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“And that calls for an ‘emergency meeting’?”
“Go figure,” Tracy said, rolling her eyes. “Alan is into high drama these days.”
Well, that much was true, Kaylie thought as she tapped on the glass door of Jim’s office and entered when he waved her in. Alan, already seated near Jim’s desk, flashed her a smile.
“Problems?” Kaylie asked as Jim motioned her into the vacant chair next to Alan.
“Two cancellations on Friday’s show,” Jim explained, reaching into his drawer for a pack of cigarettes. “First the author who wrote the self-analysis book calls and explains that he can’t make it for, quote, ‘personal reasons’ and would we be so kind as to reschedule him? Then we get a call from Jennifer Abbott’s agent and Jennifer won’t do the show.”
“Why not?” Kaylie asked. Jennifer was one of the most controversial actresses on daytime television. Though always in the running for an Emmy, she was notorious for her contract disputes.
“Seems as if Jennifer is keeping mum until after the final round of her contract negotiations, whenever that may be. So for now we’re out of luck.”
“I thought Tracy had a list of local people who were willing to pinch-hit.”
“We’ve been through it,” Alan interjected. “And we’ve got a couple of ‘maybes’…” He cast a quick glance in Jim Crowley’s direction, and Kaylie had the distinct impression that they were holding back on her.
“So?” she prodded, uneasy.
Alan leaned forward, as if to confide in her. “So, I called Dr. Henshaw—you know, Johnston’s psychiatrist—”
“I know who he is,” she said tightly.
“And I asked him to appear.”
“You did what?” She couldn’t believe her ears. No way. No damned way!
“Well, face it, Kaylie. The public would like to know more about the man who attacked you. And since you’re the cohostess, what better medium than our program to give the viewers a little insight into the complexity of the man?”
“And the police will allow this?” she asked, turning stricken eyes on Jim. “Won’t it interfere with Johnston’s trial? And what about patient confidentiality?”
Jim reached for a cigarette, then tossed the pack in the drawer and wadded up a stick of gum. “You don’t understand. You wouldn’t be asking him questions about Johnston…at least not directly. Actually, he’d be on the hot seat. We’d ask him to talk about an ordinary day at Whispering Hills, the makeup of the patients, that sort of thing, and then question him on Johnston’s escape.”
“I don’t believe this,” she replied, shocked. “I don’t know why he’d agree.”
Again the two men exchanged glances. Jim said, “Well, Henshaw does have something to gain from it all.”
“What?”
“A little glory for himself,” Alan explained. “He’s been writing a book for years.”
“What kind of a book?” Kaylie asked, dreading the answer.
Jim stepped in. “Apparently he’s been working on psychological profiles of star stalkers for a few years. Must’ve started it before he got the job at Whispering Hills.”
“Don’t tell me,” she said. “Lee Johnston is one of the cases in the book.”
Alan grinned. “You got it. Anyway, the book is about done, and suddenly a few publishers are interested. His agent is pushing for big bucks.”
“And the publishers are interested because of Johnston’s escape and all the press recently,” Kaylie suggested.
“Bingo.” Alan practically beamed. “Of course, after Johnston’s trial, Henshaw can add a final chapter.”
“Of course,” Kaylie said dryly.
“How’d you find out about it?” she asked.
“I called.” Alan’s face turned crafty. “I figured there was a lot of public interest right now. I would have liked to have that orderly who was hurt in the escape, but the hospital won’t allow it—nor will the police.”
