Dial Emmy For Murder Part 33

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Well, sort of."

"Are you positive or not?"

"Yeah, I am. I mean, it was a shock. But it had to be him. Let me have your phone."

"That b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" she hissed, and handed me her cell.

"Where's yours?"

I waved her off as I tried to call Jakes. "s.h.i.+t! No reception in here. I have to get out of here-I need to get to Sarah!"

"People were invited up to talk to you, Al. You're supposed to sign autographs and schmooze a little."

I looked around me. Fans were coming up from the audience, and I didn't see Randy anywhere. Could I trust my eyes? Should I start to doubt myself?

"Did you drive?" she asked.

"Yes; I'm parked on level Two West," I said, still looking out for Randy and handing her back her phone.

"So am I. Take a few photos, sign a couple of autographs and then leave. I'll pick you up right outside the front doors. We'll get your car later."

"Won't that seem too . . . rude?"

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll tell them you had a family emergency."

"Okay. Thanks!" I could always count on Connie.

I was still nervously looking around the room for Randy when someone touched my elbow. Luckily I managed not to jump out of my skin. It was Sandra. She wanted me to stand with the other ladies and meet and greet.

"I'll see you out there," Connie said.

I nodded. She left to go to the parking structure. Connie knew Randy and didn't like him one bit. I hoped she wouldn't run into him. There was no telling what she might do, especially if she was behind the wheel.

As it turned out, it wasn't Randy I had to worry about.

I managed to get away after only a few minutes of signing autographs. I wasn't sure my colleagues would understand and not take offense that I hadn't said good-bye to each of them in turn, but simply waved to everyone and took off.

I tried to keep from running until I got clear of the auditorium. By the time I got to the lobby, I was jogging and bolted through the front doors. No Connie. s.h.i.+t! I thought. Where was she? I flung off my heels and sprinted to the parking structure. Impatiently I kept pus.h.i.+ng the b.u.t.ton for the elevator, even though I knew it wouldn't do any good. Once you push it once, it's pushed. d.a.m.n it!

When the elevator came, I rushed in and pushed the b.u.t.ton P2 West. It lit up but still I kept pus.h.i.+ng. I had managed to get a spot right near the elevator, so when the door opened I expected to see my car.

But I was wrong.

"Hi, babe," Randy said, a big smile on the handsome face that used to make me weak in the knees. Now it made my stomach flip in an entirely different way.

"Randy."

"We need to talk."

"I don't want to talk to you," I said, stepping out of the elevator.

"I want to see Sarah."

"You're not seeing Sarah, Randy. Not just like that, out of the blue. Not after three years. It'll mess with her head. What are you trying to do to her? Are you staying? Going to court? Going to jail?" My voice was rising along with my anger. "What the h.e.l.l are your intentions?"

At that moment I heard someone running, and then I saw Connie hurrying from the other direction.

"Alex!"

Randy turned when he heard my name, and he saw Connie, too. "Oh, h.e.l.l, are you still workin' with that crazy b.i.t.c.h?"

I didn't understand why Connie was running until we heard the sound of a car screeching. A dark SUV came up from behind and pulled alongside her. The pa.s.senger-side door opened and a dark-haired man got out.

"Oh, G.o.d," I said. The woman behind the wheel was Adrienne Russell. The man was Nate. He grabbed Connie and started forcing her into the car. She fought him.

"Connie!" I shouted.

"Alex!" Connie called back. At that point Nate punched her on the jaw and pushed her into the car.

"Oh G.o.d, oh G.o.d, Con," I said.

"Alex-what the h.e.l.l is going on? Who are those people?" Randy said.

"Get out of my way, Randy!"

Adrienne looked over at me and smiled, nothing like Mrs. b.u.t.terworth now.

"d.a.m.n it, Randy-"

I tried to go around him, but he stepped into my path. "Alex-" he said again.

And that's when I hit him.

Chapter 60.

I felt the shock of the blow all the way up my arm, fearing I might have broken my hand. But as he fell I couldn't spend one minute enjoying his pain. I ran for the Porsche, hoping I could get out of the parking structure in time to see which way Adrienne and Nate had taken Connie.

I dropped my keys the first time I tried to unlock the door. The second time I was more successful. I fitted the key into the ignition and got Marilyn roaring. As I pulled out I saw Randy get up, and then he had to jump out of my way.

Screeching down to the exit, I had to stop and pay at the gate before I could get out. Apparently Adrienne had also stopped to pay. I didn't see the humor until later. Who stops to pay when they're in the middle of a kidnapping?

I couldn't figure out why they would want Connie. Or what they were doing there in the first place.

I drove out of the garage and onto the street, wondering which way to go. I needn't have wondered. Adrienne's SUV was there, parked with the motor running. I didn't know what to do. Get out and approach it? Call Jakes? Or 911? I didn't have my f.u.c.king phone!

The SUV suddenly revved its engine and took off. I hit the gas and followed. There was no way they could outrun Marilyn.

Adrienne jumped on the 5 North heading out deep into the Valley. It was fairly late, and the freeway was empty enough to allow Adrienne to maintain a speed upward of eighty miles an hour. It was a speed I could easily do with the Porsche.

I followed, realizing they were going into a heavily industrialized area. The boonies. No 7-Elevens. No gas stations. No police stations. Nothing. Finally they pulled into what looked like a self-storage facility. They pulled up to the front gate and stopped.

The vehicle idled there, with hardly any movement inside. I stopped several car lengths behind them, waiting. None of the murders had been committed with a gun, but that didn't mean they didn't have one.

