Private Scandals

The devastation was as total as tornado damage, both the priceless and the trivial capriciously destroyed.
    But the worst, the most terrifying, was the message scrawled in Deanna’s lipstick on the wall above the bed they shared.
    I loved you
I killed for you
I hate you
    “Thank God she wasn’t here. Thank God.” Grimly he picked up the phone and called the police.
    “Take it easy.” Lieutenant Jenner helped Deanna steady a glass of water.
    “I’m all right now.” But her teeth chattered on the rim of the glass. “I’m sorry. I know I was incoherent before.”
    “Understandable.” He’d had a good long look at Angela Perkins’s body and found Deanna’s condition understandable indeed. He didn’t blame her for huddling inside the locked room, needing to be gently persuaded to open the door to admit him. “You’re going to want to have a doctor take a look at you.”
    “I’m fine, really.”
    Shock, he imagined. It was nature’s way of closing down the system and offering the illusion of comfort. But her eyes were still glassy, and even though he’d thrown his overcoat over her shoulders, she was shivering.
    “Can you tell me what happened?”
    “I found her. I came in and found her.”
    “What were you doing at the studio after midnight?”
    “She asked me to meet her. She called—she . . .” She sipped again. “She called.”
    “So you arranged to meet her here.”
    “She wanted to—to talk to me. She said she had information about . . .” Defenses clicked in. “About something I needed to know. I wasn’t going to come, then I thought it might be best if we had it out.”
    “What time did you get here?”
    “It was midnight. I looked at my watch in the parking lot.” The colored lights in the distance, the haze of Christmas cheer. “It was midnight. I thought maybe she hadn’t arrived yet, but she could have had her driver drop her off. So I let myself into the studio. And it was dark, so I thought she wasn’t here, and that was good. I wanted to be first. Then, when I started to turn on the lights, something hit me. When I woke up I was on the set, and I couldn’t think. The camera was on. Oh, God, the camera was on, and I saw, in the monitor, I saw her.” She pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back the whimpers.
    “Take a minute.” Jenner leaned back.
    “I don’t know anything else. I ran in here and locked the door. I called the police, and I passed out.”
    “Did you see anybody on your way to the studio?”
    “No. No one. The cleaning crews would have gone by now. There would be a few people in the newsroom, manning the desk overnight, but after the last broadcast, the building clears out.”
    “You need a card to get into the building, don’t you?”
    “Yes. They put in a new security system about a year ago.”
    “Is this your purse, Miss Reynolds?” He held out a generous shoulder bag in smooth black leather.
    “Yes, that’s mine. I must have dropped it when I—when I came in.”
    “And this card.” He held up a clear plastic bag. Inside was a slim, laminated card with her initials in the corner.
    “Yes, that’s mine.”
    He set the bag aside and continued to take notes. “What time did Miss Perkins contact you about this meeting?”
    “About five. She called my office.”
    “Your secretary took the call?”
    “No, she’d already gone home. I took it myself.” Something trembled through the shield of shock. “You think I killed her? You think I did that to her? Why?” She lurched to her feet, swaying like a drunk as the overcoat slid to the floor. “How could I? Why would I? Do you think I lured her here, and murdered her, then taped it all so I could show it to all my loyal viewers in the morning?”
    “Calm down, Miss Reynolds.” Jenner got cautiously to his feet. She looked as though she might dissolve if he touched her. “No one’s accusing you of anything. I’m just trying to get the facts.”
    “I’ll give the facts. Someone killed her. Someone blew her face away and propped her up on the set. Oh God.” She pressed a hand to her head. “This can’t be real.”
    “Sit down and catch your breath.” Jenner took her by the arm. There was a commotion in the corridor behind him and he turned to the door.
    “Goddamn it, I want to see her.” Finn shoved his way clear of the cop trying to detain him and burst throughthe doorway. “Deanna.” He sprinted forward as she swayed toward him. “You’re all right.” He vised