1st to Die - James Patterson [15]
At the paper, Cindy’s coup at the Hyatt had turned her into an instant celebrity. People she scarcely knew were suddenly stopping and congratulating her. Even the publisher, whom she rarely saw on the Metro floor, came down to find out who she was.
Metro was covering some demonstration in Mill Valley about a construction rerouting that had built up traffic near a school zone.
She was writing page one.
As she typed, she noticed Sidney Glass, her city editor, coming up to her desk. Glass was known at the newspaper as El Sid. He parked himself across from her with a stiff sigh. “We need to talk.”
Her fingers slowly settled to a halt as she looked up.
“I’ve got two very pissed-off senior crime reporters itching to get into this. Suzy’s at City Hall awaiting a statement by the police chief and the mayor. Stone’s put together profiles on both families. They have twenty years and two Pulitzers between them. And it is their beat.”
Cindy felt her heart nearly come to a stop. “What did you tell them?” she asked.
In El Sid’s hardened eyes, she could see the greedy first-team crime staff, senior reporters with their own researchers, trying to hack their way in and carve this story up. Her story.
“Show me what you’ve got,” the city editor finally said. He came around, peered over her shoulder, read a few lines off the computer screen. “A lot of it’s okay. You probably know that. ‘Anguished’ belongs over here,” he said, pointing at the screen. “It modifies ‘bride’s father.’ Nothing pisses Ida Morris off like misplaced modifiers and inversions.”
Cindy could feel herself blushing. “I know, I know. I’m trying to get this in. Deadline’s at…”
“I know when deadline is.” The editor glowered. “But down here, if you can get it in, you can get it in right.”
He studied Cindy for what seemed an interminable duration, a deep, assessing stare that kept her on edge.
“Especially if you intend to stay on this thing.” Glass’s generally implacable face twitched, and he almost smiled at her. “I told them it was yours, Thomas.”
Cindy repressed an urge to hug the cranky, domineering editor right on the bull pen floor. “You want me at City Hall?” she asked.
“The real story’s in that hotel suite. Go back to the Hyatt.”
El Sid began to walk away with his hands, as always, thrust into his trouser pockets.
But a moment later, he turned back. “Course, if you intend to stay on this story, you’d better find a police source on the inside—and quick.”
Chapter 16
AFTER LEAVING THE MORGUE, Raleigh and I walked back to the office, mostly in silence. Lots of details about the murders were bothering me. Why would the killer take away the victim’s jacket? Why leave the champagne bottle? It made no sense.
“We’ve got a sex crime now. Bad one.” I finally turned to him on the asphalt walkway leading to the Hall. “I want to run the autopsy results through Milt Fanning and the FBI computers. We also need to meet with the bride’s parents. We’ll need a history on anyone she may have been involved with before David. And a list of everyone at that wedding.”
“Why don’t we wait for some confirmation on that one,” my new partner said, “before we go all out on that angle.”
I stopped walking and stared at him. “You want to see if anybody checked in for a bloody jacket with the lost and found? I don’t understand. What’s your concern?”
“My concern,” Raleigh said, “is that I don’t want the department intruding on the grief of the families with a lot of hypotheticals until we have more to go on. We may or may not have the killer’s jacket. He may or may not have been a guest.”
“Who do you think it belonged to, the rabbi?”
He flashed me a quick smile. “It could’ve been left there to set us off.”
His tone seemed suddenly different. “You’re backing off?” I asked him.
“I’m not backing off,” he said. “Until we have something firm, every old boyfriend of the bride or casualty of some corporate downsizing Gerald Brandt had a hand in could be rolled out as a possible suspect. I’d rather the spotlight wasn’t aimed back at