Chapter 61
Kate padded into the lobby of the Maxwell Building early the next morning, waved her badge at a security guard she didn’t recognize, and stepped quickly into the elevator. She had come in early so she could hide out and work without anyone in Nostalgia City knowing she was back. Later she would find an empty office somewhere in the park where she could work until everything was resolved.
The hallway outside the PR department was still. Kate listened to the echoes of her steps as she walked. The jingling sound of her keys made her think of a jailer. Once inside, she set her purse and briefcase down and headed for the coffee room.
The night before, tired as they were, she and Lyle downloaded the documents and recordings Kate had emailed to herself. They transcribed critical portions of the Renke recording and made an extra copy of everything for Lyle to keep. Lyle was to stash the originals in a Polk bank safe deposit box that morning. Kate now carried the transcript and document copies in her briefcase. When they had talked briefly to Max on the phone, he’d said nothing unusual had been found on the railroad tracks and security was still checking.
After she started the coffee machine, her attention was drawn to papers and photographs spread out over the department conference table. She first saw the list of media people who had sent in an RSVP for the press day grand opening. She was pleased to see the number of major news outlets that would be represented. Many of the reservations had been made late the day before. She moved to the layout of photographs showing the new theme area and the new Indian casino train depot. She glanced through them and smiled.
The moment she heard the noise behind her, she remembered leaving the door unlocked--as she had in Provincetown. This flashed through her head as she spun around and nearly knocked over--Bobby Bostic.
The former singing sensation jumped back. “Oh! Kate. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Bobby, what’re you doing here?”
“I’m an early riser. I’ve got a meeting in the entertainment office so I just took a chance you might be here. Oh, Kate, what happened to your eye?”
Kate had tried to use makeup to minimize the large bruise. Obviously, it was still noticeable.
“I’m really busy, Bobby.” Kate saw that the once-upon-a-time teen idol must be an early riser. He was already dressed in a trendy sport coat with shiny slacks, his dark, curly hair all cemented in place.
Bostic picked up a photograph of an outdoor stage. “Is this where the celebration will be?”
Kate grabbed the photo out of his hand. “We haven’t released any of this yet. Not until the grand opening Friday afternoon.”
“Do you have any of me?”
“Photographs of you?”
“I’m gonna be one of the featured stars.”
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot. You’re going to be on a float, right?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Yes, Bobby?”
“I was wondering--”
Bostic paused and looked as if he was going to put a hand on Kate’s shoulder. She moved slightly along the edge of the table.
“If I was in the first float, then I’d be ready for the show after the parade.” Bostic’s pleading voice went up an octave. “And I’m still only booked for three days. I’m starting to think Nostalgia City doesn’t respect me or the other--”
“Bobby, I don’t care where you are in the parade. You stay there. That’s how it was planned. And if you’re not ready to give us 150 percent when you’re on stage, I’ll make sure you never get booked here again. For three days or three minutes. Is that clear?”
Kate led Bostic out of the office and held the door for him. When he was gone, she realized she’d summarily ejected the volatile singer. But after decking the homicidal goon in Provincetown, a petulant rock star was nothing. She shrugged and went into her darkened office. Instead of turning on the lights, she drew the shades and let in the early morning, high-desert sun. Joann had made neat piles of mail, phone messages, and printed copies of some e-mail. Kate noticed a phone message from a week earlier near the top of the stack: “Vets group chair says they will boycott NC--and tell the media.”
No they won’t, she thought. Then her mind returned to Kevin Waterman.
She called his office. No answer. She left a voicemail. She tried to sound casual even though she wanted to get her hands around his neck.
As soon as she hung up, her phone buzzed. It was Max.
“Kate, where the hell’s Lyle? What’s goin’ on?”
“Slow down, Max. What’s up?”
“That bastard Bedrosian doesn’t know he’s licked. Now he’s saying that if we don’t make good on the contract by the end of the week he’s going to file an injunction.”
“He’s lying. As soon as our attorneys hear what we’ve got to say, it won’t be FedPat that’s taking over Nostalgia City. It’ll be the other way around.”
“Think so? Have you seen the Phoenix paper?”
***
“Delivery for Lyle Deming. Morning, bro.” Earl held out a large coffee and a newspaper. Lyle invited him into his motel room.
“You sleep okay?” Earl asked.
Lyle flopped down on the edge of the bed. “I’m okay.”
Earl looked suspiciously at the two rickety-looking motel chairs, finally settling for the one that appeared to be least likely to collapse. “You better have some of the coffee before you see the paper.”
“Bad news?”
“Front page of the second section.”
A two-column story said Lyle was wanted for murder in Massachusetts. It identified him as an ex-cop discharged from the Phoenix PD because of a history of mental problems. The story didn’t connect the murder to Nostalgia City, although it did say Lyle was employed at the park.
“It says my whereabouts are unknown.” Lyle said.
“No they’re not. Your whereabouts are right here in this cheesy motel.”
“Pretty soon Undersheriff Rey Martinez is going to figure you’re helping me. You weren’t followed were you?
“Little late to ask that now, isn’t it? Don’t worry. I took your advice coming over here.”
“It’ll just be a day or so and we’ll have the bad guys in the slammer.”
“You hope.”
Lyle borrowed Earl’s phone and called Marko.
“Where are you?”
“Back home.”
“Not in your condo!” Marko’s voice went up.
“C’mon, gimme a break.”
“Sorry. What are you going to do?”
“Talk to Maxwell’s attorneys, then maybe see the San Navarro County prosecutor.”
“Did you see the Phoenix paper today? The Boston cops are saying you’re crazy.”
“Uh-huh. The article said I had a history of mental problems.”
“You’re lucky that’s all it said. Somehow the Boston and Peabody cops got parts of your personnel file and they’re spreading the details all over.”
“They can’t do that. How’d they get it?”
“Collins. The Boston papers printed some nasty crap about you.”
“Imaginary friends?”
“Uh-huh. It stirred up a lot of trouble here in the department for your old buddies. Collins and Bensen are finally taking some heat. The chief is involved.”
“But the damage is done. Now I sound as credible as Daffy Duck.”
“Maybe not. You’ve got strong evidence, right? And witnesses? Didn’t your blonde bombshell see the murder?”
“Kate was down the hall. I’m a little short in the witness department. The guy that got killed could have been our star witness. What do you hear from Steve?”
“Travanti? He says they found your prints all over Kovak’s office. One of their theories is that you killed Kovak because you think he was involved in your father’s death.”
“But didn’t you explain?”
“I’ve tried.”
“What’d he say?”
“He’s pretty freaked out. He helped you, and you got him involved in this. Now his boss is breathing down his back.”
“So, I’m a wacko and he doesn’t have to cut me any slack.”
“Would you?”
“Shit, I don’t know. Travanti should have Renke collared. I told him to.”
“They were watching Renke.”
“Were?”
“Apparently he disappeared.”