Diva Las Vegas (13 page)

“You’re kidding me. Good for you. How do we look inside, anyway? Did you get a big turnout?”

“You know, it’s funny. We all know that ratings are slipping. And viewership is down, down, down. But the soap fans are really loyal and enthusiastic. So the short answer is yes. There’s probably seven hundred people this year.”

She led me to the back entrance of the ballroom. There were about fifteen other actors waiting in a lineup. “Alex, they’ll announce your name. Just go through that curtain and have a seat on the dais. Have fun, and I’ll see you inside.” She left to, I assume, corral more actors.

“Oh, hi, Brad. Hey, Priscilla. How is everyone?” What the heck was Priscilla wearing, anyway? It was nine o’clock in the morning and she was dressed in a full-length beaded gown. She was known to be a little out there and always took the whole Soap Opera Glam thing a little too far. But I shook that off and said hello to the rest of the actors, introducing myself to the two or three I had never met.

“Hey, Alex. Where are you staying, anyway? We’re all on the same floors at the Bellagio,” Brad said. “Word has it you got special treatment. Should I be pissed? How’d you swing that?” Word got around. It was like being in high school again. So much of life was, after all.

“I guess the manager likes me. Sorry. You want to come over and look at it? I’ll let you play on my grand piano!” I teased. Brad was a nice guy and meant no harm.

“No worries! I guess I’m fine in my puny little suite. So, you want to hear a bad-beat story? I’m in the poker room last night. I’ve got wired aces. I’m bluffing my ass off trying to reel the table in. So far—”

Brad was interrupted by the last of the actors straggling in to line. One of them was Andy McIntyre from the
Tide
. I was surprised to see him. I wasn’t sure he was still working that much. We gave each other a big hug. I missed him.

“Alex. It’s great to see you. Nice dress. How’s Sarah?” Andy asked.

“She’s great! Thanks for asking. How are you?”

“Oh, you know. Hangin’ in there.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve been promised a big story. Hank is going to have a near-death experience. Problem is, I don’t know whether he lives through it or dies because of it.” Hank was the character Andy had played on the
Tide
for many years. There was sweat on Andy’s upper lip. I hoped he had saved his money; it didn’t sound so good.

“It’ll be great. Maybe an Emmy, huh? You always bounce back.” I hugged him again. We went so far back it was scary. And I genuinely loved the guy.

Just then I heard Kathy’s voice over a microphone, welcoming everyone to the fan breakfast. A roar of cheers and applause broke out when she mentioned the actors who were here for the event. Then she began announcing our names.

“And we have Priscilla Schmidt from
The Bare and the Brazen
!” Applause again as Priscilla walked out through the curtains. No matter how many times I had done this sort of thing, it was always a little nerve-racking. I guess that’s what made it fun.

“From
The Bare and the Brazen
and, not so long ago,
The Yearning Tide
, let’s hear it for Alexis Peterson!”

I straightened my dress and pushed through the velvet curtains. Kathy wasn’t kidding. The room was filled with a sea of cheering fans. Tables had been set up and breakfast was being served. I took my seat at the long table on the stage facing the audience. I waved and said hi to some familiar faces. The rest of the actors were introduced, and once we were all seated, Kathy announced the rundown for the entire day.

They began showing clips and highlights from the previous year of both shows. I was looking out across the room, half expecting to see Randy’s face. He had done that to me last year at an event at the Television Academy. I breathed a sigh of relief. No Randy. That I could see, anyway.

We actors chatted among ourselves as we were served a not-so-delicious breakfast of sausage and scrambled eggs. At least the coffee was good. Kathy got up and began a presentation of awards fans had voted on. There was Best Couple, Best Villain, Best Heroine/Hero and Best Story Line.

“And for Best Story Line, Alexis Peterson. Felicia and Fanny.” Whoops! That was unexpected, and I had a mouthful of scrambled eggs. I quickly swallowed and got up. Kathy passed me the mike and a plaque.

“Thank you all so much. How kind. I had a blast playing both characters. Thanks for your support, and I hope you have a great time this weekend.” I sat back down as they cheered.

