Swept Up (12 page)

Cal saw them, too.  “I was going to go check on her,” he said.

I took his hand and squeezed it. 

“What was that for?” he asked.

“You really are a hero.  A genuinely nice, caring guy.”

“Well, at least I’ve got that going for me, because I’m not feeling like much of a detective.  There were no leads here,” Cal said.

I thought about what Honey said and almost told him.

Almost.

I promised myself I’d tell him…after I talked to Dick.

But as I drove home with my fiancé, I felt guilty.

And despite that, I still didn’t say a word.

It made me wonder just what kind of person Cal was engaged to.

Chapter Nine

I called Dick from home that night and made arrangements to meet him
the next morning for coffee in order to discuss a character issue—I didn’t mention the character I wanted to discuss was him.

I called in front of Cal, which meant when I left Sunday morning for Pattycake’s, he didn’t even question me—so it wasn’t a lie.

I was skirting the truth maybe but not lying.

So why did I feel so guilty?

I was sitting at a corner booth towards the back when Dick came in and waved at me. 

I’d brought my laptop to add an air of legitimacy to the meeting.

As soon as Dick had his coffee, he said, “So which character is giving you problems?”

I looked at him. 

My mentor. 

My friend. 

Even my partner when I investigated the stolen paintings. 

I said,
“I have a character who the heroine adores.”  

I forced myself to continue.  “They’re very good friends and she’d trust him with her life.  The problem is, it’s a one-sided friendship.  He’s at a murder scene in this story and when she asks him about it, he either lies outright or omits some very important information.  Either way, it’s hard for her to have the whole picture.  Why would he do that?  I think I’m pretty good at getting into my characters’ heads, but I just can’t manage it with him.  I can’t figured out why he’d lie to me…her.”

Dick sighed.  “I figured you’d find out.  I planned to tell you, but just you.  I didn’t want to tell Cal.”

I didn’t expect that.  “I thought you and Cal were friends, too.”

“We are.  But.…”  He took a long sip of coffee.  It had to have burned, but he didn’t even wince.  He set it back down on table with an audible thud.  “Quincy, you and I both know, I’m not the most handsome of men.”

“Dick, you’re—”

“Don’t,” he said sharply.  “Don’t talk about my good personality or other charms.  For the most part, I’m happy with who I am.  I have a job I love, I have good friends, and I really enjoy running workshops for new writers.  I know, some people hate that kind of thing, but I like teaching and fostering young talent.  But I am not a handsome man.  Women don’t swoon when I walk in a room.  And Cal… We are friends, but Quincy, not only is he a good looking man—and I mean that in a totally heterosexual way.  But he’s also a cop.  He’s accustomed to women swooning.  So talking about this in front of him…it’s embarrassing.”

“Dick.” I didn’t know what to say.  I tried to remember what I’d thought when I’d first met him.  I’m sure I didn’t swoon.  What I remembered most about that first class was being scared and excited.  I told myself I wanted to know how to write a detective in case I found another dead body.  But I think secretly, way down, I wanted to try to write.  Listening to Dick had calmed my fears and made me hope that maybe I could do it.

“So, tell me,” I said.

“I met Mellie that day I came to the studio with you.   You were talking to Sean when she came over and asked me about her character.  She knew I’d worked with you on the script and thought I might have some insights.  Sean called her back to the set, and she suggested we meet for drinks later.  I was flattered.”

“And did you two meet?” I asked.

“Yes.  We talked about
Steamed
, about your writing, about my writing, about her acting.  She wasn’t like she was later.  She was charming that first night.  Funny.  And we met again for dinner a few times.  The second time, I told her I was working on a new idea for a series. 
Cereal Killer
.  A ten episode drama about a husband and wife detective team who’s tracking a female serial killer who’s a—”

“Mom.”  Dick and I had talked about this project.  He’d told me that he’d based the female detective on me, in a loose sort of way. 

“I thought it was a very different drama…seeing working parents looking for someone who is a good parent, even though they’re a despicable person.”

