You know the answer, Edna. Ava’s panicked response to the accusations against Frank. Ava’s declaration that…that night held the answers we all sought. That night, and the assembled cast of this sad drama. I couldn’t escape thinking about her words. In the middle of the night, suddenly awake and s...
The grilling began, step by step, tearing at Reilly’s defense. “You were never in the Lindbergh house, were you?” “No, sir.” “Certainly not?” “Certainly not.” “You never went in...
Earlier that afternoon, munching on reheated leftovers Rebecca placed before me, I reread the aborted “Letter to Mr. P.,” as well as the personal entries in the small notepad. From the grave, Roddy was telling me something. But what? In the morning I fielded calls from Hammerstein’s publicist abo...
The young woman heard me call her name but turned away. The morning’s rehearsal was like a well-oiled machine, George strutting and stomping us into a polished, believable adventure. He preened, happy with the results, and we all glowed. Opening night was days away. Throug...
When I spotted Detective Cotton, who was lolling near a stairwell, jotting something into a small loose-leaf notebook, I grunted, got his attention. I wasn’t happy with my own attitude, to be sure. Certainly the law had no obligation to fill me in on every myriad detail of the case; certain...
Winifred had spent most of the day in her rooms, ill with a headache and insisting she’d never recover from last night’s ill-advised romp through the nether regions of tenderloin Budapest, an unfortunate evening capped off with the brutal assault on the gadfly journalist. ...