Free Dial Emmy for Murder by Eileen Davidson Page B

been cast as young lovers, but truthfully, he was a good eight or ten years older than I was. He had lost his glow and he was no longer a heartthrob.
    But today was the first time I realized that he was a sad, middle-aged man. But he was still my friend, so it made me sad, as well.
    “So, what can I do for you, Alex?” he asked.
    I got myself back to the reason I was there. “As I said, I need a favor. Have you ever heard of an young actor named Aaron Summers?”
    “No,” he said. “Is he another of those baby hunks all the shows are hiring?”
    Spoken like a former young hunk, I thought.
    “I remember he auditioned for a role on The Tide a while back,” I said without answering his question.
    “Really, Alex,” he said. “Why are you trying to track down young actors—”
    “Not young actors,” I said. “Just this one.”
    “What’s so special about this one?” he asked. “You think he’s right for something on your show?”
    “Hardly,” I said. “He’s dead.” “Oh, jeez, the Emmys,” he said, slapping his forehead. “I meant to call you. I’m so sorry—”
    “Forget it.”
    “But, wait—he’s not the one who came down from . . .”
    “No, that was Jackson Masters.”
    “Right, right,” he said, snapping his fingers. “I read that. He worked on your show, right?”
    I was surprised it had taken him so long to mention something that was the talk of our industry. Then I was surprised it had taken me so long to realize that he’d probably been drinking before I got there. If he’d worked that day, he could only have been drinking an hour or so before I showed up. I looked at my coffee. I’d already had a few sips, and it wasn’t spiked. I’d watched him pour it, so his wasn’t spiked, either. If Andy still drank the way he used to, he’d probably had three, maybe four drinks.
    He’d been tense when I first arrived. Now he was starting to loosen up.
    “That’s right, Andy.”
    “So are you in charge of finding a replacement? Oh, no, wait, stupid me. You already said the other man was dead.”
    “That’s right.”
    He sipped his coffee, drumming his fingers on the side of the mug. I figured he was ready to have another drink, probably wanted me out of there quick.
    “I need to find out the details of when Aaron Summers auditioned for The Tide, Andy,” I said. “Can you do that for me?”
    “I can ask when I get to work tomorrow! Oops, I don’t work tomorrow. Or the next day, or the one after that!” His bitterness at having a lesser role in the show was showing.
    “Somebody in casting will have the information. Maybe you could call?” I thought it was better if someone from the show asked about Summers instead of me. I didn’t want anyone’s antennae to rise.
    “Okay,” he said, “so I’ll ask. What can it hurt?”
    “Can you call me tomorrow?”
    “Sure,” he said, “sure. We murder suspects have to stick together, right?”
    “No, Andy.” I put my mug down on the table. “We old friends have to stick together.”
    “Can I get you anything else?” he asked. “I was gonna have dinner—”
    “No, thanks,” I said, standing up. “I have dinner plans.”
    “Oh, of course,” he said, also standing. “Sarah. How is she?”
    “She’s fine.” No harm in letting him think I had to go home to make dinner for her.
    He walked me to the door, where he said, “I really was gonna call you, Alex.”
    “I know you were, Andy,” I said. I hugged him tightly. My good friend. I felt so sorry for him I wanted to cry. I kissed his cheek. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Chapter 17
    I was on time the next day, as I had promised. We taped my scenes with no problems, and the day ended with no further compliments from Breck.
    When I arrived at my car in the parking lot, I was surprised to find Jakes’s partner, Detective Len Davis, waiting for me.
    “Detective. How’s your son doing anyway? Davey, right?”
    “He’s fine. Thanks for asking, Ms.