every day, though I couldn't remember him ever reading it.
The headline read, HEIRESS WHACKED: Police Search
For Sex Symbol Shooter. It was actually one of their more subtle headlines.
'I give them ten points for alliteration,' I said. ''Search For
Sex Symbol Shooter.' Almost poetic.'
'Take off several thousand for subtlety,' another voiced chimed in. I turned around.
Jack O'Donnell walked into the room, half a dozen newspapers under his arm. He looked well rested, energized.
'Least someone around here caught forty winks,' I said.
'I think I caught forty winks total my first five years on the job, don't complain to me about sleep.' He took the papers from under his arm, and I recognized the running heads of what looked like the morning edition of every major paper in the metropolitan area, as well as a few nationals. He tossed them on Wallace's desk one at a time, giving us a chance to read each headline.
I wasn't aware newspaper fonts could run that big.
'You have no idea how much it cost us to dump our page one and get the Paradis story in there,' Wallace said. 'None of them report anything substantial. That'll come tomorrow.
With any luck we'll sell enough papers today to make up for the printing and shipping delays.'
'Even in death Athena breaks the bank,' Jack said. 'You know some asshole found a highball glass from last night that still has Athena Paradis's lipstick on it? Bidding on eBay is up to ten grand. I'm thinking of joining the fray, resell the glass during the trial and retire.'
'This case will never go to trial,' I said, a sick feeling in my stomach.
'And why not?' asked Wallace.
'Fools with a cause don't go quietly. They don't put their hands behind their back, and they don't care about their
Miranda rights. This guy's in it until the end.'
'Let's hope you're wrong,' Wallace replied. 'Right now all we can do is our job. So let's talk.'
Jack flicked my ear as he walked by. 'What, no iPod today?'
I sighed, played along.
'I usually take it off when I get to the office.'
'Hard to concentrate when listening to Bee-yonk, right?'
I didn't correct him, frankly would have felt like an idiot telling him the correct pronunciation was Beyonce. A few months ago, I made the careless mistake of going to the bathroom and leaving my iPod on my desk. The mistake wasn't leaving it out in the open, but trusting someone like
Jack to act like an adult. By the time I got back to my desk,
Jack had scrolled through my entire playlist and taken votes from the entire newsroom as to which artists I should delete from the hard drive permanently. The results were tabulated, and for a week after that he would ask for the player to see if
I'd complied. Finally I removed the offending songs, just to shut him up. According to Jack, any music created after 1986 should never be heard through my (or any other) speakers again. He said if not for the Dylan and Springsteen, he would have thrown the entire thing in the garbage.
'Henry,' Jack said, his voice now without any condescension. 'If you don't think this case will go to trial you're an idiot. Someone's getting prosecuted, even if it takes a few cases to get the right suspect. Costas Paradis's private jet is on its way to the city as we speak, and I can promise that he's bringing hellfire and brimstone and a savings account large enough to be a continent unto itself. Whether it's Shawn
Kensbrook, the security staff at the Kitten Club, the killer himself, or Lord Zeus up on high, somebody's getting locked away while the key is thrown in the ocean. Half a dozen tabloid hacks are writing first drafts of quickie books that will be on sale in your local grocery store within the week.'
'Cynical much?' I said.
Jack dismissed the question. 'If you want to last in this business as long as I have, you'll have the cynical alarm on
High 24/7. Question everything. You wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't done that last year.'
'So why did a line I wrote end up at a crime scene?' I asked. 'That's my question.'
'Let's hope it's an eerie coincidence,' Wallace said. 'That it doesn't have some sort of meaning that plays into why
Athena was killed.'
'If this goes to trial,' Jack added with a smile, 'we can always claim libel, say the killer used Henry's quote out of context.'
I absently scratched my ribs.
'Now the question for you both is,' Wallace said, 'where do we go from here? We've got the killer's message. Jack, you check with the NYPD, see if Chief Carruthers has any suspects or leads.'
'I want to talk to the ballistics department,' I said. 'Jack, do you know anyone there you can hook me up with?'
'Why ballistics?' Wallace asked.
'Athena was killed by a high-powered rifle shot from a rooftop three blocks away, and the killer left a message he wanted to be found. This is as premeditated as it gets, and was executed with careful consideration. No doubt the murder weapon will fit into that. Then we can run a check on the gun, find the store he bought it at, go from there.'
'Jack?' Wallace said. Jack scratched his beard. It looked a little darker than it had the last few days, the brown a little more, er, not gray. With our coverage of the Paradis murder, we were going to sell a lot of papers. Jack wanted to look his best in case there were any photo ops or interviews. And who was I to question the omnipotence of Just For Men?
There was a beep alerting Wallace to an incoming e-mail.
He clicked the mouse, eyes narrowing as he read.
'Mayor Perez called a news conference for noon today.
Costas Paradis will be in attendance.'
I looked at Jack, who was staring at the screen, thinking.
The fire was just starting to burn, and I felt it, too.
'I want you both there,' Wallace said. 'And I don't care what you do or how you do it, get something different to run with tomorrow. I need angles here that won't be covered by the other papers.'
'Angle is my middle name,' Jack said.
'Yesterday you told me it was Glenfiddich,' replied Wallace.
'Mine is Shane,' I said proudly. They both looked at me.
I wasn't proud anymore. 'I mean it's Angle, too.'
Jack shook his head. 'Wine cooler. That's your middle name. Get a good story and I'll promote you to Zima.'
'And Henry,' Wallace said, 'if anyone asks about the quote the killer used, you have your 'no comments' at the ready. Am
I correct in assuming you're not hiding anything? That you have no reason to think this is anything but an awful coincidence?'
'I swear I have no idea,' I said honestly. 'Trust me, after last year I'd just as soon stay out of the spotlight as much as possible.'
'Then let's keep it that way. We have to assume the suspect used it simply because the quote was relevant, or that he has some serious bats flying around in his belfry.'
'That might work better than a 'no comment,'' Jack said.
'Now get a move on,' Wallace continued. 'I have no doubt there'll be some fireworks at this conference. You won't want to watch from the back row.'
