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Kate’s cheeks are flushed and radiant with exercise, but her mouth is turned down at the corners. She’s still pissed about having to travel several miles to do her presser instead of just going downstairs. “Keep it or throw it away. It’s a piece of shit.”
2
In her room during Kate’s nap, Holly turns on CNN and is stunned to see a reporter doing her stand-up in front of the Willow Apartments, where Holly herself once looked at a demo apartment before finding her current place downtown. Behind the reporter are police cars with their jackpot lights flashing and two forensics trucks, one from the city PD and one from the State Police. There’s also a van marked CORONER. The Surrogate Juror Murders have become a cable news staple, and the possible death of someone who served on the Duffrey jury has warranted the network to break, however briefly, into its usual suds-and-rinse of political news.
The reporter says, “All we know now is that one of the jurors in the Duffrey trial, Ellis Finkel, lives in this apartment complex. While police are tight-lipped, it seems possible to assume from the amount of police activity, that something might have happened to Mr. Finkel. It may be that this strange and unique serial killer, hoping to inculcate a sense of guilt in the Duffrey jurors, has, in this case, possibly succeeded.”
A lot of may be and possibly be, Holly thinks.
She considers calling Izzy, but reaches out to Jerome instead. He hasn’t been following the news at all, didn’t even realize that Ellis Finkel might be dead. Assuming itisFinkel that has caused the big police response.
“Have you tried Izzy?” Jerome asks, then before Holly can answer: “Of course not.Izzywill bebusy.”
“Very poetic, Jerome.”
“True, Boo. And it’s not our case, anyway.”
“No. It’s not.”
“But you can’t help being curious. That’s my Holly. Hey, guess what? I’m going to the Guns and Hoses game with John Ackerly. He really likes you.”
“I like him, too. I’ve got to see my clients to their press conference soon, Jerome. See if you can find anything out. As you say, I can’t help being curious.”
“Maybe I’ll call Tom Atta. He and I go running sometimes.”
“Really?”
“Up at Bell College. Every now and then Izzy joins us. We puff and pant all around the track.”
“Interesting. Possibly helpful. Are you ready to tell me what’s been on your mind yet?”
Jerome sighs. “I wanted to figure it out myself, but I give up. All I know is there’s something wonky about the May calendar page in Reverend Rafferty’s appointment book. Something about Briggs, the guy who probably killed him. It might have something to do with the other names on that page, too, but I can’t tell what it is for the life of me. Can I send you a screen shot?”
“I think I have it,” Holly says, “but send it to me anyway. When I have time, I’ll take a look. And if you talk to Detective Atta… or Izzy… let me know.”
“I will.”
3
The press conference features a brighter, livelier Kate, and that night at the RiverCenter she dials the wattage up all the way. Holly and Corrie watch her opening ten minutes from the wings—the strut to stage center, the deep bow, the mic grab, the chants of “Woman Power.” When the boo-birds start to counter-chant (“Go back to thekitchen! Go back to the kitchen!”), she makes her trademarkCome on come on come ongesture, and most of the crowd goes nuts, whooping and cheering. When they settle, she asks all the men in the audience to raise their hands.
Holly whispers to Corrie, “She seemed really flat this afternoon, even after a long swim. Her little nap must have pepped her up.”
Corrie smiles and shakes her head. “She’s almost always that way before she goes on. Either quiet and sort of glum, or pissed off about something. Then… when she’s on… she lives for this.” She adds hastily: “And the cause, of course. Woman Power.”
“I know,” Holly says. “I know she does. I just wish she really understood that doing this is risking her life.”
Corrie gives her a smile. “I think she does.”
Maybe, Holly thinks,but it’s academic knowledge. Most in the head, some in the heart, none in the gut.
Corrie goes back to the greenroom to prepare for a women’s club breakfast the next day (also to be held at the DoubleTree) before the three-hour drive to Madison. Holly prowls the hallways, looking for intruders and finding none. Prowls backstage and finds nothing but a trio of stagehands playing Scat with a greasy deck of cards. They have no interest in Woman Power.
She ends up at stage right, watching with fascination as Kate wraps up the evening’s festivities with another call-and-response. She takes a moment to peek at the screen shot Jerome has sent her and understands at once what was nagging at him. What he couldn’t quite get. Holly understands something else, as well: if she had stared at it for a long time (as Jerome must have), shewouldn’thave seen it. The quick glance was enough because her mind was mostly elsewhere.
Then her mind makes a second leap, and she staggers a little bit on her feet.Oh my God. What if it’s him?
The stage manager looks at her and asks in a whisper if she’s all right.