Part 18 (1/2)
Before I could say anything, my cell sang out. I looked at the caller ID and saw it was Connie. She had left a couple of messages I hadn't even bothered to listen to. Guilt set in so I decided to hear what she had to say.
”Sorry, Jakes. I really need to take this.” He shrugged and I got up and moved away from the table. ”How've you been, Connie?”
”Doll, I've been good. I miss you, though. Are you feeling better?”
”I am. Thanks. And I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I just needed to step away.”
”I get it, Al. This business can be such a b.i.t.c.h! Now, I got a request. . . .” Before I could object, she went on. ”Hold your horses! You're gonna love it.” I let her tell me and she was right.
The Academy of Television was known for host ing a series of ”An Evening with . . .” programs. You know: ”An Evening with the Cast of ER,” ”the Writers of 30 Rock,” et cetera. Apparently they were doing ”An Evening with the Leading Ladies of Daytime” and wanted my partic.i.p.ation. It would be me along with Susan Lucci, Melody Thomas Scott and Kim Zimmer. I was very flattered and excited about the idea of speaking about what I know and love at a forum of this magnitude.
”You're right, Connie. I do love it. Count me in. When is it?”
”It's on next Monday night. Seven to ten p.m. They're happy to send a car. They'll be over the moon to know you're going to be a part of it. Thanks, doll. I'll fill you in with more details as we get closer. Now, there's one more thing. It's a new game show that puts celebrities in clown suits and asks them-”
”Connie! Don't push your luck. I love ya. Gotta go.” I pushed ”end” and walked back over to Jakes.
”Everything okay?” he asked.
”Yeah, just some business. Where were we? I think you were about to tell me about the fifth one.” I sat down.
”Mason Stone,” Jakes said. ”He lived here but was from San Francisco. That's something Len's been trying to do, get in touch with his family up there.”
”So they don't even know that he's dead yet?”
”No.”
”That's terrible.”
”We'll notify them as soon as we can,” Jakes said, ”because we also want to question them.”
”We,” I said. ”When you say we . . .”
”I'm including you, Alex.”
”Okay, let's get back to that,” I said. ”Like I said, I didn't add a thing yesterday-”
”Alex, just because you haven't contributed yet doesn't mean you won't.”
”You sure you're not using me to p.i.s.s off your boss?”
”Believe me,” he said, ”I don't have to try to p.i.s.s her off . . . but am I waving you under her nose? No way. I consider you a valuable resource.”
”Why?”
”Because soap operas-and women-seem to be the two things all these cases have in common. Granted, Jackson was the only one working regularly, but the others have auditioned and, for all we know, could've played some bit parts.”
”I'm still waiting to hear what my contribution is going to be.”
”Okay, Len's trying to find the Stone family,” he explained. ”I have to follow up on all the interviews I did yesterday. It catches people off guard when you come right back at them.”
”And me?”
He took out his notebook, tore a slip of paper from it, put it on the table and pushed it toward me. It had the names of four soap operas on it.
”Do you know people at those shows?”
”I know someone at almost every show,” I told him. ”It's the nature of the business-especially if they're on the same network.”
”Good,” he said. ”I want you to get in there and find out what you can about our dead guys. Who auditioned for what part, and who got the job.”
”I can do that,” I said. ”How do you know which shows they auditioned for?”
”Agents,” he said. ”That was the one thing we were able to find in all their apartments: the names and addresses of their agents.”
I picked up the slip of paper. ”Good. Now I'll feel useful.”
He called the waitress over and took care of the bill. We had all driven there in our own cars, so as we left the place he took my arm and walked me to mine.
”I'll give you a call to see if you found anything out,” he said. ”Remember, we're on the clock.”
”If I get anything, I'll call you first,” I promised.
He waited while I unlocked my door. I opened it and then turned and leaned on it.
”You could ask these questions, Jakes,” I said, ”or have another cop do it. Why me?”
”Jesus, Alex,” he said, ”could we put this question to bed?”
”Humor me.”
”Okay,” he said. ”People lie to the police. It's automatic.”
”But if they didn't do anything-”
”Everybody feels guilty about something,” he said. ”It's a reflex. Believe me, you have a better chance of being told the truth than I do.”
I thought a moment and then shrugged and said, ”Okay, I accept that.”
”Good. Talk to you soon.”
As I pulled away from the curb, I could see him in the rearview mirror, watching.
Chapter 33.