Dial Emmy For Murder Part 9

Chapter 16.

I went to my dressing room to clean up and get back into my street clothes. By the time I was dressed I had an idea. I made a phone call, and when the call was answered, I said, "Can you meet me tonight?"

"Of course-but you still want to talk to me, after what happened last year?"

"I'd like a favor," I said. "Let's just say you owe me."

"Okay," he said. "Where?"

When I knocked on the door, Andy McIntyre opened it himself. Apparently he had not felt the need to replace Murray the Life Coach.

"Hey, Alex," he said. Impulsively he grabbed me and hugged, and I hugged back. I realized at that moment that since leaving The Yearning Tide, I'd missed him and that show. "Come in."

I followed him to the kitchen, where he had already put on a pot of coffee.

Andy and I had started on The Yearning Tide at the same time. In fact, we had played young lovers at one point.

"We can drink it out by the pool," he said.

"That's fine."

He armed us both with a mug and we carried it outside. The house was in Malibu, not far from Paradise Cove. He had an impressive view of the beach.

"I'm so happy to see you, Alex," he said as we sat. Then he started in with questions. "How do you like your new show? The new characters? Are you having fun playing dual roles? I smell Emmy!"

"Yeah. I mean, it's harder but it's a blast," I said.

We talked a little about the new show, and then he filled me in on what was going on with The Tide and all its characters. It felt a little like the old days, when Andy and I used to talk a lot. I have to admit, I also felt a little left out.

"The Tide is not the same without you."

"That's nice of you to say, Andy."

"It's true," he said. "We miss Tiffany."

"When I was there, everybody thought I was a murderer," I reminded him.

"And, for a shorter time, they thought the same of me," he said.

"So how can you continue to work with people who thought you were capable of that?"

He smiled wanly and said, "I'm not a beautiful soap star who is in demand, Alex. I'm an aging soap actor who's happy just to have a role."

I had said Andy and I started on The Tide at the same time and that we'd been cast as young lovers, but truthfully, he was a good eight or ten years older than I was. He had lost his glow and he was no longer a heartthrob.

But today was the first time I realized that he was a sad, middle-aged man. But he was still my friend, so it made me sad, as well.

"So, what can I do for you, Alex?" he asked.

I got myself back to the reason I was there. "As I said, I need a favor. Have you ever heard of an young actor named Aaron Summers?"

"No," he said. "Is he another of those baby hunks all the shows are hiring?"

Spoken like a former young hunk, I thought.

"I remember he auditioned for a role on The Tide a while back," I said without answering his question.

"Really, Alex," he said. "Why are you trying to track down young actors-"

"Not young actors," I said. "Just this one."

"What's so special about this one?" he asked. "You think he's right for something on your show?"

"Hardly," I said. "He's dead." "Oh, jeez, the Emmys," he said, slapping his forehead. "I meant to call you. I'm so sorry-"

"Forget it."

"But, wait-he's not the one who came down from . . ."

"No, that was Jackson Masters."

"Right, right," he said, snapping his fingers. "I read that. He worked on your show, right?"

I was surprised it had taken him so long to mention something that was the talk of our industry. Then I was surprised it had taken me so long to realize that he'd probably been drinking before I got there. If he'd worked that day, he could only have been drinking an hour or so before I showed up. I looked at my coffee. I'd already had a few sips, and it wasn't spiked. I'd watched him pour it, so his wasn't spiked, either. If Andy still drank the way he used to, he'd probably had three, maybe four drinks.

He'd been tense when I first arrived. Now he was starting to loosen up.

"That's right, Andy."

"So are you in charge of finding a replacement? Oh, no, wait, stupid me. You already said the other man was dead."

"That's right."

He sipped his coffee, drumming his fingers on the side of the mug. I figured he was ready to have another drink, probably wanted me out of there quick.

"I need to find out the details of when Aaron Summers auditioned for The Tide, Andy," I said. "Can you do that for me?"

