61
Laurie was at her desk, surfing the Web, when she got a text from her father: I called Hon and filled him in. I think he appreciated being kept in the loop. Seemed to take a “wait and see” approach. Fingers crossed.
She typed a quick thank you! and hit send. Dad has done enough work for my show to be credited as a consultant, she thought, but he swears the last thing he wants is to have to put up with Brett Young.
She returned her attention to her computer screen. She was looking at Tom Wakeling’s Facebook posts from three years earlier. Just hours before his aunt Virginia was murdered, he had posted a selfie from the red carpet of the Met Gala. Just hanging out with the other celebrities in my tuxedo, read the caption.
The fact that Virginia had overridden her husband’s desire to leave a more sizable inheritance to his nephew was still nagging at Laurie. Virginia had been toying with the idea of leaving everything except the company to charity, but this initial decision to reduce only Tom’s inheritance struck her as different. It wasn’t philosophical. It was personal, specific to her nephew.
Now that Laurie was learning about the “old Tom” from his previous social media posts, she was beginning to understand why Virginia might have been unwilling to trust Tom with significant amounts of money. Even from what Laurie could glean from Facebook, it seemed that Tom went to casinos in Atlantic City and Connecticut at least twice a month. She remembered Anna mentioning Tom’s gambling habit. He could have been in debt from gambling. The $50,000 he inherited when his aunt died wasn’t much compared to the Wakelings’ worth, but it might have been enough to dig him out of a hole. And once his cousins had sole control of the corporation, they had been willing to give him a chance with a job, in which he was now a trusted insider.
Her thoughts were pulled away by the sound of her phone. Alex’s name was on the screen.
“Hello, Your Honor, I’m looking forward to dinner tonight.”
“Me, too. That’s why I was calling. We have a seven o’clock reservation at Marea if that’s acceptable to you.”
Because Laurie had planned yesterday’s evening, Alex had insisted on making the arrangements for tonight. “Better than acceptable.” It was the restaurant where they’d had their first dinner alone.
“Should I pick you up?”
“I’m not sure where I’ll be coming from. I was going to try to swing home to see Timmy if I have time, but I may leave straight from here.” It was already five o’clock. “I went down the rabbit hole of a witness’s old social media posts. Something’s bothering me, and I just can’t let it go.”
“Oh boy, that doesn’t sound like you at all,” he said laughing. “Do you want me to push the dinner later?”
“Not at all. But let’s plan to meet there.” She knew this entire conversation would be yet another reminder to Alex that a relationship with her was more complicated than dating a woman without a busy career and young son.
“Sounds good,” he said.
“Can’t wait.”
Once Laurie was off the phone, her thoughts turned back to Tom Wakeling. She told herself again that it was time to let it go. Tiffany had been absolutely certain that Tom was with her the entire night. As Anna had noted, Tiffany was eccentric but she had no reason to lie for a man she had only gone out with twice three years earlier.
And then Laurie realized that an explanation for the alarm that night might have been sitting in front of her the entire time. How many times had Ivan and the Wakeling family mentioned Tiffany’s crazy stories the night of the gala? She had been rambling about her grandmother the cabaret performer, the one who supposedly had an affair with President Kennedy and, in Tiffany’s view, deserved to have a dress of her own among the first ladies exhibit.
Did Tiffany have a reason to lie about being with Tom all night, but not to protect Tom? If she had stolen the bracelet and set off the alarm, she was protecting herself. Tom might not have an alibi for the time of the murder. This was probable or at least possible.
But how do I get Tiffany to admit to that? Laurie asked herself.
She had an idea how to get Tiffany to open up. She called the number Tiffany had provided for her home. Tiffany answered on the second ring.
“Tiffany, it’s Laurie Moran from Under Suspicion. I just wanted to thank you once again for your participation and to let you know that we’ll be airing our episode on Valentine’s Day. I wanted to send you a swag bag from the studio as a small token of our appreciation. What’s your address so I can get it in the mail to you?”
Given the nature of Tiffany’s “mobile wedding” business, Laurie was betting that she worked out of her home.
Tiffany recited an address in Queens, which Laurie immediately typed into Google maps. “It’s nothing extravagant,” Laurie said, making small talk as she hit street view on her computer to get a look at the address. “Just some souvenirs from our various shows.”
“That’s so nice of you.”
Laurie was looking at a brick Tudor on her screen, definitely a residence. “We’ll send it right out,” she said. “I think I know that area of Queens. Forest Hills? A lovely neighborhood.”
“It’s actually my grandmother Molly’s home, where she raised me. I moved back in when she needed some help, but now she’s in assisted living. Anyway, it still feels like home.”
Laurie thanked Tiffany for her help again. Her next call was to Charlotte.
“Hey there. I was just thinking of calling you,” Charlotte said. “Time for a drink after work? I’m dying to hear about your date with Alex last night.”
“It was perfect. In fact, we’re going out tonight, too, so I’ll have to take a rain check on drinks.”
Her rain checks were adding up.
“My loss, but I’m so happy for you. You’ve been putting on a strong face, but I could tell you missed him.”
“I don’t have time to meet for a drink, but I would like to borrow you for a couple of hours if you have time. It’s another favor for the show.”
“The last time you recruited me worked out on my end, too. I’m hiring Marco Nelson to handle security for our spring fashion show.”
“I’m so glad,” Laurie said. “I felt guilty that I was wasting his time when we asked him to come to your office.”
“Feel better. You did him a favor.”
“Honestly, Charlotte, this job will require more than a few white lies. I essentially need you to pretend you’re someone else. The witness isn’t dangerous, more an airhead than a threat. I need her to answer some questions. But I totally understand if you’re not comfortable getting involved.”
“Don’t be silly. It sounds exciting. I love helping you play Nancy Drew. Where should we meet?”
“I’ll grab a cab and meet you in front of your office in ten minutes.”
“Whoa, that’s soon, but I can make it work.”
“Sorry for the rush, but the person we need to see is definitely home right now, so we have to hurry.” Laurie disconnected, wondering and hoping she’d have the truth about Tiffany in time for her dinner with Alex.