough to get an owner to volunteer his townhouse. Civic duty and all that. Also, the detective theorized, the owner’s foray into police work would provide good cocktail party conversation for quite some time.

Colburn himself picked out the doorknocker. It was the largest, shiniest, showiest one he could find. A brass Texas longhorn whose horns spread a good ten inches across. If doorknockers were his thing, Colburn knew he would be turned on by this one. He was counting on it.

The wall was painted spanking white. The small video camera, timed to click on at 9:00
P.M
., was positioned inside a nondescript police surveillance car parked curbside. The wide-angle lens was aimed at the fresh, white wall.

Detective Colburn knew that the trap had succeeded when he cabbed to the site early in the morning. The brass doorknocker was gone and a rather good spray-painted rendition of the longhorn bull stared out defiantly from the white canvas. Colburn took a picture for evidence later on. Then he unlocked the police car, climbed inside and drove it back to the precinct. At a red light, he unloaded the tape from the recorder.

Inside the station house, he rewound the time-coded tape and then forwarded it at a speed just slow enough to be able to view the action. Just after midnight, the culprit appeared.

A homeless man! Colburn had been expecting a kid.

The detective isolated two images of the man with the shopping cart. The first was a long, full shot showing a thin man of medium height, wearing baggy pants, a winter jacket and a Yankees cap. The other picture offered a better view of his weather-worn face as he turned after completing his masterpiece. Colburn could make out deep creases at the corner of the man’s eyes and mouth. He was unshaven. Dark hair peeked out shaggily from beneath the cap.

Colburn would have some copies made and then start flashing the fuzzy shots around. Hopefully, somebody on the beat would recognize the guy. Maybe they could pick him up tonight.

Chapter 105

The door clicked
shut and Louise rolled over in the king-size bed. Range was on his way to the Astrohall. Louise felt uneasy about what they had just viewed and their conversation that followed.

They had lain in bed and watched Eliza Blake interview Joy Wingard. Alone now, Louise felt she now had to acknowledge what she had known all along but hadn’t wanted to face. She knew there must have been something going on between Joy and Bill. Louise had her suspicions aroused when she’d watched Eliza Blake’s first interview with Joy Wingard. Until then she hadn’t realized that Bill must have known about the Parade for Dollars before its official announcement. She had dismissed the thought, not particularly wanting to think about Bill with anyone else.

She and Range had never discussed the connection. It was the great unspoken between them.

After this morning’s interview, she asked Range what he thought of Eliza’s questions.

“I think she’d better watch herself,” Range snapped angrily.

Seeing Louise wince, Range softened. “I don’t know why she continues to pursue the Bill thing. That’s old news.”

“Why are you reacting so?”

Range ran his hands through his red hair.

“Listen, Lou, I loved the guy. You want me to come out and say it? Fine. He was my best friend. I don’t want him to be remembered as the man who slept with the president’s wife. I want him to be remembered as the pro and terrific human being that he was.”

There was a silence between them.

“Surely you suspected it,” Range said softly.

“Mmm. I don’t want to think about it. It depresses me. It was over between us, but somehow the thought of him with another woman doesn’t sit well with me. Not to mention the media frenzy that would ensue if it got out. I just can’t deal with that.” Louise’s face expressed her distaste.