Dial Emmy For Murder Part 7

"Okay."

"How was he killed?"

"His neck was broken," Jakes said. "Somebody wrapped something around his neck and snapped it."

"Ewww. What do you think they used?"

"That we can't tell," Jakes said. "Whoever did it took the weapon with them."

"So he wasn't stabbed like Jackson."

"Actually," Jakes said, "they were killed the same way."

"How do you figure that?"

"Turns out the stab wounds didn't kill Jackson Masters."

"What did?"

"The fall from the catwalk," he said, "and the chain around his neck."

"You mean . . ."

"He was hanged," Jakes said. "That chain snapped his neck at the time of the fall. He might have died from the stab wounds eventually, but he didn't have the chance."

"Oh, my G.o.d."

"I feel pretty certain that the same person killed them both," he said. "Was Jackson gay?"

"Not that I know of, but . . ."

"But what?"

"I was thinking the same thing."

"Maybe that's what Henri wanted to tell you?"

"Yes."

"We found Jackson Masters's number in an address book in Henri's apartment. That, in itself, doesn't mean anything."

"But?"

"I found this also in the address book."

He took out a strip of photos, the kind you get from one of those machines in arcades and malls. There were four shots of Jackson and Henri together, smiling, laughing, and-in the last one-Henri was kissing Jackson on the cheek.

"Jackson doesn't look happy in this last photo," I said, handing it back.

Jakes had been plowing through a bowl of whole-wheat pasta while we talked. He put the photos back in his pocket and continued to eat.

"Well, it could be that Jackson was either gay or he went both ways," Jakes said. "That would increase our suspect pool."

"Maybe . . ."

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe it was a one-time thing," I said. "I mean, with Henri."

"You mean that Henri was just so adorable, Jackson couldn't resist?"

"Not my words," I said, "but essentially, yes."

Jakes sat back and scratched his head, pus.h.i.+ng his plate away as if something was ruining his appet.i.te. I'd never seen any evidence of it before, but I suddenly wondered if he was h.o.m.ophobic.

"I don't buy it."

"Why not?"

"I think people are straight, gay or bi," Jakes said. "I don't hold it against any of them. But I don't think anybody switches sides just once."

"What if it was his first time with a man?" I asked. "And he didn't like it, so he never repeated the experience."

"That's possible, but I think Jackson was just too s.e.xually experienced to have tried it with a man only now, at this age. I think it was more likely he tried it in his teens and liked it, but not exclusively. The picture I've been getting of Jackson Masters is that he pretty much knew what he liked. He seemed to be some kind of . . . pleasure hound."

I don't know why it should have surprised me to realize he'd been talking to others about Jackson, but after only a moment I realized it made perfect sense. After all, he couldn't depend just on what he'd learned from me.

"So you've talked to the women he's slept with?"

"Some of them," he said. "One or two are still denying it-due to husbands, boyfriends-but whatever the reasons, I'm sure they'll come around."

Our waitress came over and Jakes asked me, "Coffee?"

"Please."

"Any dessert?" she asked Jakes, pointedly ignoring me.

We ordered our desserts and she went off.

"Are you surprised?" he said.

"About what?"

"Jackson being bi or gay?"

"Believe me," I said, "those photos in your pocket are a shock to me."

"Because it was a man, or because it was Henri?"

"Either way."

"Well," he said, "I'll have someone go through Jackson's address book with a new eye."

"How's your partner, by the way?" I asked. "Still . . . mad at me?"

"I think he's more hurt than mad," he said. "He thinks you've . . . Tiffany's abandoned him."

Len Davis had been a big soap fan when I met him-and an even bigger Tiffany fan, the character I had played on The Yearning Tide.

"You know, I was never sure if that was an act or not with him."

"Oh, it's no act. He's a real soap junkie-particularly The Yearning Tide-and especially when it comes to you-or Tiffany."

My coffee arrived, and the rest of the meal went by too quickly. "I have a question," I said, when we were in the car, driving back to Henri's place.

"What is it?"

"If Jackson's been sleeping with men as well as women, he's been keeping it quiet," I said. "Why would he allow those pictures to be taken?"

"You know," he said, "that's a very good question-and with both of them dead, we'll probably never get an answer."

He pulled up in front of the building. All but one of the official cars were gone. The one left might have been the original car that responded to my call.

Before I got out and switched to my car, I asked, "What about the man I saw running out of the building? Was he a tenant?"

"Could be," Jakes said. "We got a description of tenants from the building manager, and the guy could be a match. I'll have to check it out." He put his hand on my arm as I reached for the door. "Before you get out of the car, Alex, I have a question for you."

"Okay."

"Why the h.e.l.l did you go into that apartment?" he asked. "Didn't you think about the danger?"

