Dial Emmy for Murder (14 page)

“Oh, what the hell.” I carried my crackers and wine into the front room and plopped down onto my nice soft pillowed sofa. I needed to get grounded. I needed my daughter. And my mom. And George. Did I need Paul? He definitely wasn’t the first person I thought of. Not even in my top three. That obviously meant something. I’d have to make a decision soon, but I couldn’t deal with it then, so I decided to go over the day’s events in my head.

My impressions? Was that what he’d asked for? Well, it was my impression that I didn’t have an impression. Was I really supposed to get something from those interviews? If so, then I was clearly in over my head. Again. I had to admit I was flattered at how willing he was to risk his job to include me in this investigation. And I certainly did not believe him when he said the trouble he was in had nothing to do with me.

I was knee-deep in the investigation of these murders. It started with my knowing Jackson Masters, but now I was very interested in solving all six murders—or the five we knew of so far.

I knew what Gil Grissom would do. (I’d updated my influences from Kojak and Columbo.) On
CSI
he always said, “Follow the evidence.” I knew there was a ton of information Jakes had that I didn’t. No matter how much he had told me or allowed me to hear, I was still on the outside looking in. What I had to do was either pull myself out of it completely or force him to let me all the way in . . . no matter how much trouble it might make for him.

Like he’d told me earlier in the day, I’d just let him worry about it.

Chapter 29

I woke the next morning with no conflicted feelings. At least, not about the murders. The extent of a personal relationship with Frank Jakes was yet to be determined. But being involved in the murder investigation of six men? I was in for the long haul.

I had spoken with Sarah and my mother before going to bed the night before. I hadn’t told my mother everything I was doing, but she sensed something. Whatever reticence she had about leaving the relatives early was resolved. She and Sarah were coming home right after the barbecue the next day. She felt I needed her here and she was right. Since Jakes knew about the Randy thing, I felt a lot better having them both home.

Jakes had said we’d talk today. I didn’t know if I was supposed to call him, or he was going to call me. I decided to concern myself with breakfast first, and then get dressed for work. When I was ready and still hadn’t heard from him, I decided to go to work and leave making contact up to him.

I had only two scenes to tape that day, but I kept “going up” on my lines. This is a nice way of saying I was screwing up.

At one point the director called for a break and said, “Get it together, Alex!”

That was for everyone else’s benefit, though. During the break he came up to me and asked, “Are you all right, darling?”

His name was Richard Breck. He hated being called “Dick”—so of course we all did. And he called everyone “darling.” He’d been directing the show for a couple of years and thought everybody around him bought his on-set tough director act. But he took himself so seriously it was hard for the cast to do the same.

“I’m fine, Dickie,” I said. “Just got some things on my mind. I’ll get it right this time.”

“It’s Richard, Alex,” he said, gritting his teeth. “And I know you will, hon.” He patted my hip awkwardly. “No worries.”

“No worries.”

 

We taped the scene, and Dick shouted, “Cut! Brilliant, hon!”

I went to my dressing room and threw on my own clothes. When I came out I saw Dick talking to a young man who—just for a moment—I thought was Jackson Masters.

“Dickie!”

He stopped, turned and looked at me while the young man walked away.

“Alex,” he said, “your scenes were fine today—just fine.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” I said. “Who was that guy you were talking to just now?”

“His name is David something or other,” he said. “He’s auditioning to replace Jackson.”

Well, that explained why he looked so much like Jackson.

“I see,” I said. “Thanks.”

I walked away from Dick, wondering if I should chase down the guy and warn him that someone was killing actors who looked like him—or like Jackson Masters. Or maybe they all looked like the first actor who was killed. And who was that? I realized that while Jakes had told me the names of the dead actors, I didn’t know who had been killed first.

In any case, I thought, maybe I should at least tell the kid to bleach his hair blond.

If he had already auditioned, then he’d been seen by a director—probably not Richard, since I’d been working with him all afternoon—and a producer.

I decided to find out exactly who he was. Maybe then I could get his name and address.

