asking had affected Lex’s ego. The chef almost appeared insulted, in particular to Wells’ last question. Wells continued his silent staring, pacing occasionally.
“Detective,” Lex stated, controlling the volume of his voice. “Have you had a chance to watch my cooking show? It’s all the rage on TV.”
Wells lit a cigarette, not all that impressed. “I don’t own a TV. Too much crap on the air.”
Silence. There was the slight sound of rustling plastic.
“That’s too bad.” Lex huffed, fidgeting with his fingers, which he kept together upon his lap.
:He knows nothing! I will protect you. You who have done so much for me!:
Lex started to smile. Basking in self-accomplishment.
While Lex was fidgeting in his chair, Wells studied him. The chef seemed to be in his own little world. Lex seemed to be arching his head in a way in which he and only he was hearing a secret whispered into his ear. The fat cook appeared to be giggling up at Wells as if he had heard something “forbidden” about the police detective and had not the time nor mental ability to keep from laughing in front of him. Wells could tell that there was something going on here he didn’t quite understand, but went along with it anyway.
He too had a plan.
Wells reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a black and white photo of Leslie Dean. The detective flashed the picture in front of Lex’s face, causing the celebrity cook to freeze in his actions.
“Seen this girl?” Wells asked.
Lex took the picture. He couldn’t keep his hands from shaking. Tried to hide the trembling but couldn’t.
“No, I don’t think so, sir,” Lex mumbled. “No. Who is she? If I may ask, that is.”
“You may.” Wells exhaled a long stream of smoke, peering down at the chef.
Several silent seconds passed by. Neither talked. Wells continued to stare at Lex, puffing on his cigarette. The chef started to grow annoyed.
“Well, who is she then?”
Wells took another drag off his cigarette. “Local girl. Name’s being withheld until next of kin are notified. But as far as we can see she was in the neighborhood raising money by selling candy bars.”
“Oh?”
“You know, buy the thing for a dollar kind of thing.” Wells put the small photo back into his coat pocket. He leaned forward just enough to place his face uneasily close to Lex’s. “The candies are rather good, you see. In any case, her body was found not far from here. Apparently she was raped before she was killed. You haven’t seen her? Didn’t have anyone knock on your door fitting her looks?”
“May I see the picture again, detective?” Lex asked, trying his best to sound concerned.
Wells obliged.
Lex stared at the picture again, doing his best to look careworn. Wells could see through Lex’s body language that he was annoyed and bored. Lex cared nothing for the girl and appeared to be quite irritated by Wells who was still studying him, watching his every move. Still, the cook did not wish to upset the police officer, so he played the concerned citizen game with him-albeit badly. Wells saw through the whole damn thing.
In the background, a telephone started to ring.
Hearing his phone ringing, Lex started to give Wells an anxious look. He fidgeted in his chair, catching the policeman’s attention.
“My phone’s ringing,” Lex said, rude, controlled. “May I answer it?”
“I’m not stopping you.”
Lex got up, giving the police officer a dirty if not angry look. He answered his phone in the kitchen.
“Hello?” Lex said, his body halfway out of the kitchen, halfway in. “Leo! Hey, baby, how’s things in Hollywood?” Lex peeked back out at Wells, motioning toward his phone, explaining. “My agent. Have to take this. Be a few&”
Before Wells could either respond or order, the chef closed the kitchen door, taking his call. Wells, alone, puffing away on his cigarette, reacted with a surprised silent laugh.
“Well, now,” Wells stated, smoking away on his
“Detective,” Lex stated, controlling the volume of his voice. “Have you had a chance to watch my cooking show? It’s all the rage on TV.”
Wells lit a cigarette, not all that impressed. “I don’t own a TV. Too much crap on the air.”
Silence. There was the slight sound of rustling plastic.
“That’s too bad.” Lex huffed, fidgeting with his fingers, which he kept together upon his lap.
:He knows nothing! I will protect you. You who have done so much for me!:
Lex started to smile. Basking in self-accomplishment.
While Lex was fidgeting in his chair, Wells studied him. The chef seemed to be in his own little world. Lex seemed to be arching his head in a way in which he and only he was hearing a secret whispered into his ear. The fat cook appeared to be giggling up at Wells as if he had heard something “forbidden” about the police detective and had not the time nor mental ability to keep from laughing in front of him. Wells could tell that there was something going on here he didn’t quite understand, but went along with it anyway.
He too had a plan.
Wells reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a black and white photo of Leslie Dean. The detective flashed the picture in front of Lex’s face, causing the celebrity cook to freeze in his actions.
“Seen this girl?” Wells asked.
Lex took the picture. He couldn’t keep his hands from shaking. Tried to hide the trembling but couldn’t.
“No, I don’t think so, sir,” Lex mumbled. “No. Who is she? If I may ask, that is.”
“You may.” Wells exhaled a long stream of smoke, peering down at the chef.
Several silent seconds passed by. Neither talked. Wells continued to stare at Lex, puffing on his cigarette. The chef started to grow annoyed.
“Well, who is she then?”
Wells took another drag off his cigarette. “Local girl. Name’s being withheld until next of kin are notified. But as far as we can see she was in the neighborhood raising money by selling candy bars.”
“Oh?”
“You know, buy the thing for a dollar kind of thing.” Wells put the small photo back into his coat pocket. He leaned forward just enough to place his face uneasily close to Lex’s. “The candies are rather good, you see. In any case, her body was found not far from here. Apparently she was raped before she was killed. You haven’t seen her? Didn’t have anyone knock on your door fitting her looks?”
“May I see the picture again, detective?” Lex asked, trying his best to sound concerned.
Wells obliged.
Lex stared at the picture again, doing his best to look careworn. Wells could see through Lex’s body language that he was annoyed and bored. Lex cared nothing for the girl and appeared to be quite irritated by Wells who was still studying him, watching his every move. Still, the cook did not wish to upset the police officer, so he played the concerned citizen game with him-albeit badly. Wells saw through the whole damn thing.
In the background, a telephone started to ring.
Hearing his phone ringing, Lex started to give Wells an anxious look. He fidgeted in his chair, catching the policeman’s attention.
“My phone’s ringing,” Lex said, rude, controlled. “May I answer it?”
“I’m not stopping you.”
Lex got up, giving the police officer a dirty if not angry look. He answered his phone in the kitchen.
“Hello?” Lex said, his body halfway out of the kitchen, halfway in. “Leo! Hey, baby, how’s things in Hollywood?” Lex peeked back out at Wells, motioning toward his phone, explaining. “My agent. Have to take this. Be a few&”
Before Wells could either respond or order, the chef closed the kitchen door, taking his call. Wells, alone, puffing away on his cigarette, reacted with a surprised silent laugh.
“Well, now,” Wells stated, smoking away on his
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