Instead, he watched her from the hidden observation room built into the ceiling of the filming stage. At the request of Abner Tate, one of these rooms had been constructed into every sound stage on the lot. Hailed as a genius, Abner Tate had been a controlling lunatic who spied on his employees from a bird’s-eye view. It was how he knew the rumors before they started, how he kept the upper hand.
Engaging in such spying was also the best advice Nathan had ever received from his father. Nathan spent his first weeks at Telescope out of sight, giving orders by phone, watching the daily happenings go on without him, moving like a sleuth in the shadows. It was from one of these observation rooms, above stage C, that Nathan had first spotted Kitty. She was the reason he’d issued the memo encouraging staff members to attend tapings. He knew she would come. He wanted a wife. Her talent was the wild card that made it all seem meant to be.
CHAPTER 43
Elise
Wednesday morning, November 1, 2017
Minutes before the teams coming to clear out Kitty’s house were expected, the doorbell rang. Elise opened the door to find two men, one Asian and one White, dressed in suits. “Can I help you?”
They each produced a badge. “FBI agents Miller and Kim. Is there somewhere we can talk?”
Elise closed the door a bit so her voice wouldn’t carry to her sisters, eating bagels in the living room. “Actually, no. We’re in the middle of a move.”
“When would be a good time?”
“What do you want?” Elise asked.
“We have a few questions for you.”
“Contact my publicist,” Elise said. “I’ll be traveling for most of the month.”
“Would you be willing to answer some questions now, so we can get out of your hair?”
“Not without my lawyer.”
The agents looked at each other and then at her. “You are not in trouble, Ms. St. John.”
“Then who is?”
“We just have some questions. Can we please come in?”
“I told you, we’re in the middle of a move.”
“Who is ‘we’? Is someone else inside?”
“I’m expecting movers. What are your questions?”
“Did Mrs. Tate inform you of her intentions to gift you and your sisters her estate?”
“No.”
“Any idea why she would leave that kind of money to you and your sisters?”
She’s our grandma. “We were very close. She lived here, next door to us, for thirty years.” Elise looked to the right at her house.
“Has anyone else asked you about the inheritance or contacted you about it?”
“Just her lawyer, and the media, of course. And now you.”
“Is Mrs. Tate’s lawyer also your lawyer?”
“No. Why?”
“Mrs. Tate had some unsavory associates in her past, and with her passing we wanted to make sure all dealings related to Mrs. Tate’s estate, and your inheritance, happened without duress.”
“How does her gifting her estate to my sisters and I seem like coercion?”
Like everyone’s, the agents’ interest was piqued by race. Elise doubted the validity of their inheritance would be under question had they been White.
“You think she was going to give it away to charity, but we coerced her?” Elise was getting mad. “There’s nothing I can buy now that I couldn’t before.”
“That’s exactly our point. Why give the money to you?”
Elise ignored the question, as it had already been asked and answered. “Who were these ‘unsavory’ associates? Kitty has had the same friends for decades. Maybe they know? Have you talked to anyone else?”
“I’m sorry, all of that is also classified. Do you know of a charity called Blair House?”
“I don’t.” Elise was doing her best not to fidget, feeling anxiety from her sisters, who had tiptoed near the door to listen.
“Do you support any charities?”
“Here and there.”
“Did Kitty talk to you about her political views?”
“No.” The extent of Kitty’s political and social commentary had been the Obama T-shirt she wore while filling out her vote-by-mail ballot.
“Do you run your own social media accounts?”
“Yes.”
“You’re, what—the fifth-most-followed account on Instagram?”
“For now.”
“Do you use your profile for promotion?”
“Yes.”
“Of what?”
“My work.”
“Did you post this picture of you and Hillary Clinton, Bernie Sanders, and Barack Obama?”
“Yes. President Obama, yes.”
“Did you also post this picture of Colin Kaepernick?”
“Yes.”
“What about these videos?”
“Yes.”
“Were all these posts considered work promotion?”
Elise closed the door another inch. “Gentlemen, the movers will be here soon, and I can’t have TMZ hearing about us being questioned by the FBI. Please contact my publicist, Rebecca Owens, and I’ll find time to meet with you with my lawyer present.”
As she shut the door, the older of the two tried again. “What are you going to do with the money?”
She put her head through the crack. “Give it away.” She closed the door, resting her forehead against it to steady her breathing. She didn’t realize until then how nervous she had been.
“What the fuck is going on?” A thousand crinkles lined Giovanni’s forehead. Noele was holding her arm as if they were ten and twelve again. “Do you know why they were here?” Giovanni scanned her face for the answer.
Elise got a sickening feeling. “I’m not entirely sure.”
“You’re lying.” She always knew. Giovanni pushed past her and headed home.
Noele, slipping back into the role of the baby, ran the opposite way, to find their father, Elise knew. It was only then that Elise looked up and over the hedges at her mother, who had been watching from a second-floor window the entire time.
* * *
“What did they want?” Sarah demanded as Elise walked into the kitchen, already having heard bits from Giovanni. Her voice held an urgency for truth, but it was clear that her stance on Kitty’s secrets had not changed.
“They asked about a charity called Blair House,” Elise finally said.
Sarah hadn’t heard of it either.
“They said Kitty had some ‘unsavory associates,’ wanted to know if we’ve been contacted by anyone.”
“Have they talked to anyone else?” Sarah asked.
“They wouldn’t say.”
“I’ll see if anyone else had some unexpected guests.” Sarah billowed out of the kitchen.
“Start with Kitty’s guest list,” Elise called after her. She turned to her sisters and father, who wanted answers about their cryptic exchange.
“What’s going on?” Giovanni said.
“I told you to talk to Mom,” Elise opened the side door. “The movers are here.”
CHAPTER 44
Elise
Thursday evening in New York, November 2, 2017
Jasper’s apartment was in an unassuming four-story brick building just over the Brooklyn Bridge, in Dumbo. He had the entire tenth floor but tempered her expectations: “I’m still renovating.” It was an old warehouse with high ceilings, brick walls, and cement floors covered every five feet or so with earth-toned area rugs.
Photographs decorated every inch of the walls, as it was once at Kitty’s house. In the center was the original heater from when the space was used for textile manufacturing. A projector sat on a dining table that had benches instead of chairs. Jasper gestured for her to sit on his worn leather couch, covered in blankets to disguise holes. He went into the kitchen, and she opened his first book, Daze: An Undergraduate Account of Life, from his coffee table. She flipped through, stopping at the intimate photographs, a few of the same girls.
He handed her a glass of wine and sat next to her with a remote control.
“All your old girlfriends?”
“A few. All lasted just long enough for me to finish their series. I become consumed by my subjects,” he said. “It’s the only way to do them justice, but I admit I may go overboard.”
“Is that a warning?”
He fumbled with the remote. “I want to apologize. I didn’t mean to come off as a bully.”
“A bully and a stalker.”
“I’m sorry. I was intense, but I think it means something, us meeting the way we did.”
“It’s serendipitous.”