Swingin' in the Rain (3 page)

   Tonja is in her thirties and going through a divorce. She was trying to get her life back on track, working part time as a computer programmer for various small businesses in Venice and Santa Monica. She had moved in a month ago and watched Sarah on occasion, for some extra cash. She was good with kids, outgoing and friendly.

  “Hey Tonja. Thank you so much for taking care of Sarah last night. I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

  “No problemo. I just bundled up and came on over. We crashed on your sofa. I hope that’s okay?”

  “Of course. Whatever. I owe you.”

  “Yes. You do! Now maybe we can have that drink you’ve been promising?” Tonja had been trying to get me to go out for a drink since she had moved in, but with work and Sarah and Jakes, I hadn’t managed to make the time.

  “You’re on.” I checked the clock on the mantle. “Hey, look, I have to get Sarah.”

  “Do you want me to come by when she’s home? I promised to teach her some cheerleading moves after school today.”

  Tonja had been a Lakers cheerleader in the 90’s and had the body to show it. She was quite the dichotomy. Killer brain and a killer bod.

  “So, what was going on with Jakes? He had an emergency, huh? He ran out of here so fast.”

  “I gotta get going. We’ll catch up later, okay? Thanks again!” That was the last thing I wanted to get into. I hung up and headed out to my car. Now my cell phone rang.

  It was Connie, my ex-manager.

  “Hi Doll. I just heard about Randy. How you holding up?” Hearing her signature gravelly voice was actually a comfort.

  “Hi, Con. I’m okay. Thanks for calling. It’s pretty weird,” I answered as I drove to Sarah’s school.

  “How’s Sarah doing? Does she know, yet?”

  “No, I haven’t told her. And I don’t know how she’ll take it.” There was an awkward pause.

  “Well, don’t let her watch or listen to the news until you do. Anyway, you know where I am if you need me, right Al? Still there for ya.”

  “Thanks, Connie. And thanks for calling.” She hung up and I felt a little more than wistful.

  Connie had been my manager for quite a few years. The projects she wanted me to take were dubious at best. I had decided to fire her when she started pressuring me to go on “Rehabbing with the Stars.” Especially since I didn’t have an addiction to go to rehab for. “But they pay a hundred thousand dollars! And I’ve seen the wine you go through. Seriously, maybe you need a little re-evaluation.” I knew then it was time to part ways. I couldn’t, in good conscience, go to rehab for an addiction to two glasses of Merlot a night. No matter how much they paid. Connie was, well Connie. She’s a little nutty with questionable judgment but she was my friend. And I couldn’t help but feel the loss of yet another relationship.

  I felt a sudden sense of urgency to see my little girl as I pulled up in front of her school.

   “Guess what Tonja and I did this morning, Mom? It was so cool!” Sarah said as dropped her backpack on the kitchen table. “She made pancakes and I made scrambled eggs! And they were so good, too. She knows how to make fancy food. Like apple pie, and guess what? She knows how to do back flips. She said she’ll teach me. I think I want to be a cheerleader, too.”

  “Honey, I need to talk to you.” I sat down. “Come sit with me.”

  “Wait, Mom. Wait, okay? I promised I’d draw Tonja a  picture and I want to do it before I forget.” She skipped down the hall to her room. 

  She was so happy I didn’t want to ruin it. I decided to let her have a little time.

  Maybe I’d make some cocoa first before I tell her anything. 

  Maybe I’d call someone for advice.

  Someone like George.

CHAPTER SIX

   “What was the emergency, honey?” he asked. “Is Sarah okay?”

  I had left the set the night before, telling everyone I had a “family emergency.”

  “Oh George,” I said, keeping my voice down, “you won’t believe it. Randy’s dead.”

  “OMG! How?”

  “Mud slide.” There was a long pause.

  “Mud slide? Death by mud slide? Seriously?” He hesitated a long time then said, tentatively, “Well, that’s not really bad news, is it? I mean, considering?”

  “I wanted him out of our lives,” I said, “but I never wanted him dead.”