The rest of the morning went off without a hitch. Kathy knew what she was doing and it showed. We finished the award ceremony, our plates were cleared and Kathy came up to let us know our limos were waiting outside the back entrance of the kitchen.

No rest for the weary. I gave the limo driver the address of the diner where I was supposed to meet Jakes and Detective Cushing.

I wondered if she knew I was coming, or if I was going to be a surprise.

I sat in the car and heaved a sigh of relief. These events were draining. But I had entered Limo World. That’s the place where you pour yourself some ice-cold water in a crystal glass, check yourself in the lighted mirror, adjust the AC and find your favorite station on the stereo. I didn’t even bother watching the route that we took to get to the diner.

When he stopped in front of the coffee shop, I got out. I told Larry I had to be back at the Hilton by two, so maybe he could pick me up at one thirty. I had an outfit in the limo and I’d make a quick change in the talents’ green room before the signing. Jakes had said to meet him inside, and he was there waiting for me at a table . . . alone.

“Where’s your friend?” I asked, sitting down across from him.

“She’ll be here by twelve fifteen,” he said. “I wanted a few minutes to talk with you alone.”

“About what?”

“First, how did your morning go?”

I told him about the award I had received, and then we ordered coffee and got on with why we were there.

“After I hung up with you this morning, I decided not to try the doctor’s office.”

“But, Jakes—”

“I intend to case his house tonight instead. I want to get a look inside that house.”

“Does he live far from here?”

“No—maybe twenty minutes. In an extremely upscale community called Lake Las Vegas. It’s pretty impressive.”

“Shouldn’t you get a search warrant?” I mean, if you can, you should always play by the rules, right?

“No probable cause, especially since I’m not in my own town and don’t know the judges here. So I have to get a look at the house and the grounds in the daylight before I break in tonight.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Just what you said you’d do,” he answered. “You’ll be my lookout. We’ll have to rent a car—I don’t want to use mine—and then you’ll stay behind the wheel and hit the horn if you see anyone.”

“Anyone?” I asked. “Anyone at all?”

“Anyone suspicious,” he said.

I started to feel nervous. We were planning a caper.

“Come on,” he said, reaching out and touching my hand, “it’s not like this is the first house you’ve entered illegally.”

“Those weren’t really breaking and entering,” I said.

“What were they, then?”

“Okay, maybe they were,” I said, “but not in a strange town. If we get caught, we’re going to jail, buddy.”

“So the key is not to get caught,” he said.

“Look,” I said, “I know you’re a good cop, but I don’t know that you’re a good burglar.”

“I’m a great burglar,” he said. “Don’t you know cops make the best criminals?”

“Why’s that?”

“Because we learn on the job,” he said, “and we learn from the best.”

“You’re not going to tell Detective Cushing about this, are you?”

“No,” he said, “I don’t want to make her an accessory.”

Fine, I thought—I get to be the accessory. I guess maybe I should have been flattered. And he was right: I had broken into a couple of houses during my short amateur-detective career. So why was I so nervous this time?

“Here she is,” he said, standing up. “Detective Cushing.”

I turned in my chair to have a look at Jakes’s new friend.

Wow.

She was beautiful.

Jakes was either blind or stupid to have described her the way he did, and I preferred not to think he was stupid. Attractive in a stern kind of way? Was he trying to spare me, or did he really see her that way? If he did, he was the perfect man.

“Detective Cushing,” Jakes said, “meet Alex Peterson.”

“Ms. Petersen.” She looked surprised. “I know you. I watched
The Yearning Tide
when I was in college! I had no idea . . .” She stopped and extended her hand. “Sorry. It’s a pleasure.”

She wasn’t really gushing, but spoke rather slowly in a perfect, richly modulated voice. Damn, I thought, she could have her own phone-sex line.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “Jakes has told me so much about you.”

“Jakes?” she said, with a frown.

I shrugged. “It hardly seems right to call him anything else.”

She looked him up and down. “I guess you’re right.”

“Have a seat,” Jakes said. “Let’s get some coffee, and you can tell us what you’ve found.”

