Dial Emmy for Murder (25 page)

“Ms. Peterson! Alexis!” Cameras were flashing. People were holding out photos to be autographed. As I took a young guy’s Sharpie, poised to sign his autograph book, someone grabbed my arm and led me away. “Sorry!” I yelled to the guy.

The woman holding my arm said, “We’re running very late. My name’s Sandra, and I’m with the Activities Committee. Could you please pose with the others? Quickly, before the symposium starts!”

“Of course, I’d love to.” I was pushed in between Melody Thomas Scott and Susan Lucci. Kim Zimmer was on Susan’s other side. A flurry of flashbulbs went off, momentarily blinding me.

“Well, hello, ladies! You all look beautiful. How are you?” I asked.

“Hi, Alex. It’s so nice to see you. I love your suit!” Melody laughed. I looked at her and then at the other two and realized we were all in dark suits. I was right about the dress code.

Kim gave me a big hug. “Al. I can’t believe what happened at the Emmys. What’s going on with that? Have they found the killer?”

“Yes. Have they found the guy? I heard there were other murders,” Susan chimed in.

“You’re kidding me. I hadn’t heard that,” Mel said.

They were all looking at me, but before I had a chance to answer, I heard, “Jesus, I thought you weren’t going to make it.” My manager, Connie, pushed through the crowd and gave me a big hug.

“Excuse me, ladies,” I said to them, and then to Connie, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. You look good.” I think she was tearing up a little. Connie was a little rough around the edges, for sure. Gruff and always slightly disheveled. But she was a softie at heart.

“Now, don’t make my makeup run,” she snuffled.

“Ms. Peterson. We’re about to start. Could you please follow me?” Sandra led the way as the other ladies and I followed her to an area behind the stage. The moderator, Harry Smith, was already speaking to the audience, welcoming them, promising a fun and informative evening. He introduced Susan; she walked out to thunderous applause. The rest of us waited for our names to be called, straightening our skirts, pulling down blouses. I took out a compact and was powdering my upper lip when I happened to glance out at the audience from an opening in the curtain. I stopped in mid-powder.

“Son of a bitch. No way,” I muttered to myself. I couldn’t believe it. There he was, sitting right in the middle of all those people. My ex. Randy!

I froze, didn’t know what to do. And then I snapped out of it and reached for my cell to call Jakes.

“And from
The Bare and the Brazen
, Alexis Peterson!”

“Shit!” I said too loudly, and dropped the phone. Trying to pick it up, I accidentally kicked it, causing it to land somewhere under a snack table in the corner behind the stage. I went to follow it when Sandra came up behind me.

“Harry Smith just called you. Go!” She not so gently pushed me onto the stage. I sort of stumbled out, blinded by the lights. The audience was clapping as I walked to my seat. I waved to everyone, feeling like I was having an out-of-body experience. Looking around the auditorium, I tried to find Randy again. There he was. About ten rows back with a smirk on his face that made my blood pressure rise. We had a brief moment of eye contact.

“What do you have to say to that, Alexis?” Harry had apparently asked me a question.

I looked at him blankly.

“Would you like me to repeat the question? Day-dreaming, are we?”

The audience laughed.

“Sorry?” I said.

“Just wondering how you’re enjoying playing two characters.”

“Oh, so much fun. Really empowering!” I had no idea what I was saying.

Kim Zimmer was introduced next and everyone stood to applaud. By the time they had taken their seats again, Randy was gone. I blinked and looked around the auditorium.

Had I imagined it? Or was I going to have to deal with Randy when this evening was over?

Chapter 59

The rest of the question-and-answer period was a blur. I guess I answered the questions halfway intelligently. No one complained. When it was over, I made a beeline for the back, looking for my phone. I couldn’t find it. Anywhere. I desperately wanted to call Jakes. He was supposed to be locating Randy. Did he know the scumbag was here?

I started to look around for Connie, half expecting Randy to appear. After three years, after he just disappeared with all my money and then after that note and the phone call, I didn’t know what I’d say or do. I hoped I’d have control and the good sense to not cause a scene in front of my colleagues and fans, but the truth was, I wasn’t sure.

