Diva Las Vegas (20 page)

“It’s getting late. I better hit the sack. I have to see the chief tomorrow morning.”

“Again?”

“It’s just routine.”

“You saw the brass today, you said.”

“I saw my boss and his boss,” he said. “Tomorrow I have to see everybody’s boss.”

“What’s going on, Jakes?” I asked. “Are you in trouble . . . again?”

“I thought you’d know that about me by now, Alex,” he said. “I’m always in trouble.”

“Is this about going to Vegas?”

“Yes, I kind of . . . forgot to tell anyone at work that I was going.”

“Jeez—”

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “I swear. So, when am I going to see you?”

“About that.” I took a breath. “I was hoping you could come for dinner tomorrow night. With Sarah. And my mother.”

“Really.” He was quiet for a moment. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really. Be here at six o’clock for mac and cheese, salad, apple juice and, if you’re lucky, a rousing game of Twister.”

“I can’t resist Twister. I’m there. See you tomorrow. Bye.”

Before he could hang up, I quickly said, “I love you, Jakes.”

“I love you, too. See you.”

 

After Jakes hung up, I poured another glass of wine and walked outside. I stared out at the canals, remembering a killer drowning in what was essentially three feet of water. Jakes saving me. It was amazing I could even sit back there and relax. I tried not to dwell on it, though. I liked it here. And I
really
hated moving.

I had promised myself in Vegas I was going to make some changes in my life. One was to bring Jakes more into my daughter’s and mother’s lives. Having him over for dinner with the fam was my way of doing that. The second one was trickier.

Randy. How in the hell was I going to ever be able to be civil enough to him to let him back in my life, in any capacity? Even though I hadn’t heard from him lately, I knew in my heart he wasn’t going away.

Frustrated, I went back into the kitchen and put my glass down next to my purse. I caught a glimpse of something gold peeking out of a side pocket. I pulled it out and saw that it was the card Mr. Bennett had given me. It looked different from the one I had for Dr. Reynolds. It had the Whitney Institute and the address. But under it, in smaller letters, it read A SUBSIDIARY OF GENETICS SYSTEMS, INC.

I had to tell Jakes! I started to dial when I remembered he had said he was going to hit the sack. It could wait until tomorrow.

The next morning I had the day off, so I dropped Sarah at school and then went to my favorite neighborhood grocery store. I walked in, and could have sworn that a couple of the cashiers looked at me funny. Was it because of the screaming match Randy and I had gotten into there recently? I wasn’t a big fan of public displays of hostility, but whatever. They hadn’t been married to the jerk.

I tossed my hair back and proceeded to get what I needed for dinner, even though I had said we would be having mac and cheese. That didn’t mean it was going to be your garden-variety mac. Oh, no. I was going to show Jakes that my culinary skills were alive and well, and just screaming to be heard.

I found the gourmet cheese aisle and picked out some fabulous-looking Gruyère, Havarti, Parmesan and a couple of other, stinky cheeses, just for fun. I walked up and down the aisles and threw some of those curly noodles in the basket, a nice bottle of red wine, salad fixings, paper towels, toilet paper, lunch Baggies. And, of course, apple juice.

I walked to my car, wondering how I was going to find time to stop at Crumbs for some designer cupcakes for dessert, memorize my lines for tomorrow’s show, help Sarah with her homework and make dinner. But then, I worried about those kinds of things every day. What I
didn’t
worry about every day was finding a stalker sitting in the passenger’s seat.

I had been looking down at my key ring, separating the ignition key. I opened the door before I even saw him.

“Please, Ms. Petersonnn,” he said, in that weird way he had of talking. “I have to tellllll you. I was always tryin’ to warn Shana, and now I’m tryin’ to tellll you.”

I juggled the grocery bags, put my hand inside my purse and groped for my cell phone. I was hoping he’d think I had pepper spray or something worse.

“If I could just talk to you. My name is Edddddie. I loved Shannnna.”

I backed away from the car.

“Stop. You have to listen. I loved Shannnnna! I followed her everywhere.”

“And now you’re stalking me. I’m calling the police!”

That stopped him cold. He just looked at me with his squinty eye. His hair stood out wildly, as if he’d just gotten out of bed.

