“I’m out of here. You two sort the location out. Rox, I’ll have that clip to you as promised,” Sam said.
“Hold up, Sam I’m not staying. Bye, bye,” Ben said with a chuckle.
“Tyler, I’ll go downstairs to see what room service has to offer…get us some carbs to settle our nerves, give us a more mellow outlook. Let’s you and I have a constructive conversation about the future of the team. I think you agree we do good, no, we do great work together,” Roxy said. “Watch television, or better yet, make some notes---pro and con. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Chapter 39
TALK ABOUT A MOOD CHANGER. The call from Grace Turnbull, a publisher for God sake, was like a shot in the arm. With two fist pumps and a twirl in the middle of the living room, Star raced back to the kitchen island and grabbed her cell. Her finger pounced on #1, Tyler.
“Can’t talk now. Superman’s busy. Please leave your name and number.”
“Ty, call me ASAP. We may be on our way to a wonderful life. Love you.”
Grinning ear to ear, she hustled to answer the doorbell. A pizza delivery boy stood on the other side grinning back at her.
“Delivery for 8320 Juniper Drive.”
“That’s me and just in time. I’m starving,” she said opening the screen door.
“And, here’s a strawberry martini, at least that’s what it says on the pizza box.”
“I didn’t order this, but I couldn’t be happier. Do you know who sent it?”
“Says here T. Jackman. Bye.”
“Thanks. Wait, let me give you…” Her words trailed off. The delivery boy was speeding down the street and around the corner.
Taking her surprise delivery to the kitchen, she tapped #1 on her cell again. Again, voicemail.
“Ty, thank you for the pizza. And, the strawberry concoction in the cutest jar. I’ll wait for you on the pizza. We can zap it in the microwave, but I’m drinking the strawberry whatever. Hoping it’s a martini. Love you.”
Star opened the cupboard retrieving a martini glass. When she told Tyler she was joining him in Hollywood, he made sure he had the proper glass for her favorite drink.
Shaking the jar slightly to be sure the red juice mixed well with what she hoped was vodka, Star unscrewed the lid and poured it over a large ice cube. The cocktail felt chilled but she liked it extra icy.
It tasted wonderful—so cool on her throat. She took several sips, then drained the glass. Pouring the remainder in the now empty glass, skipping another ice cube, she grasped her cell and flopped down on the couch.
Suddenly she didn’t feel so good.
What was wrong?
Her eyes didn’t focus.
She struggled to catch her breath.
Fear shot through her body.
Concentrating, she punched #1.
“Meatballs,” she whispered.
Staggering to the kitchen, cell in one hand, martini glass in the other, she tried to focus.
The martini glass slipped from her hand, smashing on the tile floor.
Her finger pressed 9-1-1.
“You’ve reached 911. How can I help you?”
“Can’t…breathe...poison...dying…Ty...”
Chapter 40
THE TENSION FROM THE sharp words between the team members dissipated after Sam and Ben left. Roxy ducked out to put in an order for room service. She figured a couple of beers should help Tyler relax. Besides she needed to go outside, needed some air. It wouldn’t hurt to give Tyler a little time to cool off. That’s it…give him time. Returning to the hotel room, Roxy shifted gears to small talk to smooth over any remaining agitation.
Answering the knock on the hotel room door Roxy waved in the room service man. She asked him to put the shrimp salads and four bottles of beer on the coffee table. She signed the receipt and closed the door as the man left.
Tyler lifted the cover from one of the plates and smiled.
“Rox, you remembered how much I like shrimp. It’s practically the only thing I ate when the team was working in Twentynine Palms.”
“How could I forget. You’re our leader, silly. Now dig in—after you open a beer for me. Working with Ben and Sam made me thirsty.”
“Thanks for the shrimp but stop trying to butter me up. The shrimp doesn’t change my mind. Star and I are leaving Hollywood as soon as a little girl she befriended with cancer is on her feet.”
Sitting on the floor, they leaned back against the couch, both taking a sip of beer. “Cancer…can take a long time to heal…if ever,” Roxy said. “You may just as well consider Hollywood your permanent home. Star doesn’t deserve you.”