I went upstairs to the production offices and found one of our producers, Sean Peters, sitting behind his desk.

“Sean, did you do an audition today for someone to replace Jackson
already
?”

“Now, don’t get upset, Alex,” Sean said, smoothing back his gray hair with the palm of one hand. Sean touched his hair whenever a woman entered the room. “We do have to replace Jackson.”

“I get that,” I said. “I’m just curious. What’s his name?”

“The one we saw today is David—” He stopped to look at a piece of paper. “—Eisenstein. Horrible name, but just between you, me and lamppost, we’re going to hire him.”

“To play Jackson’s part.”

“Right,” Sean said. He stood up—or unfolded. At six-seven he always seemed to unfold when he got to his feet. “I’ve got to go and talk to Gloria.” Gloria Dennis was our head writer. “Was there anything else?”

“No,” I said, sitting down. “My damn shoe. I’m just going to take a moment to fix my heel.”

“Take as long as you like, Alex.” He looked down at me and smoothed his hair again. “See you tomorrow.”

“You, too, Sean.”

I listened to his steps recede down the hall, and when I couldn’t hear them anymore, I quickly sat behind his desk, found a blank piece of paper and copied down David Eisenstein’s name, address and vital statistics from his application.

Chapter 30

I was getting into my car at the studio parking lot when I heard “Let’s Talk About Sex.” Jeez! Caller ID told me it was Detective Jakes.

“I’m sorry,” he said right away. “I was shot out of a cannon this morning and haven’t had a chance to call. Where are you?”

“I’m leaving work.”

“Can you come here?”

“To Parker Center?”

“Yes.”

“What for?”

“I can’t get away right now,” he said, “and I need to talk to you.”

“Is anything wrong?”

“Alex . . .”

“Yes, all right,” I said. “I was just going to get lunch. . . . Can we eat afterward?”

“Is that all you do? Eat?”

I sighed. “I’m on my way.”

 

I got a pass upstairs with no problem and took the elevator to Jakes’s floor at Parker Center. Since I’d been there before, I remembered the way to his office—or his section, or whatever they called it. He didn’t have his own office. On TV shows some detectives have offices, but I knew in real life they pretty much just had a desk.

As I entered the room full of desks, I saw his partner, Detective Davis. He spotted me crossing the room toward him.

“Alex,” he said.

“Detective Davis, hi. Is Jakes around?”

“He’s in with the boss.” He indicated a closed door across the room.

“Do you know how long—”

“Don’t know,” he said. “Why don’t you have a seat on that bench? He’ll see you when he comes out.”

“That bench right by the door?”

“That’s the one.”

“Thanks.”

He nodded. It seemed like he was still mad at me, but I didn’t know if it was because I had left
The Yearning Tide
or I was causing problems between him and his partner.

I went and sat down. I could hear the murmur of voices inside, voices that occasionally became agitated. Then suddenly the door opened briefly, but before I could sneak a peek it closed again but not all the way. It was ajar, and I could hear everything.

“You’re lettin’ this woman mess with your head, Frank,” a woman’s voice said.

“That’s not what’s happening, Captain,” Jakes said.

Interesting, I thought. Jakes’s boss was a woman.

“It’s not? Then you tell me what’s happenin’, Detective.”

“She’s a resource,” Jakes argued. “She knows the soap world inside out.”

“So you’re telling me this whole case is connected to the soaps?”

“Well . . . yeah.” Jakes sounded like he was speaking to a child.

I heard the rustle of papers and then the woman said, “Did you know that one of those five cases was closed? Someone was arrested!”

“I know,” he said. “Len told me.”

“We heard from the Canadian police that they arrested someone, Frank! He confessed.”

“That may be so,” Jakes said. “But the other four are still open.”

“You’ve got four cases here that I’m not convinced are connected. Look, Frank, work your four cases, but I don’t want to hear the phrase ‘serial killer.’ And I sure as hell don’t want to see it in the papers.”

“Laura—”

“Captain to you, Detective.”

