Death in Daytime by Eileen Davidson Page B

Marcy, presumably because he didn't know anything about her. Although they technically still lived in the same city, they had no contact with each other. I didn't know who exactly had abandoned whom. Maybe they'd abandoned each other. But Marcy had pretty much cut her daughter off. For a moment I wondered if a seventeen-or eighteen-year-old girl could kill her mother. Then I decided no, the girl I had talked to could not. The poor kid was angry, probably more hurt, but I didn't think she was a murderer. For one thing, she would have had to get on the lot, and to do that somebody would have had to leave her a pass. It didn't seem likely after turning her away--refusing to help her with her career--that Marcy would leave her a pass.
    I wasted most of the morning after surfing. Well, maybe not wasted. I spent it thinking in a shower, and then over a cup of tea. Finally it was time to pick up Sarah. I'd left my mother alone, given her time to herself, because I knew I was going to ask her to stay with Sarah that afternoon.
    "Where are you going?" she asked, while the three of us had lunch together in the big house.
    "I'm going to talk to some people," I said.
    "Suspects?" my mother asked.
    "Yes, Mother, suspects."
    I wondered what my mother was going to have to say to that after we'd already discussed my plan to conduct my own investigation. I didn't have very long to wait.
    She looked at me with concern as I carried our lunch dishes to the sink and said, "Keep yourself safe, honey."
    Little did I know. . . .

Chapter 22
    My plan was to take the kid car and go to Marcy's home. I knew where it was because she'd had a "let's get acquainted" cocktail party when she landed the job. It was there that I first realized she must still be holding a grudge, because she glared at me all night. I've never been there again--never been invited. However, when I opened my front door, I found my way blocked by the press. I guess word had finally gotten out about my address. Cameras flashed in my face; questions were lobbed at me; I even saw a tape recorder or two. And then I saw Detective Jakes, bullying his way through, knocking people aside.
    "Watch it, asshole!"
    "Who the hell is this guy?" a short, fat man yelled.
    "Come with me," Jakes said, putting his arm firmly around me.
    He got us through the crowd without letting anyone touch me, which was impressive. He used his elbow and shoulders and got us to his car. After he placed me in the passenger seat he turned and shouted at everyone, "That's all for today. Clear out of here."
    Then he walked around and got behind the wheel. "Good morning, Ms. Peterson."
    "Maybe for you. Excuse me, Detective, I have to call my mother." I fished my cell phone out of my bag and quickly hit speed dial. "Mom, the press is all over the place. Just stay put with Sarah. Now that they know I've left, things should calm down. Just stay inside until you hear from me, okay? . . . I love you, too.
    "Detective Jakes," I said, closing my phone,
    "How . . . nice. Thank you for saving me."
    "I've had experience with press mobs before."
    "Press mobs?"
    "Press with a mob mentality," he said. "They'd trample you to get a story, even if it was only 'Soap Queen Trampled by Press.' "
    Jakes laughed, showing very white teeth. He really was rather good-looking.
    "Soap queen?"
    "I thought you'd like that better than 'diva,' " he said.
    "Actually, I don't like either. Um, how do you propose to get me to my car now?"
    "There's no need. I'd like you to come with us, if you would."
    "Where?"
    "What is it they always say on TV?" he asked.
    "Downtown?"
    "And why would I want to go downtown with you and your partner?"
    "Just to answer a few more questions."
    "Can't you ask them here?"
    "Here? On the street with that crowd around us? Or inside, in front of your daughter?" He smiled what seemed like a very condescending smile. "No, I'm afraid this has to be . . . official."
    "Am I under arrest?" I asked. My mouth was dry.
    "Oh, no," he said,