more than patient. You know and I know Johnny didn't drive himself off that road and intentionally kill Dolores Rainwater. He was purposefully rammed off that road by another car. Your forensics experts have verified that beyond a shadow of a doubt. But until we've established a motive … exactly. We'll be faced with another scandal that will end up hurting a lot of people and damaging Johnny's reputation."
Ed tapped on the desk with the end of a pencil as he nodded and sighed into the phone. "I've attempted to call Robert Anderson this morning. No luck so far. But I'm sure Johnny will want you to discuss your plans to publicly make a statement regarding the accident and the investigation with Bobby before you go on the air. Yes, I realize both the DA's office and the police are getting a lot of heat over this. It looks as if you're protecting Johnny.
"What? You can tell Singer to kiss our ass. No way is Johnny going to turn himself in to the frigging police for questioning. I don't care if this makes the police and DA's office look like a bunch of dunces. Fine. Make your goddamn statement. Someone ran Johnny and Dolores off the road that night in an obvious attempt to kill them. The police are investigating the evidence. At this time Johnny makes no further comment on the matter."
Ed slammed the phone down and swung around in the chair. His eyes widened to find Leah standing in the door.
"Oops," he said, and dropped the pencil to the desk.
"What's going on?" Leah asked, her stomach feeling queasy all of a sudden. "What are you saying? That someone attempted to murder Johnny and Dolores?"
He rocked back and forth in the chair and drummed his fingers on the desk. "Yes," he replied carefully.
"Why wasn't I told about this?"
"Johnny didn't want to overly alarm you."
She walked slowly toward the desk, her eyes locked on Ed's. "Why are the police keeping so hush-hush about it?"
"You know the press and the wild public speculation. The last thing we want to do is throw open a can of worms."
"Then you have an idea who's behind it?"
Ed looked away. "Nothing definite."
"You just told Ted Weir that Johnny is off someplace gathering evidence. Obviously you think you know who did it."
Mouth pressed, Ed considered his words. "First and foremost, Ms. Starr, we must protect Johnny. It's our job. He didn't get to where he is by dumb luck. He never made a move in his career that wasn't orchestrated beforehand. He's methodical and goal oriented. He's surrounded himself with people as brilliant and motivated as he is. You know as well as I do that Johnny has no intention of spending his life in front of a camera. He has far greater aspirations, not to mention brains."
"You're not answering my question, Ed. Who would want to murder Johnny and Dolores?"
"Someone who considers Johnny a threat, I suppose."
She stared at Ed and watched as a red flush crept up his face, making his green eyes look greener behind their wire-rimmed spectacles. The sick feeling in her stomach spread through her body like icy tentacles as she backed to the door.
"You bastards," she said, shaking her head. "You're going to accuse my father of this, aren't you?"
"I think you'd better talk to Johnny—"
"My father might be a machine but he's not a monster. He's not a murderer."
Leah turned for the door.
Edwin jumped from his chair. "Leah, wait—"
"Go to hell," she shouted. "All of you."
Savanah finished spreading the collection of photographs out over the table as Johnny leaned over her shoulder, inspecting each picture. There were images of sea birds and waves crashing against craggy shores, sunbathers frolicking in the surf, smiling seaside waiters serving guests icy drinks. There were others of plush hotels with brass ceiling fans, cool marble floors, and lush tropical trees growing in the foyers, and restaurant shots of buffet tables laden with passion fruits, mangoes, and papayas.
But it was the last dozen photos that Savanah laid down that grabbed his attention.
Maude Elliot picked up one of the three-by-fives and waved it at him. "Got this with a telephoto lens. That sweetheart could define a nose hair at half a mile."
Johnny took it and walked to a light.
Maude chuckled and elbowed Savanah. "He's damn pretty, ain't he? If I wasn't sixty-five and gray-headed I might put a move or two on him. Always did like the tall dark surly kind."