Roxy moved closer to Tyler, their hips touching.
“I, on the other hand, can give you everything—a partner, you and me together. Think about it. You and me in the center of the action. Animated films are the rage yet still in the infancy of technical advancement. We’re a team you and me. More than a team.” Roxy put her hand on Tyler’s chest. “You and me, Tyler. Your heart is telling you to stay. It’s beating like a gun spraying bullets in your system. I can feel it.”
She leaned in pulling Tyler’s shoulders to her, his lips to hers.
Tyler shoved her away.
Shot to his feet.
“There is no you and me, Roxy. You got it wrong. My heart’s beating because I’m mad. You won’t listen. You refuse to hear what I’m telling you. STAR AND I ARE LEAVING HOLLYWOOD.”
Tyler marched to the door slamming it on his way out.
Behind the wheel of his van Tyler hit the gas pedal, raced down the road the wheels squealing at every turn. All he could think about was Star, his Baker Girl. He loved her since the day she walked into the diner. So determined to talk her way into the waitress job posted in the window. What fun they had changing the menus—his favorite—sausage meatballs glazed with whole cranberry sauce.
Again and again he felt in his pockets for his cell. He had to call her. Had to tell her he was on his way home.
No cell.
Lost his cell? How?
“Meatballs, meatballs,” he screamed. “No one is going to come between us, babe.”
Chapter 41
WITH A SIGH OF RELIEF, Tyler parked in the driveway behind Star’s car. Running to the front door he took the steps two at a time.
“Star, I’m home, baby,” he called out charging down the hall to the kitchen.
He stopped short, his eyes sweeping the scene in front of him. A pizza box on the kitchen island. A shattered martini glass on the floor. A pint glass jar on the kitchen counter next to the refrigerator with a smear of reddish pink residue in the bottom.
No Star.
Panicking he slapped his pockets again—pants front, back, shirt. He wasn’t dreaming. He had lost his cell.
His eye caught a glint under the island’s barstool. It was Star’s cell.
He picked it up. Hand shaking, he dropped it. Snatched it again, fingers squeezing tight. He scanned the directory and tapped the entry—Drake.
Tyler needed help. The first person who came to his mind was the detective.
“Miss Bloom, what can I do for you, I haven’t—”
“Detective, its Tyler, something terrible has happened. Star’s been kidnapped.”
“Whoa, Mr. Jackman. Where are you?”
“Home. I was at a meeting…just got home and—”
“Slow down, Mr. Jackman. Miss Bloom’s not there?”
“No, that’s why called,” Tyler snapped shaking his head. “There’s broken glass on the floor. Something bad happened to her.”
“Mr. Jackman, listen to me. Don’t touch anything. I’ll be right over. Do you hear me? Don’t touch anything. Why are you using Miss Bloom’s cell?”
“I lost mine…I can’t find it. Hurry, Detective.”
“Umm. Can’t find it. Wait for me, Mr. Jackman.”
Pocketing Star’s cell he ran to the bedroom. Nothing was disturbed.
He ran back to the living room.
&n
bsp; The hall.
The hall table.
Her purse was gone. She always left her purse on that table.
“Where are you? Where are you? Baby, where are you?” he shouted. “Please, please, dear God, help me find her. Don’t let anyone hurt her,” he whispered collapsing on the couch, head bent, fingers rubbing his scalp.
A car?
A car pulling into the driveway?
Tyler raced to the front door as Detective Drake mounted the stairs. A squad car parked on the street and two officers followed the detective to the door.
“Mr. Jackman,” Drake said grasping Tyler’s shoulders so he looked into his eyes. “I found Miss Bloom. She wasn’t kidnapped. She called 9-1-1-. She’s in the hospital. The doctors are tending to her. She has all the signs of having ingested what right now is believed to be poison.”
“P…poison?” Tyler stammered.
“You didn’t touch anything did you?” Drake said maintaining his grip on Tyler. “You mentioned broken glass. Show me.”
“The kitchen floor.”
