Dial Emmy for Murder (18 page)

“I hadn’t planned on it. But if it’s necessary . . .” And he held up a pair of brightly colored swim trunks.

“Wow. You come prepared! I’m impressed.” I chuckled. And then more seriously, “Thank you for what you’re doing. I truly appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure, ma’am. Actually I should thank you. I owe Frank a lot. It’s nice to be able to do something for him for a change. He’s a good guy.” He looked in the direction of the water, “Uh-oh! They’re getting ready to go out. I gotta go! You take care!” And he drove off to park.

He wasn’t kidding. Frank Jakes was a good guy. The more I learned about Jakes, the more I was sure of it. They don’t come any better.

 

When I got to work I had to talk to the producer, Sean Peters, about my eye.

“You can’t tape your scenes that way, Alex,” he said. “Any suggestions?”

“Not a problem. I talked to the hairdresser and I’ll just cut some bangs. That should cover everything.” The show must go on and all that, after all.

“I appreciate that, Alex. You’re a professional. The last thing we need are any delays. Budget issues, you know?” he said.

I knew all about the budget issues. It seems that every soap opera is plagued with them these days.

“Happy to help.” I ran off, changed my clothes and cut some bangs. I taped my two scenes and was out the door in an hour and a half.

I called the associate producer of
The Depths of the Sea
again and got his voice mail. I got through to the associate producer of
The Best Days Are Ahead
right away.

“Come on over here, Alex,” Tilda James said. “I’ll have the information by the time you get here, and then we can have lunch.”

Lunch? Well, why not? You can always make new friends, right?

“Okay, Tilda,” I said. “I’ll be over there in a half hour.”

“Great,” she said. “I’m a big fan. I’ve always wanted to meet you.”

Wasn’t that nice? You never know when you might need another show to fall back on. It sure came in handy after
The Tide
dried up for me.

Chapter 40

The Depths of the Sea
and
The Best Days Are Ahead
were both taped over at the UBM studios in Silver Lake, about a fifteen-minute drive from my studio. I drove up to the gate and gave the guard my name, and they let me right in. It’s always fun to go to another studio and see how they do things. It kind of feels like new possibilities. I found my way up to the production offices of
The Best Days Are Ahead.
They had large black-and-white photos of their cast members on the walls. A lot of them I knew; some I didn’t.

The receptionist walked in. “May I help you?” When I turned around she said, “Oh, hi! You’re here to see Tilda, right? She’s expecting you. One second!” And she exited down the hall.

Tilda turned out to be younger than I had thought over the phone, probably in her late twenties. And, as she had promised, was a big fan of mine. She was actually kind of gushing as we walked from the studio to a nearby café. By the time we were seated, she was practically offering me a job. It looked like lunch was a good idea, and I had a feeling it was going to get even better. Hopefully she had the information I wanted.

We both ordered salads before we got down to the reason I was there.

“So, you gave me some names to check and see if they auditioned for us,” Tilda said, taking notepaper from her purse. “We had a Mason Stone audition a couple of months ago.”

“Why didn’t he get it?” I asked.

“Well, that’s just it,” she said. “He did get the part.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” she said. “There were about a dozen men who came in for the part, and Mason Stone was our pick.”

“So what happened?”

“All we know is we got word that he was dead,” she said. “Somebody killed him.”

“Then what happened?”

“We went with our second choice,” she said, looking at her notes again. “Matt Lewis.”

“Can I borrow some of that paper?” I asked.

“Sure.”

She tore a piece in half and handed it to me. I wrote down Matt’s name.

“Anything else you can tell me?” I asked.

“Well . . . there was something odd. I sat in for the actors’ readings.”

“And?”

“Well, another guy came to audition, and he brought his mother with him.”

Just then the waitress walked up with our salads and iced teas. I took a sip of my drink before I said, “That’s not that weird. I mean, sometimes you bring a relative or a friend to an audition. Maybe she was visiting?” I asked. “No, this was weird: she was all over him, smoothing down his hair, pinching his cheeks, fixing his collar.”

