Kiss the Girls and Make Them Cry(37)
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Matthews said in a voice that lacked its earlier conviction.
“If it’s not loud enough, just let me know,” Carter said as he pushed a button. Matthews’s voice saying, “Lauren, come right in,” filled the room. The three men listened in silence to the end.
Carter stared at Matthews, who was now sitting forward, his hands clasped between his knees. “That tape may have been doctored,” the anchor said weakly. “They can do that nowadays in a way that can fool even the experts.”
Carter sat back in his chair, assuming the posture of a school principal dealing with a disruptive student. “Mr. Matthews, you might not believe this, but I’m here to help you.”
Matthews looked bewildered. He turned to Sherman, who spoke calmly. “That’s right, Brad. It’s in everybody’s best interests that your,” he paused, “indiscretions are not made public. We’ve already settled with Pomerantz.”
Some semblance of color returned to Matthews’s face.
Carter reached into his jacket pocket and removed a small pad and pen. “I need the names, Mr. Matthews. It’s the only way I can find them, persuade them to settle and keep quiet.”
Matthews hunched forward. “You have Pomerantz. The other three were Mel Carroll, Christina Neumann, and Paula Stephenson.”
Carter and Sherman quickly made eye contact. It was clear to both that in failing to name Meg Williamson, Matthews was not being completely truthful. But Carter felt he had pushed as hard as he could for today. He wanted to talk to Sherman about how to go forward. The $12 million that had been wired to him might not be enough.
“Mr. Matthews, I want to thank you. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. It takes courage to face them like you did today. We might have to meet again. In the meantime Mr. Sherman and I are going to do everything we can to make this problem go away, but we need your help.”
Matthews looked up expectantly.
“Don’t make our job any harder than it has to be. No more victims please.”
Matthews nodded.
“Okay, we’re finished,” Sherman said. The three men left the room, went outside, and waited for the valet to bring their cars without exchanging a single word.
40
Ed Myers balanced two coffees in his hand as he knocked on the half-open door. Frederick “Fred” Carlyle, Jr. was famous for the long hours he kept. He was often the first executive to arrive in the morning and the last to leave at night. He was at his desk reading a newspaper.
“Ed, come in,” he said, surprised by the early morning intrusion.
“Thanks, Fred,” he replied. “I was hoping to catch you before the secretaries and admins get in. I took a chance that you might be in the mood for a coffee,” he said, handing him a cup.
“I already had one, but I’m ready for another,” Carlyle responded while accepting the cup. “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing at one of the leather chairs facing his large mahogany desk.
“Junior,” as he was known throughout the company, had taken over his father’s large corner office when the company founder had stopped coming to the office on a regular basis a year earlier. The move had been a surprise to many. Dick Sherman had been open about his plans to take over this office after “the old man” retired. But the CEO had shown an uncharacteristic level of restraint in not picking a fight with Junior.
The rumors about “the old man” had begun to circulate almost immediately. In the beginning Myers and everyone else had dismissed it as fatigue or being distracted. He remembered one incident in particular. In a financial meeting Carlyle Sr. had asked a marginally relevant question about the revenue generated by the cable affiliates in the Los Angeles area. Sherman had answered it and continued with his presentation. Fifteen minutes later, the founder had interrupted him midsentence and asked the exact same question. Standing in the front of the room, Myers could see the look of concern on the faces of the executives in the room.
A few weeks later Myers had been in Sherman’s office when REL’s head of public relations knocked on the door. John Shea explained that earlier that morning he had been prepping the Founder for an upcoming meeting with industry analysts. Carlyle Sr. twice misidentified the anchors of REL’s leading news programs and insisted automobile advertising was the company’s largest growth area in the current year. As they all knew, the credit belonged to pharmaceutical advertising.
The company had been unsure about what it should do. Whose job is it to tell the boss he can no longer do his job? The fact that Carlyle Sr. was a widower further complicated matters. The Founder lived alone in a stately mansion in Scarsdale. A longtime housekeeper/cook was his only companion.
It was Junior who had helped resolve the quandary. He had hand-delivered a letter to the REL board announcing his father’s retirement. The retirement solved one problem but gave birth to another. Because he owned a majority of the shares, Carlyle Sr. controlled the company. Was control now in the hands of the board or Junior?
As Myers looked around, it occurred to him how infrequently he had been in this office since the Founder’s retirement. Carlyle Sr. had enjoyed impromptu meetings. He would often call a group of executives to “come by for lunch.” Invariably there would be a sushi spread or baby lamb chops and other hors d’oeuvres. Sr. enjoyed telling war stories about the early days of REL News and how often the company had gone to the brink financially. At the same time Sr. was a good listener. If he heard about a spouse being sick, he always followed up. If any member of the team experienced the arrival of a new child or grandchild, a handwritten, congratulatory note from the Founder along with a gift would be sent shortly thereafter.