Social Death: A Clyde Shaw Mystery Read Online Free PDF

experts, and get my hands on footage of Olivia from public appearances to use as B-roll. There was a lot of work to be done.
    “I do have some reservations,” Georgia said, clearing her throat. “What about Clyde’s relationship to the victim?”
    Diskin answered before I could. “Her connection to the family is precisely the reason she’s the best person for the job. She’ll have access, which, like it or not, is something we have to take into account.”
    Georgia wasn’t convinced. “If this is too hard for you to handle, Clyde, we’ll understand. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
    “I’m good, Georgia. Trust me. I want this.”
    She turned back to Diskin. “You’re not at all worried about the conflict of interest?”
    “Jesus, Georgia, we’re not The New York Times .” He pawed at the neck of his blue-striped button-down.
    Georgia tucked her chin into her neck. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” She cared about the quality of what we put on the screen, while Diskin was a numbers man—big audiences plus low costs equals mega revenue and happy shareholders. He had a wife, three college-age kids, and a five-acre estate in Pound Ridge. All of them cost money, lots and lots of money.
    Diskin regarded me over his glasses. “Professionally, I believe you are capable of remaining objective while working this story, and personally, I feel completely comfortable with this arrangement.” He suddenly pointed at his gold watch. “You guys have to get back to the Haverford. We’ll want to go live at the scene again after we read the family’s statement. Alex and Georgia, you may leave. Shaw, hang back a moment.”
    As Georgia left the room, she squeezed my shoulder. She and I had been through a lot together—scrapes with network brass, all-nighters in foreign cities, her multiple divorces, and my many failed attempts at relationships. She was more than a boss, she was a mentor and a friend.
    The door clicked closed and Diskin turned his watery gaze back to me. “You’re sure you can do this?”
    “I am. One hundred percent.” Olivia was my best friend. I owed her for rescuing me from myself in more ways and on more occasions than I cared to remember. I needed to make it up to her—if not in life, then in death. I was going to figure out who did this to her. And then I was going to bring them to justice.
    “In that case, the clock’s ticking,” Diskin said.
    I stood up, straightened my skirt, and made a dash for the door.

S o much for getting a head start .
    The Haverford was even more of a mob scene than it had been when I’d left it just an hour earlier. Diskin may have made a gentleman’s agreement with the other networks that allowed us to report first on the details of Olivia’s murder, but that didn’t mean our competitors were going to stand idly by. The second we wrapped up they’d be live from the Haverford; in essence, we’d get three minutes, five tops, before every other cable news network was jamming their air with the story.
    I jumped out of my cab and hurled myself into the crowd to reconnect with my team. This time everyone was where they were supposed to be, thank God, and as we waited for the director’s cue to get ready, I put in a call to the PD’s chief information officer to confirm some of the facts we were reporting. It was a formality, but this was the kind of case the guys in blue would want to handle by the book. One screwup and there would be hell to pay by anyone remotely involved. The Kravises were big political contributors—despite Charles Kravis’s conservative leanings—meaning they had plenty of connections to the mayor’s office.
    “Three, two, one,” I counted down again for Alex. He had a sheet in his hand, but he didn’t glance at it once as he reported the extent of what we knew: Olivia had been found dead in her apartment that morning at approximately 7:08 by her housekeeper; the police had reported to the scene within