"Only at the very end," I said, "when I found the door open. But when I was ringing the bell and getting no answer, it never occurred to me that anything was wrong. I just thought he wasn't hearing me."

"Even when that other man came running out of the building?"

"Like I said," I answered, "I thought he was a tenant."

"And like I said, he might be," Jakes said. "I'll find out, but I still wish you hadn't gone into the apartment when you did. You could have gotten hurt. Where's your d.a.m.n boyfriend, anyway? Isn't he supposed to be watching out for you?"

"First of all, he's out of town," I said, bristling, "and second, no, he's not supposed to be looking out for me. I generally look out for myself."

"Okay," he said, backing off. "I didn't mean-h.e.l.l, after what happened last year-and the other night-I just wish you'd be a little more cautious."

I stared at him for a moment and then relented and said, "I guess that's good advice." I felt my eyes welling up again. Oh, s.h.i.+t! I didn't want to go all girlie on him again. So I looked down at my hands and played with my ring finger. I looked up and Jakes was staring at me.

"What?" I said defensively.

"Isn't there something else you want to tell me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just . . . tired. And I miss Sarah. That's all." I tried to look blase.

"Really?" he asked, looking surprised. "That's it? I kinda thought you'd fight me a bit more."

"I don't want to fight anybody, Jakes," I said. I was so close to telling him about my ex. I just couldn't. Sighing, I added, "I do want to help, though."

"Okay, then the next time you find somebody you think has some info, call me, will you?"

"I will," I said. "I promise."

I meant it at the time. . . . I really did.

Chapter 14.

I went into my house, poured myself a merlot (Oprah's Dr. Oz says it's good for me and I love him for that) and then carried it out back to the yard. I stood there sipping and staring out at the ca.n.a.l.

After the police pulled a murderer's body out of the water last year, I thought about moving. The main reason I didn't was Sarah. This was her home, she was comfortable here, she had her room and I didn't want to take any of that away from her. She had gone through so much in her short life. Basically losing her dad and a life as she knew it. So we stayed. And after a while it had gotten so I hardly ever thought about almost being killed behind my own house. I thought I had put those incidents completely behind me, but now they were back. Thanks to Jackson Masters being murdered; thanks to Detective Frank Jakes thinking I could be helpful. I was so close to telling him about Randy. What was stopping me? I could be so stubborn. Always thinking I had to handle all of life's s.h.i.+t on my own. I had to be the strong one. Like Paul always said. Well, so far in my life, I did have to be the strong one.

Did I need to examine my motives? Sure, I enjoyed flirting with Jakes-or having him flirt with me-but I had also lost a friend. Okay, not a close friend, but a friend who had almost fallen on me, who had certainly bled on me. Well, it was a tragedy. And like it or not, I was involved. I guess I was just trying to justify my involvement.

The truth was I found being involved in another murder-and with Frank Jakes-exhilarating. And that was something I was not going to be able to admit to anyone else. How heartless that would make me seem.

I was deeply lost in thought when "Let's Talk About s.e.x" came blasting from my cell. Funny, George! I was going to kill him! I answered it and was brought up short by a familiar voice.

"So you changed your home phone but not your cell? That is so unlike you, Al. You're usually so much smarter than that." It was Randy. And he sounded p.i.s.sed.

"Look, I just wanted some time to think without you bugging me every five minutes, okay? Obviously I knew you could get a hold of me if you really wanted to." I thought about adding "a.s.shole" but didn't.

"So, how's my little girl?" He still had a s.e.xy, kind of raspy voice. It used to make my knees, and brain, weak. It didn't have that effect on me anymore.

"All of the sudden you care, Randy? Where the h.e.l.l have you been the last three years when she cried for you, wondering where her 'Daddy Bear' was? You have some f.u.c.king nerve. Taking money I worked my a.s.s off to make and breaking my little girl's heart." I had waited a long time to take off on this b.a.s.t.a.r.d and it felt good.

He paused and I could hear him deciding what to say. He answered me in a measured tone.

"She's my little girl, too. What I did was f.u.c.ked up and I'll do my best to make it up to you both-"

"You son of a b.i.t.c.h! You can't make it up to either one of us!"

"Listen, Alexis! No matter what I've done, you can't keep me away from Sarah. I'm warning you, don't even try! You think your life was tough after I left? You have no f.u.c.king idea how tough I could make it for you!" His voice was shaking. How could he muster that much indignation? "I want to see Sarah. . . . Don't f.u.c.k with me!"

"f.u.c.k you!" I said, and hung up. I hadn't even asked him if he was in town. I was rattled despite wanting to remain calm, cool and collected. If he had been trying to scare me, he had succeeded. And that p.i.s.sed me off, too. Just then my cell rang again. I almost threw it across the room until I saw it was Jakes.

"Just calling to check and see that you're okay."