Dial Emmy For Murder Part 32

"Don't you have to take this in as evidence?" I asked.

He smiled at me and said, "Eventually, but right now it'll do more good in my hands."

We found a small bar that appeared to be a cigar smokers' club. In fact there was a huge humidor next to the bar. Jakes picked out a table in the back, left me with the book and went to get us some drinks. He came back with a beer bottle and a red wine.

He sat and we continued to peruse Nate Russell's sc.r.a.pbook. The contents were 100 percent made up of newspaper clippings that had to do with TV auditions-and murders. Each time we found an article on one of our victims, Nate had written something about his mom in black marker.

Mom did this!

This one was Mom's fault.

This looks like Mom.

One even said, "Oh, Mom," with many exclamation points after it.

I turned my head to look at Jakes. "Do you really think Nate believes that his mom could be the killer?"

"From what he's written here, I think he knows his mom is the killer."

"Then are you going to arrest her?"

"Not on what I have here, no," he said. "I'd need Nate to make a statement, and even then it would only be his opinion. No, I need evidence before I can arrest her."

"So how do we get evidence?"

"Well, there are a few ways we could go," he said. "We could go back to Henri's neighborhood, see if anyone saw someone fitting the mother's description in the area. Or we could go and show her this book, see if she cracks."

"Oooh," I said, "I like that one."

"Or I could reexamine all the cases, question all the neighbors again about seeing someone like her in the area."

I made a face. "That sounds time-consuming."

He smiled. "That's what detective work is all about," he said. "It's legwork, reports and lots of time eaten up."

"Let's do the second one," I suggested. "It's faster."

"The problem with that is, if she doesn't crack, then we've warned her that we know she's the killer."

"She couldn't be the killer by herself, though," I said. "Hey, did we ever find out if she has another son?"

"Yeah, I did find out," he said. "There's another son, Nick, who is away in Chicago."

"Doing what?"

"We're still trying to find that out," he said.

"O'Hare is a major airport," I said. "He could get here fast if she needed him."

"So you think the mother's not only our killer, but she brought the other son into it?"

"We know she'd need help to do some of the things the killer did," I argued.

"What about Nate?"

"These notations sound to me like they come from someone who's complaining about what his mother did."

Jakes closed the book, picked up his beer and sat back.

"Are you going to take that book in and do whatever you have to do with it as evidence?" I asked.

"That would be the smart thing," he admitted. "I haven't really been doing the smart thing lately, though."

"What else would you do with it, then?"

He shrugged. "Take it home, keep studying it? Put it back? Maybe our killer will come back looking for it, the way we did."

"But the killer already looked for it, and Henri ended up dead."

"That's true," Jakes said. "I'm also going to have to check on this Nick in Chicago. I'll have to check with O'Hare and see if he's taken any flights out here."

He fell silent then. He seemed to want to think about things for a while, so I grabbed my winegla.s.s and sat back, my shoulder almost touching his.

Jakes finally decided he had to go back to Parker Center. That meant I couldn't go with him.

"I have to coordinate with my partner and report to my boss," he said.

"I understand," I said. "She wouldn't like seeing me in your office. Or your presence, I guess."

"It's the weekend," he said. "Spend the rest of it with your daughter. Come on, I'll take you home."

In the car I asked, "What are you going to do with the book?"

"I'll take it with me to my office," he said. "Even after I log it in as evidence, I'll be able to go through it-although it's probably told us all it's going to."

"That Adrienne Russell is a murderer?"

"With somebody's help, maybe her son's. Nate probably knows all the answers."

"So find him, and find the answers, right?"

"Right."

He pulled up in front of my house.

"When am I going to see you?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said. "First I have to convince my boss that a woman who looks like Mrs. b.u.t.terworth is a killer, and then I need to find the evidence to legally prove it."

"So in an hour or so?" I smiled.

He smiled back. "Maybe a little longer than that. A couple of days, at least. Let's shoot for Monday."

He kissed me good-bye, and then I kissed him good-bye and got out. He had driven away before I realized I forgot to tell him that Monday night I'd be at the Academy of Television for my taping of "An Evening with the Leading Ladies of Daytime."

Chapter 58.

I did as Jakes suggested. I spent the weekend playing with my sweet little girl, under the watchful eye of the man Jakes still had watching her. It was hard to believe that Sarah needed protection from her own father. I'm not sure why, but deep down I clung to the thought that he loved her. Which only made him a bigger puzzle to me.

I went to work on Monday and quickly became consumed with some on-set problems. There was an argument between the director and one of the actors over the way a scene should be played. The actor walked off the set screaming he quit, so production came screeching to a halt. To make a long story even longer . . . I had to tape some scenes from a future episode to make up for the scenes not being taped by previously mentioned p.i.s.sed-off actor. It happens. Unfortunately, it screwed with my time frame. At the end of taping, I realized I had to be at the Academy in North Hollywood in one hour!

It was too late to go home, so I ran up to wardrobe and asked if I could borrow something for the event. At those kinds of s.h.i.+ndigs a nice business suit seemed to be the preferred dress code, so I pulled a tailored blue suit with a somewhat plunging neckline and a little lace ruffle around the neck and cuffs. Conservative with a twist. I put the suit on and did the best I could with my hair in the time I had.

I ran out of the studio, almost breaking a heel, jumped in the Porsche and hurriedly drove to North Hollywood to the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences.

Remembering I hadn't called Jakes, I yelled out, "Call Jakes! Call Jakes!" Nothing happened. "Stupid Bluetooth!" I shouted as I was weaving my way up Highland to get to the 101 to the Valley. Then it dawned on me that the Porsche didn't have Bluetooth. Oops! I'd have to call him once I got there.

I was the last leading lady to arrive, so I ran up to the front of the Academy, making my way through a rather large crowd of fans and industry people.

"Ms. Peterson! Alexis!" Cameras were flas.h.i.+ng. 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, h.e.l.lo, 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 b.i.t.c.h. 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!"

"s.h.i.+t!" 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 sc.u.mbag 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."