Read Cover-up for Free Online Page B

she stopped in midscribble and stared at Seth Parker. “Clyde Williams?” she repeated.

    “Yes.”
    “Clyde Williams the city councilman was involved in a sex scandal?”
    Clyde Williams was a prominent African-American lawyer and city councilman who’d been positioning himself to run for mayor of New York in the next election. He was handsome and silver-tongued and already had an impressive war chest accrued thanks to his efficient political action committee. He also happened to be the father of Joseph Williams, a shy, intellectual assistant U.S. attorney, and Melanie’s best friend in the office.
    “I can tell you don’t watch Suzanne’s show. Clyde had an affair with a young, white intern,” Seth said.
    “An intern?” Melanie said, horrified.
    “Yes. Twenty-one years old. Suzanne was going after the story aggressively, and we thought it had real potential to derail his mayoral bid. What if Clyde killed her? Clyde Williams and the Central Park Butcher, one and the same? The possible future mayor of this city also its most fearsome criminal? God, I love that angle.”
    “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. I know Clyde. His son works in my office. He wouldn’t kill anybody,” Melanie said.
    “The lead prosecutor is personal friends with the suspect? This story gets better every minute. First a sex scandal. Then a murder. Now a cover-up.”
    “Clyde didn’t kill anybody, and I’m not playing favorites. You don’t believe any of this yourself, I can tell. It’s all just made-up trash.”
    “I assure you, nothing we’ve aired so far was made up. Our stories are carefully vetted to make sure they have at least some basis in fact. Suzanne had obtained an amateur video shot with a cell phone at one of those rubber-chicken political dinners. It showed Clyde and his little hottie off in a corner leaning against each other in a very familiar way.”
    “Leaning against each other? So it’s not like you caught them having sex?”

    “No. That would’ve been better, obviously, but the video was pretty damning. If you’d seen it, you’d understand. There’s leaning, and then there’s leaning.”
    “Does Williams admit to the affair?”
    “They both deny it, but that wasn’t a problem for the segment. A self-righteous denial is good television, too.”
    “Even if Clyde was having an affair, that doesn’t mean he’d murder the reporter who broke the story,” Melanie protested.
    “I can’t prove Clyde killed Suzanne. I can’t even prove he’s behind the dog shit threat. But I’ve ordered my reporters to investigate his involvement, and you’d better do the same or it won’t look too good for the U.S. Attorney’s Office. We plan to make the Williams angle the centerpiece of our Butcher coverage.”
    Thinking of her dear friend Joe, Melanie grimaced. With Target News after him, Clyde Williams was in for a rough ride.

8
    T he sun was up over the East River, and doormen were out hosing down the sidewalks in their early morning ritual. Melanie stepped over rivulets of water as she approached the luxury apartment building where Suzanne Shepard had lived with her elderly mother. The officers from the Central Park precinct who’d made the notification hadn’t attempted to interview the distraught old lady, so nobody knew yet what details she could provide about the final hours of her daughter’s life.
    Melanie showed her credentials to the doorman. Hector, the fatherly doorman in Melanie’s building, wore shirtsleeves with his uniform pants, but this doorman was dressed in full regalia down to the epaulets and white gloves. After calling to announce her, he directed her to a space-age elevator that whisked her up to the thirty-fourth floor so fast that her ears popped. Suzanne must’ve been loaded, living in a place like this. The wealth was conspicuous enough that Melanie made a mental note to look into who might’ve had a financial interest in her death.
    As Melanie reached for the