“And?”

“Mellie really wanted the role of the killer.  She didn’t come right out and say it, but hindsight is twenty-twenty, you know.  I thought she really liked me.”  He shrugged, as if the fact that she used him didn’t hurt, but I could see that it had.

I reached out and took his hand in mine.  “You had an affair?”

“Yes.  It lasted a month.  One morning, we were having breakfast when a friend called.  I didn’t pick up, but she left a message.”

“Another girlfriend?”  I asked.

“No.  An actress friend.  She said she’d couldn’t wait to read the script and to call her.”

“
Cereal Killer
?”

He nodded.  “Kristin mentioned she was tired of playing the girl next door.  She wanted the killer mom’s role.”

“And that’s when…?” I prompted.

He twirled his coffee cup, staring at it so he didn’t have to meet my eyes.  “Mellie laughed,” he said quietly, “and said she was sorry my friend was going to be disappointed that I’d already found my killer mom.”

“Oh.”

“I know.  I realized she was just using me to get the part.  If I was dating her, if I wrote the role for her and said as much to the producers, she figured she’d have the part.”

“And…?”

“I thought about breaking up with her right then,” Dick said.  “But I was sort of in shock.  I guess she was a good actress because I’d bought that she cared for me.  Despite the fact I am who I am.  I called her later that night and said I was sorry that things weren’t working out for us, and I thought it would be best if we ended things now, on a friendly basis.”

Suddenly the scene Honey had described made sense.  “Mellie doesn’t do friendly breakups?”

“No.  She found me at a restaurant the next day, upended a drink on me, and told me the only way I got to break up with her was over her dead body.”

“You couldn’t have been afraid that if you told me that I’d have thought you’d done it?” I said.

“No.  It’s not in your nature to distrust your friends.  When you love its wholeheartedly, Quincy.  I knew you’d believe me.  And I planned to tell you.  But not while Cal was sitting there.  And not because I thought that he wouldn’t believe me, but because I was pretty sure he wouldn’t have a clue what it’s like being a guy like me.”

“Dick.”  My heart broke for my friend.

He was still staring at the coffee.  “I work in a town of beautiful people.  I am not beautiful.”

I still felt bad for him, but he didn’t need my sympathy.  He needed a kick in the butt.  “Seriously, Dick?  I’ve had three kids.  I have a baby-pooch, even though all the boys are in their twenties.  If I haven’t lost it by now, what are the odds I ever will?  I’m average in a town of above-average people.  So are you.  It plays with your mind, skews your view of yourself.  But you and me?  We’re normal. Neither of us is the most beautiful person in any given room, but our mother’s didn’t have to tie porkchops around our necks in order to get the dog to play with us.”

He laughed at that.

“Mellie was awful,” I said.  “She used you.  But it had nothing to do with you…it was her.”

I live in a town where beauty counts.  But maybe my family had prepared me for it.  With them, brains and a degree counted.  Somewhere along the line I’d realized I’d never be the most beautiful, and I’d never be the smartest.  I was me.  And ninety-nine percent of the time, I was totally okay with that. 

“So, that’s it?” I asked him after I’d sat back down.  “There’s nothing else you’re not telling me?”

“Nothing.”

“And what you told me from the party?”

He held up his right hand. ‘The God’s honest truth.  I got drunk, but the reason was that Mellie had showed up.  She looked through me, as if I were invisible.  Then she threw herself at Jonas.  And for one moment, as she wrapped herself around him, she did look at me.  It was a
this-is-the-kind-of-man-I-belong-with
sort of look.  So I started drinking.”

“And you heard someone fight?”

“I was only half awake and drunk.  I thought it was Lady Gaga and Pink—that it was just a dream.  But I’ve been thinking about it since.  I think there’s a chance that Pink was Mellie.  I had a dream afterward and Mellie was singing to me while hanging on ribbons, like Pink did for that one award show?  I think it got all mixed up in my head.  Anyway, I don’t doubt she made a play for someone else.  Mellie was a woman who couldn’t be without a man for long.  And she preferred men who could further her career.”

