More on this book
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Read between
May 8 - May 10, 2021
“Guys and gals who were assigned by the luck of the draw, and guys and gals who came to the Big Apple with stars in their eyes. You know? Like, they moved here, waited tables and acted in crappy theater productions for a couple years and then realized their dreams were childish and unrealistic and joined the force. But, in their hearts, they think, maybe, just maybe, this is their chance to be discovered.”
But the point is nobody goes from narcotics to Movie and TV. Just doesn’t happen that way. Your skell isn’t gonna have a contact in my unit. We’re on solid ground.”
Cate did not shake hands. Germs, you know. So no one made the mistake of advancing toward our hostess with an outstretched hand.
Cate started to lower herself into the captain’s chair at the end of the coffee table and stopped, hovering with her butt just inches above the cushion, waiting for Officers Thompson and Jennings to sit down first. They continued to stand there stiffly. Finally, Cate sat down and crossed her legs. Only then did the two officers take seats on the couch. I had a feeling that the delay was the result, not of some etiquette rule regarding sitting with civilians, but of a prearranged effort to throw the high-powered executive off kilter. Judging by the squat Cate had just performed, it seemed to
...more
One point for Cate (well, Maura). She’d done some research before we arrived. Although, minus one point because she didn’t seem to connect the surname Callais to her missing nanny. So, net gain: zero points.
Cate Whittier-Clay made me nervous when she was in a modified camel’s pose with her elbows pinned behind her back and her face red from concentration and her consistent failure to breathe while she exercised.
The only sound in the otherwise silent room was the noise of Officer Jennings chewing as she gnawed her way through a handful of Cate’s favorite chef-made granola. “Sorry,” she said around a mouthful. “This stuff’s addictive.”
“A Cate the Great segment about losing your nanny in a tragic fashion,” I supplied. Cate did these periodic essays as if she were Mickey Rooney’s spiritual heir. They focused on her challenges as a working mother and a female CEO. Because nothing speaks more to the plight of the working woman than a multimillionaire with a staff of a half-dozen and money to throw at all her problems. But apparently, her audience loved them. She aired them on-line on her Periscope channel and plastered them all over social media. Inevitably, they went viral, aided—of course—by the pieces her columnists wrote
...more
“Hmm. It would certainly resonate. But it’s fundamentally dishonest. Whittier Media prides itself on its authenticity. I simply don’t elevate anything above the truth—not entertainment, not information, and, I’m afraid, not even helping the authorities.”
“Absolutely. I’m a big fan, Ms. Whittier-Clay, and I would never expect anything less from you. But I don’t think Ms. Field and Mr. Callais are planning to ask you to lie. And certainly, the NYPD wouldn’t agree to be part of something that’s not aboveboard. We’ve put in a permit for a live theatrical performance at Our Lady of Pompeii—that’s a Roman Catholic Church located in the Village. It’s where Ms. Callais worshipped. The play, if you will, will feature amateur actors, including Mr. Callais and Ms. Field, as well as several members of the Movie / TV Unit, who will be strategically placed
...more
I ate a light dinner, did a long stretching routine, then wandered around for a while, pacing aimlessly in the small space. Finally I drew a bath, adding calming essential oils to the hot water. I took a mug of herbal tea and my cellphone into the bathroom with me. I slipped into the tub and conference called my sisters.
The combination of mother henning, scolding, and concern should have raised my already-high anxiety level through the ceiling, but I found it oddly comforting. More so than the bath and tea, even. My sisters’ attention and fretting was like an old, soft robe—familiar and cozy. It felt like love. I sunk further into the water and closed my eyes.
Cate’s Periscope channel. I forwarded the link to my sisters so we could watch it together. Although at this point, Maura had no doubt already saved and shared it to Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and a whole slew of other social media sites I was way too unhip to even know existed.
since I returned to work full-time; although, of course, I worked very hard even before I came back to the office. Remember what I always say: balance is a myth; aim to stretch!
Our Lady of Pompeii is the Roman Catholic Church in Greenwich Village that welcomes immigrants, those who speak Portuguese, in particular. It makes sense that Helena, who was from Brazil, would want to have her funeral Vigil held at Our Lady.
“Nice plug for her ‘Strength, Not Balance’ Campaign.”
But hey, if you parse her words, she didn’t actually say anything that’s demonstrably false. She’s pretty good.”
“Rosemary met Dave while he was investigating her for murder. And I rescued Roman from a killer. But, yeah, nobody starts a committed relationship under those sort of conditions.” “You’re so clueless, little sis. But that’s why we love you.”
mug of tea. I focused on relaxing my muscles and then my mind. I was so chill I didn’t hear the ping that announced the arrival of a text message.
But it felt strange to be back to my ordinary routine, even though I’d deviated from it for one day.
Either way, I had to force myself to stay present in the moment as I met with my early morning clients.
but Ms. Whittier-Clay feels that it’s important that the press see that she treats her daughter like a little human being and allows her to mourn.”
Un-freaking-believable. Cate not only told her kid that her beloved nanny was dead, she was going to drag the poor thing to the fake funeral vigil because of the optics. Nice.
