The Sleeping Beauty Killer

40

It was five-thirty by the time Leo and Laurie got back to the city. Leo tried to get Laurie to go straight home, but she wanted to type up her notes from the trip to Connecticut and always worked better at the office.

She was used to finding Jerry late at his desk, but was surprised to see Grace still at work, too. She was even more surprised to see Ryan wave as he passed her in the hallway, a coffee from Bouchon Bakery in his hand.

“Why is Ryan here?” she asked Grace.

“He’s been waiting around for his office to be ready. It was supposed to be done hours ago, but you know how slow the maintenance staff can be. They didn’t even start painting until this morning. Anyway, he used the time to get to know Jerry and me a little better. I think he’s eager to no longer be the new kid at school.”

Laurie noticed a Bouchon pastry bag on Grace’s desk that matched Ryan’s cup. She had a strong feeling why Grace had stayed late.

Laurie stopped by Jerry’s office and knocked on the open door.

“Please tell me Ryan didn’t start dating my assistant while I was out of town for the day.”

Jerry laughed. “You know Grace. She’s a born flirt, but that’s all it is. Besides, Ryan Nichols is much too high-maintenance for her. The only reason his office isn’t ready is because he’s been telling the building staff where to place every item and hang each picture of himself, down to the centimeter.” Laurie took a small amount of satisfaction in the eye roll that followed.

She couldn’t believe that Brett had given Ryan an office. The idea of providing one for Alex had never even been raised.

“I was actually about to call you,” Jerry said, sounding more urgent. “I think I found something important.”

Once they were seated in her office, he explained his excitement. “I was thinking about the ‘Whispers’ piece we found-the one that was probably about Hunter.”

Shortly before Mindy Sampson published the photograph of Hunter with Gabrielle Lawson, her paper’s “Whispers” column had published a “blind item” reporting that one of the city’s most sought after men was about to become un-engaged. Laurie said she remembered it.

“It made me think we might have missed something when we were researching Mark Templeton. The write-ups about his departure from the Raleigh Foundation only hinted at improprieties, at worst.” The reports simply noted that he’d left, that assets were down, and that he hadn’t announced a new position. Perhaps there was wrongdoing at the foundation, and perhaps Templeton was involved, but there wasn’t enough evidence for the reporters to raise the possibility directly.

Laurie could see where Jerry’s thought was going. “That’s when gossip columns resort to blind items,” she said. “The paper can’t get sued if they don’t name names.” When she had researched Templeton, she had conducted a media search for any mentions of either his name or the Raleigh Foundation. But a blind item that intentionally omitted the specifics would never turn up in such a targeted search. “You found something?” she asked.

“I think so.” He handed her a printout from an archived “Whispers” column, dated several months after Templeton resigned as CFO of the foundation: What unnamed former fiduciary of what unnamed political-royalty non-profit was seen walking into the federal courthouse with a criminal defense lawyer two days ago? Are charges forthcoming? Stay tuned.

“This is good work, Jerry. I suppose it’s possible they were talking about someone else, but a ‘political-royalty non-profit’? This sounds like it has to be Templeton. Can we feel out the reporter who published it? They might confirm off the record.”

“Unfortunately, I tried that already. ‘Whispers’ never gave bylines to its contributors. I took a stab in the dark and contacted the guy who was the paper’s main financial reporter at the time, but he said it didn’t ring a bell. He said it’s possible their crime beat reporter came up with it, but he passed away several years ago.”

If they couldn’t nail down the specifics of the story through the reporter, they’d have to find another way. Templeton had made it clear he had no plans to talk about his work for the Raleigh Foundation. That left only one other option.

She asked Grace which office the studio had given Ryan, then found him there, adjusting the throw cushions on his new sofa. “Do you still have contacts at the U.S. Attorney’s Office?”

Ryan had only worked at the federal prosecutor’s office for three years after his Supreme Court clerkship, but he’d racked up an impressive trial record prosecuting white-collar criminals. “Sure,” he said. “Not everyone can be rich and famous.”

The wink that followed made her want to point out that, so far, he was neither. His uncle’s friend may have given him a job and an office, but Laurie knew what he was being paid. Brett’s frugality bent for no one.

Laurie handed him a copy of the blind item that Jerry had found. “It’s possible that whatever happened between Mark Templeton and the Raleigh Foundation was serious enough that he hired a criminal defense lawyer. What would it mean if he went to the courthouse with his lawyer, but there’s no record of any actual charges?”

Ryan took a quick glance at the printout and then exchanged it for a baseball from the top of his desk. He tossed it from hand to hand. “It’s possible he was testifying, maybe in front of a grand jury. More likely, he could have been meeting with prosecutors, possibly as an informant.”

“Any chance you can look into that?”

“Sure. But even if something fishy was going on at the foundation, it might have nothing to do with Hunter’s murder.”

“If Templeton knew Hunter was onto him, that would be a powerful motive to silence him.”

“I just don’t see it.” He continued passing the ball from side to side. “White-collar types don’t like to get their hands dirty.”

She resisted the temptation to list all of the stories she’d worked on that challenged his assumption. “Can you ask around or not?”

“Like I said, no problem.”

She had thanked him and was almost out of his office when she heard his voice behind her. “Laurie, think fast.”

He looked surprised when she effortlessly caught the ball headed her way. “Thanks,” she said, slipping it into her jacket pocket. She smiled as she returned to her office. Maybe she’d even give it back to him at some point.

She was about to leave work when she got a text from Charlotte. Short notice but time for a drink?

Laurie barely remembered the days when she could do whatever she wanted after work. My kid may stop recognizing me if I don’t go home. Want to swing by my place?

She felt silly the second she hit send. She couldn’t imagine that Charlotte would want to spend a Friday night in her apartment with her son and father.

Only if your cute dad will be there, too. I’ll bring the wine.

Laurie smiled. Now that was a good friend.