Read Online Done to Death by Charles Atkins - Free Book Online Page A

mother’ – he gripped the edge of the table – ‘was a great lady, and if it seems callous to do this so soon after her death … anyone who truly knew her would know this is what she would want. We … LPP … all of us, we are her legacy. The future and health of this corporation now rests in our hands.
    â€˜As most in this room are aware, the ongoing and unprecedented transformation of the entertainment industry has created tremendous opportunities, as well as a contraction in traditional media that shows little sign of stopping. At this time—’ his throat constricted. Patty Corcoran poured a glass of water and passed it to him. ‘At this sad time, we are faced with harsh realities. As LPP’s executive team, we must move forward with an aggressive corporate restructuring. While plans for this have been under way for some time, my mother’s … death, necessitates advancing the time frame.’
    Barry’s anxiety spiked. He wasn’t alone. ‘Restructuring’ was a euphemism for ‘heads will roll’. Lenore’s death was no reprieve and, as he’d feared, loss of the company’s major asset − the bitch herself − could cost him his job. Listening to her son Richard, it seemed things had gone from bad to worse. Barry knew that without a show − a hit show − his fifteen thousand a week salary and those of his team were a three million dollar annual drain on the corporate coffers. Lenore couldn’t have been clearer: produce … or get out. The ax would fall swift and certain. Barry tried not to panic, but what was he supposed to do at thirty-eight? Pack up his family and head back to LA? Back to the shark tank of the younger and more desperate? Or try to stick it out in New York, going from pitch meeting to pitch meeting, where he’d get warm smiles and vague promises and nothing that would pay the rent. Or worse, see ideas he’d thrown on the table worked into someone else’s show. His pulse raced, and glancing about he knew that every producer in that room − his competition − was thinking the same thing.
    His only hope, as Richard Parks went on about his mother’s plans to increase the use of ‘outside contractors’, was the incredible footage of Ada Strauss in vintage Chanel making antiques and murder in the Connecticut countryside sound charming and funny. Even the title she’d thrown out − Final Reckoning . It has legs , he thought.
    As Patty Corcoran laid out the grim financials, Barry was left with little illusion. If he didn’t get something green-lit fast, he’d be out of a job. It wasn’t just a question of Final Reckoning having legs, but of legs that could hit the ground running.
    And then the meeting turned. Lost in his anxiety, Barry didn’t notice the dark-suited man and woman until they were at the podium. At first he thought they were consultants brought in to chop heads. But a cursory look at their suits − off the rack, the man’s a bit shiny around the collar, the woman’s boxy and out of style – said no, definitely not consultants, or even anyone associated with entertainment.
    He listened as Richard introduced them as a pair of NYPD detectives, in charge of investigating Lenore’s murder. The cops had been around all day, Lenore’s entire penthouse suite now a crime scene. He wondered who’d get tapped to do the made-for-TV movie. Worst case scenario, maybe it was something he could pitch. After all, he was here the day it happened.
    The woman detective took the microphone. ‘Thank you Mr Parks.’ She looked over the conference room. Her dark gaze moved slowly over those assembled. It reminded Barry of old-school mysteries … someone in this room is the murderer . But no, she was all business.
    â€˜My name is Detective Jean Murphy. As I’m sure you’re aware,’ she started, ‘Lenore