It all became clear to Barb, why Gruber had brought her people to see them. Barbara had been raised to be nice, but now that she'd stopped denying the obvious, she had to say it.
“You're not responsible? Is that why you're all here? To tell us that you're not responsible for Kim?”
No one met her gaze.
“We've told the police everything we know,” said Gruber.
Levon stood up, put his hand on Barb's shoulder, and said to the magazine people, “Please call if you learn anything. Right now, we'd like to be alone. Thanks.”
Gruber stood, slung the strap of her handbag across her narrow chest, said, “Kim will be back. Don't worry.”
“You mean, you hope and pray with every miserable breath you take,” said Barbara.
Chapter 19
A man stood in the thick of the media gaggle outside the Wailea Princess main entrance, waiting for the press conference to start.
He blended in well, appeared to be a guy living out of a duffel bag, maybe sleeping on the beach. He had on sports sunglasses wrapped around his face like a windshield, even though the sun was going down. Dodgers cap over his rusty brown hair, vintage Adidas, rumpled cargo pants, and hanging down in front of his cheap Hawaiian shirt was a perfect replica of a press pass identifying him as a photographer, Charles Rollins of Talk Weekly, a publication that didn't exist.
His video camera was expensive, though, a state-of-the-art Panasonic, HD-compatible with a stereo microphone boom and a Leica lens, costing over six thousand bucks.
He pointed the lens at the grand front entrance of the Wailea Princess, where the McDanielses were taking up their positions behind a lectern.
As Levon adjusted the mic, Rollins whistled a few notes through his teeth. He was enjoying himself now, thinking that even Kim wouldn't recognize him if she were alive. He lifted his vid cam over his head and recorded Levon greeting the press, thinking he'd like the McDanielses if he got to know them. Well, fuck it anyway, he already liked them. What was not to like about the McDanielses?