No One Will Hear You

Chapter Three

Something special was on the docket for the Crime Seen group that regularly went out for lunch on Monday — with the exception of co-host Carmen Garcia, these were the “superstar” forensics experts of the show’s Killer TV segments.

Carmen had chosen Doreen’s on Sunset, one of her favorites, for a couples’ lunch where she would introduce her coworkers to Vince Clay, whom she’d been dating for several months now.

Jenny Blake would bring Chris Anderson (the computer geek-ess and the Mississippi scientist had their own kind of chemistry going now) and Laurene Chase would be there with audio tech Nancy Hughes (they had hooked up shortly after Kansas).

The other guys had their own lunch plans, Billy Choi and Michael Pall off somewhere eating meat, no doubt, while Harrow never intruded on his team’s luncheons, though he’d have been welcome.

Not long ago Carmen had been a PA in T-shirt and jeans; now the slender young brunette, so loved by the camera, was an on-air personality and co-producer in a well-tailored blue business suit, running late.

She knew Vince would be understanding. They’d only been on half a dozen dates, but Vince was always thoughtful to a fault. When he didn’t kiss her till after their third date, she’d asked if something was wrong, and he’d only said, “I just know what you’ve been through. I’m fine taking it slow.”

The world, or anyway that part of it who watched Crime Seen, was well aware that Carmen Garcia had been held hostage at the climax of the team’s first investigation — broadcast live. She appreciated Vince’s consideration — particularly since he couldn’t know that he was the first guy she’d gone out with, since that traumatic time.

Perhaps five years older than her, Vincent Clay had a small but thriving insurance agency in Westwood (a “boutique business,” he called it, handling well-off clients personally). Laurene had given her a good amount of grief for dating somebody with such a boring job, until Carmen told her how many of Vince’s clients were in the entertainment industry.

“Everybody in this town’s in the entertainment industry,” Laurene had said, but Carmen knew she was impressed.

The über-shy Jenny, on the other hand, did not join in with the laughter, nor the ribbing, however good-natured.

Privately, Jenny had said, “Carmen, never mind them. Whatever makes you happy.”

This two-sentence speech indicated just how much Jenny had come into her own lately, in part due to her TV exposure but mostly to the blossoming romance with Chris.

Vince was waiting out front, with the valet pre-tipped and ready. Insurance man or not, Vince might have been posing for an Armani ad in that cream-colored suit, light blue shirt and no tie.

A few inches taller than the in-heels Carmen, Vince had short brown hair, a hawkish nose, high cheekbones, and pale blues eyes that jumped out of his deep tan.

Carmen turned her Prius over to the valet, and Vince opened his arms for a quick hug. She gave him a peck on the cheek.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” she said. “Something came up at work. Should’ve called...”

“It happens. You’re worth waiting for.”

“You’re a figment of my imagination, aren’t you?”

“You must have a good imagination, because this figment is famished.”

They passed arm in arm through the open wrought-iron gate into the enclosed outdoor portion of the restaurant. The other women and Chris Anderson occupied four of six chairs around a circular wrought-iron table in a back corner near a brick wall.

Carmen found Doreen’s unpretentiously classy — linen tablecloths, bone china, polished silverware, elegant water glasses, a chichi ambience but with all-American comfort food. Huge umbrellas ran down through the center of the glass-topped tables nearer the sidewalk.

As usual, Laurene — a statuesque African American with gun-metal gray glasses matching her tailored gray suit — had managed to snag the chair with her back to the wall, so she could see the rest of the restaurant. Must have been a gunfighter thing — the criminalist was on loan from the Waco PD, after all...

Harrow did that, too, Carmen knew from frequent meals with her boss. Pretty soon these ex-cops were going to run out of walls.

She squeezed Vincent’s hand, not just to give him a shot of courage before meeting her friends, but also relishing having somebody in her life who would sit with his back to other diners.

As they approached, Laurene said, “So this is your new catch?” She wasn’t known for subtlety.

Planting herself and her guy before them, Carmen said, “Vince Clay, meet Laurene Chase. Official Crime Seen welcoming committee.”

“Seen you on the tube,” he said, leaning in to shake hands with Laurene, smile very white against his dark tan. “Or anyway, on the plasma screen.”

“You’re almost cute enough,” Laurene said to him, “to make me consider changing teams... almost.”

“Well, I guess that’s a compliment.” To the others, Vince said, “Of course, I also recognize Chris and Jenny from the show. Okay if we go right to first names?”

“You bet,” Chris said, rising to shake Vince’s hand. “You may’ve gathered from Laurene, here, that we don’t exactly stand on ceremony.”

Chris wore a blue button-down shirt, his bright brown eyes and wide white grin making him probably the most telegenic of the team.

Jenny said, “Hi,” and they shook hands, too, though she remained seated. In typical fashion, Jenny was in jeans and a brown T-shirt bearing the logo of the University of Wyoming Cowboys.

Laurene said, “This is Nancy Hughes. She’s a sound designer on the show.”

Nancy, in a Killer TV tee and jeans, said with a smile, “That’s a fancy way to say I’m an audio guy. Mostly I run boom mic.”

“That takes muscle, I understand,” Vince said with a smile that mirrored Nancy’s.

“It’s not for sissies,” she allowed.

Two side-by-side chairs were waiting. Vince held Carmen’s for her; then they both sat. Conversation was interrupted as they considered menus briefly, ordered, then made small talk waiting for their food.

