The Reporter Read Free Page A

age. The news of their surprise marriage appeared in the daily
Variety,
and, it turned out, no one was more shocked to read about it over coffee and breakfast rolls than Janet Orson.
    Then she met Jack. And Maxi was sure that Janet must have felt like she’d died and gone to heaven, because Jack Nathanson
     got an A-plus in courtship. He was candlelight dinners and little blue boxes from Tiffany and first-class jet trips to Aspen,
     New York, Saint Moritz, Rome. Just six weeks after their first date, Jack and Janet soared off to the Caribbean for their
     divine storybook wedding, while all the bells were still ringing and the fireworks were still going off, Maxi was sure.
    She saw Janet now, standing with the rabbi, talking quietly. The Debra Angelo debacle had apparently put an end to the spontaneous
     eulogies. “Janet,” Maxi said, as she came to her and took her hand, “I’m so sorry.”
    “Oh, Maxi…” The two had known each other for years; Maxi had interviewed Janet several times. Now she could see hurt and confusion
     in this woman who was usually the epitome of composure.
    “What was
that
about?” Janet asked Maxi. “I couldn’t see what was going on….”
    “Debra was… arrested.”
    “For… for
this?”
Janet exclaimed, gesturing toward her late husband’s bier.
    “Yes. They read her the Miranda rights on a murder charge.”
    “But would she…
could
she…?” Janet knew that Maxi and Debra were friends. Maxi knew that Janet didn’t quite approve of Debra.
    “I don’t know anything more than you do, Janet.”
    “Well, Debra
hated
Jack—”
    “Is there anything I can do for you?” Maxi cut in, to stop any more conversation about Debra. Maxi didn’t know what to think
     about the rowdy arrest of Debra Angelo just minutes ago, and she certainly didn’t want to speculate about it with the “final
     wife,” as Wendy had dubbed Janet Orson.
    “Well…you can be kind in the coverage—”
    “Oh, I won’t be doing it,” Maxi said. “My coanchor or I will voice the story on the newscast, but I won’t be writing it or
     putting it together. How are you holding up, Janet?”
    “I’m in a daze. It’s all been happening so fast—”
    The rabbi was handing Janet a rose from the arrangement atop the fiberglass casket. As the two women looked down at Jack,
     Maxi had a great urge to ask Janet why she’d chosen that outré piece of quasi–modern art as a final resting place for the
     man they’d both been married to, but she thought better of it. Instead, because the bizarre presentation of Jack Nathanson
     in death a couple of feet in front of them was impossible to ignore, she heard herself commenting on the deceased’s apparel.
     “In those clothes he looks so… so like himself,” she stammered. Then wished she hadn’t. But Janet didn’t seem offended.
    “Sam Bloom said don’t buy him a suit, nobody’s ever seen him in one except in the movies,” she said. “And Sam knew him better
     than I did, certainly. But that
smile
on his face!” Janet went on, shocking Maxi with that one. “The undertaker put it there. When I asked him why, he said because
     your husband’s wearing this funny outfit, I figure he must be a funny guy.”
    Maxi wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to laugh. She settled for saying nothing, just looking somewhat perplexedly at the
     widow. Which evidently prompted Janet to go on. “And once the smile was there, the undertaker said, he couldn’t take it off.
     Then he actually explained
why
he couldn’t. Physically. Oh, God, Maxi, it’s been a nightmare.”
    But how do you feel about your husband being dead?
Maxiwanted to ask, but didn’t. They were distracted by the pulleys that were now moving the casket over the grave site, about
     to lower it into the ground. This should be a private moment for Janet, Maxi knew. Giving her what she hoped was a reassuring
     hug, she headed off to find Wendy in the Channel Six news van.
    After watching Maxi