He waved for the waitress.

“Us?” Cushing asked. She still looked confused. I had the feeling our little meeting was Jakes’s way of introducing me into the equation he’d already formed with her.

“Yes,” he said. “Alex and I came to Vegas together to investigate Shana Stern’s murder. I told you she was the one who found the body.”

“Oh yes, you did mention that,” she said. “I just didn’t know . . . well . . . that you two were, uh . . .”

“A couple?” Jakes asked. “Yes, we are. But Alex has also been very valuable when we’ve had cases involving, uh, show business.”

“I see.” I wasn’t sure she did, but at least she saw that we were a couple. “And this involves show business?”

“Shana, the vic, was an actress, as well as a former Playmate,” Jakes said. “And her ex-husband is an actor.”

“Ah,” she said, “I see.” And maybe for the first time, she did.

“In any case,” Jakes said, “anything you have to tell me, you can say in front of Alex.”

She took out a printout and placed it on the table.

“What’s that?” Jakes asked.

“Take a look.”

Jakes picked it up, started to read it. His face changed and he leaned in and started again.

“What is it?” I asked.

He was still reading when Cushing answered.

“I decided to check the computer for unsolved murders of young women. Of course, there’s no shortage of those, but I found this one interesting.”

I looked at Jakes. “What’s interesting about that one?”

He looked at me. “Same drugs in her system.”

“Antibiotics and painkillers?”

“Yes.”

“But that doesn’t necessarily connect this one girl—”

“That’s not what killed her,” he said. “Her throat was cut, same as Shana’s.”

I sat back in my chair. “So Shana wasn’t the first.”

“No,” he said. He looked at Cushing. “Any more?”

“If there were, I would have brought them,” she said, “but I can widen the parameters of my search. Henderson, Boulder City, even Laughlin and Reno.”

“Do it,” he said, then added, “please.”

She nodded.

His cell rang at that point. “Excuse me. I’ve got to take this.”

He got up and walked toward the restrooms, leaving Detective Cushing and me alone.

“Ms. Peterson—” she said.

“Alex, please.”

“I’m Debra,” she said. “May I ask some questions?”

“Personal or professional?”

She shrugged. “A little bit of both.”

“Sure, why not?”

“Are you and Jakes . . . serious?”

It seemed like such a simple question, but I guess Jakes and I hadn’t really talked about it. Were we serious? He hadn’t really been involved with my family. But did I want it to be serious?

“Yes,” I answered honestly.

“I see.”

“Any other questions?”

There probably were, but Jakes returned before she could ask them.

“Something important?” I asked.

“That was my partner,” he said, sitting down. “He was letting me know that he has nothing.”

“So what do we do next?” Cushing asked.

“We?” Jakes asked.

“We’re in Vegas, Detective,” she said. “You don’t really have anything without me.”

“This is my copy, is it?” he asked, touching the file.

“It could be.”

“Family info in here?”

“Yes.”

“Then I need to talk to the family of the dead woman,” he said.

“And for that you need me,” Cushing said.

“And me,” I chimed in.

They both looked at me, but I returned Detective Cushing’s look.

“Sorry,” I said, smiling sweetly, “but where he goes, I go.”

Cushing looked at Jakes.

“That’s true,” he said.

“Okay.” She gave in. “When?”

“How’s right now?” Jakes asked, looking from Cushing to me.

“Fine with me,” Cushing said.

“And me,” I said. I still had an hour before I had to be back at the Hilton.

“Detective Cushing?” he said. “Your car?”

“Sure,” she said. “Why not?”

The family’s name was Bronsky, but the dead girl’s name was Linda Bronson.

“That’s what the girls out here do,” Detective Cushing said from behind the wheel. “Change their names when they go onstage as showgirls.”

“Change their names,” I said from the backseat, “and get new boobs?”

“Right. Unless she was in one of those all-natural shows.” She locked eyes with me in the rearview mirror. I wasn’t sure how I had ended up in the backseat. Maybe as cops, they were just used to their positions up front. But Jakes had told me that Cushing usually rode a desk. I guess I should have called shotgun.