“So, a stage mom.” I’d seen it before. This actor seemed a little older than most kids who have them, but I guess it happens.

“She gave new meaning to the phrase. We’ve all seen stage mothers and fathers. This was different. She was trying to ingratiate herself to the office staff, making sure we had his resume and head shot. She even pulled out some freshly baked cookies for the office staff! And the guy, I mean he’s at least twenty-five years old and he’s just letting her do this. His face was a blank. It was so . . . inappropriate. And she seemed desperate.”

“Huh! That does sound weird. Poor guy.” I looked at my watch. “By the way, I was hoping to stop over at
The Depths of the Sea
and talk to them about—”

Before I could finish, Tilda said, “They’re dark today. They’re taking some days off for summer vacation. Can you believe it? Some shows get all the breaks. Not us. We’ve been working on Saturdays lately. And eighteen-hour days.” Well, that put a damper on any future employment possibilities. Yuck!

The waitress took our plates, adding, “Any dessert, ladies?”

“They have a really great cheesecake here,” Tilda said conspiratorially.

“I’m sorry,” I said to both of them, “but I have another appointment. I really don’t have time. You go ahead.”

“I think I will! I still have a little time left,” Tilda said.

I thanked her and paid the check. As I was walking back to the studio to get my car, I pulled out my cell and called Jakes.

“Alex, how are you?”

I was happy to hear his voice. “I’m okay,” I said, “thanks to you. You’re my hero, you know.”

He was quiet. I think I could hear him blushing.

“I like being your hero,” he finally said. “When can I see you?”

“Actually, I have some answers for you and maybe a few questions,” I said. “Where can we meet?”

“Have you had lunch?”

“Just.”

“Coffee, then. Meet me at the same place we went last time, with Davis.” He’d be able to walk there from Parker Center.

“Okay,” I agreed. “Fifteen minutes?”

“Make it twenty.”

“I’ll be there,” I said, and snapped the cell phone closed.

I got the Porsche started and headed for my meeting with Jakes.

Chapter 41

Jakes was sitting at a table with a glass of something in front of him. When he saw me he immediately got up. My heart was thumping out of my chest as he held my face in his hands and gently kissed me.

We sat down. I pulled my chair close to his.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

“I’ve missed you, too.” We kissed a little more.

“Want some coffee?” He kissed my neck.

“What have you got?” I kissed his ear.

“Just a Coke.” One more kiss.

“I’ll have the same.”

He waved a waitress over and ordered me a Coke while I sat and stared at him. She brought me my drink and then faded away.

“The eye doesn’t look too bad,” he said.

“I got a little haircut. It did the trick.”

“I like it. It’s sexy.”

This whole thing was sexy. I shook it off. This was a public place after all.

“What about my car?” I asked. “When can I get it back?”

“Anytime,” he said. “You’ll need somebody to tow it, though.”

“I’ll have my garage guy get it.”

“You have a regular guy to look after . . . that car?” he asked.

“No,” I said, “my other car, but he’ll come and get this one for me.”

My mechanic’s wife was a longtime soap fan. She would have made him come out in the middle of the night to get the car if I’d called.

“Okay,” he said. “Just have him come to my office and I’ll make sure he gets the keys. Now, do you have any other info for me?”

I took out the notepaper I’d written on and gave it to him. “Mason Stone got the job over at
The Best Days Are Ahead
, but he died before he could do even one episode.”

“And who benefited from that?” he asked.

“That other name I wrote there, Matt Lewis.”

Jakes frowned at the paper. “I guess I should look into Mr. Lewis, then. Thanks. What about the other show?”

“I’ve got a call in,” I said, “and I’m still waiting to hear.”

“Good,” he said. “And what’s this name? Eisenstein?”

“Oh,” I said, “I remembered that this morning. He’s the replacement on my show for Jackson Masters.”

