Hard news - Jeffery Deaver [61]
She blinked.
“But,” he said, “you have to understand. It didn’t make any difference, you know.”
“Uh, like, how exactly do you mean?”
“They had the other witness. You can’t blame me really.”
“Could you explain please.”
“At the time, when he was killed, I had my fortune. I was giving money away. I had people who worked for me who depended on me for their livelihood. Their families … You people in the media—a man never has any privacy around you.” He pronounced it with a short i, privacy. Like “privileged.”
He continued. “I was simply scared back them. I was afraid to tell the police that I’d seen Hopper killed. I’d be on news programs. I’d be in court. There’d be stories about my wealth. Kidnappers might come after my family or me. Do-gooders would start hounding me for money for their causes. I felt guilty at first but then I heard that that Breckman woman downstairs saw the whole thing and told the police about the killer. It took the pressure off me.”
“But now you don’t mind telling me what you saw? What’s different now?”
Frost walked to the window and looked into the gloomy courtyard. “I have a different attitude toward life.”
Oh, please, Rune was praying, do it now. Tell me what you saw. And, please, make it good. “May I?” She gestured toward the camera.
A pause. Then he nodded.
The lights clicked on. The camera hummed. She aimed it at Frost’s long face.
“It’s odd,” he said wistfully, “what giving away your fortune does. It’s a marvelous thing. I don’t know why it hasn’t caught on.” He looked at her seriously. “Let me ask you, you know anybody else giving away a billion dollars?”
“None of my friends,” Rune said. “Unfortunately.”
chapter 19
RUNE AND PIPER SUTTON SAT IN FRONT OF THE ANCHORwoman’s desk, watching the monitor. Out of it came two tinny voices.
“Mr. Frost, did you see the shooting?”
“Plain as the nose on my face. Or your face—however that expression goes. It was horrible. I saw this man come up to Mr. Hopper and pull out this little gun and shoot him, just push the pistol at him. It reminded me of the pictures of Ruby, you know, Jack Ruby, when he shot Oswald. Mr. Hopper held his hands out like he was trying to catch the bullet….”
Sutton stirred but didn’t say anything.
“Could you describe him?”
“He was a fat man. Not fat all over but with a beer belly. Like a timpani.”
“A what?”
“A drum. Dark blondish hair. A moustache … What’s that? Sure, I’m positive about the moustache. And sideburns. A light jacket. Powder-blue.”
Rune said to Sutton, “That’s Jimmy. The man who picked up Randy and drove him to New York.”
Sutton frowned and waved her silent.
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“I told you.”
“If you could tell me again. Please.”
“I was afraid—of retaliation. Of publicity. I was very wealthy. I was scared for me and my family. Anyway the killer was caught and identified. That woman downstairs identified the man, and I read that the police caught him practically red-handed. Why would they need me?”
“I’m going to show you a picture of someone…. Could you tell me if this is the man you saw in the courtyard?”
“Who? This skinny fellow? No, that wasn’t him at all.”
“You’d swear to it?”
“Sure I would.”
Click.
Rune kept staring at the monitor, a proud schoolkid waiting for the teacher’s praise.
But Sutton’s only comment was a breathy “Damn.”
Rune tried not to smile with pleasure and unadulterated pride.
Sutton looked at her watch, then added, “I’m late for a meeting with Lee. Did you make a dupe of that tape?”
“Sure,” Rune said. “I always make dupes. It’s locked in my credenza.”
Sutton said, “We’ve got a story conference on Friday. Bring your proposed script. You’ll present to both of us and be prepared to defend every goddamn line. Got it?”
“You bet.”
Sutton started to leave the office. She paused and said in a soft voice, “I’m not very good at praise. Just let me say that there aren’t many people who would’ve stuck with it long enough to do what you did.” Then she frowned and the old Sutton returned. “Now get some sleep.