thirty-nine

“Darling,” Nigel said once we’d left Nina’s building, “the next time you decide to spring a bald-faced lie, no pun intended, about full-body waxing, do you think you could warn me? I almost spit out my drink. And I don’t think I need to remind you, that was some damn good scotch.”

I laughed. “Sorry about that.”

Nigel glanced at me sideways. “It was a lie, though, right?” he asked. “I mean, Dan was bad enough already. But the idea of him … hairless,” he added with a shudder. “I just can’t.”

“Yes, it was a lie,” I said. “I think Nina said she had an affair with Dan to cover up for the real reason she went to his apartment.”

“You think Dan had a story on her like he had on Brooke?” he asked.

“I do,” I said. “I just need to figure out what it was.”

 

From Nina’s, we headed over to Jeremy’s. Jeremy lived in a quaint brownstone on Central Park West. It was tucked away on a quiet, tree-lined street. Unlike our visit to Nina, this one was unannounced. Nigel and I suspected that we would have better luck if we caught Jeremy unprepared. We couldn’t have asked for better timing. When Jeremy finally answered the door, it was clear from his rumpled appearance that we’d woken him. It was also clear from his bloodshot eyes and the sour smell of alcohol emanating from him that he’d passed out drunk wearing his clothes from the night before. His navy sports coat was beyond wrinkled. His white dress shirt was missing a few buttons. His jeans were undone at the waist. His heavy-lidded eyes rose in surprise at the sight of us on his doorstep. Of course, that may have had more to do with Skippy than us. “Did I know you were coming?” Jeremy asked, his voice gravely.

Before Nigel could answer honestly, I lied and said, “Yes. You don’t remember?”

Jeremy blinked and scratched his head. I watched as he tried to summon a memory that wasn’t there. When it didn’t surface, Jeremy opted to pretend. “Um … no,” he said. “I mean yes. Sure. Sorry. I guess I overslept.”

I flashed a smile that I hoped resembled sympathetic understanding. “Is now still a good time?” I asked.

Jeremy scratched his stomach. A puzzled expression crossed his face and he looked down at his hand. He seemed surprised to find that he was still wearing his jacket. He looked back up at us. “Um … yeah,” he said. “Sure. Come on in.”

Jeremy led us down a hallway that was covered in photos from his career. All together, they formed a visual timeline of his life on the stage. It was rather depressing, really. Jeremy had once been a good-looking man. But as the pictures testified to, his excessive drinking had steadily eroded those looks. As Jeremy waved at us to take a seat in his living room, I wondered why he was still numbing himself with alcohol. He’d openly stated that his abuse was due to the stress of having to lead a closeted life. Yet he’d recently come out to almost universal support. Why was he still hitting the bottle?

Jeremy sank into a leather club chair while Nigel and I took a seat on the couch. Skippy sat in front of Jeremy and laid his enormous head in his lap. Jeremy stared down at it with a puzzled expression.

“I think he likes you,” Nigel said.

“So he’s real then?” Jeremy asked as he tentatively reached out and gently patted Skippy’s head. Skippy’s tail gave a happy thump.

Nigel laughed. “Yes, he’s real.”

Jeremy nodded. “Thank God. For a minute I really thought I was losing it.”

“Well, Skippy has that effect on people sometimes,” I said. Granted, it was usually with people whose blood alcohol content was in the double digits, but I thought it might be best if I kept that to myself.

Jeremy nodded again, his attention still on Skippy’s head. After a moment, he looked up at us. For a brief second, it looked as if he was surprised to find us sitting in his living room. He gave a slow blink and let out a breath. “So how can I help you?” he asked.

“I wanted to ask you a few questions about Dan,” I said.

Jeremy sat back in his seat. Forgetting that Skippy’s head still lay in his lap, he attempted to cross his legs. After a moment, he gave up. “I wasn’t close with the guy so I’m not sure how helpful I can be. What did you want to know?”

“I wanted to ask again if you ever heard any rumors about Dan and other women?” I asked.

Jeremy’s eyebrows rose up in surprise. “No, I can’t say that I did,” he said.

“Really?” I said. “Not one little suggestion that Dan was using his apartment for more than extra work space?”

Jeremy shook his head. “No. Nothing. Dan had a reputation as being an egotistical jackass, but I never heard anything about him cheating.”

I nodded. “I see. What about your relationship with him?”

Jeremy’s brows came together in a practiced expression of confusion. “My relationship?” he said slowly. “I’m not sure I understand. We had no relationship.” He paused and added, “And in any case, he wasn’t my type, if you know what I mean.” He tried and failed for a cocky smile.

“I meant, why did you visit his work apartment two days before he died?” I asked.

Jeremy’s hand froze mid-stroke over Skippy’s head. “I … oh that?” he said, attempting a shrug. “Dan wanted to know if I’d be interested in taking the lead in a play he was producing.”

I frowned. “Really? From the security video it looks as if you were arguing.”

“You saw the security video?” Jeremy asked, his face going pale.

“Yes,” I lied.

Jeremey let out a groan as another voice rang out. “You stupid son-of-a-bitch!” it shouted. “I told you not to go there! Jesus, do you never listen?”

All three of us turned to the source of the voice. It was Jeremy’s agent Julie. She was standing on the staircase landing, glaring at Jeremy. She was also dripping wet and wearing only a towel.

Jeremy let out a grown. “Babe,” he croaked. “I didn’t know you were up.”

“Oh, do you want to play the Let’s Trade Obvious Statements Game?” Julie sneered, “Fine. You’re a complete idiot. Your turn.”

Jeremy winced. “Julie, please. It’s not what you think.”

Julie crossed her arms over her chest. Her gaze slid to mine. “Nic, did I just hear you tell Jeremy that he was captured on the security video at Dan’s apartment?”

I nodded. “You did.”

Nigel gave a polite wave. “Hi, Julie,” he said affably, as if we weren’t eavesdropping on a fight between two people, one of whom was wearing only a towel. Later Nigel would claim that his nonchalant reaction was the result of good breeding. I said that it was more likely the result of too many youthful escapades. I would be right.

Julie’s gaze shifted back to Jeremy. “Why did you go there, Jeremy? Why? After I specifically told you not to!”

Jeremy swallowed and looked to me as if I had the answer. I didn’t. His head swung back to Julie, his eyes panicked. “I … I don’t know. I don’t remember going there,” he said. “ But … I guess … I guess I did,” Jeremy said, his expression becoming even more morose.

Julie’s faced burned red. “You guess you did?” she yelled. “What in the actual hell, Jeremy?”

Jeremy lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, Jules. I really am. I … don’t remember it, I swear.”

Julie exhaled loudly. “Perfect. Just perfect,” she sneered. “I’m good, Jeremy, but not that good. If you killed that son-of-a-bitch, then you’re on your own. Even I can’t help you out of this one.”

“Julie, come on,” he pleaded. “You’ll figure something out. You always do. ”

Julie let out a strangled cry. “That’s it!” she yelled. “I’m done! Do you hear me? Done! Figure your shit out on your own. I’m out!” She turned and ran back up the stairs. Seconds later I heard a door slam.