Dial Emmy for Murder (22 page)

I watched the ME come out, watched his people load the body into a van and drive away.

Then uniformed cops came out. Some drove away in their marked cars; others started going door-to-door. Eventually Detective Davis also came out and started going door-to-door.

When Captain Carpenter finally came out, I pulled the door shut and ducked down so she wouldn’t see me. I felt like a little kid, but I didn’t know what else to do. This chick was mean. And clearly she didn’t like me. When I heard a car drive away, I sneaked a peek. I saw that she was gone, so I opened the door again and sat with my feet out.

Just when I was thinking I could use a cup of coffee, Jakes came out. It was past noon. He looked disheveled, as if he’d been up all night. He hadn’t looked that way when he picked me up.

He came over to the car and got in, showing no surprise that I was there.

“Should I take you home or to work?” he asked.

“Neither,” I said. “Take me someplace for a late breakfast, so we can talk. I’m starving.”

He looked at me, started to say something and then stopped. Finally he said, “Okay. Breakfast it is.”

 

He pulled over at the first diner we came to. He ordered a stack of pancakes; I had eggs Benedict.

“His name is Ben Tillman. That name ring a bell?”

“No.”

“We found stuff in the house that tells us he’s an actor. He had a SAG card in his wallet and a drawer full of head shots. He had two DVDs of movies he’s been in.”

“How long ago?”

“Five, six years,” Jakes said. “Coming of age stuff. Nothing since.”

“How was he killed?”

“He was strangled first and then strung up.”

“By somebody strong.”

“Or more than one person.”

“You think Adrienne or Nate went out last night and killed him after they talked with you?”

Jakes shook his head. “ME says he’d been dead at least thirty-six hours.”

“So somebody killed him and strung him up the day before yesterday.”

“Well before we talked to the Russells.”

“Do you think that’s why Nate ran?”

He shrugged.

“Are you going to bring his mother in?”

“I can’t,” he said. “The captain won’t let me. Says we don’t have any probable cause.”

“She still doesn’t believe that you have one killer for all these murders?”

“She says she needs more than my hunch.” “What about your partner?” I asked. “Doesn’t he back you up?”

“No.”

“But—”

“She also dressed me down in front of everyone for having you there.”

“I figured that,” I said. I reached out and touched his hand. “I don’t want to do anything that will hurt you, Jakes.”

“I know,” he said.

“It seems to me you could avoid a lot of trouble with your boss if you just kept me out of things. I’m beginning to think you like . . . rubbing me in her face.”

He turned his hand over, closed it around mine. “There was never anything between me and her, Alex,” he said. “You have to believe that.”

“Then why is she riding you? She looked at me like a jealous woman looks at a rival.”

“She might be jealous—who knows?” he asked. He released my hand so we could both continue eating. “But I haven’t given her any cause to be. Besides, this is old news for you and me. There’s no reason to talk about her anymore.”

I studied his face, searching for any insincerity. I didn’t see any. He picked at his pancakes. “This is still my case, and now that there’s been another murder, she can’t pull me off.”

“Why not?”

“There’s just too much background for someone else to catch up on.”

“What about Davis?”

“He’s the only logical choice, but he wouldn’t take my case,” he told me.

“Why?”

“Because he’s my partner.”

Something was wrong. He wasn’t meeting my eyes.

“And what about me?”

He looked at me this time. “She said she doesn’t want to see you at any more crime scenes.”

“That’s all she said?”

He nodded.

“Well,” I said, “we can do that.”

He smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “We can.”

Chapter 52

As he drove me to the studio, I said, “I have a question.”

“What?”

“Is there another son?”

“Sorry?”

“Adrienne Russell,” I said. “Does she have another son? Does Nate have a brother?”

He hesitated a moment and then said, “You know, I never asked.”

“If Adrienne Russell is behind these murders, she’d need help.”

“And you don’t think that would be Nate?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t talk to him. You did. Do you think he’s a killer?”

His right hand closed into a fist, but I was glad he didn’t use it. He just squeezed it hard. “I let him get away, so I didn’t have a lot of time with him.” He took a quick look at me. “I’ll check and see if he has any other family.”

“What about the husband?” I asked. “Do you think he might help her?”

“No,” Jakes said. “Him I believed. He’s too bitter to be helping her kill people.”

“I’m going to check Adrienne out when I get to work,” I said.

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, I want to check and see if she was ever an actress.”

“You think she’s trying to live through her son because she couldn’t succeed?’

“Could be. Maybe she’s so driven to make him a success because she never became one. It’s that way with a lot of stage mothers.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Jakes said. “Let me know what you find out.”

When the guard saw me in the passenger seat, he waved Jakes on through. I had originally asked him to drive me home so I could get my car, but he said he’d pick me up when I finished with work. I was amazed at how comfortable I already felt with him—a level of comfort I had never been able to achieve with Paul.

It was even evident when he leaned over to kiss me good-bye.

“Have a good day at work,” he said. “Call me when you’re done and I’ll pick you up.”

“I will.”

I got out and watched as he drove away, and then turned and went into the building.

 

The first person I ran into was the director, Richard Breck.

“Hey, Dick, I’m sorry—”

“Save it, Alex,” he said, holding up a hand. “Sean wants to see you. Now.”

That didn’t sound good. “Do you know what it’s about?”

“Hey, they don’t confide in me,” Dick said. “Just do me a huge favor and get on the set as soon as possible?”

“Okay, Dick. Thanks.”

I wondered if I was in as much trouble with one of my bosses as Jakes was with his.

I made my way to Sean Peters’s office. As I entered he was on the phone. He held up one finger to me, and I stood there and waited.

“Sorry about that,” he said, hanging up several minutes later. “I had to finish that call.”

