Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [111]
“Where the hell are we going with this? I need something I can work with.”
“Do I have time to go to the restroom?” Christine asked the stage director, and he nodded. She unsnapped the microphone and laid it next to the rejected glass of water.
McManus looked up at her and manufactured a curt smile.
“Don’t take too long, honey. This isn’t like your newspaper. We can’t just stop the presses. We’re live.” She reached for the glass and drank in delicate sips so as not to mess up her lipstick.
Christine wondered if McManus even knew Timmy’s name without the help of the TelePrompTer. The high-priced anchor didn’t care about Timmy or Danny or Matthew. Dear God, how close had she come to being just like Darcy McManus?
Christine made her way backstage, carefully avoiding and stepping over all the cables and cords. As soon as she was out of the bright lights, her body felt a rush of cool air. She could breathe again. She marched down the narrow hallway, dodging stagehands and finding her way past the dressing rooms, past the restrooms and, finally, escaping out the gray metal door marked Exit.
CHAPTER 66
“Am I under arrest?” Ray Howard wanted to know while fidgeting in the hard-backed chair.
Maggie stared at him. His pasty complexion made his eyes bulge out—eyes a dull, watery gray with red veins telegraphing his exhaustion. She rubbed her own exhaustion from the back of her neck. A tight knot pinched the muscles between her shoulders. She tried to remember when she had slept last.
The small conference room hummed with the percolating of fresh coffee, filling the room with its aroma. A stream of orange sunset seeped in through the dusted blinds. She and Nick had been here for hours, asking the same questions and getting the same answers. Even though she’d insisted they bring Howard in for questioning, she still believed he wasn’t the killer. Nothing had changed, but she hoped he might know something, anything, and break under pressure. Nick, however, persisted, convinced Howard was their man.
“No, Ray. You’re not under arrest,” Nick finally answered.
“You can only hold me here for a certain number of hours.”
“And how do you know that, Ray?”
“Hey, I watch Homicide and NYPD Blue. I know my rights. And I have a friend who’s a cop.”
“Really? You have a friend?”
“Nick,” Maggie cautioned.
Nick rolled his eyes and pushed up the sleeves of his shirt. She noticed his clenched fists, his impatience boiling close to the surface.
“Ray, would you like some of this fresh coffee?” she asked politely. The well-dressed janitor hesitated, then nodded.
“I use cream and two teaspoons of sugar. Real cream. If you have it. And I prefer not using those little sugar cubes.”
“How about something to eat. I know we kept you over lunch, and it’s almost dinnertime. Nick, perhaps you could order all of us something from Wanda’s.”
Nick scowled at her from across the room, but Howard sat up, delighted.
“I love Wanda’s chicken-fried steak.”
“Great. Nick, would you please order Mr. Howard a chicken-fried steak?”
“With mashed potatoes and brown gravy, not the white. And I like creamy Italian dressing for my salad. But on the side.”
“Anything else?” Nick didn’t bother to hide his impatience or his sarcasm. Howard shrunk back into the chair.
“No, nothing else.”
“And what for you, Agent O’Dell?” He shot her a look of contempt clouded with frustration.
“A ham and cheese sandwich. I believe you know how I like it.” She smiled at him, pleased when his dark bristled jaw relaxed and his eyes softened.
“Yes, I do.” It was obvious the memory immediately replaced the sarcasm and frustration. “I’ll be right back.”
She set a steaming mug of coffee in front of Howard, then paced the length of the room, waiting for him to relax. She flipped on the overhead lights. The fluorescents flooded the room, making him blink. He reminded her of a lizard with slow deliberate blinks while he tested the hot coffee with a long pointed tongue. He was listening to the noises of