One Night Read online

  Cop number two looked us over, up and down. “Work?” he snorted. “Dressed like that?” His thumb tapped on his wide gun-bearing belt.

  “Hey, Dan, let it go,” said cop number one. Dan didn’t budge, just studied Tom and me.

  I spotted a bus coming down Franklin Hill. “Have a great day, officers,” I said with false cheer. I kept hold of Tom’s hand as I led him away, trying not to look like I was fleeing.

  Tom whispered to me, “We could have gotten a ride, I bet.”

  “We have a ride. Hurry up, Your Highness, your coach has arrived.”

  I glanced back once we were seated on the bus. The two men had returned to their car. Officer Dan stood watching the bus pull away.

  *

  Dakota City buses converge downtown at Water and Ninth. At this hour it was mostly worker bees coming and going, and Tom and I blended into the cheerless throng as we stepped off the bus. I half expected to be met by a blockade of patrol cars and a line of cops, led by suspicious Officer Dan, but as I scanned the crowds, the only official person in sight was a city transit worker, peering into the wiring of a dead traffic signal.

  The parking ramp attendant was in her booth when I led Tom from the sidewalk onto the ramp. She pointed energetically toward the pedestrian walkway. I blew her a kiss. “She hates it when you don’t stay on the sidewalk,” a voice behind me said. I turned and saw Miller, the KLIP security guard, headed in to work “Once she even ran out of her booth and yelled that I was jeopardizing her job and my life by taking the shortcut.”

  A souped-up Beetle roared past. “Perhaps she has a point,” Tom said after he’d jumped to safety.

  Miller looked him over, making a very close study. Then he turned to me and said, “Good morning to you, Kelly. I have to say, thanks to your aunt and yourself, that yesterday turned out to be one of the more interesting workdays I’ve had here at KLIP.” A BMW roared onto the ramp, and Miller and I joined Tom on the sidewalk. Miller motioned toward Tom. “Is this the young man with whom you were on the lam?”

  “Yes. What happened?”

  “What happened and what I heard was happening from the talk in the cafeteria, being not entirely the same thing, together make up an interesting story.” He faced Tom and bowed. “Your Highness.” He straightened. “Though I must say, dressed as you are, I would never have guessed. And what sort of accent do I detect?”

  “Texas,” I said impatiently. “What’s the story?”

  “Around four o’clock, just as I was taking a break to get refreshed for the double shift I agreed to work since Tony Herbert called in sick, though I suspect that wasn’t precisely the situation considering the Red Sox are in town for three and Tony, who was to have relieved me, is a very homesick native of Boston—”

  “Miller, please. What happened?”

  He shrugged. “The place was crawling with cops and bodyguards. One was even assigned to keep me company, which wasn’t too bad a thing because he played a nice game of gin. About nine o’clock, though, most of them were pulled off, but the orders were still clear: If you returned to the station, they were to be notified at once. And if you were accompanied by anyone, you were both to be personally escorted to the security office, where you would be courteously detained. Under no circumstances was your companion to be allowed upstairs to Ms. Carpenter’s office.” He checked his watch. “Talk about being detained. I was hoping to grab a bite in the cafeteria before I punched in.”

  “So that’s what happened; what was it you heard?” Tom asked, walking along with Miller.

  “That Kelly was painting the town with a prince. No one was sure, though, if she was taking orders from her aunt to rope in an interview, or”—he shrugged again—“showing you a good time and partying. Maybe the way she used to. Which would sadden us all.”

  “We did have a good time,” Tom said, “while she roped me in for an interview. And no one needs to be sad.”

  Maybe getting inside wasn’t going to be as easy as walking in and saying hi to whoever was on duty. “Think they’ll stop us from going in?”

  Miller’s eyes widened. “I don’t know what ‘they’ll’ do, but if yesterday’s instructions are still operational, I’ll stop you.”

  “Miller, please.”

  “No way, Kelly. You’re a nice girl with a friendly word for me every time you come to work, but I won’t do it. I’m not risking my job, not a chance.”