Suddenly Adrienne's arm came out the window, and she punched in a code. The gate rolled back slowly.

I put the Porsche in drive and drove forward through the rolling gate before it could close.

Chapter 61.

Somehow, once we got through the gate, they disappeared.

I stopped the car but kept the motor running and the doors locked. I was hoping to see an address, but it was dark. My headlights shone on a bunch of orange corrugated doors.

I knew I had to get out of the car. I didn't have a flashlight, but I did have a crowbar in the backseat that I kept on the floor for road rage emergencies. I grabbed it, held it tight and got out.

The ground was gravel. My feet crunched as I stepped out. Abruptly I heard other footsteps crunching, as if someone was running up behind me. Before I could move or bring the crowbar up, an arm came around me right under my chin.

"Drop it!" someone said in my ear.

I considered trying to hit whomever it was, but the person tightened his hold and cut off my air. I let the crowbar drop.

The arm released me, and Nate forced me around and pushed me against the car.

He was not a large or imposing person, but I had the feeling his looks were deceiving. He was definitely stronger than I was, and I didn't think I could sucker punch him the way I had Randy. My hand was still throbbing from that episode.

He pushed me ahead and directed me where to turn. Suddenly there were lights ahead. When we reached the storage units, I saw that one of the doors was open and the interior of one of the larger units was well lit. So well lit that naked bulbs hanging from the ceiling made me squint. But I could still see Connie, tied and gagged and lying on the floor in a corner. Standing near her was Adrienne Russell. Mother and son had dressed alike for their little family outing-sweats.h.i.+rts, jeans and tennis shoes.

The storage unit looked like a shrine. There were photos of Nate, some furniture, clippings stuck to the walls and boxes, but when I looked closer I could see that the head shots were not of Nate but of someone who looked very much like him.

"That's Nick," Adrienne said. "My other son. Nate's twin, actually."

Adrienne looked bulky in her clothes. Gone were the bun and granny gla.s.ses and the Mrs. b.u.t.terworth demeanor. There was a s.h.i.+ne in her eyes, though, a look I had tried to cultivate when I had once played a slightly mad character in a movie of the week years back, only Adrienne was much more convincing.

"Nick," I said, "your son-the one in Chicago?"

"Your information is old, Alex," Adrienne said. "Yes, Nick went away to do repertory theater-after he had failed at acting in Hollywood. After 'the business' had successfully beaten him down. But they didn't appreciate him there either, so he ended up working odd jobs, embarra.s.sed to tell us. Finally the despair overtook him so much that he committed suicide. Hanged himself. That sound familiar?"

So Nate had a twin who killed himself because he couldn't make it as an actor? More likely he took his life because of a weakness of character, but I didn't try that suggestion on his grieving mother. I didn't think she would have appreciated my point of view. And the hanging thing. That was why she was killing actors by hanging or strangling them.

I looked around and noticed two things. One: she was in charge and her son was obviously completely subservient to her. And two: neither one was holding a gun. In fact, I didn't see a weapon anywhere, but I knew that could change in an instant.

"I a.s.sume you called Detective Jakes," she said, "so he's probably on his way here. We'll see how quickly we can complete our business. We are in the middle of nowhere. It'll take him a while."

I didn't want to let on that it was just me there. No Jakes.

"Is this the same business you didn't finish that night on PCH, Adrienne? When you tried to run me off the road?" I asked, my throat dry. I was glad my voice hadn't cracked.

She looked at me blankly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't lie, Adrienne. You tried to kill me. Or rather, Nate did."

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about? Don't try to confuse me! You're so clever, aren't you? With your words. Your disguises! But you're not so smart. See, I knew you looked familiar when you and Detective Jakes came to talk to me, but it wasn't until I read in the paper that you were going to be at the Academy tonight that it clicked in my head. The article mentioned how you were playing twins on your show, wearing makeup to alter your appearance. That's when I put it together. And that's when I decided that tonight was the night to get you out of the way."

"Out of the way?" I asked.

"You're in the way of what we're doing for Nick."

"Which is?"

"Removing the compet.i.tion."

"Nick's dead, Adrienne," I reminded her. "How does killing actors do anything for him now?"

"For his memory!" she shouted. "This is all for him."

"What about Nate?" I asked. "He's still alive. What about his career? He's still auditioning, isn't he?"

"Auditioning." She spat the word out. "Nate is a joke. He never had Nick's talent."

I looked at Nate, but he was staring at the floor, miserable. Then he shouted at her, "Nick never got a good part either, Mom!"

"Shut up! He would have! He needed to keep working at it. It would have happened for him in time!"

I understood. Nick was her pet, her favorite. Nate was the afterthought, the second fiddle. Maybe I could use this little c.h.i.n.k in their armor to my advantage.

I looked over. Poor Connie. She had duct tape over her mouth, and her eyes were wide with fright.

If I hadn't known better, I would have thought the pair just seemed like a sad mother-and-son act. Adrienne looked like an old worn-out housewife, dressed for spring cleaning. Nate, slender and unimposing, looked like a kid who wished he were somewhere else.

But they had already killed four or five young men? I'd lost count. Had they killed Henri? And they were probably planning the same for Connie and me.

Why was I not more frightened? I wondered. Stalling, I said, "Adrienne, I don't know why you took Connie. She has nothing to do with this!"

"I knew you'd follow her. Your faithful manager. Ha! She's your lapdog!" she scoffed. Connie took offense to that and was harrumphing under her taped mouth. "I know how you industry people are. You think you're so much more important than anyone else. So special. So fabulous. You both need to be taught a lesson. A lesson in humility."