“I understand. You wanted to see me?”

“I did,” he said. “Alex, what’s going on?”

“How do you mean?”

“You’ve been coming in late, calling in late, forcing us to tape around you . . . ever since that incident at the Emmys. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Sean.”

He stood up, came around the desk, touched his hair and then put his arm around me. “Because if you need some time off, just tell me. We’ll arrange it.”

I could have felt touched at that moment, but I was suspicious. Here I thought he was going to call me on the carpet, and instead he was being incredibly sensitive. That wasn’t like Sean Peters at all.

“I know what a shock you had—”

“That was two weeks ago, Sean,” I said. “I’m fine, really.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He patted my shoulder and then removed his arm. Suddenly, the look on his face changed. “Then what the hell is going on with you, Alex?” he demanded.

“I—Sorry?”

“You’ve been late, you’re forcing us to tape around you. . . . Why?”

I felt like we were having the same conversation but with him in an entirely different mood.

“I mean, I know you’re Alex Peterson—I get that,” he said. “You’re one of the queens of daytime. I get that, too. But I’ve never thought of you as a diva, Alex.”

“Neither have I, Sean—”

“Then why are you acting like that?” he demanded. “I don’t know how it was on
Yearning Tide
, Alex, but here on
B and B
everybody carries their weight.”

I wanted to be indignant, I wanted to shout at him, but I couldn’t because he was right. Not that I’d been acting like a diva, but in agreeing to help Jakes with his investigation—by
wanting
to be involved—I had been pushing my job to the back burner. That certainly wasn’t fair to the rest of the cast or the crew.

“I understand, Sean,” I said. “To tell you the truth, I’ve have been rather . . . shaky since Jackson almost fell on me, since I was covered with his blood . . .”

I felt bad. The look on Sean’s face changed. Once again becoming solicitous, he put his arm around me.

“I knew it,” he said. “I know you’re a rock, Alex, but something . . . horrible like that . . . it has to have a lasting effect.”

“I’m doing okay, really . . . most of the time. . . .”

“Do you want some time off?”

“No, no, Sean,” I said, “I don’t. I’ll be all right, really. I’m here to work.”

He patted my shoulder and said, “You’re a trouper, Alex. But if you need some time off, please let me know . . . in advance, so I can schedule around you.”

“I—I’ll do my best, Sean.”

“Good,” he said. “Good. Now . . . get to work.”

I left, knowing that I deserved a Daytime Emmy for my time in his office, and feeling both bad about it . . . and just a little satisfied. I was afraid he was going to make me choose between my job and the investigation. I would have had to pick my job, of course.

But as I made my way to my dressing room, I felt a kinship with Jakes. We were two mavericks, flying in the face of authority to solve these murders.

I’d never been a maverick before.

Chapter 53

I focused all my concentration on my scenes that day, but luckily I had only three, so that wasn’t very hard to do. It was after my scenes were over that the day turned.

I entered my dressing room and saw an envelope with my name on it sitting on the dressing table. My heart almost stopped when I recognized the chicken scratch. Only one person I knew had that immature handwriting. I tore the envelope open and pulled out a note written in the same scribble:

I admit it. I panicked. I ran out of my dressing room and went looking for a crew member, a stage manager, someone. I needed to find out if anyone had seen who had left the note in my dressing room. If it was Randy himself, then he’d found some way past the guards and into the building without a pass—or he’d convinced someone to give him a pass.

I talked to several people, who either saw nothing or admitted nothing in the face of my obvious distress. I decided to take it to Sean Peters.

I found him in his office, sitting behind his desk and again on the phone. I could tell from his end of the conversation that he wasn’t discussing business. I was too harried to wait for him to finish his personal call, so I slammed my hand down on the receiver, cutting the connection.

“Alex, what the—”

“Read this!” I thrust the note into his face.

He took it, read it quickly, and then looked at me. It took a moment for it to dawn on him.

“Wait,” he said, “this is your ex—”

“Yes,” I said, “the man who abandoned me and my daughter and stole all of my money. The man who’s been missing for years. A man who has no right to be on these premises.”

“Okay, Alex,” he said, standing up. Despite the conversation, he remembered to touch his hair—and despite the conversation, I managed to notice. “Take it easy—”

“Take it easy?” I asked. “Sean, I want to know how this note got in my dressing room. I want to know how he got into the building, let alone on the lot. If you think I’ve been upset up to now, you ain’t seen nothing yet.” I grabbed the note back and crumpled it in my hand. “If I see Randy, I can’t be responsible for what I’m gonna do to him. This man abandoned my little girl, and now he thinks he’s going to come back into her life—and into
my
life? Goddamn it—”

“Alex, Alex!” he said.

I stopped abruptly, realizing I was a millimeter from being completely out of control.

“I’ll look into it,” he said. “I’ll find out how the note got here. I swear. Leave it to me. Go take care of your daughter.”

I took a deep breath. “Sean . . . I’m sorry I shouted at you.”

“Not at all,” he said. “You get yourself home and I’ll look into this. When I find out who let him into the building, I’ll have their job and their head.”

“Thank you, Sean.”

I left his office and walked back to my dressing room—even though I wanted to run. When I got there I called Jakes.

 

Jakes pulled up in front of the building and I ran to the car.

“Let me see the note,” he said.

“Is your man still on Sarah?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I just spoke to him. He’s with your mother and her.”

“He didn’t upset my mother, did he? Or Sarah?”

“No, Alex, everything’s fine,” he said. “Give it to me.”

“What does it matter?” I asked, but I handed the note to him.

“You crumpled it?”

“I was . . . crazed!” I said.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. You’re sure this is Randy’s handwriting?”