"I can ask when I get to work tomorrow! Oops, I don't work tomorrow. Or the next day, or the one after that!" His bitterness at having a lesser role in the show was showing.

"Somebody in casting will have the information. Maybe you could call?" I thought it was better if someone from the show asked about Summers instead of me. I didn't want anyone's antennae to rise.

"Okay," he said, "so I'll ask. What can it hurt?"

"Can you call me tomorrow?"

"Sure," he said, "sure. We murder suspects have to stick together, right?"

"No, Andy." I put my mug down on the table. "We old friends have to stick together."

"Can I get you anything else?" he asked. "I was gonna have dinner-"

"No, thanks," I said, standing up. "I have dinner plans."

"Oh, of course," he said, also standing. "Sarah. How is she?"

"She's fine." No harm in letting him think I had to go home to make dinner for her.

He walked me to the door, where he said, "I really was gonna call you, Alex."

"I know you were, Andy," I said. I hugged him tightly. My good friend. I felt so sorry for him I wanted to cry. I kissed his cheek. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Chapter 17.

I was on time the next day, as I had promised. We taped my scenes with no problems, and the day ended with no further compliments from Breck.

When I arrived at my car in the parking lot, I was surprised to find Jakes's partner, Detective Len Davis, waiting for me.

"Detective. How's your son doing anyway? Davey, right?"

"He's fine. Thanks for asking, Ms. Peterson."

"You were calling me Alex last year, Detective."

"That was last year."

"I'm sorry you feel betrayed by Tiffany-by me," I said, wondering if I was going to need help from security-and, if I did, if they could get to me in time.

But Davis did not have the look of a crazed fan. I'd seen them enough times before to know. It was usually in the eyes. Or possibly their sweaty palms. Or their tendency to s.p.a.ce invade. You know, get a little too close for comfort. Or their willingness to buy your character a present for her wedding. Or when you find out they've just been released from prison and they know every signpost on your way from work to your home. Or they threaten to kill you and security has to walk you to your car after work. I digress.

"This isn't about that," he said.

"What's it about?"

"Frank Jakes."

"What about him?"

"He's going out on a limb for you," Davis said. "Putting his career on the line."

"I-I don't know what you mean."

"By bringing you into his investigation, letting you know certain things, he's breaking the rules."

"Why's he doing that?"

"You don't know?"

I shrugged. "He thinks I can help him?"

"You're smarter than that."

"Look," I said, "I haven't encouraged him-"

"Haven't you?"

"No, I haven't," I said pointedly. "I hadn't seen him at all until . . . until all this."

"But now you've seen him a few times," he said. "Since the other day, at the Emmy show."

"Have you talked to him about this?"

He hesitated and then said, "No, I haven't mentioned it to him."

"A man was killed, Detective," I said. "A friend of mine. All I'm doing is trying to help."

"But you're not helping," Davis said. "I suggest you stay out of it and leave it to the experts."

I was suddenly p.i.s.sed at being warned off. "So why doesn't Jakes tell me that?"

"He won't," Davis said. "He should, but he won't."

"Then maybe you should be having this talk with him," I said, "not me. Please move so I can get in my car."

I watched him in my rearview mirror as he watched me until we were out of each other's sight.

I was mad, but I didn't know who I was maddest at-Davis for warning me off, Jakes for putting me in this situation, or myself.

As I was driving home, my Bluetooth rang in my car. Living in Los Angeles means only hands-free cell phone usage in vehicles. I pushed the phone symbol on my steering wheel. "h.e.l.lo."

"Alex? It's Andy. I got that information you wanted-"

"Hold on, Andy."

I pulled over and parked, and then took a pad and pen from the glove compartment.

"Andy, how are you?"

"I'm fine, sweetie," he said. "Fine. Yesterday I was a little . . . well, you know."

"Yeah, I know," I said. "What did you find out for me?"