This is like playing Jeopardy with a thousand people—not all of whom have a buzzer, Jennifer thought.
“Are you sure?” she asked as she faced the gentleman.
“They might have changed it.”
Jennifer heard a woman gasp to her right. She turned to see the coroner load the dead man into a body bag.
“Did he die instantly?” Jennifer asked the men zipping the bag closed.
“Quicker,” the older of the two said.
“No comment,” bellowed Detective Speers, who had come up behind them.
Barry Kendall was standing alone watching the body placed into the coroner’s vehicle.
It’s now or never, Jennifer thought, noting Speers had re-entered the NCN building.
With the dexterity of a prize fighter climbing through the ropes into the ring, Jennifer ducked under the two rows of police tape and was quickly at Kendall’s side.
“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful,” she said, as a startled Kendall became aware of her presence.
“No comment.”
“To my statement or to any questions I’m planning to pose to you?”
“Both.”
“I need a name.”
“I need the shooter.”
“The car is or was a rental.”
“What?” Kendall asked, a shocked look on his face.
“The getaway car is a rental or was at one time.”
“And how did—”
“A guy in the crowd said it was parked on Elm Avenue at 6:45 with a white man behind the wheel, trying to remain inconspicuous.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“His name is J.J. Monteleone.”
“The driver?”
“No—the witness, you idiot.” She pointed Monteleone out to him. “The guy with the blue blazer.”
“You’re not kidding, are you?”
“What’s the dead guy’s name? I know you have it.”
Kendall looked around to see if he was being watched.
“Not a word of this to anyone, not even your editor, until Speers confirms it. Are we understood?”
“Understood. Now what’s his name?”
“Robert Barker.”
“Why does that sound so familiar?”
“Think pharmaceuticals.”
“Kendall!”
Speers’ voice sliced through the air as he came upon them with a look of fire in his eyes.
“What did you tell her?” he demanded.
“No comment, sir.”
“Malone?”
“That’s it, Mike. Tough as an acorn this one. And you know how talented I am at cracking nuts.”
“Well as far as you’re concerned, the show is over.”
“I was leaving anyhow. With all these people, a dead body and a bomb, I was thinking of getting away from it all for a while. You know—to clear my head.”
“Just stay out of my way. Deal?”
“Your wish is my command, Detective.”
As they watched Jennifer make her way through the crowd, Speers turned to Kendall.
“Nothing but trouble, that one,” he said.
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Kendall concurred.
Speers shook his head and began to walk away.
“One more thing, sir,” Kendall said tentatively. “Ms. Malone said a man in the crowd saw a grey Volvo parked on Elm Avenue at 6:45. He said a white male was behind the wheel.”
“Have Mario take a statement and follow it up. I’m going to talk to the press and then head to Barker’s house to see if we can figure out why he was here in the first place.”
Jennifer half-jogged back to The Telegraph and made a beeline to Mitch Carson’s office.
“I’m onto something really big. The only thing is I can’t tell you what,” she said, out of breath.
“What do you mean you can’t tell me? I’m the editor-in-chief!”
“Time’s a-wastin’, Mitch. Trust me on this. It’ll only be for a few hours.”
“Fine. Now if time really is a-wastin’, what are you doing here?”
“I have to take a little trip and won’t be back until noon at the earliest.”
“Are you kidding?” Mitch protested. “You’re my best reporter. That’s why I didn’t hesitate to give you this thing. Now you want to bail?”
“All I need is someone to cover the crime scene—you know, take notes of times, talk to witnesses. One of the interns could do that.”
“You really can’t tell me where you’re going or why?”
“Right.”
“All of a sudden, I’m thinking I’m the crazy one.”
“It’s 8:00 now. I’ll call you later this morning, say 10:30, with an update.”
“You’d better. ’Cause if I don’t hear from you I’m going to give the byline to Girard.”
“That hack?”
“I heard that, Malone,” Arnold Girard said with a smirk as he passed the doorway.
“I meant ‘hack’ in a positive way,” Jennifer called after him.
“Now that’s settled, do you need anything for this secret journey?”
Jennifer thought for a few seconds.
“Got a hundred bucks for expenses?”
SEVEN
As she drove one of the paper’s cars to Mantis Pharmaceuticals, a number of issues continued to entertain Jennifer’s thoughts:
Why was multi-millionaire Robert Barker standing outside The Nation Today’s studio and from whom was he hiding?
Who was the man in the grey Volvo parked on Elm Avenue? The getaway driver?
And where was the female shooter during this time?
These questions especially gnawed at her because if she’d kept working the crowd, she was certain she’d have learned more about the shooter’s actions—before and after the killing. As it was, she was simply assuming things from the few seconds of the show she’d watched in the company of her newspaper brethren. She was amazed she had witnessed it at all, as Good Morning America had a Brad Pitt/Angelina Jolie interview scheduled for the same time. Unfortunately for Brangelina, she’d been outvoted by Levison and his political pals.
Pulling into a visitor parking spot, she took a deep breath and kept telling herself that this trip was more important than any old crime scene.
She walked through the giant glass doors of the main building and was greeted by a woman behind the reception desk.
“Good morning,” the woman said cheerfully. Her name tag read Kimberly.
“It