  We’d moved off the sidewalk and were standing in an empty spot with a Reserved sign painted on the concrete column. A Lexus honked and flashed its lights as it angled in, bullying us out of the space.

  “The jig is up,” Miller said. “I’m turning you in.”

  “Miller, if you—”

  He smiled and held up a hand. “I’ll tell you what I always told my two girls: Don’t whine and don’t beg. Give me reasons to do something, and if they’re good ones, well, then I’m reasonable. But, Kelly, not this. Why, you don’t even have your ID on. Ignoring that alone could get me fired.” Miller resumed the walk to the station entrance.

  “I’ve got my ID,” I said, and grabbed my wallet. As I removed the plastic card, I saw something else.

  I pulled out the answer to everything. “Miller, stop,” I said. “How about a deal?”

  He waved to the guard standing in the booth at the entrance of the radio station. The man waved back.

  “You’ve held me up long enough,” Miller said to me, “and now Petey won’t want to wait while I get my bagel.”

  “Just a minute more,” I said. “And don’t worry about something to eat because I’ll send down something from Kit’s office. She gets muffins and rolls every day from Trotter’s.”

  He perked up. “Their almond cinnamon rolls are excellent. I thank you for that, assuming you get in. But no talk of a deal.”

  “Not even this one?” First I clipped on my ID, then I held out my hand. ‘Two tickets to tonight’s Simone Sanchez concert. She gave them to me herself. As you can imagine, they are excellent seats.” I didn’t know that, but why would they be anything else? “Please let us in.”

  Miller took the tickets, checked them out, and nodded ever so slightly. “This,” he said, “is a complication. A very attractive complication.” His eyebrows arched. “So you did meet her? This also was being discussed in the cafeteria.”

  I nodded. “Met her and rode in her car.” I reclaimed the tickets. He reluctantly let them slide out of his hand.

  Miller inhaled deeply and straightened his shoulders. “Please wait until I’ve gone in to punch the clock and come back to relieve Petey. He’ll head inside to punch out. We all have to punch as we come and go; it’s that type of job, I’m sad to say. Sixty years old, I’m still punching the clock. I don’t want him to be guilty of anything, so we’ll wait ’til he’s gone. Then I’ll wave you on in if it’s clear to do so. If yesterday’s memo is still posted, watch for something else. They’d see you on the camera and be here in a flash. They’d freeze the elevator door and have you like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  “What do we do, then?”

  He chewed on a lip, then gave us instructions. “Watch for me to stand on a stool and try to adjust the air vent. Time to time, it closes and gets stuck. We complain, but does it get fixed? It does not. When I stand on the stool, the camera is blocked. You go through then. The tickets?”

  I held them back. “I’ll leave them on your desk as we pass through.”

  I did, and as he banged on the vent, he called out his thanks and said, “Looks like they’re still hot on your tail.” Then he added, “Don’t forget the sweet rolls.”

  *

  “Will he be fired?” Tom asked.

  “If he is, Kit will find him something better,” I said, hitting the button on the service elevator. Where he doesn’t punch a clock, I promised myself.

  “She can make that happen?”

  “That and more,” I said. “Which is why you’re here, remember?”

  Kit’s producer, Tyler,
was outside the elevator when we emerged. His jaw dropped and his coffee mug tipped. Whipped cream slid over the edge onto his shirt and he swore. I grabbed Tom by the hand and hurried past. “Hey, Tyler,” I said cheerfully. “Seven o’clock, isn’t that early for you?” Of course, how would I know, I thought as I rushed toward Kit’s office suite. I’m hardly ever here before noon.

  “Kelly—” Tyler called. I waved him off as I unlocked and opened the door. I pushed Tom into the outer office, closed and locked the door. Home free.

  I pointed to the sofa beside my desk. “Lie down and sleep while you can.”

  “I want to call my uncle. You said I could.”

  What did it matter now? I smiled at him. “Your wish is granted. There’s the phone. You don’t need to dial nine. Tell him—”

  Tom’s jaw dropped, his eyes widened. I turned.

