Dial Emmy For Murder Part 2

We looked at each other.

"Stupid train," I grumbled as I made my way to the bathroom.

Chapter 5.

When I got into the ladies' room and saw myself in the mirror, I nearly lost it. Connie hadn't told me exactly how awful I looked. There was blood in my hair, on my forehead, and on the bridge of my nose. No wonder Jakes had been looking at me like that. I even had blood in my cleavage. Before I tried to fix myself, I ran into one of the stalls and suffered some dry heaves. I was lucky I hadn't eaten much before coming to the theater.

I did my best with paper towels and lukewarm water, and then I tried to get my hair back into some semblance of order. When I finished up I looked like a member of the B-52s. Only not as good.

I left the ladies' room and worked my way backstage. Everything was still in chaos there as well as in the front of the house, where the cops were taking names and addresses.

Connie spotted me and started over.

"Al, I found Mara. They won't let her come over here before they finish questioning people. I'll give her the jewelry." She held her hand out. I took the earrings and cuff off and gave them to her.

"Thanks, Connie." She walked off to the back of the stage. I turned and saw Jakes coming toward me.

"Hey, you look . . . better."

"Thank you." I tried to muster up a little dignity. "So, what happens now?"

"This is a crime scene. We're locked down."

"Are you going to let people go home?"

"Eventually," he said. "As soon as we get all their particulars."

"You could get a complete list of attendees from the producer."

"That'll be helpful," he admitted, "but there's bound to be some people who aren't on the list. Seat fillers. Event crashers. Right?"

"Yeah, a lot of seat fillers."

"Okay, so we're gonna be here a while."

"Do you know how poor Jackson was killed?"

"They're taking him down now," Jakes said. "I didn't see any obvious wounds. He's bleeding, but we can't tell from where. The chain is around his neck. We'll need the ME to answer your question."

"Oh."

"Do you have to get home to your daughter?" he asked.

"No." I hesitated before I said, "Uh . . . she and my mom are out of town."

"Really? I thought you and Sarah were glued at the hip."

"Oh, yeah. We are. It's just that it's a family reunion back east. I couldn't get off work so I sent them without me." I was nodding my head up and down as I said this. Why did this guy make me so nervous?

"Okay . . . so do you want to leave?" he asked. "I can have somebody take you home. How did you get here?"

"Limo," I said. "I can go home the same way."

"Well, if your driver's in the building, he won't be getting out until late."

"I see."

He wasn't looking at me when he asked me the next question. "Do you want to call your boyfriend to come over?"

"No." I hesitated just a hair too long. "He's out of town . . . on location."

Then he looked at me. And held my eyes. "So I can have someone drive you home," he said, "or . . . you can wait around and I'll drive you myself."

"Aren't you keeping me here as a suspect? Like last time?"

He smiled. "No, this time I'm not looking at you as a suspect."

"Why not?"

"I don't think you would have been crawling around up in the rafters in that dress."

"Thanks for that."

"So, that ride?" he said.

"Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"I'll wait around for that ride . . . with you," I told him. I had a lot of questions to ask about the case. I couldn't help myself and tried to convince myself my interest in true crime was the only reason I wanted to ride with him.

"All right, Alex," he said, lightly touching my arm. It was unnerving and weirdly thrilling all at the same time. "Is there any coffee around here?"

"Sure," I said. "There's craft services back here, for the show's hosts and presenters. Come with me."

Gradually people began to leave the auditorium. But behind the scenes, n.o.body was going anywhere because they had all been close to the body when it fell. Apparently everybody backstage qualified higher on the list of potential suspects than people in front of the house did. If Jakes was telling the truth, I was the exception.

But based on all of my past dealings with Detective Frank Jakes, I knew he couldn't be counted on to always tell the truth.

But then again, who could?

Chapter 6.

"Okay," Jakes said when we were both in his car and heading for my house, "fill me in on this Jackson character."

"Jackson Masters is-was-one of the young hunks of the soap world."

