Free The Talk Show Murders by Al Roker Page A

ah … our ratings …”
    I turned to Trina. “You think the commander will be happy with this kind of exploitation?”
    “Commander Di Voss will be happy if his daughter Gretchen is happy. That’s why he put her in charge. I don’t understand what’s set you off, Billy. We’re a current-events show. This is a current event that’s every bit as interesting and certainly more newsworthy than some idiocy committed by that
Jersey Shore
crew or Lindsay Lohan’s latest legal problems. It’s not like we’re having Patton’s open casket on the show.
    “Which reminds me,” she said, turning to Arnie, “we should get some footage of the service and the burial.”
    Back to me. “Anyway, I’m stunned by your reaction, Billy. We were hoping you’d be point man on this.”
    That possibility was what caused my reaction. There were only a few things I knew as certainty in this life. The one at the top was: The less I had to do with Patton and his murder, the better.
    “Won’t you even consider it, Billy?”
    “Why me?”
    “You need to ask? In just three years you’ve been at the center of two homicidal rampages. You’ve become the show’s murder expert.”
    Most people don’t consider that a badge of honor, but this is television. “You flatter me,” I said. “I could challenge your use of the word ‘rampages’ and explain why being involved in two murder cases doesnot exactly qualify me as an expert. But I’m too damn tired. So excuse me if I just decline.”
    Trina’s handsome face froze. She was used to getting her way. She was annoyed with me and, I suppose, with herself for assuming this would be an easy sale.
    “Will you at least explain your reticence?”
    The quick answer to that was “no.” But I had to work with these people.
    “I’ve had the misfortune to be involved in two murder investigations,” I said. “In spite of what you may think, this was not the kind of publicity I, or any normal person, wants or needs. I’m a chef, not a sleuth. My expertise is in culinary matters, not criminal. And I like it that way. I want customers to come to my restaurant to dine well, not to gawk at the guy who’s in the tabloids.”
    “I don’t see how reporting the news—”
    “Don’t kid a kidder, Trina. When it comes to reporting the news, you’ve got two anchors and a newswoman on the show. Use one of them for your murder investigation updates. I’ll stick to the recipes and the joke of the day.”
    Trina signaled the waiter for the check. Arnie studied the petits fours crumbles on the serving plate. I sat back in my chair and waited for the venison and wild huckleberries dinner I’d eaten to stop doing the Running Man in my stomach.

Chapter
THIRTEEN
    One of the first things you learn about interviewing is that silence can be a useful tool. You ask a question, and the interview subject answers, expecting another question. If you remain silent, the subject often will try to fill in the conversational hole, and in doing so often will provide you with the best quotes of the session.
    Since the three of us were old hands at the silence game, the only words spoken on the taxi ride back to the hotel were Arnie’s, informing the driver of our destination.
    The interlude of thought and introspection calmed things down a bit, and in the hotel’s lobby, I thanked Trina for the dinner. She said she’d decided Lance would do the reports on the investigation into Patton’s murder. “I’d appreciate your not telling him he was my second choice.”
    “Of course not,” I said.
    “I’m going to my room to phone Gretchen,” she said. “I don’t want to delay the bad news. She’ll be as disappointed as I am.”
    She remained in place, staring at me. Hoping I’d change my mind?When I didn’t, she turned on her heel and marched toward the elevator bank, where Arnie waited, peeling off his wilted blazer and exposing one of his trademark Hawaiian shirts, like some six-foot-two mantis shedding a