You Can’t Stop Me by Max Allan Collins, Matthew Clemens Read Free Book Online Page A

arrest—not seven hours before—was the capper.
    In the second segment, Angela Batten outed the CEO of an insurance company that for years had been defrauding its policyholders by substituting new language in renewal documents—just the sort of story of corporate greed getting busted that tapped into Main Street America’s rage against Wall Street. Few in the viewing audience were aware that Crime Seen! itself came to them courtesy of the big oil corporation that was UBC’s Big Daddy.
    Byrnes knew these two juicy and very different stories would each be front-page fodder on tomorrow’s USA Today , with Crime Seen! getting plenty of play. He was neither psychic nor overconfident—just this morning, the network prez had been interviewed for both stories.
    Finally all that remained was J.C. Harrow’s season farewell, which, as scripted, was a laundry list of the miscreants the show had helped bust, all wrapped up in Harrow’s rugged, Midwestern “I’m a victim too, but I’m getting back at ’em” persona.
    With pleasure if not affection, Byrnes regarded his unlikely, ruggedly photogenic star on the monitor, where Harrow could be seen casting a film noir shadow against a brick backdrop with a single barred window—cheesy but effective.
    The former lawman sported a navy blue blazer that looked unpretentious, although it was no off-the-rack number, worn over a lighter blue button-down dress shirt, open at the collar; his jeans were faded, worn—Everyman attire that Wardrobe had slaved over.
    Piercing blue eyes stared out at America as Harrow said, “My colleagues in the booth are going to have to forgive me for breaking from script…”
    Byrnes, paying half-attention before, suddenly stood as straight as an exclamation mark, and was heeding his star’s every word, every pause, every gesture.
    “…but some late-breaking news has changed the circumstances of tonight’s live broadcast.”
    Byrnes snapped at the director, “What the hell?”
    Phillips, in a headset, his eyes blinking a Morse code SOS, glanced back helplessly at his boss.
    Byrnes leaned so far forward at the top of the aisle, he had all his weight on the toes of his four-hundred-dollar Bruno Magli loafers. He might have been a diver preparing for a double gainer.
    “You all know that, for almost six years, I’ve been searching for the person or persons who killed my family.”
    In the booth, the director couldn’t help himself, and told his cameraman to push in closer on their host.
    “Recently, a member of the Crime Seen! staff found what she thought might be a clue tying another crime to the deaths of my wife and son. This is the first new evidence that’s been turned up in the case in many, many months.”
    Byrnes yelled, “Did you know about this? Did any of you know about this?”
    The director shook his head, but his attention was on the drama unfolding before them all. Those involved in technical aspects of the broadcast ignored their big boss; others, just standing observing—like show runner, Nicole Strickland, now edging away from the network exec—merely shook their heads and melted into anything handy.
    “Next season,” Harrow was saying, “we will be following this clue, and working hard to uncover other evidence, in a concerted, focused effort to track down the killer or killers of my family….”
    Byrnes said, “ Great idea, Nicole, bringing in a live audience for this episode.”
    “And we’ll be doing it right on this show. You will be with us every step of the way—helping us track down the murderer of my wife and my son.”
    Gasps from the studio audience interrupted the star.
    Picking up, Harrow said, “UBC has pledged to buy us the equipment we need, and to pay for the finest crime-scene team I can put together to investigate this case—a veritable superstar task force of criminologists and crime fighters.”
    Byrnes threw his hands up. “UBC pledged what?”
    “We’ll start assembling the team, and