Hard news - Jeffery Deaver [56]
The apartment was irritating. It reminded Rune of a movie she’d seen one time about these laser beams that crisscrossed the control room in a spaceship and if you broke one of them you’d set off this alarm. Here, though, no laser beams, but instead: little china dishes, animal figurines, cups, commemorative plates, a Franklin Mint ceramic thimble collection, vases and a thousand other artifacts, most of them flowery and ugly, all poised on the edges of fake teak shelves and tables, just waiting to fall to the floor and shatter.
Courtney’s eyes glinted at these many opportunities for destruction and Rune kept a death grip on the belt of the little girl’s jumpsuit.
The woman’s name was Miss Breckman. She was handsome. A born salesclerk: reserved, helpful, organized, polite. Rune remembered she was in her late fifties though she looked younger. She was stocky, with a double chin (handsome though it was) and a cylindrical frame. “Have a seat, please.”
They maneuvered through the ceramic land mines and sat on doily-covered chairs. Rune tamped down her pride and complimented Miss Breckman on her fine collection of things.
The woman glowed. “I got them mostly from my mother. We had the same thoughts about decoration. Genetic, I suppose.”
From there they talked about children, about boyfriends and husbands (Miss Breckman’s had left her ten years before; she was, she said, “currently in the market”).
Mostly what Miss Breckman wanted to talk about, though, was the news.
“So you’re a real reporter?” Her eyes focused on Rune like a scientist discovering a new kind of bug.
“More of a producer, really. Not like a newspaper reporter. It’s different in TV news.”
“Oh, I know. I watch every news program on the air. I always try to work the day shift so I can be home in time to watch Live at Five. It’s a bit gossipy, but aren’t we all? I don’t care for the six P.M. report—that’s mostly business—so I fix my dinner then, and I watch the World News at Seven while I eat.” She frowned. “I hope you won’t be offended if I tell you your network’s nightly news isn’t all that good. Jim Eustice, the anchorman, I think he’s funny-looking and sometimes doesn’t pronounce those Polish and Japanese names right. But Current Events is simply the best. Do you know Piper Sutton? Sure you do, of course. Is she as charming as she seems? Smart … sweet …”
If you only knew, lady….
Rune began steering toward the Boggs story, not quite sure how much to say. If Rune was right about Boggs’s innocence, of course, she was pretty much calling Ms. Figurine here a liar, and—come to think of it—a perjurer too. She opted for the indirect approach. “I’m doing a follow-up story on the Hopper killing and I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“I’d be happy to help. It was one of the most exciting times of my life. I was in that courtroom and there was this killer right there and he was looking at me.” Miss Breckman closed her eyes for a moment. “I was pretty darn scared. But I did my duty. I was kind of hoping that after I came out of the courtroom there’d be all these reporters shoving microphones at me—you know, I love those microphones with the names of the stations on them.”
“Uh-huh. Maybe I could set up my equipment?”
While Rune did that, Miss Breckman hoisted Courtney into her lap and rattled on nonstop. Bringing the little girl had been a great idea—she was like a pacifier for adults.
When the portable light clicked on and the red dot on the Ikegami flashed, Miss Breckman’s eyes took on an intense shine to a degree Rune figured they would never reach ringing up an American Express charge in Junior Sportswear.
Rune said, “Could you move over there.” Nodding at a Queen Anne chair upholstered in forest-green needlepoint.
“I’ll sit wherever you like, honey.” Miss Breckman moved and then composed herself for a moment.
“Now, could you tell me exactly what happened?”
“Sure.” She told the camera about the murder. Coming home from shopping, seeing the men argue. The gun appearing. The muffled shot. Hopper falling. Running to the phone. Hesitating