Dial Emmy For Murder Part 13

"Don't you want to-"

"No," he said. "My boss will tie me up for hours. Let's just go-we'll take the stairs. . . ."

He rushed me to his car in the parking lot and then drove us to mine to pick up my makeup kit and extra clothes. Then he took me to a restaurant he knew had a large ladies' room.

"And don't ask me how I know," he said as we went in. "I'll wait at the bar."

Chapter 23.

When I came back to the bar, Jakes was sitting with an iced tea in front of him and another waiting for me. He looked at me blankly, and then it registered that it was me.

"Jeez! You look completely different again!"

"I know! Isn't it so cool?" I was having way too much fun with this.

"One question. Why are all your disguises so unattractive? Don't you have any with, say, a platinum blond wig and big b.o.o.bs, maybe a miniskirt?" he asked with a s.e.xy smile.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't!" I felt fl.u.s.tered again. Why did he do that to me? "Now, seriously, why are you ducking your boss? And how come you're never with your partner?"

"Look," he said, "I'm having some trouble at work, but it's got nothing to do with you. I don't like my boss, and I don't get along with my partner. He and I have agreed to work on this case separately."

"You've agreed?"

"Yes," he said. "I got confirmation from him that yes, the fifth dead man was also an actor."

"Wait, wait," I said. "Let's not get off this subject so fast."

"What subject?"

"The subject of you and your partner and work-"

"Alex," he said, starting to sound exasperated, "I had a life before I met you. You have to believe that this has nothing to do with you."

"Okay," I said. "So do you think this will work?" I gestured to my disguise, turned toward him and framed my face with my hands.

"You look . . . severe," he said. "Like a librarian."

"That's the point," I said. "And I have these."

I took out a pair of large plastic-framed gla.s.ses and put them on.

"Okay," he said, "n.o.body will recognize you in that getup."

"How do we introduce me?"

"You'll be my a.s.sociate," he said. "I'm not gonna to tell anyone that you're a cop."

"Okay, I see your point," I said. "The last time I helped you solve a case, you called me your consultant. Am I being promoted or demoted?"

He looked at me blankly. "Just don't speak. I ask all the questions."

"What if I think of a question-?"

He cut me off with a look.

"Okay, you're right. I'll just sit quietly, take a few notes and look like an a.s.sociate. Whatever the h.e.l.l that is."

We got up and started out the door. A little bitter but happy to be going along, I shut my mouth and followed him to the car, noticing what a nice b.u.t.t he had.

Chapter 24.

The families lived spread out over the greater Los Angeles area, starting with Aaron's family in Hanc.o.c.k Park. I had no idea whether we could get all the questioning done in one day. In the car, Jakes reminded me of the names of the other three men who were killed. They were Kyle Hansen, Tom Nolan and Mason Stone. Mason Stone? It was hard for me to believe parents could be so cruel. That had to be a stage name. Or a p.o.r.n name. Is that the same thing?

"How many interviews are we doing today?" I asked.

"We're going to try to do the three in Southern California," he said. "One of the others has family up in Northern California. Len is going to travel to do that one."

"And the fifth?"

"Canada," he said. "We're going to do that one by phone. If we think it needs something more we'll call the locals. If we're still not satisfied, then Len or I will go up there."

"So we only have three."

"Yes," he said, "and hopefully we'll be able to get them all done today. But if not, we'll finish up tomorrow. When do you have to go back to work?"

"Tomorrow. But I have a lot of dialogue. It will take me some time to learn all my lines."

"It sounds kind of like homework."

"It is! Just as tedious sometimes, too. I have a pretty decent memory, though, so it's easier for me to memorize lines than for a lot of the other actors."

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "I bet you were good in school, right? Teacher's pet, cheer-leader? Huh?"

"Well, yeah . . . I've been known to put on a skirt and sweater and grab a pom-pom. And yes, I was on the honor roll a couple of times. Why? You got something against smart cheerleaders?"

"Not at all. I just didn't run in that crowd. In fact I tried to avoid school as much as possible."

"Really? I would have pegged you as someone who was good at school."

"I probably would have been. Too many distractions, though."

"But you managed to get through," I said. "High school? College?"

"College," he said. "You have to have a degree to get into most police departments now. I managed to get my degree at night."

"Degree?"

"Criminal justice," he said. "A minor in law."

"Did you want to be a lawyer?"

"h.e.l.l, no," he said. "I just wanted to know what I was talking about."

"And do you?"

He looked at me quickly and then put his eyes back on the road. "When it comes to my job," he answered, "yes."

So far neither of us had brought up what happened the night before. I a.s.sumed he was referring to that but I wasn't completely sure. I really didn't know how to even approach talking about it.

So I didn't. I mean it was just a kiss, right?

"Do you have any theories?" I asked.

"About what?"

"Motives for these murders," I said. "They can't be isolated, right?"

"No," he said. "We're working on the a.s.sumption that the murders are connected."

"So someone has it in for good-looking young actors."

"Apparently."

"Like whom?"

"You tell me," he said. "Give me some possibilities . . . a theory."

"Oh, okay."

When I didn't speak right away, he said, "You must have given it some thought before now."

"Well, yes . . ."

"So?"

"Girlfriends?"

"More than one?"

"Sure," I said. "What if all of the men went out with the same girl-or girls? Say two? Maybe three?"

"And these guys didn't call again? The woman-or women-killed the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds? Are females really that angry? Really?"

"Sometimes. Okay, maybe not," I said.

"Well, somebody has to be p.i.s.sed enough to kill them and string them up."

"They were all . . . hanged?"

He risked another look at me and then back to the road. I noticed he was a very good driver.

"Do you really want to know all the details, Alex?" he asked. "All the . . . gory details?"

"What do you think?" I looked at him. "Just think of me the way you would Detective Davis."

He flashed me a s.e.xy grin and said, "Trust me, that ain't gonna happen."

Chapter 25.

We were in the living room of a small house deep in the San Fernando Valley. It was a middle-cla.s.s residential area where one of the young men, Tom Nolan, grew up.

Jakes told me he had not called ahead. He never liked to warn people that he was going to be questioning them, not even the family members of the deceased.

"You don't suspect the families." It wasn't a question.

"Not in this case, but you never know what you can learn by surprising people."

So we surprised Nolan's mother, who let us in when Jakes showed her his ID. As planned, he introduced me as his "a.s.sociate." She didn't ask any questions.

She showed us into the small, neat living room and said her husband was at work. She could call him if we wanted her to.

"That won't be necessary," Jakes said. "We just have some questions about Tom's death. We're sorry to intrude, but-"

"Have you taken over his case?" she asked. She sat on the sofa and rubbed her arms as if she were suddenly cold. She was as neat and well taken care of as the room. Not expensively dressed or made-up, but she apparently knew how to use her clothes and makeup to show herself off to her best advantage. Her hair was black as coal. I was sure it was dyed, but it was a good dye job, making her look younger than she was, which was probably early fifties. Her body showed she spent time at a gym.

"Yes, ma'am, we have," Jakes said. "We believe that whoever killed Tom has also killed at least four other young men around the same age, so we're consolidating all the cases."

Her eyes widened. She looked from Jakes to me and then back. "You mean my son was killed by a serial killer?"

"We haven't put a label to the killer yet, Mrs. Nolan," he said.