“Jonas can further her career?”

“He is an established actor,” Dick said.  “Not the kind of guy who normally does made-for-TV movies.  If she was paired with him it would definitely increase her exposure.”

That’s why Shia wanted him as well.  I felt sorry for Jonas.

“If she was fighting with someone it was probably Shia,.” Dick said, as if he’d read my mind.  “Shia was Jonas’s date.  Did she say anything about fighting with Mellie?”

“No,” I said.

“It might be nothing,” Dick said.  “Sometimes people don’t tell you things that they feel will paint them in a bad light.”

“Sometimes people are stupid and don’t realize that in a true friend’s eyes, the light
’s never bad.”  I reached across the Formica table and put my hand on his.  “Dick, if you showed up in the middle of the night and told me there was a dead body in your trunk, I wouldn’t ask questions.  I’d just go get the shovel.”

He laughed at that, then ever-the-writer said, “I’m going to incorporate that into
Cereal Killers
.”

I laughed, too, and we started tossing around ideas for his new project.

But even as we did, I was thinking about Mellie, Shia, and Jonas. 

I needed to go talk to Shia again.

I was tempted to stop on my way home.  Shia lived in the neighborhood.  But I felt as if I’d already violated Cal’s trust enough, so I went home.

He wasn’t there.

But he’d left a note on the counter.  “
Went home to get a few things.  If I don’t beat you back, I should be there shortly
. 
Love you
.”

I smiled.  I don’t think the boys ever left me notes anymore.  They just texted me.  And that’s how I’d have left Cal a note as well, with a text.

But there was something more personal about a note scratched on the back of a deposit slip.  I traced his last two words and sat down on the couch to wait for him.

When he came home, I’d tell him everything about my conversation with Dick.

And then we’d both go see Shia.  I didn’t think there was any way that Shia could have strangled Mellie. 

But what about her father?   I moved both their photos to the center of the white-board and then moved Jonas and Mellie’s, too.

Shia was Jonas’s date to the Morties.  He was an established actor who lent her an air of legitimacy as she tried to escape her reality star roots.  She was sweeter than Mellie, but she was willing to use people to get where she wanted to go.

Mellie would have wanted Jonas for much the same reason.  She’d been in the business for years, but hadn’t really advanced beyond supporting roles.  It wasn’t really her talent holding her back but her personality.

Jonas had nothing to gain from either woman.  But a star always had something to lose.  What if Mellie knew something about him and was blackmailing him?  Could he be threatened enough to kill her?

And finally, Shia’s father.  He admittedly gave her everything she was wanted.  What if Shia wanted Jonas and Mellie was in the way?

I called Cal.  “Hey,” he said when he picked up.

I could tell from the background noise he had me on the car’s speaker.

“I’m home.  Are you on your way?”

“I want to stop at the station on my way back, if you don’t mind.”

“No.  I have something I need to tell you.”

“About Mellie?”

“Yes.  I think the pieces are starting to make sense.  At least enough sense to warrant us going back to talk to a few people.”

“Like?” he asked.

“Shia and her dad.”

“What led you to that?”

“I’ll walk you through it when you get home.  I’ll just sit here and mull a bit longer while I wait for you.”

“Okay,” he said.  “I’ll give your
Detective Charlie
a call and see if he wants to stop in, too.”

“That’s a good idea.  Have you called him Charlie to his face?  I’m not sure he’s fond of it.”

“He’s not,” Cal said. 

“Which means you’re going to call him that all the time?”

He laughed.  “Probably.  It has a better ring to it than Randolph.”

“Hey, when this is over, I want a do-over.” I hadn’t known I was going to say the words until I did.

“A do-over of what?”  Cal asked.

I started to tell him, but I decided I’d surprise him.  I’d think of something totally romantic and re-proposal.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“If we want to do-over what we did last night, I’m in.”