  Kit stood in the doorway of her office. She shrieked, “You did it!” She danced a little jig. “You outfoxed those bastards and you did it.” She gathered herself with a deep breath and held out her hand. “Your Highness. I’m Kit Carpenter.”

  Tom pulled his gaze away from her claw, looked her in the eye, and took the hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Carpenter. By the way, I’d like to marry your niece,” he said. “Or kill her.”

  Kit threw her head back and laughed. “Can’t do either, my lovely boy. I need her.” Then she turned to me, wagged the claw, and said, “I love you. Oh, how I love you.”

  *

  Tom made his call to his uncle, stating his plans. I wasn’t sure how the conversation went, because I had herded Kit into her office and closed the door.

  She started shooting off orders: “Notes, I need the Lakveria notes from yesterday’s show. Where did I put them? Have you filed them already? They should cover it all, but anything else you’ve learned from the prince I want to know. I want to know all of it, everything he said, everything you got out of him. Tell me about your night. Oh, honey, tell me everything.”

  “The first thing you should know is that it’s cool with Simone. Tyler needs to call her assistant and reschedule.”

  “We’ll get to her later. I want to hear about your night.”

  “We hung out and went to a movie. Two movies. Kit, quit dancing, would you please quit dancing around and listen?” She stood still and grinned. The Kit who swallowed the canary. So pleased with herself, as if she was the one who’d reeled him in.

  “He believes he’s all set to do the show, but his people can swoop in here anytime and take him away. I have to believe they’ll try. And if they do, he won’t argue. He’ll go quietly. He’s worried, he’s obedient, he doesn’t want to harm the negotiations. Kit, you can’t be rough with him because he’ll fold up, he’ll shut down on you.”

  She nodded. “Then draft me some notes. Tell me how to handle him. You obviously have that figured out.”

  “I’ve given you all I know about Lakveria. As to how to handle him, I just told you: Go easy.” I sighed. “Assuming they let you get that far.”

  “But right now he says he’s willing to talk?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why let him call? Why not spring a surprise?”

  “Because I promised, Kit. Because it would be wrong. How bad was it around here yesterday?”

  Kit’s laugh rolled out. “The boys were a bit upset, dear. The spineless number-crunching bastards aren’t used to dealing with phone calls from the State Department and visits from Lakverian security.”

  “I figured it didn’t take them long to follow a trail back to the station. I called you here and at home around six. When I didn’t even get your voice mail, I suspected they were watching closely. They covered the house, too, right?”

  She reached out and patted the few tufts of my day- old hair that remained standing. “Did you know that Vogue says the bob is back?”

  “Kit, please pay attention.”

  “They watched, dear. I doubt if they went so far as to tap into my phone, but I imagine they had their little listening devices out in the car. Clever of you to anticipate that. I knew you would. They were there all night. I took cookies out to them before I went to bed. It was all very courteous, though; no one wanted an incident.” She sat at her desk. “I need to go over some things and you need to write down what you learned from Prince Tomas.” She looked up. “He seems very young, Kelly. Far too young to have to deal with being a king. I imagine you know everything about him now. After a whole night together you must have learned it all. I want it all. And send him down to Raoul, would you? He keeps clean shirts in his office; make him give one to the boy. He’ll interview better if he feels fresher.” Kit started thumbing through papers. I recognized my own notes, with their color-coded system of questions and prompts.

  I paused at the door, my hand on the knob. “Kit, there will be a price to pay, you have to know that. You can’t do what we did and not concede something. There’ll be consequences for everyone. Tom, especially. But you and me, too. We’ll have to pay, too.”

  Kit’s cheerful demeanor went steely. “So you think we might get slapped for chasing a story? You think it might cost us something? Well, stop the presses!” She wagged her claw again, this time not so affectionately. “Don’t you lecture me about the sacrifices in this business, Kelly, don’t ever do that.”

  “I don’t mean to lecture you, Kit. It’s just a caution. This will cost us.”

  She smiled again as she looked down at the papers. “Go,” she said softly.

  *

  Tom was staring at the phone. He looked beaten, like he’d blasted curfew or been caught with a six-pack and a girl in his room.

