16
Laurie could tell from one glance at Dana Licameli that Grace’s instincts had been correct. Dana always gave her a tip-off about Brett’s mood before she entered his office. This time, she simply shook her head apologetically as she waved Laurie into Brett’s inner lair.
Brett hadn’t become the head of Fisher Blake Studios by compromising. He was tough and stern, and wasted no time with chitchat. His mind worked on fast-forward, and he expected the world to meet him at his pace. More than once, he had snapped at Laurie for not speaking quickly enough, even though Laurie had been told more than once that her rapid-fire chatter was reminiscent of old movie comedies. But Brett’s enduring career had granted him the right to run the studio how he pleased, and Laurie suspected that his classic television looks—a full head of iron-gray hair and a strong jaw—didn’t hurt, either.
Today, he didn’t even bother with a greeting. “Kendra Bell,” he said, with no further explanation.
She should have known that Ryan would run to Brett after she scheduled the interview without him. She didn’t know how much longer she could put up with him undermining her to the boss.
“I’m actually on my way to meet with her now,” Laurie said, feigning a glance at her watch. “Ryan had a scheduling conflict—a personal training appointment, in fact—and it was the only time Kendra was free.” Laurie hated having to defend every small decision about her own show, simply because Ryan was always pushing for more authority.
Brett’s face contorted in irritated confusion. He cut off her explanation by holding his hands up in the shape of a capital T, putting her on an effective time-out.
“Why are you meeting with her if you turned down the Martin Bell case?”
Laurie realized immediately that her assumption had been wrong. Ryan wasn’t the source behind Brett’s inquiry about Kendra Bell; Robert and Cynthia, her in-laws, were.
She shook her head. “I never rejected the case, Brett. It’s a long story, but the short version is that Kendra has agreed to participate. When I meet with her, I’ll find out her side of the story and make sure we have the other parties we need to start working on the case.”
“You’ve got the victim’s wife and parents. What else do you need? The guy was practically a celebrity, even before his murder was on the front page.” As usual, Brett was quick to remind her that ratings—not journalistic quality—were the currency of their trade.
“I take it you’ve spoken to Martin Bell’s parents,” she said.
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair. At least he no longer looked ready to pounce. “Not directly. But Robert’s accountant is tennis partners with a fraternity brother of mine from Northwestern.” The chain of connections was dizzying, but Laurie got the gist. “I said I’d look into the problem.”
“Message received,” she said, giving him a quick salute. “I would have hoped you’d trust me by now not to say no to a case without a good reason.”
“Trust, but verify, as they say.” She held his gaze until he added, “But, point taken.”
She had turned to leave when he added one more line, “Next time, try to have Ryan informed from the get-go. The kid’s got killer instincts.”
Laurie carried her frustration with Brett back to her office, determined not to let him get under her skin.
As she passed Grace, Laurie had an idea. “Hey, what’s the name of that website you were looking at last week when you and Jerry were searching for a new place for happy hour?”
Grace’s eyes brightened, eager to be of assistance. “Tipsy-dot-com,” she announced. “We found a great spot for mojitos. Are we planning a get-together?”
“Not quite,” Laurie said, “but thanks.” Laurie remembered the way Jerry and Grace had used the website to search for bars with certain characteristics near the studio offices.
At her desk, she pulled up the site and searched for bars within a mile of Kendra Bell’s apartment. There were pages and pages of results—a sign that downtown was still the favored hot spot.
Laurie clicked on the “filter” menu and selected the choice of “dive bar.” Down to only thirty-six results. On the second page of hits, she knew she’d found what she was looking for. She now knew the significance of the word “stung.”
She pulled up her father’s number on her cell as soon as she was in a taxi. “Dad, can you call your contact at NYPD and ask him if Kendra’s hangout was called ‘the Beehive’?” It was a hole-in-the-wall about twelve blocks from Kendra’s apartment.
Leo called her back a few minutes later. “Remember my lecture last night?”
Of course she did. “About the NYPD remaining silent if they see no need to correct the record?”
“I asked him if the bar was the Beehive. All he said was ‘no comment.’ Then he told me my daughter probably took after her father. Good job, Laurie.”
She pulled out her notes for her meeting with Kendra and made a change to the final item for discussion: Mystery Man at the Beehive.