AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Because he’s dead. It was Harold Mostring. She had a late-night”—again with the sarcastic finger quotes—“‘audition’ with him a few months before our divorce. I even thought, I mean, it crossed my mind—this was before all the awful stuff about him coming out—I actually did wonder if he was Clay’s real father. Like maybe she just wanted the role so badly.”
Howard Mostring had been a well-known Broadway producer/predator who, by the time he got into a courtroom, had more than fifty accusations of sexual assault over the past quarter century. Howard’s lawyers got him out on bail under the condition he wear an ankle bracelet. Howard went home to his swanky penthouse apartment on Park Avenue, opened up the sliding glass door to his terrace, and jumped. It may have been the perfect ending except that destructive people too often end up being destructive to the very end. He landed on a young woman who had just gotten engaged, killing her too.
“One last victim for Howard Mostring.”
That was what the media called that poor woman.
“I still don’t get it,” Ben Staples said.
“Get what?”
“How does Greg Downing end up taking the fall for all this?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
When Myron got back to the Dakota, Terese Collins, his wife, ran up to him and greeted him with a kiss that could knock a movie up a rating.
“Whoa,” Myron said, when they finally came up for air. “That was… I mean… wow.”
“You are so smooth,” Terese said.
“Right?”
“I’m so happy to see you,” she said.
“Me too.”
“God, stop with the smooth lines.”
“Can’t help myself,” Myron said. “I thought your plane didn’t land until late.”
“I caught an earlier one. Happy?”
He smiled. “Ecstatic.”
She moved in closer and arched an eyebrow. “Win won’t be home tonight.”
“He told you that?”
“He told me that.”
“Win’s a good man.”
“Not really,” she said, “but he’s good in this case.”
“Do you want me to take you out to dinner?” he asked.
Terese put her lips by his ear. Myron felt the jolt. Then Terese whispered, “I’m not really hungry, are you?”
“Uh, not for food anyway.”
“Again with the smooth,” she said.
“I’m on a roll.”
“Or you soon will be.”
They stumbled their way into the bedroom. Much later, they ordered burgers and fries from Shake Shack and devoured it all in bed. Hours passed. The rest of the world stayed away. At some point, very late into the night, when they were both lying in the dark staring at the ceiling, Terese said, “I have to leave tomorrow. Ends up I’m covering the Prine murder.”