“I’m not stalking youuuu. You’re no Shana. She was the perfect woman. You’re nothing like herrrr. I know who killed Shannnnna.”

A crazy, pirate-eyed, frizzy-haired stalker had just dissed me. I tried not to take it personally.

“What is it you know?”

“I saw everything.”

Was he trying to tell me . . . ?

“Are you saying . . . you saw who killed her?” I asked. “You should be talking to the police.”

“They don’t listennnnn. They don’t know. I found the answers in her trash and that’s when I knew. It’s up to Goddddd. Shana knew it. She had the papersss. Genesis 1:27. Genesis 1:27.” He reached into his pocket.

Frightened that he was going to pull out a weapon, I made a dash for the grocery store. I don’t think I’ve ever run a faster twenty yards in my life.

I bolted through the automatic doors and tried to close them with my fanny since my arms weren’t free. Not advisable. It’s like trying to move something in a dream. The more you push, the more resistance you get. When I looked out the window, I expected him to be right behind me. He wasn’t. He was gone.

“May I help you, Ms. Peterson?” I looked around, and the same cashiers—plus a couple of shoppers—were looking at me with very concerned expressions on their faces. Had I become the crazy actress that lives down the lane?

“Uh, no. No. Just . . . no.” I tossed my hair again and walked gingerly back out the door toward my car, glancing back and forth to make sure Eddie was indeed gone.

I went around the car, checking that Eddie wasn’t hiding somewhere in the backseat. Finally, I popped the trunk and put the groceries inside; then I quickly got in the car and locked the doors. On the passenger’s seat was a crumpled piece of paper. It hadn’t been there before my encounter with Shana’s “friend.” Cautiously, I picked it up.

It was filthy, covered with smudges of chocolate and what looked to be ketchup. At least, I hoped it was chocolate and ketchup. Was he just leaving me a stinky present? My curiosity got the better of me and I unfolded it carefully. It appeared to be a business memo. I was about to crumple it back up and squirt a healthy dose of sanitizing gel on my hands when something caught my eye. At the top of the memo were the words
Gen.Sys. 1/27
.

“Is that where that Looney Tune came up with Genesis 1:27?” I asked myself. Reading down the page, I found that the memo explained, in very complicated terms, that a certain product was not to be used in trials anymore, due to certain detrimental effects on lab animals. It was signed by a Mr. Carl Bennett.

“Huh!” I gasped. Could it be? I pulled out the card I had been looking at last night. There, in beautiful gold lettering, was printed MR. CARLBENNETT, ADMINISTRATOR. And under, THE WHITNEY INSTITUTE: GENETICS SYSTEMS, INC. This was definitely a memo from the same guy. A memo dated January 27.

I had to protect the memo. I looked around and realized that in the kid car, it wasn’t going to be so easy. I rummaged in my purse and found my eyebrow tweezers. I used them to pick up the memo and hold it in the air. Then I remembered. I had just gotten plastic Baggies for Sarah’s lunches.

I walked to the trunk and found the box in the grocery bag. I opened it with one hand and carefully placed the memo inside, then zipped it up.

“Ha! I’m getting good at this.” I was frightened and elated at the same time. I was buzzing. I could just feel that the memo meant something. Something big.

“Jakes!” I shouted out to my Bluetooth. His cell kept ringing until it went to voice mail. “Call me back. I’ve got news.”

I hung up, wishing I could just go downtown to the station and see him, but knowing that wasn’t a good idea. He was tied up with the brass. I drove around a while, trying to figure out what to do. I decided, When in doubt, cook. So I headed home to do just that.

 

I threw the noodles in the pot of boiling water and had already started grating the different cheeses when my mother walked in from her guesthouse.

“Hi, Alex. Isn’t it kind of early to be cooking dinner?”

“It is a little early. I guess.”

She looked at me and then crossed her arms in front of herself. “Why are you doing all this?”

“Well. Because . . .”

“This is for a man, isn’t it?” My mother was so smart about these things. She could have been a spy. Or a psychic. Or a mom. I took a deep breath, put down the grater and turned to face her.

“Not just any man, Mom. Jakes. I want you to get to know him. I want Sarah to get to know him. He’s a good man. He’s good to me. I want him in our lives. I know my track record stinks, but this is different.”

