by Dave Daren
I looked at her incredulously. “Did you just douse her with a shower?” I asked.
Vicki winked. “We’re out of time. We need her to talk and talk now.”
“She could sue us for assault,” I pointed out.
“No, she won’t,” Vicki motioned to the same red notice I’d just looked at, “they can’t even pay the electric bill.”
I laughed. “I suppose you’re right. Is she coming down?”
Vicki nodded. “Yeah. She was just changing.”
“I’m glad she’s doing that upstairs,” I muttered as I took a sip of coffee.
Vicki laughed. “Poor Henry. Earlier we were talking about boob jobs and then you get flashed by a drunk actress.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s all necessarily unfortunate,” I teased.
She smacked my arm, and I laughed.
A couple of minutes later, Allison showed up downstairs. She was still drying her wet hair and looked a mixture of embarrassed and offended.
“You ready to talk about this?” Vicki asked gently.
“Yeah,” Allison murmured as she sat down. “You know, I loved Jerry.”
“Were you with him?” I asked.
“Not officially, no,” she shook her head, “but we’d been talking for about a year. He paid the deposit on this place.”
“It’s a beautiful place,” I remarked.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “We’ve got eight people crammed in here, so it’s affordable, and it’s a great time. But I really fell for Jerry.”
“How did you meet him?” Vicki asked.
“A friend of a friend introduced me,” Allison replied, “and he really liked my work. I did a lot of modeling, but I wanted to move to L.A. to be an actress. Jerry cast me in a lot of parts, and he really opened me up, and I feel like I really grew with him.”
“So, you had a professional relationship with him, then?” Vicki questioned.
“Well,” Allison sighed, “it started out that way. But he was always telling me how beautiful I was, and how talented I was and how I could be a big star if I wanted. He told me he had these connections in L.A. and that he would hook me up if I ever wanted to move out there.”
“Did he ever do that?” Vicki asked.
“No,” the actress replied. “By the time he told me all of that, I was so in love with him, I couldn’t imagine leaving without him.”
“Did he offer to go with you?” Vicki inquired.
“Yes,” Allison nodded, “and that’s the thing. The plan was that after American Tale, we were going to move to L.A. I even found a place for us. It wasn’t much, but I’d saved enough for a deposit. We were going to leave after the film premiere. Now, none of that will ever happen.” She sniffled and swiped at her eyes.
“He had contacts in L.A.?” Vicki asked.
“He did work on a few big films out there,” Allison replied, “and he knows all of these people who could get us both work. He said the only reason he was in Sedona was because of his ex-wife. But he wanted to sell his studio and move to L.A., and then he could have his son come back and forth.”
Allison fingered her coffee mug, and then started to cry in earnest.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I just … ” She composed herself and then looked at us resolutely. “He was my best friend, you know. And I don’t have anyone to talk to about how I feel about it, because the only person I would talk to about it, is him.”
“That’s a frequent feeling for someone experiencing a loss,” Vicki told her gently.
I wondered about this side of Vicki. She’d suddenly become this shower-dousing-grief counselor. She must be watching a lot of Dr. Phil behind my back.
“Now,” Vicki went on, “tell me about the day of the crime.”
“Well,” Allison frowned, “Jerry stayed the night here.”
“Here?” Vicki echoed
Allison nodded. “Yeah. He stayed here most nights.”
I chuckled, and she looked at me.
“I’ve been to his place,” I said. “I know why.”
“Yeah,” she wrinkled her nose, “he had some … problems. Anyway, he was in a foul mood that night, because Alfred had been arguing with him and told him he was boycotting the set. Jerry told him that was fine by him and told Alfred not to come back ever. We spent the night going over and over the argument with Alfred.”
“What did Alfred say?” Vicki asked.
“Ugh,” Allison groaned and shook her head, “I don’t even remember. It was one of those arguments where it’s hashed over and over so many times that it just gives you a headache. Basically, Alfred said what Jerry was doing was illegal, and that he would go to prison for what he did and all of this stuff. I don’t even know.”
“Prison?” Vicki repeated.
“Yeah,” Allison said. “There was some stuff with money that wasn’t … he wasn’t very honest.”
“Like what?” Vicki asked.
“I’m not sure,” Allison answered. “He never told me much of the details. But all I know is that he was just shady with money. So, Alfred told him he would turn him in for all of this shady money stuff, and Jerry told him he couldn’t prove anything, and that everything he did was right and that Alfred could go to hell. So, they went back and forth like this, and Jerry stewed about it all night, and everyone in the house was in the film, so it was a huge deal in the house. Everyone was talking about it, and talking about Alfred and how awful Alfred was. Which, the truth is, I didn’t think he was that bad. I thought he had some good points. But I couldn’t say that there.”
“Right,” Vicki said. “Did you have any indication Alfred might do anything violent?”
“No,” Allison sighed. “He didn’t say anything, or seem any one way. Which is why the whole thing surprised me. I didn’t think he was the type.”
“He may not have been,” Vicki said. “So, what else happened?”
