Let Me Whisper in Your Ear (22 page)

“I understand that Miss Gilpatric was your patient.”

“‘
Was
' is the operative word there, Detective.”

“Can you explain that, please, sir?”

“What's there to explain? Once she was my patient, but at the time of her death, she wasn't.”

“And why was that?”

“You'd have to ask her that, Detective.” Costello gripped a silver pen in his right hand to steady the tremor he felt beginning. “But, forgive me,” he said mockingly, “you can't do that, can you?”

76

W
HEN
R
OSE
P
OTENZA
asked Laura if her son could be interviewed at the
KEY News
studios, Laura was only too happy to comply. Though it could be better visually to have Ricky in his home environment, thereby giving the viewer a look into the way he lived, having Ricky come to the studio saved Laura and Matthew and the crew a schlepp out to Rockland County.

The Potenzas arrived early and the camera crew was not quite set up. Laura offered to give them a short tour around
KEY News.
Ricky enthusiastically accepted.

Maybe this will loosen him up a little, make him feel relaxed,
thought Laura as she guided mother and son around the labyrinth of hallways that made up the Broadcast Center. As they entered the studio of the
Evening Headlines,
they bumped into Eliza Blake. Laura made the introductions, explaining to Eliza why the Potenzas were there.

“I've been watching you on
Hourglass,
” said Ricky, his face blushing. “I like you much better than Gwyneth Gilpatric. I'm glad she's gone.”

“It's nice to meet you, Ricky,” said Eliza smoothly, ignoring the cut to Gwyneth. “Good luck with your interview.”

Ricky looked puzzled. “Won't you be interviewing me?”

“No. Actually, Laura will be interviewing you. Many times the producers do the actual interviewing. I'll be getting involved later, after a lot of our elements and interviews are already recorded.”

Disappointment clouded Ricky's face.

“Don't worry, Ricky.” Eliza smiled reassuringly. “You are in very good hands with Laura. At this point, she knows much more about the Palisades Park story than I do. She's really the one that you want interviewing you.”

Ricky looked unconvinced, but Laura tried to ignore it as they continued on their tour. She took them through the control room with its myriad television monitors and intricate electronic keyboards that controlled audio, video and special effects. She pointed out the headquarters news desk, the command post for KEY news-gathering around the world, describing the various jobs of the dozen or so people who sat around it. She demonstrated the
KEY News
computer system, explaining how it was used to facilitate the delivery of news at an ever-increasing pace. “I know how to use a computer,” Ricky volunteered.

When they reached the anchor platform from which Eliza Blake broadcast the news each evening, Laura suggested that Ricky try out the anchor chair.

“You mean it?” Ricky asked, his face brightening.

“Sure. Go ahead.”

Ricky cast his eyes around the studio.

“Don't worry. No one will be watching. They are all busy doing their own things.”

As Ricky mounted the anchor platform, Laura reflected at how childlike this middle-aged man was. What Ricky Potenza might tell her could make her piece. She didn't want to talk down to him and insult him as she did the interview, but she was well aware of his vulnerability and fragility. She planned to be very careful.

Matthew was waiting for them when they arrived in the Bill Kendall Room, the interview room named in memory of the legendary news figure who had once anchored the
KEY Evening Headlines
and led
KEY News.
The space was small, a dark curtain draping the wall serving as a background for the shot. Two chairs were arranged facing one another. The one for Ricky sat facing the camera. Laura's sat across from his, but out of camera range.

Rose Potenza looked more nervous than her son did as she watched the microphone being clipped to his shirt. Makeup artist Christina Weisberg delicately dabbed Ricky's forehead with powder, assuring that his skin would not shine in the bright camera lights.

“All ready, Ricky?” Laura asked.

“I guess so.”

“You know we're doing a story on Palisades Amusement Park and the death of Tommy Cruz,” Laura began.

Ricky nodded.

“Tommy Cruz was your friend, Ricky?”

Ricky nodded again, silently.
Please, God, let him open up. We need some good sound bites,
prayed Laura.

“Can you tell me about Tommy, Ricky?” she urged gently, trying to draw him out.

Ricky cast a look in the direction of his mother. Rose Potenza nodded and smiled encouragement to her son.

“I'm really going to be on television?” he asked suspiciously.

“Yes. If you have something important to tell us.”

The foot on the end of Ricky's crossed leg jiggled up and down and a determined expression came to his face.

“Tommy was my best friend.”

“Can you tell me some of the things you used to do together?”

“We were in the same class in school. We were in Boy Scouts together. Played football on the same team.”

“You had a lot of fun with Tommy?” Laura led him on.

“Yeah, we had lots of good times.”

“Ever go to the amusement park with Tommy?”

Ricky nodded.

“What did you do there?”

“We'd go swimming in the pool,” Ricky recalled. “We'd try to get there early in the day before all the crowds came.”

“That must have been fun.”

“Yeah, but the pool got awfully dirty. There would be hot dogs and hair and green gunk floating in it sometimes. Kids used to pee in there, right in the water. They were too lazy to get out of the pool and go to the bathhouse. They said they changed the water every day, but I didn't believe it.”

Rose Potenza winced.

“What about the rides, Ricky?” asked Laura, changing the subject. “Did you and Tommy like the rides?”

“Yeah, they were cool, when we had the money to go on them. But once in while the guys who ran the rides would let us on for free.”

“Did you and Tommy have a favorite ride?”

“Not really.”

“You know, Ricky, my father used to run the roller coaster at Palisades. Did you ever ride the Cyclone?”

The man uncrossed his legs and sat up stiffly in his chair. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edges of the armrests.

“Ricky?”

“I was afraid of the Cyclone,” he answered shortly.

Laura sensed Ricky's tension and didn't want to exacerbate it, especially since she hadn't gotten to the questions she most wanted to ask him.

