Private Scandals

“Chaos. What else? The cops are taking statements from everyone.”
    “I should go in, do something.”
    “No.” The protest came quickly, fiercely. “I mean it, Dee. There’s nothing you can do, and if you came in at this point, you’d only add to the confusion. As soon as I go back and tell everyone you’re okay, it should calm down a little.” Her lips trembled before she wrapped her arms around Deanna again. “You really are okay? It must have been horrible for you. Every time I think of what could have happened—”
    “I know.” Comforted, Deanna cradled her head on Fran’s shoulder. “Angela. God, Fran, I still can’t believe it. Who could have hated her that much?”
    Pick a number, Fran thought. “I don’t want you to worry about the show or the office. We ran a re-broadcast today. Cassie’s canceling and rescheduling guests we’d booked for the next week.”
    “That’s not necessary.”
    “I’m the producer, and I say it is.” After a last squeeze, Fran pulled back and turned to Finn for support. “Are you going to throw your weight in with me?”
    “It doesn’t appear to be necessary, but sure. I’m taking her up to the cabin for a while.”
    “I can’t just leave. Jenner’s bound to want to talk to me again. And I have to talk to Loren, to my staff.”
    Finn studied her a moment. There was pain in her eyes as well as the dregs of terror and shock. “Here’s the way I see it,” he said mildly. “I can spring you out of here later today and take you to the cabin. Or I can arrange for them to keep you in that bed for another couple of days.”
    “That’s absurd.” Deanna wanted to be angry, but she was too tired. “Just because we’re getting married doesn’t mean you can arrange my life.”
    “It does when you’re too stubborn to do what’s best for you.”
    “Well.” Fran gave a satisfied nod and kissed Finn’s cheek. “Now that I know she’s in capable hands, I’m going to go find that doctor. I need to talk to you,” she said under her breath, then turned back to Deanna. It was a relief to see the sulky turn of her friend’s mouth. “Don’t worry about the details,” she told her. “The gang and I can handle everything. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
    “Fine. Great.” Deanna plopped back on the pillows, wincing when the sudden movement made her head pound. “Just tell everyone I decided to go fishing.”
    “Good idea.” Finn walked to the door to open it for Fran. “I’ll see if I can round up someone to put through the release papers. Stay in bed,” he ordered, and walked outside. “What is it you don’t want her to know?”
    “There are cops swarming all over the sixteenth floor.” Fran cast one last, worried glance over her shoulder as they walked to the elevators. “Her office has been torn apart, like someone went through it in an insane rage. Chairs hurled around, broken glass. All the lists she’d put together for the wedding and the sketches of the dresses were ripped up. Somebody had written all over the walls in red ink.” As Finn watched, her cheeks drained of color so that her freckles stood out in stark relief. “It just said ‘I love you,’ again and again and again. I don’t want her to see it, Finn.”
    “She won’t. I’m going to take care of her.”
    “I know that.” Fran pressed her fingers to her eyes. “But I’m scared. Whoever killed Angela is so focused on Dee. I don’t think he’ll ever leave her alone.”
    Finn’s eyes were sharp as a sword. “He won’t get near her. There’s someone I have to meet. You stay with her until I get back.”
     
    After a two-hour catnap, Jenner rapped on the door of Dan Gardner’s hotel suite. Beside him Finn was running through a mental list of questions he wanted answered.
    “He’d better be in the mood to talk this time.”
    Jenner only shrugged. He didn’t mind taking the long route, as long as it ended in the right place. “Hard to talk when you’re sedated.”
    “Conveniently,” Finn murmured.
    “Guy’s wife gets snuffed, he’s entitled to break down.”
    “Wouldn’t you think he’d want some details before he went under, Lieutenant? The way I see it, the longer he delays talking to you, the longer he has to formulate an alibi. Angela Perkins was a wealthy woman. Care to guess who’s the chief beneficiary?”
    “Then if he killed her, he’d have been stupid not to have an alibi to begin with. I’ve got a feeling you’re a man used to