“Well,” Allison continued, “Jerry and I stayed up late that night, going over and over the argument long after everyone had gone to bed. In the morning, my roommate Maddie made breakfast for all of us, and then we all left for the studio. Jerry and I rode together, and then, he had a bunch of stuff to do at the studio. That chick, Leila … she was being a … well, anyway … she had a lot of stuff she needed him to do. So, he was running around like crazy trying to make her happy.”
“Leila and Jerry had a strained relationship?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t say strained,” Allison replied hesitantly. “She’s … let’s put it this way. She’s really good at her job as an assistant. She’s very organized and can be very opinionated and bossy. Which is good for that job. But it also means she’s a bitch sometimes.”
I picked up on a strain in her monologue. “Was there any romantic history between Leila and Jerry?”
Allison laughed. “I told you, I love Jerry. But Leila is too strong for him. She would eat him alive.”
“Okay,” I said. “So, Jerry’s running around like crazy getting bossed around by his edgy, opinionated assistant.”
Allison nodded. “Exactly.”
“Go on,” I encouraged her.
“So,” she continued, “he’s making copies, and Ken comes up to him and was all like freaking out about something. I don’t even know.”
“Well, what did Ken say?” Vicki asked.
Allison sighed. “Ken had been mad for a while because of the last film. Jerry and Ken argued like cats and dogs through the whole film, so they started the new film with all of this baggage.”
“Which is why Ken walked out that morning,” Vicki supplied.
“Yeah,” Allison said, and a shadow passed over her face. “So anyway, Jerry and Ken got in a heated yelling argument in the copy room. They only stopped because Leila told them she was opening the doors for everyone.”
“I had no idea this was all going on,” Vicki mused as she glanced at me. “We were there.”
Allison smiled slightly. “Jerry was scared of you g
uys.”
“Scared?” Vicki repeated with a frown.
“Yeah,” Allison said. “He … was a fly by the seat of his pants kind of guy, and he didn’t always do everything by the book. So, he worried you guys would call him out on his shit and maybe even sue him.”
I snickered because, based on what I was finding out about his habits, he might have been right.
“Well,” Vicki said, “it’s all water under the bridge now.”
“Yeah,” Allison murmured and dropped her eyes sadly.
“So,” Vicki prodded gently, “what happened after Leila shut the argument down?”
“Then people started coming in, and Ken and I went into the cast room to start running lines,” Allison replied. “And then rehearsal started. And of course, Ken walked out.”
“Right,” Vicki said. “We were there for that.”
“Yeah,” Allison nodded, “and then, Alfred came in, and I remember thinking it was bad. But I didn’t know it would be that bad.”
“When did you leave the studio?” I asked.
“I asked Jerry if he wanted me to stay,” she responded. “He said he wanted to deal with Alfred alone, and he said, and I quote, ‘This may get ugly. Real ugly.’”
“Do you think he meant it in a flippant manner?” Vicki asked.
“Of course, Jerry could be dramatic,” she shrugged, “but it’s weird considering how it ended up.”
At that moment, we heard the front door open.
“Who’s the Beamer in the driveway?” Ken’s voice called out.
“Hey, Ken,” Allison greeted him.
Ken walked in carrying a paper sack from Earth Market.
“You remember Vicki and Henry, don’t you?” she asked him.
“Ah, yes,” he said. “From the play.”
“How do you do, Ken,” I said as I rose and offered my hand.
“Hi,” he greeted both of us and shook our hands.
“They’re lawyers investigating Jerry’s death,” Allison told him.
“Ah,” Ken nodded and set down the Earth Market bag, “I brought groceries. I figured you could use some after, you know.”
“Thank you.” Allison smiled and then turned to us. “Ken’s been such a help these last few days. He’s really been there for me.”
Ken smiled self consciously and unloaded vegetables from the bag onto the counter. “Do they have any leads?” he asked.
“We have some,” I replied with a nod. “Right now, we know Allison knew him well, and we wanted to know if she had any fresh perspective.”
“What did you tell them?” Ken asked her with a furrowed brow.
“I just talked to them about how Alfred and Jerry had been fighting all night,” Allison answered.
“Dude,” Ken shook his head, “that guy is creepy. He needs to go to jail big time. I don’t know what he keeps in that cape, but I would steer clear of him if I were you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Alfred is our client.”
Ken snorted. “Sucks for you.”
“So, your opinion is he’s guilty, huh?” I asked as I eased onto a barstool.
“No doubt in my mind,” he said. “No doubt. I don’t want to say--”
“Then don’t, Ken,” Allison interrupted him. “There’s no need to spread rumors about the man. They’re lawyers. They just want to know the facts, evidence.”
“He’s asking me my opinion,” Ken protested before he turned back to me. “Look, I don’t have any hard evidence, or proof. But, from what I know about him, I think he’s one of those guys who needs to be locked up for his own good.”
Ken’s opinion was turning into a rant, so I skimmed my phone and only half listened.
“He’s a nice guy,” Allison argued. “A little kooky, but nice.”
“I don’t know about that,” Ken muttered.
“Hey,” Allison changed topics with a strained smile, “I was going to make dinner. Would you guys like to stay?”
“You know,” I said, “I think we’ve got all we need.”
“Are you sure?” Vicki asked.
