41
The following morning Gerard Bennington arrived at Fisher Blake Studios at 10 A.M. sharp, precisely as scheduled. In photographs Laurie had found of him on the Internet, he tended to favor eccentric, attention-grabbing clothing. In one shot, featured in New York magazine, he wore a kimono paired with red plaid pants. This morning, he had selected a relatively staid tweed suit and a paisley tie. The only flashes of his signature flare were a bright blue-and-canary-yellow pocket square and oversized blue-rimmed glasses to match. According to the Internet, he was fifty-one years old but had the energy of a teenager.
Her guest was not the only person who had made a surprising wardrobe choice that morning. As Grace escorted Mr. Bennington into Laurie’s office, Laurie noticed that she had paired her black turtleneck dress with red ankle-high boots with six-inch heels. The old Grace was back.
As Grace left, Bennington’s eyes scanned the room with disapproval. “Where are the cameras?”
“I’m sorry if there was a misunderstanding, Mr. Bennington. This morning was just an informational session. The more we prepare, the more efficient we can be when we bring you back for production.”
“Oh, your darling girl, Grace was very clear about that. But I thought this was a reality show. Aren’t there cameras rolling at all times? I mean, what if I say something amazing that you want to use on-screen?”
Laurie realized now that Gerard had already prepared by having his own makeup applied for filming. “You’ve got an excellent point, Mr. Bennington. Why don’t we meet in one of our small studios? I can hit record, and that way we’ll have the option of using today’s footage if we need to.”
“Excellent.” Striking a pose, he said, “Any opportunity to use a camera, I say, take it!”
• • •
Once the single camera in the interview room was rolling, Laurie started by thanking Bennington for lending them his two dresses from the first ladies exhibit.
“By all means. I was so happy to share them. People ask me why I bother spending all that money on my own private collection, to say nothing of the cost of storing them properly. I feel it is a small price to pay to own a little piece of history. A dress is a bargain compared to Civil War memorabilia and other collectibles, and so much more appealing to the eye. So much more cheerful, too.”
“Well, we’ll take very good care of them during production,” Laurie assured him.
“I’m sure, but I must tell you that my lawyers have checked to see that your studio is very well insured.”
He doesn’t miss a trick, Laurie thought, and began, “We certainly appreciate the dresses, but I do need to ask you about these pictures.” She had brought copies of the relevant photographs from her office. She showed him the photograph of the gown belonging to Jackie Kennedy that Jerry had found in the official exhibit book and then the one taken after Virginia Wakeling’s murder.
“Mr. Bennington, would you mind comparing these two?”
He studied the photographs, then shook his head. “They’re the same. Aren’t they?”
He did not notice the difference until she pointed out the missing bracelet.
“Oh dear,” he said with concern. “That is a mystery, isn’t it?”
“Did you lend the museum the bracelet as well? As you can see, the picture in the official exhibit book shows a bracelet that was missing after Mrs. Wakeling’s body was found.”
“When the gown was put on display, I had nothing to do with where the accessories came from. But I do remember it is the kind of trinket Jackie favored. Very youthful, don’t you think, but simple and timeless.”
The conversation was going nowhere. Laurie tried another tack. “Do you remember where you were when you heard about Mrs. Wakeling’s death?”
“Oh, absolutely. I was in the main entry hall, gushing to Iman about her gown.”
Laurie recognized the reference to a famous supermodel who spent most of her career using only one name.
“Versace made her this amazing piece based on Martha Washington,” Bennington explained. “So avant-garde. The thing was the size of a refrigerator. The poor girl couldn’t even sit at the dinner table in it—not that she eats, of course, but still.”
Laurie was beginning to appreciate the fact that she was recording this interview. If nothing else, Grace and Jerry would eat up every last word when they watched it. She could also imagine Gerard Bennington’s more colorful lines providing some much-needed comedic relief in the actual production. “How did you hear about Mrs. Wakeling’s death?” she asked him.
“How could I not hear about it? Some man on the edge of hysteria came running through the hall yelling, A woman fell from the roof! It was very dramatic. Of course, half the people there were trying to rush out of the museum, as if we were under some kind of terrorist attack or something. But the police made everyone stay until they had the lay of the land, cordoned off the crime scene, that kind of thing.”
“But they didn’t question everyone, did they?”
“Oh, heavens no. That would have been impossible. They didn’t speak to me, for example, because I didn’t know anything. It wasn’t until I was walking out that my friend Sarah Jessica told me that poor Virginia was the one who fell.”
“So you knew Mrs. Wakeling personally?”
