Diva Las Vegas (21 page)
Authors: Eileen Davidson
Tags: #Actresses, #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction, #Television Soap Operas, #Television Actors and Actresses, #General
“Yes. Very. I like your mother. She’s a hoot. And Sarah. What can I say? She’s amazing. You’ve done a great job raising her.”
“Thanks. I like her, too. She’s a great kid.” I looked down at my wine. “And thanks for coming. It’s nice having you here. It feels . . . right.” We kissed.
“So. What have you got to tell me? Did you do something else stupid?”
“I resent that question. No, I did not.” I stood up and walked over to the bookcase, where I had put the plastic Baggie with the memo inside. I handed it to him.
“What’s this?”
“Be careful when you open it.” He looked from me to the Baggie, then carefully unzipped it.
“What’s on it? The stains, I mean.”
“Chocolate and ketchup . . . I hope.”
“Where did you get it?”
“It was in my car when I was at the grocery store.”
“Yesss. And how did it get there?”
“This is where it gets interesting.”
“What were you thinking?” he demanded, moments later.
“Why are you mad at me? It’s not my fault Eddie came to see me. What should I have done?”
“You should have run as soon as you saw him,” he said. “You should have called me right away. Or 911!”
“I did run. I was very careful. And I did call you! You weren’t around.” He was kind of pissing me off. “I didn’t think of calling 911. Sorry. On the bright side, if I had called 911, we probably wouldn’t have that.” I pointed to the bag in his hand.
“And what is this?”
“Evidence.”
“Of what?”
I groped for the right word, and finally came up with “Complicity.”
“Complicity, huh?” he grumbled. “All right, let me take a look at this.”
“Wait a sec. Why are you so mad?”
“I worry about you. When you’re not with me. Okay?”
“Okay.” I guess it was sweet. Kind of annoying. But sweet.
He turned the bag over so the memo fell onto the coffee table. He then used the tips of two pens he produced from his pocket to unfold it.
“I suppose your fingerprints are going to be all over this thing?” he asked.
“I didn’t know what it was until I opened it.”
He read it.
“Genetic systems . . . unsafe formula . . . no approval . . . Gen. Sys. One twenty-seven?”
He looked at me and I nodded.
“Not Genesis 1:27,” I said. “And look who it’s signed by.”
He peered at the signature at the bottom.
“Carl Bennett?”
I held out the business card that Bennett had so helpfully handed me.
“The Whitney Institute,” he said, staring at the card, “is a division of Genetic Systems.”
“Right.”
He looked at the memo again.
“This is not specifically written to Dr. Eugene Reynolds,” he said. “It’s a general memo.”
“But he must have seen it,” I said.
“So you think this formula they’re talking about—this botchuhylonic acid—has something to do with Shana’s and Linda’s deaths?”
“I’m saying that Eddie the stalker followed Shana everywhere, and he picked this up for some reason, and then made a point of giving it to me.”
He sat back.
“That’s not saying much,” he said. “After all, the guy’s lacking credibility. Don’t you think?”
“Well, it’s saying something. I can feel it. So what are we going to do about this?” I was adamant.
He leaned forward again, looked at the memo, tapped it a few times with one of the pens, then used the pens to fold it up as much as he could and slide it back into the bag. Made me remember how adept he was with chopsticks when we ate Chinese food.
“I’m going to have a talk with Mr. Bennett tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll confront him with this and see what his explanation is. I’ve also got somebody at Parker Center trying to find a residence in town for Eugene Reynolds.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Don’t you have to work?”
“I’ll be done by ten a.m. Early day.”
He studied me for a moment, then said, “Well, if you’re with me, I won’t have to worry about you and that crazy stalker having another rendezvous.”
“That’s not exactly what I would call what we had,” I said dryly.
“I’ll take this with me and have it dusted for prints,” he said, tucking the Baggie into his pocket and standing up. I walked him to the door, linking my arm in his. “You did good, Alex. Nice work with the Baggie.”
“Thanks. So you’re not mad at me anymore?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” he replied. “But I’ll still kiss you good night.”
He kissed me in a way he couldn’t possibly have kissed if he were angry.
