Dial Emmy for Murder Read Online Free

paused. “But it could work for you.”
    Connie, ever the opportunist. Now who was hard-boiled? I know how she works, but this was just a little over the top.
    “I don’t want to cash in on Jackson’s death.”
    “Why not? Look what your involvement in Marcy’s death did for you.”
    “Yeah, I had to leave a job I loved.”
    “You did a movie after that, didn’t you?”
    “It went straight to DVD. Connie, I can’t talk about this now.”
    People rushed past us, off the stage, on the stage, most of them with panic-filled, glassy eyes. They didn’t know where to go or what to do.
    “Uh-oh,” Connie said.
    “What?”
    “Boyfriend cop at eleven o’clock.”
    I went to three other places on the dial before I finally found him. Detective Frank Jakes.
    “He’s not my boyfriend.”
    “Here he comes,” she said. “I’ll . . . go find Mara.”
    I turned and saw Jakes walking toward me, followed by his partner, Detective Len Davis. Since they hauled Marcy Blanchard’s murderer out of the canal behind my house months ago, Jakes had called a couple of times to try to set something up. The first time he said he needed to tie up a few loose ends. I put him off and tied up his faux loose ends on the phone. The second time he asked if we could have a drink. I begged off. The third time he actually asked me out to dinner. I told him I’d call him back. I never did. That had been a month ago, and he hadn’t called since then. God, I thought now, that had been so mean. . . .
    The problem—well, not actually a problem, per se—was I had a boyfriend, Paul Silas, a crime scene investigator in private practice. The other problem was I had found Jakes attractive at the time, and watching him walk toward me now, it was clear that hadn’t gone away. If anything, he looked even better.
    I’d forgotten how blue his eyes were.
    “You didn’t have to get yourself involved in another murder just to see me,” he said as he reached me.
    I looked past him and said, “Hello, Detective Davis.”
    “Ms. Peterson. Frank, I’m gonna . . .”
    “Okay.”
    Davis faded away.
    “Alex?”
    “Yes? Oh, I’m sorry. What did you ask me?”
    “I asked how you were,” Jakes said, “but maybe I should ask how you are?”
    “I’m not so good, Detective,” I said. “Jackson was a friend of mine. I’ve got his blood on me.” I held my hands out to him like a frightened little girl.
    “You knew the deceased?” He was looking at me funny when he asked this. My dress left little to the imagination but he didn’t have to be so obvious.
    “His name is—I mean was—Jackson Masters,” I said. “We’re on the same show, and we were supposed to present an award together. He was running late, or a no-show, we all thought, but then . . . this.” I waved at the stage.
    “Uh-huh,” he said, staring at me.
    I looked him square in the eye and raised my eyebrow. “Do you think this is really the right time and place, Detective Jakes?”
    He looked at me, puzzled, and then it registered. He smiled. “Alex, go wash up. . . . You’re a mess.”
    “I can’t.”
    “Yes, you can. Come back because I have a few questions for you. Don’t worry. I don’t think you’re going to make a run for it!”
    “No, I mean I can’t. You’re on my train!”
    He stepped aside, revealing two dark and dirty footprints clearly imprinted on my extremely expensive borrowed gown.
    We looked at each other.
    “Stupid train,” I grumbled as I made my way to the bathroom.

Chapter 5
    When I got into the ladies’ room and saw myself in the mirror, I nearly lost it. Connie hadn’t told me exactly how awful I looked. There was blood in my hair, on my forehead, and on the bridge of my nose. No wonder Jakes had been looking at me like that. I even had blood in my cleavage. Before I tried to fix myself, I ran into one of the stalls and suffered some dry heaves. I was lucky I hadn’t eaten much before coming to the theater.
    I did my best with paper towels