Kiss the Girls and Make Them Cry(3)
Hi Mr./Ms. Ryan, I’m very interested in talking to you about the “terrible experience” you referred to. I’ll be out of the country without access to email, but I’ll be back on October 13. As you probably know, I live and work in New York City. Where are you? Looking forward to hearing from you. Best, Gina.
She had difficulty focusing as she scrolled through other emails. I had really hoped to have more than this, she said to herself as her mind drifted to tomorrow’s meeting at the magazine.
Maybe she left a message, Gina thought optimistically. Her cell phone had been down to one bar when she boarded her flight. It was dead by the time she landed in New York. In the email she gave CRyan her number.
Gina walked quickly into her bedroom, removed her phone from the charger, and brought it back to the kitchen. She tapped the phone to wake it up. A quick glance revealed several messages, but none from unfamiliar numbers.
The first was from her best friend Lisa. “Hi girlfriend. Welcome back. Looking forward to hearing all about your trip. I hope we’re still on for dinner tonight. We have to go to a dive restaurant in the Village called the Bird’s Nest. I have a great new case. A slip and fall. My client fell on ice cubes dropped by the bartender when he was shaking martinis. Broke her leg in three places. I want to scope out the joint.”
Gina chuckled as she listened. Dinner with Lisa was always fun.
The other messages were solicitations, which she immediately deleted.
2
Gina took the subway four stops to 14th Street. From there she walked the three blocks to the Fisk Building. The third through seventh floors were rented by the magazine.
“Good morning,” the security guard said as she walked through the detection scanner. A spate of recent threats had led to a policy change at the magazine: “All employees and visitors go through the security line. No exceptions.”
Gina entered the elevator and pushed 7, the floor reserved for the executive and editorial staff. As she stepped out, a friendly voice greeted her. “Hi Gina. Welcome back.” Jane Patwell, a longtime administrative assistant, held out her hand. Fifty years old, a little stocky, and always lamenting her dress size, Jane said, “Mr. Maynard will see you in his office.”
She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “He has some good-looking guy with him. I don’t know who he is.”
Jane was a born matchmaker. It irritated Gina that Jane was always trying to find someone for her. She was tempted to say, “Maybe he’s a serial killer.” Instead she smiled without replying. She followed Jane to the large corner office that was the domain of Charlie Maynard, the magazine’s longtime editor in chief.
Charlie was not at his desk. He was seated at his favorite spot, the conference table by the window, a cell phone stuck in his ear. About five feet nine, Charlie had a protruding paunch and cherubic face. Graying hair was combed sideways over his skull. Reading glasses were raised on his forehead. In front of Gina a colleague of Charlie’s once asked him what he did for exercise. Quoting George Burns, Charlie responded, “I make it a point to walk to the funerals of my friends who jog.”
He waved when he saw Gina and pointed to the chair opposite him. Next to him was the good-looking guy Jane had referred to.
As she walked to the table, the newcomer stood up and extended his hand. “Geoffrey Whitehurst,” he said with a slight British accent. He was about six feet tall, with even features dominated by piercing dark brown eyes and equally dark brown hair. Combined with his face and athletic build his manner suggested an air of authority.
“Gina Kane,” she said, feeling that he already knew her name. He looks mid to late thirties, she thought, as she sat in the chair he had pulled out for her.
Charlie clicked to end the phone conversation. Turning to him, she said, “Charlie, I’m so sorry I missed your birthday while I was away.”
“Don’t worry, Gina. Seventy is the new fifty. We all had a great time. I see you’ve met Geoffrey. Let me tell you why he’s here.”
“Gina, before Charlie begins,” Geoffrey intervened, “I want to say I’m a big fan of your work.”
“Thank you,” Gina said, wondering what would come next. What came was a shock.
“After over forty-five years in the magazine business, I’ve decided to call it quits. My wife wants us to spend more time on the West Coast with the grandkids and I’ve agreed. Geoff is in the process of taking over for me and he’ll be working with you from now on. The change will be announced next week and I will appreciate your keeping this confidential until then.”
He paused to give Gina time to let his decision sink in, then added, “We were fortunate to snatch Geoff away from the Time Warner group. Until now he’s spent most of his career in London.”
“Congratulations to both of you, Charlie and Geoffrey,” Gina said automatically. She took comfort in the fact that Geoffrey had already said he liked her work.
“Please call me Geoff,” he said briskly.
Charlie continued. “Gina, your investigations usually run several months to completion. That’s why I invited Geoff here for the initial meeting.” Clearing his throat, he said, “So, Gina, what do we want to write about next?”
“I have a couple of ideas,” Gina said as she pulled a small notebook from her purse, “and would like to hear what you think.” The statement was addressed to both of them. “I’ve exchanged a series of emails with a former aide to a New York State senator. The aide and the senator are currently retired. The aide claims she has evidence of bid rigging and granting contracts in exchange for cash payments and other favors. But there’s a problem with this one. The aide wants twenty-five thousand dollars upfront to go on the record and tell her story.”