She started to open her mouth, but I stopped her. “Okay, before you say, ‘You always say that’ . . .”

“I think it would be lovely to have Detective Jakes over for dinner. You don’t have to please me. You have to please yourself. And you’ve been extremely careful and sensitive to Sarah’s needs. Worry about your own for a change.”

Startled, I grabbed her and hugged her.

“Okay, okay. Now, what can I do to help?”

I happily handed her the grater.

“Grate!” And she did. We did. I was having a hard time wiping the smile off my face when my cell rang. I grabbed it and saw it was Jakes.

“Finally! I’ve got big news!” I was about to spill it when I remembered Mom was in the room.

“What’s going on?”

“Um. I can’t say right now. Could you come over any earlier? Let’s see.” I glanced at the clock on the wall; it was three forty-five. “I have to get Sarah from dance class at four. I’ll be back by four fifteen. Just head over here now.”

“I can do that. Do you need anything?”

“Nope. Just you.” Then I remembered. “Oh, and could you stop at Crumbs and get some cupcakes? Peanut butter chocolate for us, and whatever you like.”

“I like the red velvet ones!” Mom piped in.

I looked at her and smiled, taken aback.

“My mom said she’d like a red velvet cupcake.”

“Your mom said that? How can I refuse? I’ll see you as soon as I can get there. Bye.”

“Bye!”

I hung up the phone and dumped the noodles in the strainer, then into a casserole dish, threw the cheeses on top, added some butter and half-and-half. I was hoping I wouldn’t cause any of us to have a coronary as I added bread crumbs for a finishing touch. I slid the whole thing into the oven and said, “Mom, I’ve got to get Sarah. I’ll be right back.”

When I walked into the house, Sarah in tow, I was greeted by the most heartwarming sight. The French doors were open; a slight breeze was blowing in from the canals. The patio table was set with our “best” china (chunky dishes from Pottery Barn), candles were lit, classical music was softly playing on the Bose. And my mother and Jakes were out on the back deck, clutching wineglasses in their hands, both laughing their heads off.

I was such a sap for stuff like that. I teared up. Sarah ran out to join them.

“Hi, Gramma! Hi, Jakes! What’s so funny? Want to see what I learned in dance class?” And she immediately did a pirouette, arms raised in a classic ballet pose.

Jakes got down to her level and said, “Wow, Sarah. You look like a professional.”

“I want to be a dancer. Or a scientist. Maybe both.”

“I like the way you think. How’ve you been?”

“Good. Are you staying for dinner?”

“He sure is,” Mom said, and headed for the kitchen. “Speaking of which, I think it’s ready.”

“I’ve got lots to tell you,” I whispered to Jakes as I followed my mother into the house. “It will have to wait until later, but you won’t believe it!” He looked intrigued. And not very happy.

Mom and I put food on the table while Sarah and Jakes spent some time on the deck, talking about school.

“Okay. Dinner’s ready!” I said.

We all took our seats. I have to admit, the mac and cheese looked pretty impressive. And tasted impressive, too.

“Mmmm! Mommy, this is so good. And so cheesy!”

“It is, Alex. Really good.” Jakes said. “You can cook.”

Everyone was passing the salad and bread and diving in. Conversation was light and easy. What had I been so wary of before? This was a cakewalk.

“Is Jakes your boyfriend, Mom? Are we going to have a baby sister?”

I almost did a spit take.

Jakes looked incredibly amused and seemed to really enjoy seeing me so flustered. It took me a second or two, but I went there.

“He is my boyfriend, Sarah. The baby-sister thing . . . We don’t know about that quite yet.”

“I’m glad. I like Jakes.”

I looked over at Mom, and she nodded in agreement. Jakes squeezed my knee under the table. It was so, so nice.

The rest of dinner went very well, followed by the cupcakes Jakes had brought. They were a very big hit with all the Peterson girls. Jakes jumped up and cleared the table and insisted on doing the dishes. Another big hit with the Peterson girls. He wasn’t stupid! After a couple games of Twister that left us all on the floor laughing, Mom and Sarah went into her guesthouse to do homework and give Jakes and me some time alone.

“That went well, huh?” I asked him as we got comfortable on the sofa.