“I'd like to talk a little more about Tommy if we could, Ricky. About the time when he disappeared. That was the last summer that Palisades was open, wasn't it?”

Ricky nodded.

“Just before school started?”

He nodded again.

“Do you remember the last time you saw Tommy?”

Ricky stared piercingly at her.

“Ricky?”

He pulled the microphone from his collar. The interview was over.

77

O
VER A SCOTCH
on the rocks, Francheska listened as Leonard spewed out his story of what a tough day he'd had. Though Leonard was trying not to show it, Francheska could tell that the visit from the detective worried him.

“I've got nothing to hide,” he declared. “Let that dick dig all he wants.”

At another time, Francheska would have gone to him, circled her arms around him and distracted him with a long, deep kiss. But not tonight.

Maybe he wouldn't really care that much when she told him that they were through. But she had given special attention to getting ready for tonight. She wanted him to be fully aware of what he would be missing without her in his life.

“Come here, baby.” Leonard patted the cushion on the sofa beside him.

Francheska approached, her skin radiant in the glow of the candlelight that lit the room. Her black hair fell softly on her cashmere sweater. She took her place alongside him.

“You smell great, baby.” Leonard leaned forward to nuzzle her neck.

If she allowed him to get started, she would never tell him, she thought, pulling away.

“Hey! What's wrong, sugar?” Leonard inquired sweetly, but Francheska knew his short temper would flare quickly if she continued to hold out.

“I don't want to do this anymore, Len.”

Leonard stared at her uncomprehendingly. “Don't want to do
what
anymore?”

“This!” Francheska gestured widely. “Living like this, being a mistress, your mistress. I don't like all the lies and stolen moments and lonely nights. I'm tired of feeling like trash. I'm not going to do this anymore. It's over, Len.”

“Oh, come on, Francie,” he urged. I know it's been rough lately, with the holidays and all. I'm sorry that I've had to spend so much time at home with the kids, but I thought you understood that.”

“Of course I understand that. And you should be with your kids, and your wife, too, for that matter. But I want more, need more, than you are willing to give. I want kids of my own someday, and much as I've hoped and prayed and wished it would be otherwise, I know you are not going to be my children's father. I have to get out of our relationship, Leonard. Get out and move on. Make a decent life for myself. I've made up my mind.”

Without a word, Leonard rose from the sofa, walked to the hall closet and pulled out his coat. As he opened the front door, he turned to her.

“You'll change your mind, Francie. You'll see. It's a cold, hard world out there. You just better hope that when you come crawling back, I still want you. And it will be only on my terms.”

“I'll be out by the end of the month,” called Francheska, tears welling in her eyes, as the door slammed shut behind him.

78

Thursday, January 13

“T
HINGS WERE GOING
pretty well there, until you asked him about the Cyclone,” Matthew observed as they screened the tape of Laura's interview with Ricky Potenza recorded the day before.

“Yeah,” answered Laura dejectedly. Unrealistically, perhaps, she had been hoping to get Ricky to open up about the time of his friend's disappearance. How conceited of her to think she could succeed where so many professionals had failed. But even more upsetting to her than the lack of good sound bites was the nagging suspicion that the mention of her father might have been what had caused Ricky to shut down.

The tape finished running and their editor announced that, if they did not have anything else for him right now, he was going to lunch. Alone in the semidark editing booth, Matthew and Laura discussed the elements they had at this point for their story.

“We've shot Ricky, your father and his miniature playground, and the monument in Cliffside Park. We've got the old black-and-white film of the park from archives. I'm getting tapes of various songs about Palisades Park. And we have permission to shoot at that fund-raiser in two weeks.”

It was a start, but not enough to make an
Hourglass
story, and they both knew it.

“I haven't made much progress with the Cliffside Park police,” Laura said glumly. “There is no one left on the force there who worked on the Cruz disappearance. The ones who are there now don't want to comment on the latest developments in the case. But I'm going to try to track down a retired cop that I saw quoted in some of the newspaper articles from that time.”

“Good,” said Matthew firmly. “Anything I can do to help on that score?”

“No, thanks. I can do that, but I'll let you know if I need anything.”

“What else?” Matthew mused, staring at his notepad and chewing the end of his pen.

“We need to get Tommy Cruz's parents to talk to us.”

“You want me to try to set that up?” offered Matthew.

Laura considered before answering. “It would probably be better if I called the Cruzes. Since I'm a hometown girl and all.”

“Fine, but is there anything you are going to let me do? Or do you want to do this piece all by yourself?”

Matthew smiled, but Laura thought she detected some annoyance in his voice.

“Feel like going through that old scrapbook that my father gave us and looking for any pictures we could use?” she suggested.

“Sure, I think I can handle that.” He capped his pen and abruptly left the editing room.

79

M
ATTHEW UNSCREWED THE
amber plastic vial and emptied out a small pill, swallowing it with a swig of the unfinished cold coffee that sat in the paper cup on his desk. He hated himself for doing it.

Was it just his imagination, or was Laura treating him differently since he had confided in her about his drug abuse?

It had all started so innocently. He had only been at
Hourglass
a short time when one of the stories he was working on began keeping him up at nights. It was that Cordero story. They were trying to meet an impossible deadline. Gwyneth had become a screaming harpy, Joel wouldn't let anyone get a word in edgewise, barking at everyone who came near him, and even Mike Schultz, usually a sweetheart of a guy, had begun losing his temper at the drop of a hat.

Matthew had mentioned to a friend how toxic the anxiety was becoming and that losing sleep at night only made him more anxiety-ridden during the day. He was worried that he would lose his job. It was then that he got some “friendly” advice—a small vial of Valium. He was told, “These will calm you down, and when the piece airs during February sweeps, you'll be back to your old self.”