“Okay, Captain—”

“And I don’t want you talking to that soap diva,” the captain said.

“She’s not a diva!” Jakes said sharply, defending me. That really made me smile. “Look, Captain, she’s got inside knowledge—”

“I’m not convinced all these men were killed because they were on soap operas, Frank. That means I’m not convinced she can be helpful. But I do know she can be a distraction. And she’ll attract the paparazzi.”

“They were either on a soap or auditioned for one,” he corrected. “And she’s my . . . my link to that world.”

“Listen to yourself,” the captain scoffed. “You sound like a narc talkin’ about his connection. Or worse, a junkie. Get out of my office, Detective,” the captain said. “You’re wastin’ my time.”

Suddenly the door swung opened. I caught a glimpse of an attractive, middle-aged woman in a suit behind a desk before Jakes came out and slammed the door behind him. He saw me and stopped.

“Alex.”

“I, uh, your partner told me to sit here and wait,” I said lamely.

“Did you hea—” he started, pointing at the door. “What am I saying? Of course you heard everything.”

“Not everything.”

“But enough,” he said. “Okay, come on. Let’s get out of here before the boss sees you.”

I stood and hurried after him. “You never told me your boss was a woman.”

“It never came up,” he said. As we passed his partner’s desk, he said, “We’re going out for a drink. You want to come with us, Len?”

“Sure.” He grabbed his sports coat from the back of his chair.

We all went out the door, into the hall and down to the elevator.

“So that’s what you call not causing you any trouble?” I asked in the elevator.

Chapter 31

The three of us stopped at a nearby coffee shop. Davis had a latte, Jakes an iced tea and I had a turkey and Swiss on a baguette with onion rings as a chaser. I was starving.

“We need to clear the air,” Jakes said.

Davis and I stared at each other.

Jakes continued. “Len, any trouble I’m in—or I get into—is not going to impact you.”

“I’m your partner, Frank.”

“Neither one of us picked this partnership, Len. You want to walk away, that’s fine with me.”

“That what you want?”

“Actually, no,” Jakes said. “I prefer the devil I know, if you catch my drift.”

“I do.”

I did, too. Maybe they weren’t a perfect match, but at least they knew each other, and Jakes had no way of knowing who he might end up with if they broke their partnership off now.

“So we stay partners?” Jakes asked.

“Yes.”

“And I want to keep using Alex as a resource. Is that okay?”

“Is it okay with the captain?”

“No.”

“Then why do it?”

“Because these are my cases and I call the shots,” Jakes said.

“And what will the captain say when she finds out you kept working with Alex?”

“When we solve these murders,” Jakes replied, “she won’t care.”

“Maybe not.”

“Len,” Jakes said, “I think it would be better for you if you weren’t around Alex.”

“Actually,” Davis said, pushing back his chair, “that’s fine with me.” He gave me a dirty look and stood up.

“Oh, and Len?”

“Yes?”

“She didn’t leave
The Yearning Tide
to hurt you,” Jakes said, “so get over yourself.”

Davis gave Jakes a look, appeared ready to say something and then shook his head and left.

Jakes turned to look. “Okay, now you.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “I heard what went on in your boss’s office. How can you say you’re not in trouble because of me?”

“Because I’m not,” he said. “Look, Alex, I never blame my problems on other people. If I did I’d be pointing the finger at Len a lot more.”

“Come on, Jakes,” I said. “If you’re just going to lie to me—”

“Okay, wait,” he said, holding up his hands. “If I tell you what’s going on with my boss, you have to promise not to laugh.”

“I won’t.”

“And you might not believe me.”

“I will,” I said. “I promise. Just don’t lie.”

“Okay,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “My boss is Captain Laura Carpenter. A woman.”

“I got that much.”

“Well . . . she has the hots for me.”

I didn’t laugh. I wanted to, because he looked so miserable, but I held it in.

“What makes you think she has the hots for you?”

“She kind of told me.”

“Kind of told you? Or you think she told you? Because I’ve known men who can’t tell the difference.”