Let Me Whisper in Your Ear (30 page)

Laura was about to shut everything down when it occurred to her that it might be nice to create a little
WELCOME HOME
sign and tape it to the front of Francheska's video monitor. She took the mouse in hand and double-clicked on the
MICROSOFT WORD
icon and watched the program open up, presenting Laura with a blank piece of “paper.” She began typing, in a large, fancy font, centering each line of text.

WELCOME HOME, FRANCHESKA
!

YOU'RE ALL PLUGGED IN
!

Laura brought the mouse up to the top of the screen and clicked
FILE
so she could print out her sign. She was just about to press
PRINT
when she noticed, curiously, at the bottom of the pull-down menu, the list which most word processing programs automatically prepare for their users: the last four documents that had been worked on.

GHOSTLAND GRID

FORDHAM

RECIPE

MAMA Y PAPA

Guiltily, she slid the mouse down its pad and clicked open the first document in the list.

136

F
EELING GRIMY AND
irritable, Francheska waited for a taxi at La Guardia Airport, along with scores of other passengers from her delayed flight.

When her turn finally came, she barked her Central Park West destination to the cab driver.

Francheska sat back into her seat and closed her eyes. In a little while she would be sleeping in Gwyneth Gilpatric's bed.

137

L
AURA STARED IN
disbelief at the computer screen.

Having opened
GHOSTLAND GRID
, Laura was now studying what looked like a financial spreadsheet. One hundred names flowed, in alphabetical order, down the left-hand column; and, next to each name, a different e-mail address for each month of the year.

As Laura scrolled down, she recognized almost of all of the names as some of the most well-known people in the print and television news media. She marveled at how much power, and money, each name represented.

About one-third of the way down the list of names, Laura's attention was drawn to
GWYNETH GILPATRIC
. She noted that, instead of an e-mail address, there was only one word next to Gwyneth's name:
CASPER
!

Laura tried to make sense of what she was looking at. She thought back to the evenings, when she and Francheska were roommates, when they had visited Emmett. She recalled Francheska's insistence that they go down to the basement to see the mini-park and the fancy her friend had taken to the Casper's Ghostland attraction with its painted cartoon characters of Casper, Wendy and Spooky.

What did all of this mean?

She decided to go back to the list of four recent documents she had discovered under the file menu. Ignoring the one entitled
FORDHAM
, as that was probably just a letter asking about admissions procedures, she clicked on the third document in the list.

Laura felt her pulse throbbing in her ears, her face growing hot, as she read the contents of
RECIPE
. It left no doubt that Francheska Lamb, Laura's trusted friend, was not the woman Laura believed her to be.

Francheska had ordered gamma hydroxybutyrate powder. It was obvious that she had downloaded, and then saved, the instructions for combining all the ingredients needed to create a substance called Liquid G.

Francheska had tried to kill her!

Laura's thoughts spun as she tried to remember the events that led up to her collapse at the fund-raiser. Francheska had left before she got sick, so Francheska didn't know that the poison hadn't killed her friend. Laura felt her stomach wretch as she realized that Francheska had left for Puerto Rico believing that Laura would be dead when she returned.

Everything was falling into place now, like a deadly row of dominoes. Laura realized that Francheska had a reason to kill Gwyneth, whom she perceived as having caused her brother's death. Francheska had a reason to kill Kitzi Malcolm, the eyewitness to her crime. Francheska could have killed Delia, too, if she thought the maid had seen her just prior to Gwyneth's death.

So engrossed was she in the horror of the betrayal that she had just discovered, Laura didn't hear the elevator doors sliding open down the hallway, as she picked up the telephone to call Matthew, three in the morning or not.

138

“L
AURA, SLOW DOWN
. I can't understand you, honey,” urged Matthew, rubbing his eyes.

“It's Francheska! I think she was the one who spiked my drink. I think she killed Gwyneth and the others!” Laura rattled off frantically.

“Laura, you've got to calm down, sweetheart. You haven't been feeling well. It's all been too much for you,” Matthew said softly.

“Don't talk to me like I'm a crazy person. I know what I'm talking about. I have proof—”

Matthew shivered as he heard a click and the line go dead.

139

T
HE EMERALD-RINGED FINGER
depressed the button on the telephone, abruptly ending Laura's conversation.

“What kind of proof, Laura?”

Laura looked up to find Francheska standing above her, a kitchen knife gleaming in her other hand.

“Francheska, how could you?” she whispered.

“The world's a tough place, Laura. You do what you have to do. It was just a matter of time before you put things together. You'd realize that I had a reason to want to see Gwyneth dead. You'd start questioning how I had the money not to work—and I don't intend to work, Laura.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “I know you too well. You're like a dog with a bone when you get hold of something. You wouldn't be able to just let things ride and I couldn't afford to let you put the pieces together.”

“Murder?” asked Laura incredulously.

“It happens. Remember? Your friend Gwyneth helped clue me in on that.”

Laura was silent. How was she going to get out of this?

“Get up,” Francheska commanded, nudging Laura with her knee. “Your precious Matthew is probably on his way over here right now. Let's go into the living room.”

Laura rose from her seat as Francheska shifted behind her. Feeling the cold blade pressed to her neck, Laura walked slowly down the hallway.

Think! Think!
Laura didn't like her chances if she turned to struggle with Francheska, with that knife in her hand.

“Francheska,” she pleaded, “there must be some way we can work this out.”

Her friend laughed coldly. “Yeah, right! For a smart girl, you talk real stupid.
Imbécil!
Did your little Jade teach you
that
Spanish word? There's no way to work this out. I'm not going to prison for the rest of my life, or worse. I have all the money I'll ever need and I intend to enjoy it.”

