“Hurry up,” Jennifer called as Tom and I entered my house. “Thurston’s interview with Lukasik is about to come on. They teased it before break and this is the last commercial.”
Diana was there, too. “Hope you don’t mind us turning on the TV.”
“Of course not.” I’d already deposited the trays on the kitchen counter, leaving the heavier liquid refreshments to Tom, and joined them in front of the TV.
The establishing shot of Thurston at the anchor desk faded to a one-shot — the camera in tight enough to see only Thurston’s head. Which was how he thought the entire broadcast should air.
“Tonight, I have an exclusive interview conducted today with world-famous defense attorney Norman Clay Lukasik, Cottonwood County’s most famous son.”
“Mike’s as famous as him,” Jennifer grumbled.
“And far more popular,” Diana added loyally.
Lukasik’s face came on the screen. With the camera adding weight he looked somewhat less skeletal. Needham’s phrase came into my head. A bunch of bones strung together.
“KWMT-TV’s viewers are grateful to you for coming to me to bring your thoughts to all the listeners out there.”
“I’m honored, Thurston—” The view switched to a two-shot, to include Thurston. It also showed that the interview had been conducted in his office, with a huge promotional poster of him visible on the wall between them. “—to talk to a journalist of your caliber at this difficult, difficult time. This horrible tragedy.”
He was talking Thurston’s language. Empty hyperbole.
“It is, indeed, a horrible tragedy, this difficult time for you.”
Figures Thurston would goof and twist the phrases around to make Lukasik having a difficult time the horrible tragedy. Unless his sycophantism believed that and he’d said what he meant.
“It is an extremely difficult time as well as an important time,” Lukasik intoned.
“Still a two-shot?” I muttered. Generally interviews are introduced by the interviewer, then concentrate on the interviewee. Not in Thurston World. I consciously unclenched my teeth.
“For me, for the Lukasik Ranch, for all who work at Lukasik Ranch, all who are associated with Lukasik Ranch, and for Cottonwood County.”
Lukasik World vs. Thurston World. A battle for the ages.
“Surprised he didn’t call it Lukasik Cottonwood County,” Diana said.
“What matters now is justice and the correct functioning of the legal system I have spent my career toiling in. The adversarial relationship that hammers out the truth on the forge of the courtroom.”
“Oh, brother.” That came from under Jennifer’s breath.
“I call on all the citizens of Cottonwood County to rise up with the truth, to share whatever they know about the tragic death of the long-time foreman of Lukasik Ranch. Because justice and truth are the bulwarks of the legal system to which I have devoted my life, as well as because of my devotion to Lukasik Ranch, as well as this, the home of my youth, I am offering a reward for information.”
Thurston looked around, undoubtedly in search of the camera. He so seldom filmed outside the studio, he was lost. “Ah, yes, information they can call into the Cottonwood County Sheriff’s Department at … Well, uh, to the number on their website.”
Still in the two-shot, something crossed Lukasik’s face. As if he’d grimaced from the inside without anything on the outside moving.
“Tell me, Norman Clay Lukasik, about your long-time foreman, uh, Furman York, so tragically killed yesterday.”
Lukasik’s face arranged into solemn planes. “He was with Lukasik Ranch for many years. He worked beside so many of my employees, who have benefited from their time at Lukasik Ranch, and, I am proud to say, a great number of them used their experience in my employ as a springboard to achievement.”
Jennifer, with hands poised to take notes, said under her breath, “Is he ever going to say anything about York?”
“Furman York contributed greatly to that by delegating—”
Tom made a sound.
“—allowing those he supervised to constantly add to their skills and take on new responsibilities.”
“In other words he made others do the work and take any blame?” Diana asked rhetorically. “One of those It’s not my fault — ever types.”
“Bull’s-eye,” Tom muttered.
Jennifer typed.