  “Yeah, you did,” he reminded me quickly. “When he first took off you said you wanted to kill him—“

  “Yes,” I said, interrupting him, “that was a long time ago. I was angry and hurt.”

  “And again when you thought he was trying to drive you off of PCH and kill you. Remember?”

  “Okay, I know. I know! I wanted him dead. And I don’t feel good about it,” I said. “So now he really is dead. And he was Sarah’s dad, for pete’s sake. Now I have to tell her.”

  “Well, she didn’t really know him. I mean hadn’t she just spent a day or two with him since she was two or three years old?” he asked.

  “George. I called you for some compassion and some advice. She’s a little girl who lost her daddy. Twice! It’s still going to hurt.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “That was insensitive of me. It’s just hard to feel sad about Randy. He was a prick. Sorry. When are you going to tell her?”

  “After dinner, I think. I mean, I’m going to try...“

  “Well, I think you should wait. Have you slept yet today?”

  I hadn’t. Wow. I was really tired.

  “No. And I’m pretty pooped.”

  “I think you should get some sleep. No sleep, no decisions. Call me if you need to talk some more. I want to hear everything. Mud slide?” he said. “Someone’s beeping in. It’s the studio. Are you coming in tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. I’m in. I don’t know what time, yet. Love you.”

  “Love you. Talk to you later.”

  I hung up and started to make some hot cocoa when the phone rang. I saw on the caller i.d. that it was Jakes.

  “You got word already?”

  “No,” he said. “Can you talk?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then just listen.  The autopsy hasn’t been done yet, but the M.E. has determined the probable cause of death.”

  “And?”

  “Alex, Randy was murdered.”

  “What?”

  “And that’s not all,” he said. “You’re the ex-spouse, Alex. The ex-spouse who had been abandoned, had her money stolen, and was in a custody case with the victim. Baby, that makes you the number one suspect.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I dropped the spoon in the saucepan. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Well, you can understand why you’d be considered, can’t you? You’re in an ugly custody fight.” Jakes said.

  “That’s just stupid. If every ex who was in an ugly custody battle killed their former spouse, Los Angeles would be a ghost town.”

  “True. But he did leave you in debt when he took your savings and left the country.”

  Randy was dead, God bless him, but what an asshole! He was the gift that kept on giving. “Okay. So. . .” I took a deep breath and tried to regain my composure. “. . . all I have to do is tell them where I was when Randy was murdered, right? That’ll clear me. When was he killed?” 

  “We’re not sure yet. The thing is, Alex. . . I called to let you know that they want to bring you in for questioning.”

  “What? Oh my God. Not again.” I had gone through this a couple of years ago when I had been a suspect in another murder. “The Yearning Tide’s” head writer had been bludgeoned to death with her Emmy. It was common knowledge she hadn’t liked me much, so many assumed I was responsible. That’s how Jake’s and I had met.

  “When do they want to see me?” I peeked around the corner and saw that Sarah was still in her room.

  “This evening.”

  “What? They can’t. What will I do. . .”

  “It’s okay. I handled it. I think it’s just a formality, Babe. Really. I told them you’d come in on your own in the next twenty-four hours. When can you make it in?”

  I reached over to the table where my script was and looked at the next day’s shooting schedule. I was in early and out early. “I can make it to the station around eleven or twelve.”

  “I’ll tell them you’ll be there at noon.” Jakes knew me well enough to know this wasn’t just a formality for me. I already felt I was defending my life . . . again.

CHAPTER SEVEN

  I was definitely preoccupied as I drove onto the studio lot. Have you ever experienced those weird time lapses when you can’t remember how you got somewhere? You’re just here and then you’re there and don’t recall anything in between? That was me that morning.

  I had dropped Sarah off at school and the next thing I knew I was pulling into the WBN parking lot. I decided not to tell her about her father just yet. There were some things I needed to sort out first, like whether or not I was going to be arrested for murder. I hadn’t slept after the conversation with Jakes the previous night. He ended up having to work late so he didn’t come over. He was better off, considering I tossed and turned all night. Now that was two nights in a row with no sleep. Today wasn’t going to be easy.