“Let’s get something established right now,” Vince said. “I don’t expect anybody here to pretend the insurance business makes an interesting topic of discussion. And even if it did, I could hardly compete with Crime Seen. So no polite questions are required.”

This put everybody at ease, but Carmen knew she wasn’t home free, not yet. The grilling for this lunch would not be limited to the kitchen, and it started — predictably — with Laurene.

“So, Vince,” Laurene said, bringing a chatty tone to her interrogation. “Lived here all your life?”

Under the table, Carmen squeezed Vince’s hand again. She had warned him that this luncheon might be akin to a job interview.

“Moved out here a few years ago.”

“By yourself?” Laurene asked.

“With my sister. Jana.”

“What does Jana do?”

“Well, she has something in common with you folks. She’s in the entertainment field. Actually, she was on one of your reality shows.”

“You mean on UBC?”

“I’m, uh... embarrassed I don’t know the answer to that. Not sure what network it’s on. She’s a good actress, and I find it vaguely embarrassing she had to stoop to reality TV — uh, no offense meant.”

Laurene shrugged. “None taken. What show?”

“Speed Date? Familiar with that?”

“No,” Laurene said. “I mean, I’ve heard of speed dating, of course. Never subjected myself to it.”

Carmen said, “Everybody knows Speed Date, Laurene, and it’s not on UBC. I’m sure Dennis Byrnes wishes it were.”

Laurene shrugged. “I don’t watch TV.”

Vince seemed intrigued. “Not even your own program?”

“Especially our own program. I don’t even have one of those... what they are called, Nancy?”

“TiVos,” Nancy said. “And her TV is a nineteen-inch tube number. She’s hopeless.”

“Anyway,” Vince said with an embarrassed half smile, “my sister was on this Speed Date thing for... two weeks, I guess.”

“Two weeks doesn’t sound very speedy,” Jenny said.

“Even Jana would be first to tell you it’s a dopey idea. Camera focuses on several couples speed dating, then the audience votes on who should go out together.”

“Why America eats that junk up,” Laurene said, “is a mystery to me.”

“You should call the Crime Seen tip line,” Vince said good-naturedly. “I hear those people solve mysteries.”

Jenny smiled. “Nice one.”

Boy, Carmen thought, she is coming out of her shell...

When their food arrived, the little group ate in relative silence, occasionally commenting on how tasty the fare was. The Crime Seen coworkers tended to lapse into silence over meals, since the shop talk that might accompany most business lunches was liable to be less than appetizing.

As their plates were cleared, Nancy asked, “How did you two meet?”

Carmen and Vince exchanged a look.

“You’re the communicator,” Vince said to her.

Grinning, Carmen said, “But you’re the salesman...”

Leaning in, Laurene said, “Look, I like ‘meeting cute’ as much as the next guy, but I just ate. Somebody tell the story. I promise to be nice.”

Carmen knew Laurene was just screwing with them. She glanced at Vince.

“It was a couple months ago,” he said.

“Wow,” Laurene said to Carmen. “You’ve really been keeping this one under wraps...”

Carmen said nothing, but her smile turned a little brittle.

Vince was saying, “I was on my way into a restaurant in Burbank — JB’s Brewhouse? — and I noticed Carmen in the parking lot.”

Laurene gave him a look. “This isn’t one of those ‘love at first sight’ stories, is it?”

“Flat-tire-at-first-sight story,” Vince said, drawing a mild laugh from the group. “I heard her say some words that I don’t think you can use on TV.”

“Not on network, anyway,” Carmen admitted.

“So,” Vince said, “I changed her tire. She wanted to know how she could repay me, and we worked something out.”

Nancy said, “This sounds interesting...”

“I said yes to a date,” Carmen said.

“I may be sick at that,” Laurene said.

But Laurene was smiling, and Carmen could tell they all liked Vince. This was almost as good as getting the stamp of approval of her parents.

With everything going so well, naturally her cell phone vibrated in her purse. She got it out and saw HARROW on the caller ID. But she still had enough Midwestern upbringing not to answer the phone at the table.

“Excuse me, everybody... I’ve got to take this.

J.C.”

“Christ himself?” Vince asked impishly.

“Close. Very close...”

After a brief conversation with her boss, she returned and made her apologies to the group, and told Vince, “Sorry, babe, I’ve gotta go. They’ve moved up some promos I need to shoot.”

“See you tonight?”

She shrugged. “Could be running late. Call you when I can.”

He pecked her cheek. “Do that.”

She would call him even if just to apologize again for bolting from lunch.

“Anyway,” Vince said, walking her out, “I need to get back to the office myself.”

Carmen did not notice Michael Pall, the team’s resident DNA expert and profiler, approaching the restaurant as she got into her Prius. He slipped inside and joined the now-smaller group.

“I saw Carmen heading out,” he said, sitting.

Body-building enthusiast Pall wore wire-frame glasses and a mild manner that belied the Superman he was, physically and mentally. He was in a navy polo with a Crime Seen logo stitched over the breast.

Laurene said, “Maybe for the best.”

“That was her guy, huh?”

“Yes,” Laurene said crisply, “but you missed that part. Look, we have to get back ourselves, so let’s get on with it.”

Chris frowned. “We’re doing this without Carmen?”

“She’s management.” Jenny said, “Billy isn’t management.” “No,” Laurene said, “but we know where he stands, don’t we? So... everybody up for this?”

Jenny shivered. “J.C. doesn’t like ultimatums.” “Who does?” Laurene said. “But sometimes that’s what it takes.”

And for half an hour, they intently talked.