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Kristi inwardly stiffened.
Reggie Cooke’s imperious gaze landed on her full force. “What the hell is this?” she demanded, her husband a step behind.
“Oh. Dear God.” Hamilton Cooke was an inch or so taller than his wife in her heels. Impeccably put together in a jacket, open-throated dress shirt, and slacks, the smile fell from his face as he caught sight of Kristi.
Jen squeezed past them. “If you’ll have a seat and wait here until—”
“No!” Reggie turned on the smaller woman. “No way! We won’t. I know the drill, but this is an outrage.” In full makeup and a black dress with an emerald jacket, she shook her head, her red hair sweeping her shoulders. “An outrage!”
“Please,” Jen implored. “If you two will just have a seat, I’ll—”
Reggie was unmoved. “I asked you before,” she said. “What the hell is this?” Her eyes narrowed on the production assistant before she threw Kristi a suspicious glance. “I suppose this is your doing. First the book and then the movie and now this!”
“What? No! Absolutely not.” Kristi refused to be intimidated. She got to her feet and angled her chin upward to meet the lawyer’s icy glare. Though Kristi was three or four inches shorter than the current Mrs. Cooke, she wasn’t about to be cowed. “Seriously, I had no idea.” But Bella had. Kristi didn’t doubt it for a second. She wanted to wring her friend’s neck for the obvious setup. “This was a last-minute thing and I didn’t know who was going to be on.”
“Sure.” Sarcasm dripped from Reggie’s words.
Kristi said, “I was called by a friend who works here to fill in at the last minute.” Why was she even bothering trying to explain herself to this stone-cold bitch?
“Oh, right.” More disbelief in Reggie’s tone. “This station has promoted Hamilton and me repeatedly this week.” Before Kristi could say that she’d been a little too busy to keep up withBonjour, New Orleans!Reggie turned to the production assistant. “I’m out. We’re both out.”
“No, please, Mrs. Cooke—Mr., er, Doctor Cooke, let’s all calm down,” Jen argued, trying to placate and set things right.
But it was too little too late. Reggie stormed through the door, her high heels clicking loudly down the hall, but Hamilton hesitated and his lips flattened to a razor thin line. He pointed an accusing finger at Kristi. “This is disgraceful,” he said, eyes flashing. “But what else could we expect from a money-grubbing hack like you? Feeding off other people’s misfortunes. I don’t know how you sleep at night.”
“And I don’t know how you do,” Kristi said, half expecting him to lunge at her. The hatred in his eyes burned bright.
“Hamilton!” Reggie’s voice called from somewhere in the outer hallway.
“You’d better be careful,” he warned Kristi, then turned smartly on his heel to follow his wife.
“Just what I need,” Jen said, her voice barely audible. She hurried after them talking loudly, trying to convince them to do the interview. “Mrs. Cooke, please. We’re all set for you and Dr. Cooke, the audience would love to—”
The door banged shut behind Jen, cutting off the sound of the rest of her pleas.
“Oooh.” From her spot on the couch, Dana sucked in her breath loudly. “Big trouble. They don’t like you much,” she said to Kristi.
“Ya think?”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story.” She wasn’t about to go into it.
“So then how did this happen?” She motioned in a circle to include all that had just recently transpired. “How did you end up here together?”
“I don’t know,” Kristi said, but that was a lie. Because she had a pretty good idea of what had precipitated her being here with Dr. Cooke and his wife. It started with the sagging ratings of the morning show, and the host Renee-Claire’s fear of either being fired or the show being canceled and then, of course, Bella caving to pressure with the need to save her job, and the sudden reappearance of the Rosary Killer. That coupled with the cable network’s airing of the TV movies made from her books made Kristi newsworthy, which she hated.
Though Kristi’s appearance was last-minute and not promoted, there was the Internet, where all the segments could be viewed and the murder of Hamilton Cooke’s first wife, Bethany, brought up again. Kristi didn’t doubt that the Cookes had been asked to be guests on some other pretense, unless Dr. Cooke and his lawyer wife had agreed to be on air to garner public sympathy and pressure as he was petitioning to get his medical license reinstated.
Whatever the reason, it had all blown up.
Dana Metcalf interrupted her thoughts. “Maybe that’s why I’m here.”
“What?”
“Because they expected a cat fight.” Her lips twitched at her own little pun.
“A cat fight? No.” Kristi cast her a disparaging glance. Was the woman an idiot? Well . . . the jury was still out on that one.