  I drove around and around the parking lot, looking for a space. For the last two years “American Popstar” had been using one of the stages at the studio to film their show. This meant that parking spaces were few and far between. I wasn’t in the mood so I called the Production Office of “The Bare and the Brazen” for help.

  “Hey, Erin. No parking
again
.” I sounded grumpy. Especially compared to Erin, who was our perpetually bubbly Production Assistant. 

  “Good morning, Gorgeous Woman! I’ll call Security and see where you can park. Wait a sec.” She put me on hold as I put my car in park and waited. I stared through my windshield; the thwack thwack thwack of the wipers put me in a hypnotic trance. More rain. Then I saw something red out of the corner of my eye that got my attention. There was someone on the balcony outside the stage door, holding a bright red umbrella. This wouldn’t have been that odd except for the fact that it was still pouring rain.

  The balcony was about 50 yards away from me and on the second floor. I could see that it was Patti, my make-up artist. She was hunkered under the umbrella, talking on her cell phone very animatedly. She was too far away to see for sure but it certainly looked like she was crying. I was trying to get a closer look when my phone beeped. It was call waiting from Herbie, our Stage Manager. I was about to get it when Erin’s voice came back on the line.

  “Okay, Sweetie,” she exclaimed like it was the best news ever, “Security says for you to park on the upper lot in guest parking. There are cones up there blocking the spots but just remove one and it’s yours!”

  “Thanks, Erin.”

  The upper lot was a considerable distance away from The Artists’ Entrance, or front door to the studio. I was going to get wet. I put the car in drive.

  I found a space, got out and moved the cone. Even though I ran back to my car, I was drenched. “Damn American Popstar!” I muttered. I grabbed my bag and umbrella and made a beeline for the studio, completely forgetting to check my voicemail. 

  My phone was ringing as I peeled off my sopping coat and dropped it on the sofa in my dressing room.

  “Yeah?”

  “Come on up. We need to get you ready, fast. Priscilla called in sick so you’re up first.” George’s voice was frantic.

“I’m on my way.” I hung up. “Crap! That’s what Herbie wanted!” I ran to the closet, stripped off my street clothes and threw on the cashmere sweater dress Jennifer had pulled for me. I yanked on black tights and black leather boots. Then I grabbed the gold hoop earrings that were lying on the counter and headed up to hair and make- up.

  “She’s here! She’s here!” George was saying into the phone. He hung up. “That was Herbie. We have about ten minutes to get you camera ready. Sit!”

  “What is this craziness?” I asked George as I sat in front of him.

  “Oh my God. You have no idea. All hell’s breaking loose today. Pricilla is sick first of all. And we just found out that ‘The Best Days are Ahead’ and ‘The Tears of Tomorrow’ have been cancelled!”

“What? Why?” That was really bad news. That only left four soaps on the air. This day was just getting better.

  “I guess the network is replacing them with a cooking show and a talk show. Like we don’t have enough of those on the air. And not just that. . .” George bent down and got close to my ear. “Patti is having a breakdown. She got a phone call and I swear she started freaking out. She had to leave the room.” He twisted my hair and stuck a pin in it.

“Ow! Careful! I saw her out on the balcony before I came in. I thought she was crying and it looked like she was in an argument or something.” I was concerned on many different levels. “Where is she, now? And more importantly, who’s going to do my make-up?” I hated to sound self-serving, but the show must go on. Or at least that’s what everyone has told me.

  “Alex. We need you in five. Five minutes, Alex.” Herbie’s voice came booming over the PA system.

  “Marlene?” George yelled over to another make-up artist whose chair was next to Patti’s. “Can you take Alex? Like right now?” Marlene put down the file she was using on her nails and slowly got up from her chair. She was a vision in orange. It was Marlene’s favorite color and she wore a variation of oranges and tangerine tones every day. Even her hair had those overtones. The color definitely complimented her beautiful cocoa colored skin. Interesting because orange is a very vibrant and exciting color and Marlene had a very laid-back personality. She didn’t let anything ruffle her tail feathers. Not even a stressful situation like getting an actress ready in five minutes.