He handed her another check, and another. The checks, written to Blair House and its other fake entities, dated as far back as 1955; there was a thirteen-year-long paper trail showing her support for every Negro cause since the Montgomery Bus Boycott in December 1955: the integration of schools in Little Rock, Arkansas; the sit-ins and Freedom Riders; plus ongoing support for the Democratic Party and Medgar and Martin and even funds for the arrangements for Dr. King’s funeral that April. She eyed Nathan as he shuffled through the stack of cancelled checks, trying to read him.
For the next hour, the agents sought answers about these charities and about Cora, who they believed was—along with others they wouldn’t name (or didn’t know)—responsible for the reallocation of funds from these shell charities to the civil rights movement and, most troubling to them, the Black Panther Party.
Some of the Blair House women had long thought those donations could bring trouble, but they had continued, passionate about the struggle for Black liberation. Sure enough, it was Blair House’s association with the Panthers—the target of the Bureau’s larger investigation—that landed them under surveillance and, subsequently, categorized as a national threat.
At last, Nathan seemed to lose his patience. “Pardon me; I’m confused. Why are you here again? I thought you said a crime had been committed,” he said.
“Yes, sir. These are dangerous people. Cora Rivers—on her own, or under instruction—has been defrauding dozens of rich families for years.”
Nathan shook his head. “She’s cunning, yes, but Cora poses no harm.”
“Sir, Ms. Rivers had an extramarital affair with your father, is that right?”
Nathan went stone-faced. “How do you know that?”
“We’re the FBI, Mr. Tate. We try to do our homework. Is that information correct?”
“Yes.”
“And she left your father after his illness, did she not?”
“Yes, but in her defense, he didn’t know her, or any of us, most of the time by that point.”
“Yet she continued to be supported by your family.”
“She had access to his accounts. They’d been together for a long time.”
“And you, sir, don’t think that classifies her as dangerous? Someone draining the bank accounts of a sick man?”
“Cora was abiding by an agreement made with my father that we weren’t privy to.”
Kitty watched Nathan spin the details of the past.
“I can’t see Cora working for people like that,” he went on. “She’s married to a senator.”
“A senator?”
“Yes, or a former senator. I’m not sure. She lives in Chicago now, I think.”
The agents eyed each other. At last, the older one spoke. “Are we talking about the same person?”
“Are we?”
“Cora Rivers isn’t Black?”
Disgust settled on Nathan’s face. “Telescope has never hired a Black leading lady.”
The agents’ eyes landed on Kitty. “Have you seen Cora, the actress, recently?”
“Not in years.”
The older agent slid a card across the coffee table as if he hadn’t heard her. “If you do, call me first.”
Nathan let them out, and Kitty braced for tense words upon his return, but he sped past her, saying he had calls to make.
Kitty couldn’t discern anything from his tone, but then he didn’t come to bed that night. Around midnight, Kitty found him in his study. He was in the dark at his desk and spoke as soon as she walked in, as if he’d been waiting. “You never wondered, in all these years, what Cora was doing with the money?”
Kitty was careful; she knew he knew something she didn’t. “I thought I knew. I trusted her when she said it was going to help single mothers get on their feet.”
“How many families?” He slurred the last word.
“I don’t know.”
“Did you ever meet them?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever go to the place?”
“Which place?”
“Blair House!” he yelled.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“Seems like you would have been more involved, seeing as you’ve donated nearly half a million dollars.”
Kitty blinked, hearing the dollar figure. “Excuse me?”
“I looked through the bank accounts. That’s what I was doing all day. I called the bank and found other checks that they didn’t. You wrote a hundred or more checks to all these different charities. You know more than you told those agents. Where did that money go?”
Too many places to tell. “To the families at Blair House.”
Months ago, Nathan had cautioned her about her spending. His mother had died, and in settling her estate, he had wanted to stop using checks—said it had something to do with taxes. It was the first time he’d ever mentioned Kitty’s spending, and she worried her higher monthly withdrawals had been noticed. Sarah’s school tuition had increased with her matriculation into kindergarten, and with the country rioting all summer following Dr. King’s murder, she’d spent more than usual. She’d studied him carefully for days, looking for any change in behavior or indication that he knew more than he should. Only when she woke to an envelope full of spending money on her vanity table did she relax, realizing he didn’t care how she spent money, he just wanted it to be impossible to trace. Tell me before you run out.
He didn’t have that cavalier attitude now. He swiped a pile of papers, writing pads, folders, and scripts onto the floor. “You’re lying to me! They know it, and they’ll be back with more questions.”
Kitty was unsure of how to untangle herself. He knew more; she could feel it. Still in a rage, he yanked a row on his bookshelf to reveal a safe. Inside was a stack of thirty or more oversized brown envelopes. He flung some at her. “Every time you see her, I do too.”
Kitty’s hands were shaking as she opened the first envelope. Inside were pictures of Sarah and Nellie’s visit just three days ago, to exchange Christmas presents. In the second were pictures of her swimming with a fat-legged, toddler-aged Sarah in their pool.
“You took away my choice to be a father. You took away my chance to be in her life.”
“I did it to protect her.”
“I’m your husband. I would have protected you both. It’s my job.”
“How long have you known?”
“For some time.”
She wanted to relish in the memories the photos conjured (she didn’t have any photos of Sarah, for obvious reasons) but was bothered by his deception. “You had me followed?”
“At first for security, but then I found out she was alive, and I wanted to see her all the time.”
At Nathan’s request, her whole life had been documented. Spying first became a practice of his to build a case against Cora in the matter of his father’s funds. Meeting the Negro boy outside the premiere of The Misfits had only fueled it. Nathan hired him to follow and photograph Telescope’s stars, pictures which he then sold to the media to increase his actors’ exposure. The young man’s photos were never credited, but Nathan paid him well, far above what any White newspaper photographer would make. Later, his photos were used in Maude’s celebrity column at the Los Angeles Times.
Photos of Kitty sold well, and soon Nathan wanted the young photographer to follow her exclusively. It was lucrative, but also, Nathan had always been obsessed with Kitty. To Nathan, she was even more beautiful when she didn’t know she was being admired. He hid it from her well, having the luxury of Michael’s lens. What Kitty didn’t know was that the safe had a drop bottom where even more photos of her were stored.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Kitty said. She wasn’t sure if she was terrified or delighted by his restraint. His deception served only himself. “I had to ensure her safety. It had nothing to do with you, Nathan. I lost her too. She doesn’t know I’m her mother.”
“You made the decision to take her from me. From both of us.”
“How was I to know that you’d accept her, that you’d accept me?”
He turned as red as a beet. “Because I fucking love you, that’s why! I lied to the FBI for you. I won’t let this ruin everything we’ve built. I can fix this, but you must stop what you’ve been doing.”
“Nathan—”
He held his hand up. “You have responsibilities as an employee of Telescope, as a wife, as a mother—none of these roles support your participation in politics. You’re not to spend another dime helping any of these pointless crusades.”
“We’re talking about people’s lives!”
“What about our lives? I’ve given you everything, made you a star.”