complexities today.”
“Is she that bad?”
“Worse. She talks about Jesus so much you think he’ll be dropping by for lunch, but Beverly’s Lord wouldn’t be a lot of yucks. He’s pretty heavily into abominations and transgressions.”
“It’s hard to believe someone could change so much,” I said. “Last night when I heard that funny little twang in her voice, I remembered how much she and Sam meant to me. When I listened to them, I really believed we were the generation that could make a better world.”
“Beverly made herself a better world,” Zack said. “Can’t blame her for the fact that the poor and downtrodden didn’t know how to pick their investment counsellors.”
We finished our coffee and said our goodbyes. Zack went to the front door with me and waited till I got a taxi.
When I got home, I went straight to our family room. The crib board and cards were still on the table. Sam had given the cards a double shuffle before he slid them back into their case. “Luck for the next player,” he explained. Despite everything I felt a rush of gratitude. Out of nowhere, an old Dr. Seuss line came into my mind: “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.” I picked up the jacket of the LP on the turnstile. The album was called
Seconds later, the phone rang again. The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Luckily, she identified herself.
“Joanne, it’s Kathryn Morrissey. I wondered if I could come by and talk to you for a few minutes. I need your help.”
I was livid. “You really are a piece of work. Sam’s body is still at the hospital and you’re already lining up interviews.”
There was a silence. “I didn’t know he died,” Kathryn said.
“Well, he did – about an hour ago. He had a massive coronary, and it killed him. Find a radio. You can hear all about it.”
“You sound as if you think that somehow Sam Parker’s death is my fault.”
“Kathryn, do you have any idea of the impact
“Sam Parker died of a heart attack, Joanne. You said so yourself. A heart attack is nobody’s fault. It just happens.”
“My God, Kathryn. What kind of human being are you?”
“What kind of human being are you, Joanne? I told you I need help. Can’t we at least talk?”
“No,” I said. “We can’t. Smarter people than me have fallen for your line, but I have the advantage of hindsight. I know what you do to people who trust you. I have nothing to say to you, Kathryn. Not now. Not ever. So, do us both a favour – delete my name from your address book.”
As I always did after I’d lost my temper, I felt better for thirty seconds and then infinitely worse. But as depleted and ashamed as I felt, I wasn’t ready for a rematch with Kathryn. When the phone rang again, I checked call display before I answered. It was Jill Oziowy.
“Quite a day for you, huh?”
“Zack and I were with Glenda when the doctor told her Sam was dead.”
“God, that must have been miserable.”
“It was. And then to add to the misery, I just had a call from Kathryn Morrissey.”
Suddenly Jill was all business. “What did she want?”
“She wanted to talk. She said she needed my help.”
“Perfect. We’re doing a piece on the life and death of Sam Parker on
“Jill, Sam Parker died today. If you want to talk to Kathryn, call her yourself. I’m not playing any more, and I told her that.”
“Mary, Mother of God, why would you do that?”
“Because, in the words of the sage, ‘There is some shit I will not eat.’ ”
Jill’s tone was cutting. “So while you stay lily pure, Kathryn is already on the phone with another network arranging her first live interview about the Sam Parker case. Christ, Jo, how dumb can you be?”
“Apparently very dumb,” I said. “I thought you shared my opinion of
“That’s personal. This is professional. Your boyfriend would understand.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you might to want to take a look at how Zack Shreve operates. He knows that when you’ve got a job to do, principles get in the way.”
“Okay. Time to shut it down. You’re talking about the man I’m going to marry. No more slams. Got it?”
“Yes, I’ve got it,” she said. “I assume you’ll still do the
