“Holly, you were what, early teens, then?”
“I didn’t come here to be let off the hook, OK? I came because once you found out she had put me out to foster care, I didn’t want you to think that was all there was to her. I look back now, older and all, and realize she didn’t just wash her hands and walk away, you know?” She finished her beer in a long gulp and set the glass down slowly. “Bad enough I have to deal with this the rest of my life. I didn’t want to make it worse by letting you write her story without telling you there was more to her than giving me away.”
At the door on her way out she got on her toes to give Rook a kiss. She went for his lips and he turned to present his cheek. “Is that because of what I do?” she asked. “Because I sell it sometimes?”
“That’s because I’m sort of with someone else now.” And then he smiled. “Well, I’m working on it.”
She gave him her cell number, in case he wanted to talk about the article, and left. As Rook went back to the kitchen to clean up the dishes, he lifted her plate. Underneath he found a four-by-six color photo that looked like it had spent some time folded. It was Cassidy Towne and her teenage daughter in their booth at a Jackson Hole. Cassidy was smiling, Holly was enduring. All Rook could look at was the glass of ice water.
The next morning, Heat and Rook sat down at her desk to compare notes on the Cassidy Towne manuscript. First, though, he asked her if she’d had any fallout from the item in “Buzz Rush,” and she said, “Not yet but the day is young.”
“You do know The Bulldog is all over that,” he said.
“I doubt she’s the author, whoever The Stinger is, but I’m sure Soleil’s lawyer worked her contacts to send me a message.”
He filled her in on his visit from Holly Flanders and Nikki said, “That’s sweet, Rook. Sort of reinforces the faith I keep investing in humanity.”
He said, “Good, then, because I almost didn’t tell you.”
“Why not tell me?”
“You know. I was afraid you might take it funny. A young woman coming to my place at night when I told you I’d be home alone, reading.”
“That is so sweet that you’d think that I’d care.” Nikki turned and left him there to sort that out while she got her manuscript.
Heat used paper clips and Rook used Post-it flags, but both had marked only a few passages in the book as pertinent to the case. And none pointed to direct suspicion of anyone as an agent of the gossip columnist’s death. And, importantly, there was no concrete indication of anything untoward in Reed’s passing. That was all deftly crafted as sly questions and hints of a bombshell payoff buildup by Cassidy Towne.
The passages they had marked were the same. Mostly they were name mentions of Soleil Gray and episodes in their drunken, druggy courtship. Tales from the movie set told of a sometimes morose Reed Wakefield who, after their romantic breakup, immersed himself deeper into the role of Ben Franklin’s bastard child. His passion to escape his own life into the character’s, many felt, would lead to an Oscar, even posthumously.