“Tell me, Miss Winters, did Virginia ever talk about actress Charlene Stryker or a producer named David Jones?” said Alex, creeping forward. Kim looked at him with wide eyes. Did he want to be recognized? Scratch that – of course he did.
Mary-Jane wrinkled her nose. “From that terrible soap opera, Time After Time? The only worse actor on that show than Charlene was Alexander Kane. I’ve seen it a couple times. It’s not acting; it’s like a form of televised hysteria.”
“Well, from what I’ve heard, Mr. Kane won a number of Emmys for his role,” put in Alex peevishly.
“It was three. Three Emmys,” said Jacob.
“There you go. I’m pretty sure they don’t give them out for hysteria.”
“TV trivia aside, did Virginia ever mention their names?” Kim said, trying to restrain herself from knocking both of their heads together.
“Sure,” said Mary-Jane. “She was dying to be on that show. Only reason I watched it. She was always going on and on about how some David guy was going to get her a bit part. It was supposed to be her big break. Knowing Virginia, they were involved and he was married. Just a wild guess.”
“Not so wild…” muttered Alex.
“We have to be going, Miss Winters, but thank you for your time,” Kim said hurriedly, wanting to avoid further outbursts. She handed a business card over. “Call me if you think of anything else.”
Back in the car, Alex was overjoyed. “She didn’t even recognize me!” he chortled from the backseat. “How cool was that? Forget being an actor. I want to become a detective!”
“You’ll have to become a NYPD police officer first,” piped in Jacob. “You’ll need to pass the Civil Service Exam and a psychological test, among other exams and assessments. Once accepted, you may qualify for a promotion to detective in about two years.”
Alex waved this aside impatiently as Kim merged into traffic. “I don’t have time for all that corporate bric-a-brac. I’m an actor, after all. I’m trained to take on new roles.”
“I’d like to see you impersonating shooting a 9mm semi-automatic,” said Kim dryly.
“That’s not even technically possible…” Jacob started.
“What am I, an animal? I don’t want to shoot people, I want to solve cases.”
“Then you’re in good company,” Kim put in. “So David and Virginia were definitely involved. Here we can use your so-called professional expertise, Alex. Is Charlene the jealous type?”
Alex whistled. “The woman was famous for terrorizing any of my on-screen love interests on Time After Time. There was once this redhead with a particularly delicious physique. Now that I think of it, she reminds me of...”
“Skip it, Kane,” said Kim, her eyes fixed on the road.
“Well anyway, Charlene managed to sabotage her salad, and the poor thing had food poisoning for days. She had to drop out of the role. And I didn’t even touch the girl, except onscreen. I can’t imagine what she’d do if we’d been having an actual affair.”
Kim looked at Jacob knowingly. “We’ve got some serious motive here. Now we just have to connect Charlene to that sinister poker club.”
Alex leaned back, shrugging. “Good luck with that. Charlene doesn’t gamble, she shops – clothes, jewelry, men. You wouldn’t find her near a poker table unless it happened to be in the middle of Barneys.”
Chapter Ten
“I knew you were mad, Alex. But I never thought you’d set the cops on me.” David Jones sat on an uncomfortable metal folding chair in the interview room, handsome face defensive.
Alex, who was hanging around the back of the room trying to look tough, began to whistle innocently.
“The NYPD are not accustomed to backing personal vendettas,” said Jacob. Kim shot him an appreciative look. “What was your relation to Virginia Winters, Mr. Jones?”
The producer squirmed in his chair like a schoolboy caught smoking behind the gym. “Don’t play with me. You all know – I was sleeping with her, OK? I was hoping my lovely ex-wife wasn’t going to spill the beans, but hey, some people are just vindictive, I guess.” Alex, pink with pleasure at seeing his former best friend getting grilled, continued to whistle a jaunty tune.
“Cut that out, Kane. Look, we know you promised her a part on the show. What happened?” Kim said.
David hung his head. “Charlene found the photos too. I wasn’t very good at covering my tracks, I guess. We were planning to tell my wife and Alex about our relationship. Charlene threatened to leave me if I didn’t get rid of Virginia and cancel her part. I was such a mess that I forgot to tell her not to show up.”
“Virginia was having money problems. Did she tell you about that?”
The producer looked surprised. “No. I mean, she wasn’t exactly rich, but she didn’t seem worried about money. She managed to make ends meet, as far as I knew.”
“Do you know why she was involved in a poker circle in New York?” said Jacob.
“No idea. I knew she lived in Vegas at one point. Maybe she never gave up the gambling habit. She never talked to me about it.”
This is just going nowhere, Kim thought. She wrapped up the interview reluctantly and sent the producer packing, much to Alex’s chagrin. The team reconvened at the case’s whiteboard to review the facts. Kim stood pensively in front of the victim’s smiling photo, her blonde curls framing her face. It was getting late in the day, and they’d made little progress. Kim was not going to let this become another unsolved case. Especially this one.
“I think we’re done for today, Detective,” said Jacob. “Why don’t we engage in that age-old police activity: drinking fermented liquids while talking shop?”
“Sounds great!” said Alex, grinning. “I love fermented drinks. Where’s the local cop bar? That will be perfect research for my part!”
“No,” Kim said firmly. “Babysitting duties end when we punch out. You go and get a spray tan, or whatever actors do in their spare time. I’ve got a bubble bath and a glass of white wine waiting for me.”
“Can that be a group activity?” put in Alex anxiously. “I’m happy to drink my fermented beverage au natural.”
Despite Kim’s protestations, she found herself at the precinct’s favorite Irish pub, a run-down place with a cantankerous matronly barkeep. It was sticky, dimly lit, and the service was terrible, but for many a cop it was a second home.
Kim maneuvered onto a wooden stool and promptly ordered a draft beer. Jacob, who wasn’t much of a drinker, ordered soda water with lime. He fidgeted nervously on his stool. He considered an occasional appearance at this cop haunt a sacred duty that was as much part of his job description as filing reports. Still, he didn’t much like it. Kim understood his anxiety and gamely accompanied him on these suicide missions, even when she would have preferred a hot bath and a good book – which was always.
Better to get it over with. Kim took a long sip of her beer and steeled herself for the next half hour. Officer Phillips and Alex were jockeying for the stool to her left. The officer eventually conceded the prized seat, though he looked pretty disappointed. He made to go join his buddies across the room but Alex stopped him.