Stacee was standing next to me, puzzled by my suddenly crimson cheeks.
“Nothing, nothing. How’s it going?”
“Fine. I got some of those quotes you wanted on various people’s predictions of the election outcome. Did everything go okay at home?”
Her obvious concern further shamed me. “Things are much better. I appreciate your taking over for me. Want to go to the Montgomery press conference with me?”
“Sure.”
As further penance for my daydream, I asked her to join me for lunch as well. We drove down to the Galley and ordered a couple of sandwiches.
“This sure is better than the deli downtown,” she said, delicately biting into a chicken salad sandwich.
“Yeah, Frank turned me on to this place. Someday you’ll have to try the pastrami. Out of this world.”
“Is Frank your boyfriend?”
I cringed. I’ve never liked the term “boyfriend.”
“He’s the man I’m seeing now, yes,” I answered coolly.
She was unfazed. “He’s a cop?”
“He’s a homicide detective.” Don’t ask me why I felt like I had to keep refining her vocabulary on the matter.
Her eyes grew wider. “Homicide?”
“Yes.”
“That must be exciting!”
Good grief, she was starting to squeal. I was regretting my decision to bring her along. But you can’t go back on your penance. Against Catholic Hoyle.
“I suppose sometimes it is exciting,” I replied. “But it can also be pretty hard on a person. They see the handiwork of some very cruel people. Frank just finished working on the Gillespie case.”
Her face fell, all the silliness of a moment ago leaving her. She swallowed hard and said, “The little girl?”
I nodded, and somehow, my appetite was gone. I pushed a dollop of potato salad around on my plate for a while, then gave up.
“I’m sorry. I’ve upset you, haven’t I?”
“No, no — I just feel badly for the family. Crazy, really — I never met them, just read about them. And I could tell that this case really bothered Frank.”
“I can see why. It must be awful, having to investigate something like that.”
I didn’t answer, just thought about Frank, how lost he seemed lately.
“Irene?”
I focused back on Stacee. “Yeah.”
“I don’t think you’re being treated very fairly at the paper.”
I had to laugh. “You don’t, huh?”
She blushed. “I mean, the way people talk. And being taken off crime stories. It doesn’t seem right to me.”
“I can handle it. A friend of mine once told me that having people talk about you is an indication of how much more exciting your life is than theirs.” I smiled, thinking of O’Connor, who didn’t hesitate to outrage the newsroom every now and then.
“Not necessarily,” she said glumly, obviously aware that she was as much — if not more — the focus of newsroom gossip.
I wasn’t going to pursue it. She had, so to speak, made her own bed.
“Let’s go,” I said, and we made our way to the press conference.
The room was crowded. The accusations about Satanism and the high drama of the last twenty-four hours had attracted press from outside of Las Piernas, and many L.A. radio, TV, and newspaper reporters had shown up. I saw one of the photographers from the
This sent a rumble of commentary through the room. Although I knew she had been released, I hadn’t expected Montgomery to put Julie up to a public recanting of her confession. Apparently, my cohorts were equally surprised.
The room was suddenly filled with flashes and the sound of camera motors as Monty Montgomery and Julie walked into the room. Monty was all smiles. Julie, on the other hand, was solemn. She carried herself proudly, but she was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes to attest to what must have been a long night.
Montgomery spoke briefly, saying he regretted that the public had been given a false impression by an unfortunate childish prank on the part of his daughter. “The police have never charged her with any crime, and there is absolutely no reason to believe she was in any way involved in any cases under investigation by the Las Piernas Police. It would indeed be a travesty if the premature publication of a scurrilous report in the