  “Talk to your uncle?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “Pretty upset?”

  He nodded.

  “Are you sure you still want to do this?”

  Tom looked at me. “Of course I do. But I agreed that he could come down and…” He dropped his head in his hands.

  “Monitor the interview?”

  Tom looked up. “He can watch and listen. He’s not coming alone, Kelly. He’s bringing General Kolar and the prime minister. He was furious. What I did last night was so frivolous. Irresponsible. If it gets out—”

  “That’s just the exhaustion talking. What you did last night was good clean fun. And what you’re about to do is the smartest diplomatic move anyone has come up with.” He didn’t look convinced. “Okay,” I said, sighing. “Here’s the spin you put on it, because I know Kit and I know she’ll say something about us being out all night. It will get out. So you say to America…” I closed my eyes and spun the words. “Tell the radio world that you were out soaking up the American freedom and spirit, and it’s your dream—and intention—to make sure Lakverian people will be able to enjoy nothing less.”

  Oh, what a lovely baritone laugh. “That’s a bit thick, Kelly. I can’t say that,” he said.

  I hauled him up by the arm. “You can if you’re wearing a nice clean shirt.”

  Raoul and Tyler were holding up the wall in the hall outside the office. They sprang to attention when we emerged. “Hi, guys,” I said. “This is the prince and he needs a clean shirt and I’m sorry for the trouble yesterday but today’s show will be great.”

  Raoul waved it all away. “I don’t like being threatened by thugs, foreign or US. Along about six last night I started cheering you on, Kelly. Grateful, I might add, that I could claim I was totally innocent.” He looked Tom over and said, “Sixteen thirty-three?”

  “Close enough,” replied His Highness.

  “By the way, Raoul,” I called out as he and Tom walked away, “you’d better tell them downstairs that we’re expecting a king.” He stopped in his tracks and turned slowly around. I nodded. “And he won’t be alone.”

  Kit had closed the door between our offices, which meant she was cramming. Fine. Best, really, that she didn’t know what I was about to do. I flipped through the Rolodex, punched in the numbers, looked at my watch while the phon
e rang at the other end. Okay, I thought. So she thinks she knows everything about sacrifice. “Good morning,” I said when I heard the voice. “This is Kelly Ray, Kit Carpenter’s niece? I’m sorry to bother you on a day like this and so early, but, sir, I thought it best, if you haven’t already heard, that you know what’s happening. And I need some help.”

  *

  The king and his men arrived twenty minutes before show time. I’d just returned from delivering rolls and coffee to Miller. His booth was a calm oasis, and I was tempted to linger, but it was just delaying the inevitable. When I got back to the eleventh floor, I ran head-on into an army of security people.

  King Mikel was an older bald version of Tom. I’d like to say we hit it off, but the once-over he laid on me was pure arctic air. Cold—cold and pissed. Well, why not? I’d spent the night with his nephew. For all he knew, I was at that moment incubating yet another future king. For all he knew—

  “Good morning, Kelly.” I looked past the royalty to the open office door as the former vice president of the United States walked in. “Vice President Ripley,” I said, “thank you for coming. Everyone, thank you for coming. I realize all this is not on the conference schedule. I hope that it doesn’t cause a problem.” I counted heads. “Shouldn’t there be one more?”

  King Mikel said, “We decided that the prime minister should attend the breakfast as planned.” He glared at his nephew. “The work of the conference is not finished.”

  “Then you probably all want something to eat. Please, there’s coffee and baked goods.” My lame hostessing ended when Kit burst upon us. Her initial jubilation upon entering the office and seeing the king and his general was somewhat dampened when she noticed her neighbor standing behind the Lakverian brass. She greeted the Europeans graciously, maybe even humbly, though that might have been acting. Then she turned to the former vice president of the United States.

  He said, “Hello, Kit.”

  She said, “Hello, Allen.” Then she glared at me.

  *

  Kit outlined her plan: She’d do two segments with Prince Tomas before opening the phones during the third; then, after the long on-the-hour commercial break, she’d do three segments with the elders.