On the screen, Thurston shook his head. “A loss. A true loss to Cottonwood County. I am happy, Norman Clay Lukasik, to bring your important words to all our listening audience.” He turned to where he thought he’d have eye contact with the camera. He was almost right. “We’ll have more of this important interview tomorrow at five o’clock. Tune in then for more of what Cottonwood County’s most famous son told me exclusively.”
“Was that it?” Jennifer demanded.
“Shh.”
The shot cut back to the live one-shot of Thurston at the anchor desk.
“Be sure to tune in tomorrow at five for the rest of my exclusive and important interview with Norman Clay Lukasik, who came to me to bring his important and exclusive news to you, my audience on KWMT-TV, Sherman, Wyoming.”
“Why’d he repeat all that?” Tom asked.
“Because he forgot what information was included at the end of the piece, because he didn’t bother to listen to it again after it was edited.”
“Or he wanted to say all of it again because it sounded — what was the word? — important,” Diana suggested.
“Or that,” I agreed.
Mike burst in the front door, his eyes on the TV screen, which had gone to commercial. “Did you see it? Did you see it?”
“Just ended,” Diana said. “But—?”
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Not heeding our questions, Mike’s face fell. “No. It couldn’t have. It’s too early.”
“Oh, you mean sports? Nah, hasn’t been on yet,” Jennifer said.
“Then what—? The Lukasik interview? Saw it in the editing room. Awful.”
“Even worse on-air,” Jennifer told him. “Thurston repeated the outro nearly word for word live.”
“Hold it.” I raised my hands. “How can you be here now—”
“I finished all the spots for the other stations.”
“No, I mean KWMT’s sports hasn’t been on yet.”
“Thurston had one of his fits after the Five, said having Warren and me in the studio live would prevent him from doing his best work with the Lukasik thing. Les made us record our segments. And he’s not going to include a ‘previously recorded’ bug.”
“That is an all-time low.”
I agreed with Diana, but since Thurston Fine and Les Haeburn continually dug deeper with their lows, there’d be other opportunities for commentary on that. My question followed another tack. “Mike, you saw the whole interview in editing?”
“No. Just tonight’s.”
Darn that meant we’d have to watch or record tomorrow’s newscast. Just in case Fine accidentally got Lukasik to say something interesting.
“You think there’ll be anything useful in tomorrow’s?” Diana asked. “Tonight’s was content-free.”
“Doubtful,” Mike said cheerfully. “So, what was it all about? Lukasik grabbing a spotlight?”
I shrugged. “Like Pavlov’s dogs hearing a bell? He sees the possibility of publicity and can’t resist? Could be.”
“Can he think a reward will really make a difference?” Diana asked.
“How? A witness? Not likely there was a witness when York was shot. Somebody the killer talked to? I know that happens, but this fast?” Mike asked. “Maybe Lukasik just wanted to annoy the sheriff’s department.”
Jennifer, who hadn’t participated in the speculation, twisted around, looking into the kitchen. “Was that food you brought in? I haven’t had any dinner. All Elizabeth has is peanut butter and cookies. Not even peanut butter cookies.”
Before I could protest that I also had yogurt, as well as a freezer unusually supplied with leftovers from my parents’ visit, Mike said, “I haven’t eaten, either.”
“Am I the only one who managed to have a meal?” Diana asked.
Tom and I nodded.
“See?” Jennifer said. “Can we eat now?”
Tom said, “Thought we’d wait ’til after sports. Got more of your interview on, don’t you, Mike?”
He grinned. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“How did you guess that?” I asked Tom.
Mike grinned wider. “I might have said something.”
We all grinned back at him. Who could resist?
When the sports segment came on, though, he turned a serious gaze to the screen. In the lead-up I watched him assess himself with professional regard.
I shifted my attention when the interview came on. It was only a short piece of what he had — Thurston didn’t allow sports or weather to interfere much with his camera time. Didn’t matter. The quality showed through.
Mike was even better than I’d expected. Had I not been paying attention to his progress? Taking it for granted?
Those questions had produced no answers when Mike said, “That’s it. Let’s eat.”