After Leo first met Alex through Laurie’s show, the two men had socialized regularly, both with Laurie and without, primarily to talk sports. Leo could see early on that Alex’s interest in Laurie wasn’t solely professional, and he had watched as Alex had come to care deeply about not only Laurie, but her son, Timmy. He had also seen Laurie’s feelings change. As much as she had tried to avoid the blurring of Alex’s role on her show, she could not ignore the natural connection the two of them shared.
When they filmed a special at the famous Grand Victoria Hotel in Palm Beach, Leo had caught a glimpse from his terrace of Laurie and Alex having a nightcap, sitting side by side on chaise lounges next to the pool area, no other hotel guests in the vicinity. Laurie’s intermittent laugh broke over the sounds of ocean waves. Leo hadn’t seen his daughter so happy since Greg was alive. When Alex resigned as the show’s host once they ended production, he said it was to focus on his law practice, but Leo was certain that Alex was clearing the path to have a serious relationship with Laurie without the complications of working together at the studio.
And then the name of one of Alex’s former clients had come up while Laurie was investigating her next special. Leo still didn’t know all of the details about who said what to whom, but by the time the special was being filmed, Laurie had accused Alex of keeping her in the dark about his client, and Alex had come to believe that Laurie lacked faith in him. In theory, it was a dispute between a lawyer and a journalist, but it had grown into something much larger. When Leo found Laurie crying one night after Timmy went to sleep, all she said was that Alex was gone.
Out of respect for Laurie, Leo had decided to keep his distance from Alex for the time being, but yesterday, when he saw the news about Alex’s nomination to the federal bench, he started to pick up the phone. Alex was his friend, too. He could not let an accomplishment like this go unacknowledged. But then he imagined how the call would play out. Leo would say congratulations. Alex would say thank you. And then what? Leo would inevitably pivot to the topic of Laurie. He didn’t want his daughter to accuse him of meddling.
So, instead of calling, he had sent a short note from this little gadget. Dear Alex, or should I call you Judge Buckley now? Congratulations on the much deserved recognition. I never thought I’d root for a defense attorney to take the bench, but you’re one of the finest men I’ve ever known. Justice will be well served. Proudly, Leo Farley. Short and sweet.
Alex’s response was similarly polite. Leo, It’s great to hear from you. Thanks for the kind words. Your support means the world to me. Now if only the U.S. Senate agrees! Best to the whole family, Alex.
Leo read the final line of the email, picturing Alex composing it, always so precise with his words. Laurie was convinced that Alex had moved on without her, but Leo believed that Alex was still waiting, fingers crossed that Laurie would come around.
20
By the time Laurie got to the corner of 133rd Street and Broadway, her father was already standing outside the nondescript, unnamed building that housed the Manhattan North Homicide Squad, talking to a well-dressed Asian-American man with slicked back hair and wire-rim glasses. Leo waved as he saw her approach, and his new acquaintance offered a hand for a quick shake. They both had their coat collars flipped up against the cold.
“You must be Laurie. I’m Detective Johnny Hon.”
“Thank you again for taking the time to speak with me, Detective. I’m sorry I kept you in the cold waiting.”
“Not at all. I came down to sneak a smoke before you arrived. Don’t tell my wife. I’m supposed to be quitting.” She noticed a binder, about four inches thick, tucked beneath his left arm. “I hope you don’t mind, but I figured I’d bring the work down to you. Commissioner Farley deserves better treatment than a dusty conference room in need of fresh paint.”
Her father raised his eyebrows, knowing the description was accurate. “I told you to call me Leo, and you’re calling the shots, Johnny. Where you go, we follow.”
“A perk of being in Harlem’s the food, and I still haven’t had lunch thanks to a court hearing that went long. I’m starving. There’s a spot called Chinelos around the corner. Killer tacos, only three bucks a pop. Okay by you?”
Laurie flashed him a thumbs-up. She was happy to have a second lunch if Detective Hon could help her figure out who killed Virginia Wakeling.
? ? ?
Hon’s chosen lunch spot was a hole in the wall with fluorescent lights and tile floors, more like a deli than a restaurant, with a counter for ordering and a few tables in the back. But, at least at this time in the afternoon, it was private, pin quiet, and, as Hon promised, served delicious Mexican food.
Hon was adding a generous amount of extra hot sauce to his tacos when he asked about Laurie’s meeting that morning with the Wakeling family. “I’m surprised they even agreed to speak with you.”
“Not only that. They’re going to appear on our show.”
He let out a whistle. “Wouldn’t have guessed that one. I’ve watched your show with Alex Buckley putting suspects in the hot seat and asking hard questions. Man, I’d like to see him make the Wakeling family squirm.”
“We have a new host now,” Laurie said, trying not to show the emotion in her voice, “but, yes, we like to think that we’re thorough with our interviews.”
Leo leaned forward toward Hon. “You make it sound as if they’ve been less than forthcoming with you, Johnny.”
He shook his head. “Not in a suspicious way, nothing like that. But all three of them—the son, the daughter, the son-in-law—are hell-bent on seeing Ivan Gray behind bars. If you ask them any question other than ‘Just how guilty do you think your mom’s boyfriend is?’ they get impatient, like you’re nosing around in their business.”
Laurie remembered the certainty in Anna’s voice when she repeatedly accused Ivan of her mother’s murder.
“Ivan thinks one or more of them killed Mrs. Wakeling because she was planning to change her will. According to Ivan, she was leaning toward leaving almost everything to charity. The kids would still have the business but they’d need to accumulate their own wealth.”
Johnny Hon was nodding, clearly already familiar with the theory. “Problem is, until we develop a way to speak to the dead, we have no way of knowing her intentions. What we have is the will that was put into probate when she died. Ivan says she was talking about changing it, but no one backed him up on that. I called the lawyer who wrote the will. He said he hadn’t spoken to Mrs. Wakeling for at least a year.”
“Anna’s husband, Peter, was the executor of the estate and, by all accounts, a trusted advisor,” Laurie said. “When I asked him whether Virginia mentioned changing her will, he—”
“Claimed attorney-client privilege.” The two of them finished the sentence in unison.
“I can understand why Virginia Wakeling would find it awkward to talk to her attorney about changing her will,” Leo observed. “Her executor was her son-in-law. In essence she would have been telling him that instead of the money going to his family, the Wakeling fortune would be left to charity.”
“Maybe that’s why she never got around to making the change,” Hon added.