“You made some points with my mom tonight,” I said. “Also with Sarah.”
“Sarah’s easy,” he said, “but your mother . . .”
“She likes you. I can tell,” I said. “We’ll do this again and again, and it will be known and accepted that we are . . . together.”
“Is that what we are?” he asked. “Together? What kind of together? Baby-sister together?” Really? At our ages?
I pushed him out the door gently and said, “We’ll talk about that later, too.”
Chapter 52
Jakes picked me up at ten thirty a.m. We had breakfast at Du-par’s in the old Farmers Market on Third and Fairfax before we went to see Carl Bennett at the Whitney Institute.
Over breakfast, Jakes explained to me how we were going to explain my presence.
“I’m going to tell him that since you were there when Shana was killed and discovered the body, you’ve been assisting the police in our inquiries.”
“Sounds like something from a bad script.”
“Actually,” he admitted, “I think I got it from a Lifetime movie.”
“He’s going to think that I called you after I talked to him yesterday.”
“Maybe he will,” Jakes said. “I want him to be nervous. Maybe he’ll give something, or someone, up.”
“Like Dr. Eugene Reynolds.”
“If this is some sort of conspiracy to circumvent the FDA, then somebody on the medical side has got to be in charge. You said Bennett’s not a doctor; he’s just the administrator.”
“Right.”
“Well, he’s not going to want to take the fall for somebody else. And since he signed the memo, that’s what I’m going to make him think. So go along with me.”
“Okay.”
As we left the restaurant and walked to his car, Jakes asked, “Have you told anybody else about this memo?”
I hesitated, then said, “Well, just George.”
He gave me a stern look and said, “Okay, but nobody else.”
After he left my house the night before, I had called Georgie to keep him in the loop. I didn’t want his feelings getting hurt again. I told him about Eddie the Stalker, and about his leaving a clue behind. I didn’t tell him exactly what it was, just that it could be something incriminating.
“Incriminating to whom?” he’d asked.
“Maybe the Whitney Institute,” I’d told him. “Apparently they’re trying to get some kind of medication approved, even though it might not be safe.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“I don’t know, Georgie. But Jakes and I are going to try to find out.”
“Ooh, Detective McHandsome,” he said.
I didn’t tell Jakes about his new nickname, either.
“Drug companies are always bending the law to try to get formulas approved by the FDA,” Jakes said as he drove. “They fly doctors to resorts for free vacations, buy them cars or simply bribe them with cash. If they get caught, they get fined. But you know what? They can afford a fine. It’s just part of the cost of doing business.”
“So they lie and they cheat,” I said.
“And maybe steal,” Jakes said.
“So, what are we thinking?” I asked. “That they murdered Shana, and maybe Linda, to keep anyone from finding out their formula didn’t work? Would they go that far?”
“That’s what we have to find out,” he said. “Also, this whole antiaging thing . . . I’m having the MEs here and in Las Vegas go over the bodies again.”
“Looking for . . . ?”
“A sign of . . . aging, I guess, or antiaging. Just something to tell us if those women had used some sort of medication that didn’t work the way it was supposed to.”
“I see.”
“Oh, one more thing,” he said. “Len is going to meet us there.”
“Well, he is your partner.”
“Just wanted you to know.”
“How did he feel about your going to Vegas without him?”
“He wasn’t happy,” Jakes said.
“And how did it go with the big brass?”
“I’m looking at a possible suspension,” he admitted.
“Jakes!”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “If I solve this, that’ll go away. Especially if there are headlines involved. If we take down a major drug company, the brass will be very happy with me.”
“A company like Genetic Systems?”
“Exactly.” Happy, he put his hand on my leg. “And you’re the one who came up with that clue. As mad as I was at you yesterday . . . thank you.”
“So then, your bosses will be very happy with me, too?” I asked, putting my hand over his.
“Uh, no,” he said, “they won’t know anything about your involvement at all.”
“You’ll take all the credit?”
“I’ll probably let Len have the credit,” he said. “I’m trying to keep what you and I do together on the QT—if that’s okay with you.”