“I’m sure,” I told her with a nod.
“Then I’ll show you to the door,” Allison said as she rose. “And I apologize about earlier. This has all been so hard on me.”
“I understand,” Vicki said. “Take care of yourself and we’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“Thank you,” Allison replied with a smile.
In the silence of the evening, Vicki and I walked out to the car.
“Okay,” Vicki said once we were inside the vehicle, “I know that exit and that face. You caught them in a lie.”
I snickered because she was right. I pulled out of the driveway and tossed her my phone.
“What are you showing me?” she asked.
“Look at those photos,” I instructed her as I wound back through the neighborhood.
“Okay,” she said. “Some mail. So what.”
“No,” I replied, “look in the background. Enhance it.”
A moment of silence passed as Vicki tapped at the phone. “Some prescriptions bottles in Allison’s name,” she said. “So what?”
“Metaformin,” I clarified, “and insulin. She’s diabetic.”
“Okay,” Vicki responded, but she looked skeptical when I glanced over at her.
“Read about what happens when diabetics get shit faced,” I told her.
Another moment of silence passed as Vicki did her research.
“They can get red faced and have an allergic type reaction,” she finally read.
“So, Allison was faking it,” I explained. “Did you notice how quickly she sobered up and how lucid she was?”
“Why was she faking it then?” Vicki asked with a frown.
“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “we’ve got a whole bushel full of liars here. I think they all deserve each other, honestly.”
“Shoot,” Vicki muttered suddenly. “I forgot my phone.”
“Are you sure?” I asked as I braked. We were only one street away from the house.
“I’m pretty sure,” she groaned as she flipped on the interior lights. Then she called it on my phone, and we didn’t hear it in the car.
“Let’s turn back around,” I sighed. “I can’t believe you forgot your phone.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I must have set it down when I went upstairs.”
We arrived back at Allison’s house, and there were roommates in the driveway. Vicki jumped out, talked to someone briefly, and then one of them took her inside while I waited. A minute later, she came out with her phone in her hand and got back in the car.
“Well,” she said, “that was worth it.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Allison and Ken were in the heat of the moment on the kitchen counter,” she muttered and blushed. “They didn’t even see me.”
“Are you kidding me?” I gasped. “With all of these people around?”
She shrugged. “You know how they are at this age.”
“I do know that,” I chuckled dryly. “It’s hook up central.”
“And you were never like that?” she teased.
“Me? Heavens no,” I joked. “I spent every night in, studying law books, and waiting for you to come along.”
“Okay,” she laughed, “now you just sound sad.”
“But Ken and Allison, huh?” I mused. “And Jerry and Allison.”
“And a dead body,” Vicki added.
“Uh-huh,” I said as my mind started to turn. “I’m starting to see some puzzle pieces here.”
Chapter 11
Thursday evening rolled on into the night, and the downtown street lamps cast a soft glow into the fully lit windows of our office. We had a deadline for close of business Friday, and we still had too many loose ends.
At nine p.m., Sedona was well into its nightlife scene. The handful of bars and restaurants within a block radius drew the occasional foot traffic that peered into our windows, wondering w
hy we weren’t either in bed or partying.
We were making money, that’s why. Or at least trying to anyway.
Over Fifth Street Bistro and a table littered with a full day’s worth of Jitters cups, AJ, Vicki, and I sat in our conference room and tried to make sense of everything we knew.
Hindu techno played softly in the background, and AJ had all but moved into the conference room. Her black pumps laid in a heap in a corner, and she walked around barefoot.
“Where are we on those tapes?” I asked.
“Nowhere,” she sighed. “There was where one Jerry talked for an hour and a half about his views on space travel. But that was it.”
“What were Jerry’s views on space travel?” Vicki questioned with a frown.
“He has it all figured out how we could colonize Mars.” AJ shrugged. “He kept referencing a primer he wrote on how to build the biodome, and how he was going to put it online. I checked. He never did.”
“Okay,” I said, and I leaned back and popped my elbows over my head. “So, where are we on all of the interviews? Let’s get a status report. Leila Jaxson. Go.”
“Leila Jaxson,” Vicki recited, “Jerry’s assistant, and part-time music journalist. She said she knew nothing other than Jerry can be shady sometimes, and that Clare’s a nutcase who definitely killed Jerry for insurance money.”
“I talked to Leila as well,” I said. “She gave me the security clip.”
“In which the camera had been altered,” AJ supplied.
“Right,” I mused and rubbed my chin. “She also seems to have some bad blood with Allison Pierce, which potentially puts her right at the outer edge of their love triangle. She also had the means and opportunity, but if she had a motive, we don’t know.”
“Really?” Vicki asked and scrunched her face. “You’re still on that? Leila and Jerry? Ugh. She’s too cool for him.”
“Everyone is too cool for him, and he still did well,” I pointed out. “It’s a small town. The pickings are slim.”
“Oh my gosh,” AJ gushed. “Isn’t that the truth!”
“See?” I cocked an eyebrow at Vicki and gestured to AJ. “She knows. She’s from here. I had to leave.”
“Leila’s not that desperate,” Vicki argued. “She wouldn’t go for Jerry.”