The museum had agreed to let them film on the rooftop, in the main hall, and in the temple room where the banquet tables had been set up, but they did not have free rein of the building, let alone access to all of the pieces that had been lent to the museum by the various presidential estates and libraries to create the exhibit.
“Are you kidding?” Jerry exploded. “These photos are stunning, and I’m sure the publisher still has high-res versions. We can also license video footage from the red carpet. I already cut two great clips of Mrs. Wakeling hugging Barbra Streisand and exchanging cheek kisses with Beyoncé. She looked so happy, and then she was dead a few hours later. I know we try not to let emotion affect us, but this one really gets under my skin. I look at Virginia and I think of my own mom, the way she finally got to focus on herself after the kids all flew the coop. It’s like she spent her whole life as a moth and then became a butterfly.”
Jerry had a point. They had dealt with cases involving much younger victims than Virginia Wakeling, but hers was also a life cut way too short. She had just started her life over again.
Laurie heard a tap on her open office door and turned to see Brett Young.
“Brett, I barely recognized you out of your natural habitat.” Brett was the type who beckoned others to his turf. He did not roam the hallways.
He shot a glance at a band on his right wrist. “Julie has me wired up to this contraption. If I don’t make my goal of ten thousand steps a day, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
If anyone stood a chance of altering Brett Young’s behavior, it was his wife, Julie.
“Where do things stand on your next special?”
For once, Laurie had an answer that would please even her difficult boss. “We’re all set. The entire Wakeling family’s on board. Jerry’s working out details about filming at the museum, but we’ll be fine on that front. I’m meeting with the detective in charge of the homicide investigation once I finish up here with Jerry. And Ivan’s coming in this afternoon to sign his participation agreement.”
Brett rubbed his palms together. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about. I hate to say it, Laurie, but I think your little rivalry with Ryan has put a perk in your step. I should have hired someone to get on your nerves years ago.”
“There’s absolutely no need to hire anyone else for that, Brett,” she said.
“Okay, Ms. Moran, I get it. Start putting together a schedule.”
Once Brett was out of earshot, Jerry impersonated Brett’s impenetrable scowl. “Can’t you tell how happy I am, Laurie? Hope you can stick to your schedule this time.”
“Be careful. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has hidden cameras in every room. We’ll see how long we can keep him happy. Notice I didn’t mention Penny Rawling.” They still hadn’t found contact information for Virginia’s former personal assistant. “I only gave him the good news.”
“Well, Carter mentioned she may have registered for classes at Hunter College. I have a call in to a friend who works in their computer department.”
“It’s illegal for him to disclose information from academic records.”
“Well, forget I said anything, then,” Jerry said innocently, flipping to another page of the fashion book. “Isn’t this picture amazing? There will probably never be a first lady as graceful as Jacqueline Kennedy.”
On display for the exhibit was a crisp white cotton dress with cap sleeves and a full, pleated skirt. The dress was draped on a mannequin, paired with a single strand of pearls, a silver charm bracelet, and nude ballet flats.
“The dress is awfully simple for an art exhibit,” Laurie noted. “I could find something like it in a department store today.”
“That’s the point: classic. Plus, look at her in it. She was so beautiful.” Behind the mannequin was a wall-sized, black-and-white photograph of President and Mrs. Kennedy on a front porch, a young Caroline on the President’s lap, holding a small stuffed giraffe. According to the book’s text, the photograph was taken the summer of 1960 at the Kennedy compound in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts, just after the couple had announced Jacqueline’s pregnancy with John Junior. “What an iconic photograph. Can we please use this one for production? My grandmother used to have pictures of JFK and Jackie in her den, and said how different the course of history could have been. It would be like a little tribute to her.”
“Of course, Jerry. That’s a wonderful idea.”
Smiling, he marked with a star the Post-it note that had already been tacked to the page. “You know what else would be a good idea?”
“Hmm?”
“If you left for your meeting with Detective Hon. You and your father are supposed to be in Harlem in thirty minutes.”
19
Leo checked his watch from the back of the cab. It was 2:32. He was supposed to meet Laurie at the Manhattan North Homicide Squad at three o’clock. There was a time when he could have used flashing lights on his unmarked car to make it there from the Upper West Side with time to spare. But even with his part-time position with the anti-terrorism task force, he was still a regular civilian when it came to navigating New York City transportation, which meant that he’d left his apartment half an hour earlier.
He had eagerly accepted when Laurie asked him yesterday if he was willing to meet with the lead detective on the Virginia Wakeling homicide investigation. Leo didn’t know Johnny Hon personally, but the detective Leo had called when Laurie first mentioned the case to him spoke extremely highly of him. Leo was always happy when Laurie’s work allowed him to dip a toe back into investigatory waters. Initially, he thought she would be worried that people would think she was relying too much on her “daddy.” But having a cop on your side comes in handy when talking to other cops, and Laurie was too much of a pro to let petty misperceptions keep her from getting the job done.
Leo checked his email on his phone. He had spent the first half of his career using a typewriter for police reports. He never thought there’d come a day when everyone would walk around with a powerful computer in their pocket.
He had a new message from Alex Buckley. The subject line referenced the message Leo had sent to Alex the previous night: “re: Cheers to Your Honor!”