Hard News

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. You look awful.”
    “ THIS IS THE STORY OF A MAN CONVICTED OF A CRIME HE didn’t commit unjustly….”
    Uh, no.
    “… of a man unjustly convicted of a crime he didn’t commit…”
    Well, sure, if he didn’t commit it it’s unjust.
    “… the story of a man convicted of a crime he didn’t commit…”
    Words were definitely the hard part.
    Rune spun around in her desk chair and let out a soft, anguished scream of frustration. Words—she hated words. Rune
saw
things and she
liked
seeing things. She remembered things she saw and forgot things she was told. Words were real tricky little dudes.
    “This is the story of a man convicted of a crime he didn’t commit, a man who lost two years of his life because …”
    Why? Why?
    “… because the system of justice in this country is like a big dog…”
    A dog? Justice is like a
dog”?
Are you insane? “Crap!” She shouted. “Crap, crap, crap!” Half the newsroom looked at her.
    What is Lee Maisel going to say when he reads this stuff? What’s Piper going to say?
    “… because the system of no, because the justice system in this country, no, because the American justice system is like a bird with an injured wing …”
    Crap, crap, crap!
    FRED MEGLER WAS AS ENTHUSIASTIC AS COULD BE EX pected, considering that his lunch was two hot dogs (with kraut and limp onions) and a Diet Pepsi and considering too that his view while he was eating was the Criminal Courts Building—the darkest, grimiest courthouse in all of Manhattan.
    And considering finally that one of his clients, he explained to Rune, was about to be sentenced on a three-count conviction for murder two.
    “Stupid shmuck. He fucking put himself away. What can I say?”
    Megler, still skinny, still gray, was chewing, drinking and talking simultaneously. Rune stood back, out of the trajectory of flecks of hot dog that occasionally catapulted from behind his thick, wet lips. He was impressed with her story about Frost even as he tried not to be. He said, “Yeah, sounds like Boggs might have a shot at it. Not enough to reverse