They were in the living room now, the Manhattan skyline still sparkling outside the terrace windows.

“But you said it yourself, Francheska, Matthew is on his way over here right now. Please, put down the knife and we'll figure out what to do.”

“I've already figured out what to do, Laura. By the time Matthew gets here, you'll be gone. You were so distraught that you jumped. And I will be long gone.”

“But the computer…” Laura's voice trailed off.

Francheska shrugged. “Matthew won't check the computer. Not tonight anyway. And by tomorrow, I'll be sure to delete the files I had so foolishly forgotten.”

140

W
HERE THE HELL
is a taxi?

Matthew stood frantically on the corner of Third Avenue, waiting for what seemed like forever. Laura sounded so frantic. He wondered if he should call the police.

No,
he decided, as he ran west toward Park Avenue, hoping for better luck getting a cab there. The police weren't necessary.

He would be able to calm Laura down.

141

L
AURA STOOD IN
her nightgown on the open terrace, but she did not feel the cold.

Of one thing she was sure. She was not going to go down without a fight.

But how was she going to get out of this?

“Just jump, Laura,” Francheska whispered urgently, the knife pressing at Laura's jugular vein. “Make it easy on yourself.”

Distract her.
Laura turned to face her attacker.

“How do you think your parents would feel, Francheska, knowing about what you've done, what you are going to do? They've already buried their son, but I bet they'd rather do that a hundred times over than know that their daughter is a murderer!”

For just a moment, Francheska cast her eyes downward, giving Laura her chance.

She ran to the other side of the telescope mounted at the edge of the terrace and, with the adrenaline only the truly terrified can feel, swung the black tube smashing into Francheska's beautiful, enraged face.

February Sweeps

142

Tuesday, February 1

T
HE SPECIAL EDITION
of
Hourglass
led with the news that police had apprehended the woman suspected to be Gwyneth Gilpatric's murderer. Francheska Lamb was lying in Mt. Olympia Hospital under police guard. Lamb was thought to be responsible, as well, for the murders of Kitzi Malcolm and Gilpatric's maid, but police would not be able to fully question her until she recovered from the head injuries sustained in a struggle with
KEY News
producer Laura Walsh, who had discovered Lamb's implication in the murders.

The last
Hourglass
segment recounted Gwyneth Gilpatric's involvement in the death of Tommy Cruz at the old Palisades Amusement Park.

As Eliza Blake signed off, Laura watched the television carefully as her first credit on
Hourglass
blazed from the screen. The moment was not at all what she had imagined it would be.

The triumph of reaching her goal and discovering what had happened to Tommy Cruz that last summer at Palisades Park was darkly clouded by the discovery of her father's role in the young boy's death. The fact that her best friend was a murderer—indeed, had tried to kill Laura herself—left her deeply shaken and uncertain of her ability to judge people.

But the ratings would be good.

143

R
OSE
P
OTENZA SWITCHED
off the television set and walked over to the sofa to kiss her son.

“Are you all right, Ricky?” she asked gently, her eyes filled with the deepest concern. “Ricky?”

“I don't want to talk about it, Mom. Leave me alone.”

He had just watched the most powerful hour of television he had ever seen and he wasn't sure how he felt. Just a month ago he was glad that Gwyneth Gilpatric was dead and jealous that he had not been the one to kill her—or at least confront her, as he had planned to do the night of her party.

But after watching
Hourglass
tonight, he saw things a bit differently.

It had all been an accident. Gwyneth had only been five years older than he was when Tommy had fallen to his death. She had panicked, too. The difference between them was that Gwyneth had gone on to have a hugely successful life and Ricky had just sat watching her smile week after week on television. It stuck maddeningly in his craw.

Gwyneth should have gone to the police. But then again, he could have, too. Neither of them did.

Was he really any better than she was?

Maybe now he could finally talk to the doctor at Rockland about it.

144

Wednesday, February 2

T
HE MORNING AFTER
the first
Hourglass
broadcast of the February sweeps, Laura's co-workers tried to congratulate her on her work, but it was hard for them to find the right words.

“Great piece, but I know it must be hard for you.”

“Nice work, Laura, but how did it feel to screw your own father?”

“Man, if what happened to you happened to me, I'd have a nervous breakdown. It must help, though, having come into millions and living in Gwyneth's apartment.”

“I didn't figure you as a ratings hound, Laura, but I've got to hand it to you. You really know how to come up with a story.”

“Hey, Laura. It's Emmy time! Figuring out who killed Gwyneth
and
solving the Palisades Park thing. You should really go for the gold when your next contract comes up for negotiation.”

The soul of tact, these newspeople.

Laura hid in her office and considered handing in her resignation.

“Rough morning, huh?”

Matthew stood in the doorway.

“That's the understatement of the New Year,” she said glumly.

He came in and took a seat. “I hope you don't mind, but I called a good New Jersey criminal attorney about your father.”

“Mind? I'm thrilled. I've been thinking I have to do the same thing, but—”

“Don't explain,” Matthew interjected. “It's all been too much. I'll never forgive myself for not calling Detective Ortiz sooner with my suspicions about Casper's Ghostland. Let me help you with
this
at least, Laura. I want to.”

Laura looked at him gratefully, feeling tears welling in her eyes.

“What did the lawyer say?” she asked solemnly, holding her breath.

“Well, it's better than we thought. He says that he can't imagine any prosecutor getting involved in this case. True, Emmett shouldn't have been giving the kids rides after the park was closed, but he did not cause Tommy's death. Sad as it is, the kid did it to himself. And it seems the statute of limitations has run out for any criminal prosecution of Emmett's cover-up. Prosecution had to commence within five years of Tommy's secret burial. So Emmett won't be doing any jail time for that.”