I knew I was supposed to grovel now. But I couldn’t do it. I had to live with myself, after all. I squared my shoulders. “If you think you can find another instructor with my level of experience, feel free. But I won’t apologize for prioritizing the safety of another human being over your ability to execute a full split. And, if, as you say, you have past experience with domestic violence, I can’t imagine you’d expect me to.”
I hated confrontation more than anyone I knew, and standing up to Cate Whittier-Clay was something I never dreamed I’d do.
Don’t borrow sorrow from tomorrow,
I needed to still my mind before it spun completely out of control. I didn’t really have time for it, but I needed it. I settled myself on a thin cushion on the floor of my studio, crossed my legs in lotus position, rested my palms on my thighs, and fixed my gaze on the floorboard about four inches away. I let my thoughts pass without focusing on them. When my breathing was even and my stomach was unknotted, I exhaled one final time and then unfolded my legs and stood.
I’d hung the black dress that Victor had given me while I’d showered earlier. That was one of my mom’s tricks. Back in the days before green dry cleaning (whatever that was), she’d been leery of the chemicals used by our neighborhood cleaner. So she always hung her dressy clothes in the bathroom to give them a good steam while she showered.
Most of my clothes were appropriate for the exercise studio, a girls’ night out on the town, or cleaning my apartment.
waiting for me to go ahead and pull open the giant wood doors that led into the massive, block-long church. I don’t know what I expected a Greenwich Village church catering to disparate immigrant populations to look like, but it wasn’t this. This structure was more than awe-inspiring. It was imposing. Commanding. Intimidating, even.
the massive double columns that flanked the door and the tall, stained-glass windows, then I pushed on the door and entered the dim narthex.
the clerestory—you know, the loft-type place where the choir stands? I wasn’t Catholic, but I did go through an architecture kick before I settled on my major, so I at least knew what the parts of the church were called. But that was about all I knew.
She strode across the vestibule and clapped me on the shoulder. “Come with me.” She led me toward the nave, pausing to dip her fingers into the receptacle of holy water and make the sign of the cross while I stood there awkwardly. We crossed the threshold and I heard myself gasp. The main worship space was all marble columns, intricate murals, and detailed frescoes.
They’re stuck in traffic over by the law school. Some kind of student protest.” “Lawyers protesting? Sounds suspicious,” I joked. “Must be feeling left out because the other 99 percent have all the fun,” Officer Jennings added. “Yeah, it’s a laugh riot. I told Martinson to use that shiny thing on the top of his car and make some noise. It’s an embarrassment. An officer getting stuck in traffic? Shameful.”
“If you’re serious about acting, you need to take some lessons, officer. You’re obviously distressed about something, and I doubt it’s the fact that Victor’s stuck in traffic. It’s not even ten o’clock yet.” He twisted his mouth into a wry smile. “Busted me, huh?
“Rich people. No common sense at all, that woman.
Only problem is, I had to pull them from outside the unit, too. We had to scramble so they went straight from their precinct to the caterer’s place. I haven’t personally briefed them. And now I can’t find them.
“We’re in a church.” “For a fake funeral vigil, don’t forget. We’re already in trouble.” “Still. Let’s fake being appropriate.” “Are you even Catholic?” he asked. I snorted. “Not even a little bit.” “You can’t be a little bit Catholic,” he told me.
“You’re allergic to flowers?” “Not all of them. Wildflowers, surprisingly, don’t bother me,” I croaked.
She said her ex would kill you if he knew you helped her. Did he … is that what happened to her?”
And then I had an idea.” I stared at her. Of course. She was an actress. “You made the stage blood,” I said. “Right. We went to Target and got the blender and a bedding set from the clearance section. The plan was to stage a scene at her place that made it look like she’d been attacked and then hightail it out of town.”
He’d already been there. He left an empty ring box by her bedside table. She was so scared that he’d come back. I asked her if she had somewhere to stay. She shut herself into her bathroom and made a phone call. After a few minutes, she came back out and said she was all set. I told her to leave right away.
An inordinately cheerful-looking Asian woman with pink- and blue-streaked hair bounced up the stairs and walked into the building beside me. She paused and genuflected before entering the church proper.
“Bless her. She’s very young to sit a vigil.” “I’ll tell her mother about the playroom.” What I wanted to do was pump them for information about what exactly was involved in sitting a vigil.
the devil you know is better than the nuns you don’t know.
Those two nuns turned out to be closer to angels. Audra and I were coloring a picture of a space alien whose body was made up of different fruits—a coconut head, an apple torso, banana legs—you get the idea, when all hell broke loose back in the kitchen.
burrata?”
macadam,
A very unimpressed nun looked back at me. She was about seventy years old, short and boxy, with a lined, weathered face. She was pointing a shotgun at Vasquez’s head, which was also where my hands were. I let go of his hair and jumped to my feet. “Who are you?” I couldn’t stop the question. “I’m Mother Superior. I’m the principal at this school. And this behavior is completely unacceptable.”
The nuns said to tell you Audra’s a very kind girl.” In a moment of perfect self-awareness, Cate looked directly at me and said, “She gets that from her father.”