"What does that mean exactly?"

"A lot of the time," I said, "it means not much acting talent but great abs."

"A lot of the time?"

"Jackson had some talent. I think in a few years he would have developed his acting chops and had a decent career."

"So who didn't want him to move on?"

"You got me."

"No ideas?"

"None."

"Come on, Alex," he said. "You're my in to the soap world-my expert."

"Sorry, Detective," I said, "but on the set Jackson was pretty well liked."

"And off the set?"

"I didn't socialize with him."

"Did he ever come on to you?" Jakes asked.

"What a cliche! Not all actors come on to each other! We're not always jumping in the sack with anything that moves!"

Jakes was quiet.

I was quiet, too. The fact of the matter was that soon after I joined B&B, Jackson did hit on me. Or, at least, he flirted. I hated having to tell Jakes he was right, but I also didn't want to get in the way of his investigation. If Jackson had been killed because of the way he hit on women, then I needed to come clean.

"Okay, so shut up. He hit on me once," I said, "but I brushed it aside, didn't pay much attention to it, and he moved on."

"To other women on the show?"

"I suppose," I said. "I'm the newest actress on the set, so he had probably already gone through the others."

"Gone through?" he asked. "You mean, slept with?"

"No," I said. "Yes . . . I don't know. I mean, maybe he'd slept with some of them. . . ."

"Do you know which ones?"

"I'll have to think about it. If I tell you," I asked, "will they be suspects?"

"Maybe," he said, "or maybe their boyfriends or husbands."

d.a.m.n. I hadn't wanted anyone pointing a finger at me last year when Marcy was killed, so I hated to be the one to point at anyone now.

"Let me think about it," I said again.

"You do that," he said. "Take all night. Get back to me tomorrow."

"I'll try."

He pulled up in front of my house and turned off the car. "Dark house," he said.

"I told you, my mother is away and has Sarah with her."

"Yeah, I remember you said that." He turned in his seat to look at me. "Why didn't you ever call me back, Alex?" he asked.

"C'mon, you know why. . . . I have a boyfriend." I felt like a teenager in high school.

"How's that working for you?"

I was tongue-tied.

"Get back to me tomorrow with some names," he said, turning to face the winds.h.i.+eld again. "n.o.body will know they came from you. I just need a place to start, and I'd appreciate your help."

"All right," I said. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good night, Alex," he said. "Nice seeing you again."

I didn't quite know what to say-"Nice to see you, too," sounded lame-so I just got out of the car, pulling my dirty train out with me, and watched him drive away before I headed for a shower.

Chapter 7.

I opened the door and carefully locked it behind me. I was immediately hit with a blast of silence. My mom had taken Sarah back to the Midwest to get to know her cousins and aunts and uncles at an extended Peterson family reunion. She would be there for at least two weeks. This part was all true. But there was another, more important reason behind the trip.

A few weeks ago I had received a phone call from my son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h ex-husband, Randy. The guy who had taken money set aside for my early retirement so I could be a stay-at-home mom. He had fled the country and I had not heard from him in three years. He hadn't always loved me, but he had always loved our daughter. And now here he was calling to say he was coming back to the States in a couple of weeks to see Sarah. I knew Sarah missed him, even though he had left when she was so young. She still remembered him and had recently started asking a lot of questions about her daddy. I want her to have a father. I'm just not so sure her biological dad is the best candidate for the job.

Anyway, I told him I needed to think about things and to call me back in a couple of days. Would he go to prison? I wondered. I guess that would depend on what his other clients did. I wasn't the only one he took money from. In any case, it would probably be minimum security for a few months, maybe a year, since it was a white-collar crime. Would he want shared custody? I didn't think I could stand that. So I promptly changed my number. I needed a few days to think and I had this invitation to the family reunion. Knowing I couldn't make it, I bought a couple of plane tickets for my mom and Sarah-just in case Randy tried contacting her. I never mentioned it to anyone, not even my mother. The two of them being gone for a while gave me a chance to think.