Death in Daytime (25 page)

I explained how he thought he was doing Henry a favor by killing Marcy.

"Did he tell you how he met Henry? How he decided that Roswell was his next meal ticket?"

"He started to ramble at that point," I answered.

"Something about thinking they were getting close."

"The problem with cases like this," Jakes said, "is you don't always come up with all the answers, even after the case is closed. You have to catch the killer alive, and even then he may not tell you everything."

"Like what?"

"Well, just for closure I'd like to have a definite connection between Murray and Henry Roswell. I mean, other than the fact that they lived down the beach from each other." I turned to look at him, pulling the blanket closer around me.

"I may have that for you."

"What do you mean?"

"Coffee . . . ," I said, remembering. "He said it started with coffee. . . ."

"What?"

"When I went to talk to Andy, he had Murray make me some coffee," I said. "It was a special blend he got from some coffee place across town."

"So?"

"So when I made coffee at the Roswell house that day, it was the same coffee, from the same shop." I was getting excited that I had the connection the police probably never would have found.

"A shop across town?"

I nodded.

"Jesus . . . ," he said, rubbing his jaw. "Wouldn't it be a hoot if that's where they met, before Murray even
knew
Henry was married to Marcy?"

"How often do you come up with a coincidence like that in your business, Detective?"

"More than you'd think," he said. "Thank you, Alex. I'll take a ride over to that shop tomorrow, see how many people use that same special blend, show them photos of Murray and Henry and see what's what."

"Something still bothers me," I said.

"What?"

"The light," I said, "the one that fell at the studio. How did he work that? I can't believe he went up on the catwalk, dropped it and got to Marcy's office so fast."

"We checked that out," he said. "You don't have to go up on any catwalk. The lights are lowered from the floor, back in the dark. We checked them all and found that a bolt had been loosened so that it would eventually fall out. All he had to do was wait for his chance."

"He had that much patience and knowledge of how things worked?"

"Apparently."

"I have another question."

He looked at me.

"How did you know to come here? For that matter, how did Paul?"

"Your friend George's partner--Wayne?--tried to get me through nine-one-one, but he had a problem getting connected to me. So when George got through to your boyfriend, he called me. There was no way we could know for sure where Murray was taking you, but I thought if he was going to try the suicide dodge again, he'd probably bring you here, where he knew it was empty and safe. So Paul and I agreed to meet here. He arrived first."

"Too bad for him--he got shot for it."

"It's good for you he got here when he did," Jakes added. "He distracted Murray long enough for me to take my shot."

"So I guess you're both my heroes," I said.

"I suppose." He didn't look happy about having to share the role.

They carried Murray's bagged body past us, and all the cops followed. Davis, bringing up the rear, said,

"Good night, Alex. See you on TV."

"Is he really a fan of the show, or was that an act?"

I asked.

"Oh, no," Jakes said. "He's a definite fanatic about Tiffany."

"And you?" I asked.

"I don't know Tiffany," he said, "but I think I could get to be a fanatic about Alex Peterson, if I'm given the chance."

He grabbed me then, by the front of the blanket, as I'd been thinking--or hoping--he would all along. He pulled me to him and kissed me. I melted into it for a minute--a long minute--and then pushed away, but not all that convincingly.

He smiled, seemed to wait for the slap that never came, and said, "I'll see you around, Alex."