“Oh, sure. That was Angela’s. She said that’s how they do it on all the detective shows. Do you want to talk to her about it? She’s down in Brooklyn getting ready for Ladyform’s fashion show, but I’m sure you can call her cell.”
Laurie assured Paula that wasn’t necessary and asked her not to mention her call to anyone else for now.
As Laurie hung up the phone, she knew exactly why Angela hadn’t wanted Sean Murray to speak to Laurie. She didn’t want anyone to know that she was the one who removed that picture from the nightstand after she murdered Hunter and framed the woman he’d chosen over her.
Charlotte had described Angela as panicked about stopping the television show today-desperate was the precise word she’d used. But contrary to Charlotte’s belief, Angela wasn’t desperate to protect her cousin from humiliation. She was desperate to protect herself.
Laurie called Charlotte’s cell phone, but the call went directly to voice mail. She tried twice more, with no luck.
She didn’t want Charlotte to be caught in the crossfire when Angela realized that she was going to be arrested. She had to warn her. She pulled up her Uber app and requested the nearest driver.
62
At the warehouse, Charlotte was pulling up the most recent printout from Ladyform’s Information Technology Department summarizing Internet usage on the company computers. The monthly list notified her of every single website accessed at Ladyform, ranked with the most commonly used sites first. As usual, Ladyform’s own website and social media platforms dominated the top of the list. She hit “Command-F” on her keyboard to access the find function. She typed in the word Chatter and hit enter.
She remembered Laurie complaining about the speed with which the Chatter blog had broken the news of Casey’s release-and in such a negative light.
Seventeen hits in the last month-all from one computer. The users were listed by computer numbers, rather than name.
She pulled out her cell phone to call the IT Department, but couldn’t get a signal. She finally found two signal-bars at the front of the warehouse, just inside the rolling steel door. It did not take long for Jamie in IT to confirm that the computer in question belonged to Angela. He also confirmed that she hadn’t merely read the blog. She had used her computer to submit comments on the page for “anonymous chatter.” Charlotte had a feeling that the time stamps for those entries would line up with the comments Laurie had been tracking.
She sent a quick text to Laurie: I think I know who’s behind those “And also” notes you were curious about. It’s complicated. Let’s talk tonight.
Laurie understandably wasn’t going to pull her show, but Charlotte might be able to convince her to leave Angela’s name out of it. Charlotte could only imagine what a difficult decision it had been for Angela. She loved her cousin, aunt, and uncle, but Casey was a murderer. Those Internet comments about Casey’s guilt must have been her way of trying to see that justice was served, without completely losing her only remaining family.
When Charlotte returned to the workout set, Angela was standing, hands on hips, next to the pile of exercise equipment she’d brought from the office. She picked up a pair of hot pink, three-pound hand weights and did a few curls, feigning fatigue. “What do you think? Set all this up in one station, or scatter it around the larger machines?”
“Great minds think alike,” Charlotte said, reaching for the two alternative sketches she’d been contemplating. “I couldn’t decide either. Maybe we should flip a coin. In the meantime, can we talk about something?”
“Sure.
“So this is awkward, but you know you can tell me anything, right?”
“Of course. What’s up?”
“I know about The Chatter. And RIP_Hunter. I know it was your way of trying to tell the world Casey was guilty.”
“But how did you-”
“We monitor Internet use at the office. I noticed a pattern in the last month.” She saw no need to tell Angela that she’d specifically looked for one. “I’m just confused. You’ve always told me how close the two of you are. You said she was innocent.”
“I can explain, but, honestly, I was looking forward to finally getting my mind off Casey today. Let’s figure out this set first, and then I’ll tell you way more than you want to know about my cousin and me. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Hand me that mat over there?”
Charlotte turned around and bent over to reach for a blue yoga mat. The thud of the three-pound hand weight against her head knocked her to the ground, where a blanket of darkness covered her.
63
Laurie was waiting outside Sean Murray’s brownstone for the Uber car that was supposed to have arrived three minutes earlier when a new text message appeared on her screen. It was from Charlotte: I think I know who’s behind those “And also” notes you were curious about. It’s complicated. Let’s talk tonight.
She immediately tried calling Charlotte, but got her voice-mail message again. She pulled up Charlotte’s contact information and tried her office number instead. Her assistant answered. “Sorry, Laurie, she’s at the warehouse with Angela, but she must have her phone on. She just had me connect her to someone in IT a few minutes ago.”
That phone call must have been around the same time Charlotte sent the text about RIP_Hunter. “Do you know what she was calling them about?” Laurie asked.
“She had a question about Internet usage-who was looking at what from their company computers. You wouldn’t believe the garbage people look at during work. No common sense.”
Laurie asked her for the address of the warehouse, and then thanked her for the information and ended the call. Charlotte had been looking at the RIP_Hunter comments when she was in Laurie’s office. Something about them must have sparked her curiosity. If she had figured out that Angela was behind the posts, she was in real danger.
Laurie was dialing 911 when she spotted a black SUV with an Uber sticker in the window. She nearly jumped in front of the car to make sure the driver didn’t pass her.
“911, what’s your emergency?” the dispatcher asked.
Laurie blurted out the address of the warehouse as she climbed into the backseat of the SUV. “Please hurry,” she said to the driver.
“Is that your location, ma’am? I need you to tell me what’s going on.”
“Sorry, no, I’m not there. Not yet. But my friend is. She’s in danger.”
The dispatcher was all business. “Did your friend call you? What kind of danger are we talking about?”
“She’s in a warehouse with a woman we suspect of murder. She texted me because she figured out something very critical, and now she’s not answering her phone.”
“Ma’am, I really am trying to understand you, but you’re not making any sense.” Laurie saw the Uber driver eyeing her suspiciously in the rearview mirror. She realized she sounded insane. She forced herself to slow down and explained to the dispatcher that she was the producer of Under Suspicion and that a woman named Angela Hart was likely guilty of committing a murder for which someone else had already been convicted. “She knows we’re on to her. I’m very worried about my friend. Her name’s Charlotte Pierce. Please, it’s a matter of life and death.”
She saw the driver roll his eyes and shake his head. To him, she was just another crazy New Yorker.
“Okay, ma’am. I understand you’re concerned, but you haven’t told me of any violence, threats of violence, or any other concrete danger to your friend. I’m putting in a request for a welfare check, but it may take a while. We’ve got two major call-outs in that same precinct.”