The forensic team brushed past Tyler coming to a halt at the kitchen island, Drake and Tyler on their heels. The officers pulled on latex gloves and began bagging bits of glass off the floor and the jar on the counter. One officer turned to the box of uneaten pizza.
“Hey, Drake, look at this, the pizza box. The address is printed on the top, and the words, ‘From T. Jackman.’ That’s you, sir?” the officer said looking at Tyler.
“Yes, I’m Tyler Jackman but I didn’t buy it. I didn’t order it, and I didn’t send it.”
“Anything else disturbed, Mr. Jackman?” Drake said.
“No. Where’s Star? What hospital?”
“Hollywood Hills Medical Center,” Drake said.
“I have to go. Do whatever you do, Drake,” Tyler called over his shoulder. “I’m leaving.”
“Hold on, Mr. Jackman. I’m coming too. Follow me.”
Chapter 42
IT WAS DARK. Almost nine o’clock. Tyler knew the hospital. Days ago he and Star visited the Washingtons, Jenny Sue. But tonight he couldn’t think, didn’t know what direction he was driving. Even with Detective Drake in the lead, Tyler had a hard time following, a hard time focusing. His heart was thumping so hard he could barely breathe.
Drake put on his turn signal and pulled into the well-lit hospital parking lot. Tyler parked beside him and then bounded to the emergency entrance, leaving Drake hustling to catch up.
Reaching the information window, Tyler looked at the matronly woman on the other side.
“Star Bloom. What room? I’m her fiancé.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but—”
“It’s okay, ma’am,” Drake said flashing his badge, trying to catch his breath.
“Sure, Detective. Miss Bloom is in Intensive Care. Down the hall, first door on the left.”
Tyler ran down the hall, abruptly stopping at the door to the ICU willing his body to be calm. Drake pushed open the double doors, whispered to the attendant, then slowly walked to the third bed, Tyler beside him shoulder-to-shoulder.
The only sound was a piece of equipment, a soft rhythmic beeping at the head of the bed. Star’s bed.
The bed seemed to swallow her up. She looked so small, white as the sheet covering her frail body.
A doctor stood on one side with a nurse, both in scrubs, green and blue. The doctor was giving the nurse instructions. Tyler couldn’t make out what he was saying. Star’s eyes were closed. She looked lifeless with only a suggestion of her chest rising and falling.
The doctor looked up at Drake, then Tyler.
Drake spoke.
“Doctor, this is Miss Bloom’s fiancé, Tyler Jackman. I’m Detective Drake with the Hollywood Police Department,” he said again flashing his badge. “I asked for the officer over there to guard the patient. I believe she’s the victim of attempted murder. Can you give us her condition?”
“Thanks for the introduction. I’m Dr. Fred Williams. I don’t have all the tests back yet from toxicology—blood, urine samples. Her heart may have been compromised. One big factor in her favor, we believe she called 9-1-1 at the onset of feeling sick. Medics were dispatched and immediately transported her here. She was unconscious when the medics arrived. What I can tell you is that she ingested a large dose of arsenic. A dose of arsenic in humans, less than an eighth teaspoon, can be fatal to a healthy adult.”
The doctor took a deep breath. “That small dose can kill in two hours if a child, or an elderly person, or someone with a compromised immune system.”
“What did it feel like that she knew she had to call for help? Tyler said his eyes never leaving Star’s.”
“Signs of arsenic poisoning can show up within thirty minutes. She probably started to feel dizzy, slurring her words, nausea…” the doctor’s words trailed off.
Tyler shook his head. “Arsenic? How? What did she eat?”
Dr. Williams sighed. “Arsenic compounds are white or colorless powders. They have no smell, and most have no special taste. You usually can’t tell if arsenic is present in your food or water. In the past, it was used in rat or ant poison. Of course, the substance is available and can be used in nefarious ways. The tests from the hospital’s lab indicate it’s not what she ate but what she drank. So far, the test shows she drank strawberry juice mixed in an alcoholic beverage. We think it was vodka, but I’m waiting for the definitive answer,” Dr. Williams said.
Tyler pulled a chair up to the bed, picked up Star’s lifeless hand, held it to his heart. “Why doesn’t she open her eyes? Why? Why? Star, can you hear me?”