“Al.”

I turned, wide-eyed, but it was Connie.

“Whoa, Al,” she said. “Are you all right?”

“Connie,” I said low and urgently, “he’s here. Randy’s here. I saw him in the audience.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Well, sort of.”

“Are you positive or not?”

“Yeah, I am. I mean, it was a shock. But it had to be him. Let me have your phone.”

“That bastard!” she hissed, and handed me her cell.

“Where’s yours?”

I waved her off as I tried to call Jakes. “Shit! No reception in here. I have to get out of here—I need to get to Sarah!”

“People were invited up to talk to you, Al. You’re supposed to sign autographs and schmooze a little.”

I looked around me. Fans were coming up from the audience, and I didn’t see Randy anywhere. Could I trust my eyes? Should I start to doubt myself?

“Did you drive?” she asked.

“Yes; I’m parked on level Two West,” I said, still looking out for Randy and handing her back her phone.

“So am I. Take a few photos, sign a couple of autographs and then leave. I’ll pick you up right outside the front doors. We’ll get your car later.”

“Won’t that seem too . . . rude?”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll tell them you had a family emergency.”

“Okay. Thanks!” I could always count on Connie.

I was still nervously looking around the room for Randy when someone touched my elbow. Luckily I managed not to jump out of my skin. It was Sandra. She wanted me to stand with the other ladies and meet and greet.

“I’ll see you out there,” Connie said.

I nodded. She left to go to the parking structure. Connie knew Randy and didn’t like him one bit. I hoped she wouldn’t run into him. There was no telling what she might do, especially if she was behind the wheel.

As it turned out, it wasn’t Randy I had to worry about.

 

I managed to get away after only a few minutes of signing autographs. I wasn’t sure my colleagues would understand and not take offense that I hadn’t said good-bye to each of them in turn, but simply waved to everyone and took off.

I tried to keep from running until I got clear of the auditorium. By the time I got to the lobby, I was jogging and bolted through the front doors. No Connie. Shit! I thought. Where was she? I flung off my heels and sprinted to the parking structure. Impatiently I kept pushing the button for the elevator, even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good. Once you push it once, it’s pushed. Damn it!

When the elevator came, I rushed in and pushed the button P2 West. It lit up but still I kept pushing. I had managed to get a spot right near the elevator, so when the door opened I expected to see my car.

But I was wrong.

“Hi, babe,” Randy said, a big smile on the handsome face that used to make me weak in the knees. Now it made my stomach flip in an entirely different way.

“Randy.”

“We need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” I said, stepping out of the elevator.

“I want to see Sarah.”

“You’re not seeing Sarah, Randy. Not just like that, out of the blue. Not after three years. It’ll mess with her head. What are you trying to do to her? Are you staying? Going to court? Going to jail?” My voice was rising along with my anger. “What the hell are your intentions?”

At that moment I heard someone running, and then I saw Connie hurrying from the other direction.

“Alex!”

Randy turned when he heard my name, and he saw Connie, too. “Oh, hell, are you still workin’ with that crazy bitch?”

I didn’t understand why Connie was running until we heard the sound of a car screeching. A dark SUV came up from behind and pulled alongside her. The passenger-side door opened and a dark-haired man got out.

“Oh, God,” I said. The woman behind the wheel was Adrienne Russell. The man was Nate. He grabbed Connie and started forcing her into the car. She fought him.

“Connie!” I shouted.

“Alex!” Connie called back. At that point Nate punched her on the jaw and pushed her into the car.

“Oh God, oh God, Con,” I said.

“Alex—what the hell is going on? Who are those people?” Randy said.

“Get out of my way, Randy!”

Adrienne looked over at me and smiled, nothing like Mrs. Butterworth now.

“Damn it, Randy—”

I tried to go around him, but he stepped into my path. “Alex—” he said again.

And that’s when I hit him.

Chapter 60

I felt the shock of the blow all the way up my arm, fearing I might have broken my hand. But as he fell I couldn’t spend one minute enjoying his pain. I ran for the Porsche, hoping I could get out of the parking structure in time to see which way Adrienne and Nate had taken Connie.

