Alex grinned. Allen couldn’t tell if he didn’t notice the disdain in his voice or if he just didn’t care.
“Derek Fox thinks that America won’t buy me as a detective. I’m too soft, he says. Not hard-boiled. So all I have to do is become a detective and I’m golden. And you can help me.”
“Absolutely. Your first case is to hunt down whoever turned my life into one big practical joke, cuff him, and bring him in. I’d like to throw several books at him.”
“I don’t need your help coming up with a case, Allen. I need your help getting into the NYPD.”
Allen raised an eyebrow. “I think I see where you’re going with this. I don’t love it.”
“Come on, man!” Alex’s posture drooped a little bit. He looked like a child whose parent wouldn’t buy him his favorite toy. “I know you’ve helped them out with profiling in the past. Just pull some strings, tell them you have a client who might benefit from shadowing one of their detectives for a while. I can’t possibly be the first actor who’s ever done it.”
Closing his eyes and placing one hand over another on the desk, Allen sighed as he settled into a more serious tone.
“I can’t tell the NYPD you’re my client, Allen. You aren’t on my books. As far as the paperwork is concerned, it’s a lie.”
“Why wouldn’t I be on your books?”
“Because of the…other services I’ve rendered for you. I don’t really want the IRS knowing how I acquire certain clients’ payment.”
Alex paused. He didn’t feel great about what he had to say next, but he was desperate to prove himself to Fox, and he didn’t want to waste any time.
“Well then, tell the commissioner I’m a friend, or a colleague, or whatever you have to tell them. Because if you don’t make this happen for me, I’ll let everyone in New York know about the little betting ring you’ve got going on here. And my guess is that some of the other bookies in town won’t be much too pleased about some white-collared elitist honing in on their territory.”
Allen puffed his bottom lip out for a second as if he had to think, though it was a pretty quick decision.
“Fine. I’ll call Commissioner Bradley up tomorrow, and maybe he’ll pass the message on to Chief Woodside. If Woodside approves it, he might let you hang around the station doing interviews for a few days. Just don’t be disappointed if it isn’t all you cracked it up to be. Real police work is nothing like your beloved Derek Fox shows. You might be there two weeks without ever leaving the bullpen. Last time I did consultant work for Woodside, he had me coming in every day for a month before they made an arrest.”
Alex nodded. “If that’s what it’s all about, then that’s what I want to do. All I care about is looking like a detective on camera. I’m there to learn how to imitate the detectives. It’s not like I’m going to be following them around and actually solving crimes.
Allen shrugged. “Great. Excellent. So happy you came to see me. Now get out. I’ll text you when Bradley has an answer for you.”
“Thank you so much, Allen. And don’t worry. Your back-up career is still our secret.”
Relief swept over Alex. This was all he needed. Nothing too fancy. Nothing too intense. Just something real, something he could take with him to the next audition to show that he had at least some basic understanding of police work. Leave the action to the writers. I’m just there to study and have some fun.
Turning to leave, Alex stopped at the doorway and turned around.
“Oh, and hey, Allen?”
Allen looked up.
“How much money should I put on the Jets this weekend?”
Alex ducked behind the other side of the door as Allen hurled a large textbook on addictive psychology across the room.
Chapter Five
“No. No, no, no, no, N-O no.” Kim sat opposite Chief of Police, Captain Darrell Woodside. She was fuming. He did his best to appear sympathetic.
“Look, Kim, I’m sorry. But Kane is one of the most celebrated actors in New York, something we don’t see a lot of on the East Coast. And if there’s one thing we don’t see a lot of here at NYPD, it’s good press.”
Crossing her arms, Kim blew a strand of hair out of her face so Chief Woodside could see her rolling her eyes. His voice more stern, he leaned forward and stared her down.
“We do see a lot of bad press, however, especially when two of our best detectives go on a three-month losing streak with no solved cases between the two of them.” This grabbed Kim’s attention. She sat up and met Woodside’s harsh gaze. “To be frank, I’ve been thinking of splitting you two up. I know he’s like a brother to you, but I can’t help but guess that you’re holding back Newport’s abilities. He finished at the top of the academy for his attention to detail, details that our case study writers didn’t even intend to matter.”
Kim’s heart sank a bit. She knew that, on some level, Woodside was right. Her friendship with Newport wasn’t solving any cases, and lately there’d been something of a rift between them as they grew discontent with each other’s performances. He was like a brother, but he was estranged. With each attempt she made to get closer to him, he dove further into cases that still never wound up getting solved.
Woodside noticed Kim shaking subtly, biting her lip with her eyes turned down at the floor. That was enough of the guilt trip. His voice softened again.
“Sorry if I seem too harsh, Kim, but I have to level with you. Commissioner Bradley owes this Sampson guy for some consulting work he did before I made Chief. Sampson’s work was good, too. I don’t think it’s good enough to justify wasting our time with some actor who wants to see what ‘real’ detective work is all about, but there you have it—it’s happening. And I just can’t justify putting the guy with detectives who’re out there solving their cases. So, effective today, you and Newport are being promoted to Alexander Kane’s babysitters.”
“Fine, sir. But don’t expect our case record to get any better, even if he is friends with some hotshot consultant.” Kim stood up to leave, too irritated to wait for dismissal. Turning toward the doorway, she stopped and addressed Woodside once again. “Out of curiosity, how does this Sampson guy know our actor in the first place?”
“Sampson’s his psychiatrist,” Woodside chuckled. “Oh yeah, I suppose you should know. Kane is known for being something of a narcissist. Best of luck, Daniels.”
She stormed out of the chief’s office, her head spinning with whirlwind concerns for her current case, as well as her position on the NYPD. Yesterday, a woman was found to have been killed in what appeared to be a room full of spectators. Aside from some cigar ashes and a few clothing threads on the seats at the poker tables, not one of them had left behind any physical evidence. The victim didn’t match a single missing person’s report, which actually made sense, if she had died less than twelve hours beforehand, but it still put a dent in Kim’s burning need to solve the case as quickly as possible. And now, she and Newport had to drag around some deadweight reject from the acting world, a world she despised as being no more honest than the perps she brought in—used to bring in—every day.
Kim stopped dead in her tracks as she approached the bullpen. The room was quieter than usual, free of its usual hustle as the NYPD collectively sat back to watch the antics of their newest honorary member. Alex stood at the water cooler, trying to impress a handful of female officers.
“Seriously though, I’m the only one in here without a badge. Shouldn’t someone cuff me?” The officers giggled as he worked them the way he worked every camera. “If you’re lucky, maybe one of you can get me into the back of your cruiser. There must be a warrant out for my arrest; my looks have been known to kill on more than one occasion.”