“I’ve told you all along,” I said, referring to our relationship, “I don’t want to get you into trouble with your bosses—”
“I know, and I appreciate—”
“—especially since you’re so good at doing it yourself.”
Chapter 53
We parked in front of the Whitney Institute and walked to the front entrance. As we entered, I saw the same girl sitting at the front desk.
“Where’s Davis?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Jakes said.
He wasn’t out front, and he wasn’t in the lobby.
“Come on,” Jakes said, taking my elbow. “We’ll start without him.”
Julie looked up as we approached, and this time I rated a smile from her. It was short-lived, however.
“Ms. Peterson,” she said. “Did you come back to make an appointment? You could have just called.”
“Not exactly, Julie,” I said.
“Miss, my name is Detective Jakes, LAPD,” he said, showing his badge. “I’d like to see Mr. Bennett, please.”
“Police?” Julie said, startled. She looked at me. “For real?”
I nodded.
She looked at Jakes, and he said, “As real as it gets. Homicide.”
“Oh!” she said, grabbing at the phone. She used her French-tipped nails to pick out three numbers.
“Mr. Bennett? The police are here.”
“Detective Jakes,” Jakes reminded her.
“A Detective Jakes. He insists on talking to you. Yes, sir. I’ll tell him.”
She hung up and looked at Jakes.
“He’ll be right down.”
“Thank you.”
Jakes was collecting the business cards on the reception desk and putting them in his pocket. I touched his arm as Bennett appeared on the stairs. He approached us, looking as vampirelike as ever, smiling and holding out his hand.
“Detective Jakes?” he asked.
“That’s right.”
“A pleasure, sir.” They shook hands. “And Ms. Peterson. How nice to see you again.”
“Mr. Bennett.”
“What can I do for you, Detective?”
“I have some questions, Mr. Bennett,” Jakes said.
“Very well. Ask them and—”
“I’d prefer to go to your office.”
“Well . . . we really don’t like to take people through the building, Detective,” Bennett said.
“I’m not just people, Mr. Bennett,” Jakes said. “Please lead the way.”
Bennett looked distressed, but the skin on his forehead remained unlined. I was starting to think there was nothing mysterious about Mr. Bennett’s appearance. Again, I knew BOTOX when I saw it.
“Well, all right.”
He led us to the stairway he had used. Beyond that, we saw an elevator.
“What about the elevator?” Jakes asked.
“What?” Bennett looked at us over his shoulder. “Oh, my office is on the mezzanine. The elevator doesn’t stop there.”
Jakes looked at me and shrugged. I would not have even thought to ask that question. He was so cool.
Chapter 54
Bennett led us to a medium-sized office filled with modern, long, metal furniture. The room had no personality at all, which meant it matched Mr. Bennett perfectly. His desk was as unlined, unwrinkled, as the skin of his face.
“Uh, please, sit down,” he invited. “I, uh, can’t offer you anything. We’re not used to having, uh, guests.”
There were two chairs in front of his desk, so it seemed he was used to having people in his office at some time.
We sat down.
“I’m not a guest, Mr. Bennett,” Jakes said. “I’m here investigating a homicide.”
“Homicide? You mean . . . a murder?”
“I mean two murders, actually,” Jakes said. “Two women who have one thing in common.”
“What’s that?”
“Dr. Eugene Reynolds,” Jakes said.
Bennett stared at Jakes, then shook his head and said, “I don’t understand.”
“They were both patients of Dr. Eugene Reynolds. You know Dr. Reynolds. He’s attached to this facility.”
Bennett opened his mouth, then closed it. I thought he was about to deny it, but then he must have remembered he had admitted it to me.
“Dr. Reynolds is on our board, yes,” Bennett said. “But we know nothing about his patients.”
“But you know about him, right?”
“You mean, personally?”
“You know about his practice, what he does,” Jakes said. “And you know where to contact him. Where he lives.”
“He lives in Las Vegas,” Bennett said. “He has a house and a practice there.”
“But he has a place here in LA, too, doesn’t he?” Jakes asked. “For when he comes to board meetings? I mean, if he’s on your board, he comes to meetings, right?”
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