“Not really. I met her at the previous year’s gala, and of course she had a high enough profile that I knew who she was. But we weren’t meeting for tea or anything.”
“Were you aware of an alarm being triggered that night in the gallery, shortly before she died?”
A look of concern crossed his face. “No, this is the first I heard of it. Do you think it’s related to that missing bracelet?”
“For now, it’s just a theory.”
“It sounds like a delicious one to me,” he said eagerly. “I wonder if it could be related to what happened to Virginia.” He rubbed his palms together. “I can’t wait to hear what you come up with. Of course, I assume you’re looking closely at Ivan. That would be inevitable.”
“Do you know him personally?”
“Never met him.”
Laurie realized that Bennington was the type of person who used first names for everyone, even strangers.
“What a terrific story though, right? Older widow meets hunky personal trainer. Talk about scandal. Everyone I know says he did it. I mean, who else would want to hurt such a gracious and generous woman? The only thing is, and not to be crass about it, but shouldn’t he have waited until they were married? I’m not too sure how bright of a bulb that one has, if you know what I mean.”
Laurie watched as he shook his head vigorously and gasped, “Oh, that was awful. Please don’t use any of what I just said in your show. Promise! I wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m anything but horrified by what happened to Virginia. Sometimes I’m catty just for the sake of entertainment.”
“I understand,” Laurie assured him.
“When something like this happens, you realize that even the rich and famous are just people. Everyone has secrets. No one’s perfect. Am I right?”
“I’ve certainly learned that in my line of work, Mr. Bennington.”
“Call me Gerard. Anyhow, I mean, look at that perfect Wakeling family—smart, successful, each one of them prettier than the next. But even they had that little tiff that night.”
Laurie felt herself sit up straighter at the mention of a tiff. Marco Nelson, the security guard who saw Virginia go upstairs to the roof, reported that she appeared upset, as if she’d been arguing with someone at the gala. But no other witnesses had seen her in a dispute that night.
“Virginia was arguing with her family?” Laurie asked.
“No, not her. It was the sons. Or, I guess one is the son. The other’s the son-in-law. I saw them in the temple room shortly before everyone was seated for dinner. They were off to the side of the room a bit. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but even from my vantage point, I could tell the conversation was intense. And then I saw the daughter, Anna, spot them as she was heading toward their table. She clearly saw the same dynamic I had sensed and began moving their way. Ever curious—sorry, I admit it, I’m nosy—I steered myself in that direction to see if something interesting would happen.”
He paused, clearly for dramatic effect.
“And?”
“It was a big letdown. She told them they had already argued enough for the day, and that they shouldn’t be talking about something so morbid in public.”
“This is the first I’ve heard about it.”
“I was probably the only one who noticed. Most of the guests spend their time gawking over the biggest celebrities. I like to watch people who don’t think they’re being watched. So much more interesting.”
“And did you mention any of this to the police?”
“Oh, heavens, no. If someone had called the police every time I bickered with my six siblings, the entire NYPD would have been millionaires from the overtime pay.”
Laurie hadn’t learned anything new about the bracelet that was missing from the exhibit, but her time with Gerard Bennington had been worthwhile. The night Virginia Wakeling was murdered, her son, Carter, and his brother-in-law, Peter Browning, had been arguing. Mr. Bennington had overheard Anna refer to the conversation between her husband and her brother as “morbid”—something perhaps as dark as their concerns about the family matriarch changing her will.
It was all the more important that she reach the security guard who was Virginia’s contact person during the party. Once Bennington left, she sent a quick text to Charlotte to follow up on her suggestion from the night before: Any luck reaching Marco Nelson?
Her phone pinged a few minutes after she returned to her office. We must have a psychic connection. I just got off the phone. He’ll be here tomorrow at 9 AM. Hope that works for you!
She had just confirmed with Charlotte when Ryan Nichols knocked on her open door. “Are you free to leave now?”
She looked at her watch. It was only eleven-thirty. They were supposed to leave at one to meet with Virginia’s former personal assistant, Penny Rawling.
“Our appointment’s not for two hours.”
“I know, but her apartment’s only two blocks from Locanda Verde. I made a lunch reservation. Care to join?”
Laurie’s first instinct was to decline, sparing herself from even having to share a car ride with Ryan. But she did love the food there, and a reservation at the Robert De Niro–owned spot was almost as hard to come by as Hamilton tickets.
“Sure, that sounds great,” she said, reaching for her coat.
Whether she liked it or not, she had to make the best of this situation with Ryan. No matter what happened between her and Alex in the future, it was clear that he would never be returning to her show.