“We worked fast to mitigate the damage once we determined she had ingested arsenic. We performed some rather invasive procedures to get the arsenic out of her body. A special solution is passed through the gastrointestinal tract, flushing out the contents. The irrigation removes traces of arsenic and prevents it from being absorbed into the gut. She’s sedated but she’ll come out of it soon. Talk to her, Tyler. She can hear you. I’m sure she’s scared. It will help her to hear your voice, know you’re here. I have to check on another patient but I’ll be back soon. Tyler, is your fiancée a fighter?”
Kissing the top of Star’s hand, Tyler nodded. “She’s definitely a fighter, doctor. She’ll beat this.”
Drake followed the doctor out into the hall leaving Tyler by Star’s bedside. Tyler inched closer to her ear. He began whispering. “The doc wanted to know if you’re a fighter. Can you imagine such a silly question?”
Tyler squeezed her hand.
“Doc Williams said you can hear me. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”
Tyler stared at her small hand in his. He didn’t see movement.
“Hey, that’s okay if you don’t feel like it. Maybe later. Make that sooner rather than later. I’m telling you right now, babe, we’re leaving Hollywood. Enough of these people. As soon as you walk out of here…or if I have to wheel you out that’s okay…we’re leaving. Oh, and that idea of yours, you know, the kid’s cookbook? Well, that’ll be a winner. You’re great with kids, babe. And another thing. I want to get married soon…today would be good, but you have to wake up so you can say yes, or I do. A nod will be just fine.”
Gripping Star’s right hand, Tyler watched her chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm—a sedated sleep. Occasionally her head jerked, her left hand flopped or hit the sheet hard. Was she seeing a bad image behind her closed eyes? Tyler leaned back in his chair while he rubbed his eyes.
“Okay if I lay down next to you? Don’t worry—no funny business I promise. I just want to close my eyes. Whoever opens their eyes first is a frisky chipmunk.”
Chapter 43
“MR. JACKMAN. MR. JACKMAN, wake up,” Drake said shuffling up to the head of Star’s bed.
“What? What?” Tyler mumbled, waking with a start. His eyes shot wide open. Seeing the detective, he slid off the bed to the chair never dropping Star’s hand. His attention remained on Star. Was she breathing?
<
br /> “Any change?” the detective asked.
“No,” was all Tyler could mumble.
“You look beat kid. There’s coffee in the staff room down the hall. A nurse said we’re welcome to help ourselves.”
“No, no, I can’t,” Tyler said.
“Yes, you can. I need to pick your brain. Play the game…who delivered the pizza and strawberry drink. Come on. The officer is sitting in the corner. Miss Bloom is safe.”
Drake tapped Tyler’s shoulder.
“Come on. You and I have work to do.”
Tyler nodded and got to his feet. He tucked one of Star’s curls behind her ear, bent over and kissed her cheek. Sighing, he followed the detective down the hall.
The break room was as bright as an operating room. The difference between here and the dim ICU hurt his bloodshot eyes. Drake poured two foam cups of semi-warm coffee.
“Cream? Sugar?” he said.
Tyler shook his head.
Drake placed a cup in front of Tyler then eased into a hard, plastic chair across the table from him.
“Same MO,” the detective said.
“What?” Tyler said taking a sip of the strong coffee, looking over the rim at Drake.
“Same MO as Roth except it killed him—”
“His heart was bad.”
“Let’s say the bad heart was compromised with the arsenic which led to his death. Miss Bloom is a strong young woman. She’s going to be fine, son.”
Tyler squinted at Drake. Son. Drake called him son. At this moment in the brilliant break room it was comforting.
“I want you to make a list of everyone who was at the barbecue and who knew where Star was tonight. First the barbecue, no matter how farfetched, put the name down.” Drake slipped a piece of paper plus a pen from the nurse’s station across the table to Tyler. “Include any drop-ins. Anyone who left early. Came Late.”
Tyler started writing. It felt good to be doing something. Anything. A few times he looked up at the ceiling, then added another name. He wrote two names then crossed them off.
A Cupcake to Die For Page 11