I dropped my keys the first time I tried to unlock the door. The second time I was more successful. I fitted the key into the ignition and got Marilyn roaring. As I pulled out I saw Randy get up, and then he had to jump out of my way.

Screeching down to the exit, I had to stop and pay at the gate before I could get out. Apparently Adrienne had also stopped to pay. I didn’t see the humor until later. Who stops to pay when they’re in the middle of a kidnapping?

I couldn’t figure out why they would want Connie. Or what they were doing there in the first place.

I drove out of the garage and onto the street, wondering which way to go. I needn’t have wondered. Adrienne’s SUV was there, parked with the motor running. I didn’t know what to do. Get out and approach it? Call Jakes? Or 911? I didn’t have my fucking phone!

The SUV suddenly revved its engine and took off. I hit the gas and followed. There was no way they could outrun Marilyn.

Adrienne jumped on the 5 North heading out deep into the Valley. It was fairly late, and the freeway was empty enough to allow Adrienne to maintain a speed upward of eighty miles an hour. It was a speed I could easily do with the Porsche.

I followed, realizing they were going into a heavily industrialized area. The boonies. No 7-Elevens. No gas stations. No police stations. Nothing. Finally they pulled into what looked like a self-storage facility. They pulled up to the front gate and stopped.

The vehicle idled there, with hardly any movement inside. I stopped several car lengths behind them, waiting. None of the murders had been committed with a gun, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have one.

Suddenly Adrienne’s arm came out the window, and she punched in a code. The gate rolled back slowly.

I put the Porsche in drive and drove forward through the rolling gate before it could close.

Chapter 61

Somehow, once we got through the gate, they disappeared.

I stopped the car but kept the motor running and the doors locked. I was hoping to see an address, but it was dark. My headlights shone on a bunch of orange corrugated doors.

I knew I had to get out of the car. I didn’t have a flashlight, but I did have a crowbar in the backseat that I kept on the floor for road rage emergencies. I grabbed it, held it tight and got out.

The ground was gravel. My feet crunched as I stepped out. Abruptly I heard other footsteps crunching, as if someone was running up behind me. Before I could move or bring the crowbar up, an arm came around me right under my chin.

“Drop it!” someone said in my ear.

I considered trying to hit whomever it was, but the person tightened his hold and cut off my air. I let the crowbar drop.

The arm released me, and Nate forced me around and pushed me against the car.

He was not a large or imposing person, but I had the feeling his looks were deceiving. He was definitely stronger than I was, and I didn’t think I could sucker punch him the way I had Randy. My hand was still throbbing from that episode.

He pushed me ahead and directed me where to turn. Suddenly there were lights ahead. When we reached the storage units, I saw that one of the doors was open and the interior of one of the larger units was well lit. So well lit that naked bulbs hanging from the ceiling made me squint. But I could still see Connie, tied and gagged and lying on the floor in a corner. Standing near her was Adrienne Russell. Mother and son had dressed alike for their little family outing—sweatshirts, jeans and tennis shoes.

The storage unit looked like a shrine. There were photos of Nate, some furniture, clippings stuck to the walls and boxes, but when I looked closer I could see that the head shots were not of Nate but of someone who looked very much like him.

“That’s Nick,” Adrienne said. “My other son. Nate’s twin, actually.”

Adrienne looked bulky in her clothes. Gone were the bun and granny glasses and the Mrs. Butterworth demeanor. There was a shine in her eyes, though, a look I had tried to cultivate when I had once played a slightly mad character in a movie of the week years back, only Adrienne was much more convincing.

“Nick,” I said, “your son—the one in Chicago?”

“Your information is old, Alex,” Adrienne said. “Yes, Nick went away to do repertory theater—after he had failed at acting in Hollywood. After ‘the business’ had successfully beaten him down. But they didn’t appreciate him there either, so he ended up working odd jobs, embarrassed to tell us. Finally the despair overtook him so much that he committed suicide. Hanged himself. That sound familiar?”