The first floor would be set up like a cross-fitness gym to feature the workout clothes and bodywear that Ladyform was already famous for. The second floor would be staged like a typical workplace with office cubicles, starring Ladyform’s new expansion into business-casual attire for the working woman. And the third floor would have a homey feel to highlight pajamas and weekend loungewear.
“Angela?” she called out. Charlotte’s voice echoed through the warehouse. “Angela-where are you?”
The only overhead lighting came from the dim, fluorescent ceiling boxes that buzzed above Charlotte as she worked her way through the first floor. Portable construction floodlights cast shadows as she passed. The stage lights wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow, but the set was coming along nicely. A row of treadmills faced a series of Pilates equipment. Visitors would walk between the two as if moving through a gym, with models “exercising” on either side.
Charlotte recognized three large bins of sporting equipment and a box with their soon-to-be-released, long-sleeve workout tops that had been in the hallway outside Angela’s office earlier that morning. She used the light from the screen of her cell phone to read a note that had been taped to the side of one of the open bins. For first floor gym set.
Having completed a loop through the first floor, she made her way to the elevator at the front of the warehouse. The doors opened, but when she stepped inside and pushed the button for the second floor, nothing happened. She tried hitting 3, but that didn’t work either. Spotting the stairwell door in the corner, she took the steps instead. She was disappointed to see that the second floor seemed barely touched, other than more notes that Angela had taped throughout the space.
She was nearly out of breath when she reached the third floor, which seemed slightly more put together than the second. Two faux “rooms”-a living room and bedroom-had been constructed like the soundstage of a television show. A few pieces of furniture were in place. More notes evidenced Angela’s presence. Charlotte could only read the one closest to her: Accent wall. Paint gray.
“There you are,” Charlotte said, spotting her friend sitting cross-legged on an area rug in the fake bedroom. “I may need to work less and work out more. Two flights of stairs were a killer.”
“They’re high ceilings, so it’s probably more like four or five.” Angela looked up momentarily from the sketch pad she was writing on. “Can you believe what a wreck this is? And, as you probably discovered, the elevator’s on the fritz. That’s why the second floor’s barely touched. It got stuck downstairs in the middle of the day. The agent promised it’ll be fixed tomorrow, but trust me, I’m getting a price concession. I should have been here all day riding herd on the crew.”
“Your family needed you. That comes first.” Charlotte had spent five years in a frenzy of worry about a family member. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to find out that someone you loved like a sister-the way Angela loved Casey-was probably a murderer. “I spoke to Laurie. No luck, I’m afraid.”
“Well, maybe it won’t be up to her. Paula was talking about hiring a lawyer.”
“I doubt it will do any good. I hate to say it, but is it possible your cousin is actually guilty?”
Angela’s marker stopped moving. “I honestly don’t know what to think anymore,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry I got you involved.”
Charlotte was walking through what they were calling the “at home” set, impressed by the details outlined on Angela’s notes. Place light here in one spot. And also here in another. This chair is too low. And also it looks like it’s meant for the second-floor set.
Charlotte did a double take as she read the note on the chair. “You wrote all these?” she asked.
“Of course, I did. Who else was going to do it?”
59
It was late afternoon, but Laurie decided she had to try to interview Sean Murray. She had his address and went downstairs and hailed a cab. I might have more luck face-to-face than I would on a phone call, she thought.
Sean’s Brooklyn Heights brownstone was on a quiet, tree-lined street, where children could ride their bikes on the sidewalk toward Prospect Park, and small purebred dogs roamed free on the occasional fenced front lawn. Laurie had thought many times about moving to give Timmy a larger home and more open space, but he loved his school and his friends and seemed perfectly content in their apartment on the Upper East Side.
From the front stoop, she heard the thunder of rapid footsteps inside the brownstone in response to the doorbell. “Daaa-aaad,” a young voice called out. “There’s a grown-up at the door. Should I get it?”
A deeper voice gave a response she couldn’t make out, and soon she was looking at Sean Murray, the man who had been dating Angela when Hunter was killed. She recognized him from a few of the photographs Casey had provided for a montage. She could tell that Sean recognized her name when she introduced herself. “I wanted to talk to you again about the possibility of helping with our program.” She lowered her voice. “As it turns out, Angela won’t be participating in the show. I thought that might change the dynamics.”
He stepped back so she could enter and walked her into a sitting room at the front of the house. She could hear children’s voices and the sound of a television from upstairs. Sean took a seat in the wing chair across from her.
“I know you weren’t sure how your wife would feel about the show,” Laurie said. “Perhaps we should meet somewhere else?”
Sean let out a small laugh. “I felt silly the second I said my wife would mind. Jenna doesn’t have a jealous bone in her body-”
“Then why did you say it was about Jenna?”
“Because I’m a terrible liar,” he said, laughing again.
“You just didn’t want to talk to me,” she surmised. She started to pick up her briefcase, assuming the trip had been futile.
He held up a hand to stop her. “It’s not that. It’s-Oh, I may as well tell you. Angela asked me to find a reason not to sign on.”
Unbelievable, Laurie thought. Angela had made it clear she had concerns about Casey’s decision to go on Under Suspicion, but now it turned out that she had been actively undermining them.
“Is that because Angela has always believed Casey was guilty?”
Sean’s eyes widened. “Absolutely not,” he insisted. “Personally, I think Casey did it, but I can’t know for sure. But Angela?” He shook his head. “She was a fierce advocate for Casey. Supporting Casey brought out the best in her.”
“How so?” Laurie asked.
“I have no idea what Angela’s like today, but back then, her whole identity was wrapped up in being a model. But she was losing work, always to younger women. She started to live in the past, as if her best days were behind her. It wasn’t easy. Angela could be vain-and bitter. But she was completely unselfish after Hunter was killed. She told anyone who would listen that her cousin was innocent. It was almost like being Casey’s most loyal supporter became her new identity.”