“Thank you, Alex,” he said, giving me an appreciative look. He folded the note and put it in his pocket. “That’s very helpful. Now, what about the other thing?”

“What other thing?”

“What we talked about,” he said. “You know, about you backing off.”

I hesitated.

“I knew it,” he said. “You’re too pissed to walk away, aren’t you?”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“Yeah, but with me, having somebody try to kill me is an occupational hazard. If it bothered me enough, I’d stop being a cop.”

“So, what would you do if you stopped being a cop, Jakes?”

“I’d probably die,” he said.

I could tell he meant it. The job was everything to him. I didn’t know what it would be like to have a man like that in my life. On a permanent basis, I mean.

“So you’re not going to back off?” he said.

“No. At least, not until we find who killed Jackson and the others.”

“And who tried to kill you.”

“I think it’ll come down to the same person, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said, “I do.”

“But why?” I asked. “And how come they didn’t try to kill me the way they killed all the others? Strangling me somehow.”

“I guess that’s not part of the plan,” Jakes said. “They want you out of the way not as part of the pattern, but because they think you know something. Do you?”

“Just what I’ve told you,” I explained. “And certainly nothing that’s worth killing me over.”

“Maybe if you gave it some thought—”

“I have,” I said. “I’ve been wracking my brain and I can’t figure it out. Why don’t they try to kill you? Aren’t you more of a danger than I am?”

“Apparently not,” he said. “But there’s also the fact that killing a cop is a bad idea. We hunt down cop killers forever.”

“Yes, that would be a bad idea,” I said, “but you don’t mind if I worry about myself, just a little?”

“I want you to worry, Alex,” he said. “I wish you would worry a hell of a lot!”

“Well,” I promised him, “you’re going to get what every man wants.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re going to get your wish.”

Chapter 42

As I got into my car, my cell phone sang out “Let’s Talk About Sex,” and I pushed the phone icon.

“Alex Peterson?” a man’s voice asked.

“Speaking.”

“Hey, Alex, this is Ross over at
The Depths of the Sea
.”

“Ross, thanks for calling me back. How was your vacation?”

“Never long enough. I guess I should just be thankful we got a few days, right? The other shows—like yours—are working all year,” he said. “I saw you at the Emmys. You looked awesome. Too awful about what happened.”

“Yes, well, that’s kind of why I called you, Ross,” I said.

I explained to him that I was “assisting” the police in their investigation by gathering information about the parts the dead men had auditioned for.

“What? You mean, more were killed? Not just Jackson Masters?”

“That’s not for public consumption, Ross,” I said. “If it gets out, you and I could both be in a lot of trouble with the cops.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry,” Ross said, “I won’t tell a soul.”

“I’m looking for some information on an actor named Tom Nolan,” I said. “I understand he auditioned for your show some time ago.”

“That’s what you said in your message, so I looked it up and you’re right. He auditioned but wasn’t what we were looking for.”

“Who got it?”

“Michael Baze.”

“He’s cute,” I said.

“That’s one word for it!”

There was a billboard on Sunset Boulevard with Michael’s substantial assets blown up for all the world to appreciate. He was an underwear model for a major designer.

“How did Tom Nolan react to not getting the part?” I asked.

“I don’t know for sure. Disappointed, I guess.” Then his tone changed. “But you’ll find this funny. This other man who also auditioned? I couldn’t believe this one.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’ve seen a lot of nuts at readings, let me tell you. This one takes the cake,” Ross said.

“Why?”

“He brought his crazy mother with him.”

Chapter 43

I called my contacts at the other shows and then the associate producer at
The Yearning Tide
, deciding not to go through Andy again. I asked them all the same question and got the same answer.

I went home excited and found my kid car parked in front of the house, looking battered and bruised.

When I got inside I discovered that Jakes himself had accompanied it and stayed a while.

“Your mother was nice enough to offer me coffee,” he said as I entered the kitchen.

“My mother has always been a very good hostess.”