Alter Ego (Jonathan Stride #9)

Chris made a sour little laugh. “Funny, I never did, either.”

“He was smooth, I’ll give him that,” Stride went on. “Right to the end, he was sure he’d beat the charges. I think he could hardly believe it when the jury sent him away. He thought he could talk himself out of anything.”

“Yeah. I sat there in court day after day and listened to the evidence. I remember when he got on the stand and used that anchorman voice of his to say that this was a witch hunt and he was the real victim. The jury hated him. I hated him, too.”

Stride could still hear Art’s anchorman voice in his head. He realized that Art had never really been a journalist. He was an actor. He put on one face for the world and another for his real life.

Just like Dean Casperson.

He saw Casperson on the other side of the set. Casperson was dressed like him. Imitating him. Pretending to be him. It made Stride angry, as if his own identity had been stolen. Casperson looked back at him. The actor’s composure didn’t break, not even for a moment. He was too good. He headed across the warehouse and extended his hand, but Stride didn’t shake it. If it was going to be war, let it be out in the open. That was enough to cause the tiniest crack in Casperson’s facade. It was also enough to make Stride realize that he couldn’t back down in chasing this man no matter what the chief and the mayor wanted.

“Lieutenant, we’re certainly seeing a lot of you,” Casperson told him. “Don’t you have other cases to work on?”

“I’ll be here until we solve this murder,” Stride replied.

“Well, you better hurry. The clock is ticking.”

Stride stared at him. “Oh?”

“Didn’t Chris tell you? We only have a couple more days of filming left. Then we’ll be out of the city.”

“I didn’t realize the production was so far along.”

Casperson shrugged. “Time is money. Right, Chris?”

Chris nodded, but he didn’t look happy. “It is.”

“Aimee wrapped up her scenes in the box yesterday,” Casperson went on. “Did Chris show you any of the footage? It’s amazing. I really think there’ll be Oscar buzz for her. And she and I are almost done with our scenes together, assuming I can get her to read the lines the same way for two takes in a row.”

“You don’t like to improvise?” Stride asked.

“I like to make a plan and execute it one step at a time. Aimee’s younger and more free-spirited. She tries different approaches until she finds one that fits. Of course, screenwriters hate it. Writers don’t like actors messing with their words, do they, Chris?”

“Most of the time, no.”

“Still, I respect her. She’s a gifted performer. After this movie, she’ll be going places. Count on it.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Stride replied.

“Anyway, it means we should be wrapping up in the next day or two. I’m sure that will be a relief for everyone around here. I know it’s been an intrusion. Especially for you.”

“Oh? Why me?”

“I’m aware you had a little trouble with the tabloids,” Casperson said. “I saw the article. It was brutal.”

“Well, I hope it doesn’t hurt your box office draw,” Stride said. “You know, doing a movie about a troubled cop.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Lieutenant. By the time the movie comes out, audiences won’t care what kind of man you are in real life. They only want three things when they go to the theater. Popcorn. A great story. And me.” He smiled with those crazy-white teeth of his.

Stride looked down at the actor, who was oozing arrogance. This was the real Dean Casperson. The man behind the mask. The man who knew he had all the naked power in the world to get what he wanted.

“Well, I’d hate to be the one to derail your career after all these years,” Stride said.

Casperson laughed out loud. “Believe me, you couldn’t if you tried. My advice is, don’t read what the tabloids say. Bad publicity comes with the territory in this business. Just keep your head down for a couple more days. Once the filming is done, the Gazette will forget all about you. As soon as I leave town, the tabloids leave with me.”

Chris Leipold, standing in the middle of the fencing match, looked as if he wanted the conversation to be over quickly. “I think they’re ready for the next take, Dean.”

“I have to go,” Casperson told Stride. “If I don’t see you again, Lieutenant, I want you to know it’s been a real pleasure playing you on screen. When you see the movie, I hope you feel I do you justice.”

“I’m sure you will.”

This time, Stride stuck out his hand. Casperson looked at him with the smallest hesitation and then shook it.

“Enjoy your last few days in Duluth,” Stride told him, their hands locked together in a crushing grip. “As far as my team and I are concerned, there’s no rush for you to leave. We’d be happy to keep you around for a long time.”

Their eyes met. Both of them knew exactly what Stride meant.

“That’s a very generous offer, Lieutenant,” Casperson replied, “but I never like to overstay my welcome.”





24


Maggie and Cab shared an open-air dockside table in Tin City.

Boats swayed in the harbor, and moonlight shimmered on the dark water. The restaurant was crowded and noisy, with an acoustic rock band wailing over the laughter of the twenty-something crowd. The two of them picked at a plate of shrimp nachos. Cab had a glass of Chardonnay, and Maggie drank from a bottle of Cigar City Jai Alai IPA. She closed her eyes and savored the damp breeze on her face.

“I think Florida suits you,” Cab said with a grin as he watched her.

He was right. This was paradise compared to Duluth.

“In January, definitely. In July, I’m not so sure.”

Cab shrugged. “Heat is mostly a state of mind.”

“Well, you can always put on more clothes when it’s cold. You can only take so many off when it’s hot.”

“Yes, but which is more fun?” Cab asked pointedly.

His ocean-blue eyes glittered behind his wineglass. She realized with a flush of surprise that he was letting her know that he was attracted to her. Maybe it was the booze or the moonlight, but she was attracted to him, too. She felt a strange romantic urge to reach across the table and run her hands through his gelled hair. And then to kiss him. And then to do other things.

She was flustered. She felt embarrassed and tried to think about what to say next.

“So what happened between you and Detective Mosquito?” she asked before she could stop herself. Looking for details about Cab’s ex-girlfriend wasn’t a great way to stoke the fire between them, but Cab didn’t seem to mind.

“Lala and I only have two choices,” he told her. “Everything or nothing. She’ll never be happy with something casual in between.”

“And casual in between is what you want?”

“I guess so, because here I am. What about you? What do you want out of a relationship?”

“My history would suggest that I’m a casual in-betweener, too.”

“Well, what’s wrong with two people who simply want to enjoy each other’s company while they’re together?”

“Absolutely nothing,” she said.

The meaning was hard to miss.

She felt the heat of her arousal as they stared at each other. Somewhere deep down, she felt a twinge of guilt, too, like an unwelcome guest at the party. A few weeks earlier, she’d been happy with Troy. His only mistake had been to do what good men are supposed to do, by asking her to marry him. And she’d responded by blowing up their relationship. Like Cab, she’d chosen nothing instead of everything.

Now here she was on a perfect Florida night. She was being romanced by a tall, rich, attractive man who had no intentions other than a one-night stand. Go away, guilt.

“So this is the place where Haley Adams worked?” she asked, looking around the restaurant.

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