Alter Ego

13

Stride found the apartment complex in the flatlands that led from Duluth toward the Iron Range. They were individual one-room cottages dotted among soaring evergreens, and it was a good place to stay for people who didn’t want anyone to see them coming and going. The rentals were month to month and not expensive. They were across the street from empty fields and at a crossroads that led north toward the intersection with Lavaque Road.

This was where John Doe had stayed for ten days.

It was also where Jungle Jack Jensen was renting an apartment.

Stride turned off the highway into the dirt parking lot, which was a slippery mess of matted-down snow and ice. Daylight already was waning in the late afternoon, and the evergreens cast long shadows. John Doe had rented a unit tucked back among the trees and invisible from the road, but Jack’s unit was closer to the street. There was a rental Lexus parked outside that looked out of place in the downscale surroundings. The boxy cottages all needed a coat of paint

He knocked on the apartment door. No one answered, so he knocked again and called Jack’s name. Finally, the door opened. Jungle Jack stood in the doorway with nothing but a motel towel wrapped around his waist. He grimaced as subzero air whipped against his bare skin and brought up goose bumps.

“Jack Jensen? I’m Lieutenant Stride with the Duluth Police.”

“It’s not a great time to talk right now,” Jack replied.

Stride could see over Jungle Jack’s shoulder into the one-room apartment. There wasn’t much to see: just a bed and some modest furnishings, a kitchenette, and a doorway to the bathroom. There was a dark-haired young woman in the bed with a sheet pulled up to her bare shoulders.

“See what I mean?” Jack went on, letting a grin creep onto his face. “Can this wait?”

“I’m investigating a murder, so no, it really can’t.”

The word “murder” didn’t affect the uninterested look on Jack’s chiseled face. He shrugged and called over his shoulder. “Why don’t you hop in the shower, sweetie. I’ll join you in a couple minutes.”

Modesty didn’t trouble the woman in the bed. She scooted naked from under the sheet and ran across the carpet to the bathroom, where she shut the door behind her. Jack waved Stride inside and then went to the wardrobe and put on a dark blue terry-cloth robe. He took a cigarette from a pack, lit it, and inhaled deeply. He extended the pack to Stride, who shook his head.

Jungle Jack sat on the edge of the bed. Stride pulled over a wooden chair and sat across from him. Jack continued to smile as if his face didn’t do anything else. He was in his midthirties and Hollywood handsome, with a jutting jaw and pronounced cheekbones. His jet black hair was swept back like a lion’s mane. He had a muscular physique, and he looked relaxed and confident as he smoked. There was no way Jack didn’t realize that he’d accidentally hit on the teenage girl who lived in Stride’s house, but if it worried him, he didn’t show it.

“So what can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

“I’d like to talk about Haley Adams,” Stride said.

“Who?”

“She was an intern on the movie set.”

“Oh, the missing girl, sure. That’s too bad. I hope you find her.”

“We did,” Stride said. “She’s dead.”

He showed Jack a photo of the girl they’d found in the woods. Jack’s grin vanished. He seemed genuinely upset, but Stride had to remind himself that Jungle Jack, even if he was only Dean Casperson’s stunt double, was an actor. You couldn’t trust anything on an actor’s face.

“Well, that’s horrible. Dean is going to be crushed to learn about this.”

“Can you confirm that this is the girl you knew as Haley Adams?” Stride asked.

Jack took another look as he examined the picture. “I think so. The face looks right, although I thought her hair was longer.”

“Did you have a relationship with Haley?”

Jack eyed the bathroom door, where Stride could hear the shower water running. “You mean that kind of relationship?”

“I mean any kind of relationship.”

“Well, did I try to get between her legs? Sure. The big secret of movie sets is that it’s usually boring as hell. Hours of downtime while the crew gets everything ready for a couple minutes in front of the cameras. You’re always looking for ways to pass the time. And somebody to pass the time with.”

“I’m aware,” Stride replied coldly. His meaning was clear.

Jack took a drag on his cigarette. Their eyes met with the controlled antagonism of two chess players on opposite sides of the board. “Yeah, I know I screwed up about that girl at the restaurant. Apologies. Mo read me the riot act.”

Stride let it go. “So you made a pass at Haley Adams. Did anything happen between the two of you?”

“No.”

“She rejected you?”

“I guess she didn’t know what she was missing,” Jack said.

“I’ve heard you don’t always take no for an answer.”

“I don’t know where you heard that, but you heard wrong.”

“One of the other interns on the movie said you assaulted her,” Stride said.

“That was a misunderstanding. It was resolved amicably.”

“You mean it was resolved with Dean Casperson buying her a Subaru BRZ?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jack replied. “Look, the fact is I don’t have any trouble finding companionship when I’m on the road. The girl in the shower? She was my waitress at lunch. Tomorrow I’ll find somebody else. It’s the way things are in my world. I suppose that sounds disgusting to you, but most men would trade places with me in a heartbeat.”

Stride didn’t want to hear about the notches on Jack’s bedpost. He took the page of Florida driver’s license photos out of his pocket. “Speaking of waitresses. See the last girl on this page? She was a waitress at a restaurant in Naples, Florida. Do you recognize her?”

Jack leaned forward to study the thumbnail. “She doesn’t look familiar.”

“Her name was Haley Adams, too.”

“Well, it’s a small world, as we say in Florida,” Jack replied. “But I told you. I don’t remember her.”

“Do you spend a lot of time in Naples?” Stride asked.

“Whenever I can. It’s a nice area.”

“It’s not too far from where you live, right?”

“Right.”

“Actually, I understand you live with Dean and Mo Casperson,” Stride said.

“Now and then. Off and on. We’re good friends.”

Stride cast an eye dubiously around the small apartment. “So why are you staying here and not in the mansion downtown with Dean?”

“I am staying with Dean, but I like to have my own place as a backup, too. I entertain a lot. If I did that at Dean’s place, people might get the wrong idea.”

“Why this place? You’re pretty far out of town.”

“I like my privacy,” Jack said. “There are spies everywhere when you’re in this business. Everybody wants to know your secrets. You can’t be too careful.”

“Speaking of spies, did you know that Haley Adams was spying on Dean Casperson? She had a telescope trained on his bedroom window.”

“I didn’t know that,” Jack replied, “but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Why is that?”

“Haley was a nosy little bitch. Always asking questions. I should have guessed she was working for the tabloids.”

“Is that what you think she was doing?” Stride asked.

“I can’t imagine any other reason she would have been spying on Dean.”

“Why do you think someone killed her?”

“I have no idea,” Jack replied. “Maybe she was selling drugs. Maybe she had a jealous boyfriend. Isn’t it your job to figure out who killed her, Lieutenant? We play cops and robbers in the movies, but you do it in real life.”

“Actually, we’re pretty sure we know who killed Haley,” Stride replied, finding the next photograph on his phone. “It was this man. Do you know him?”

Jack took a long look at the photograph of John Doe and then an even longer drag on his cigarette. He blew smoke toward the ceiling and seemed to be stalling as he figured out the best answer. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure this man was staying at one of the apartments here. I’ve seen him around.”

“Was he connected to the movie?” Stride asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“I might have said hello in passing. That’s all.”

“We have a witness who saw this man at a party at Dean Casperson’s house last Saturday night,” Stride said.

“This guy? I don’t recall seeing him there. Then again, I was having a pretty intense conversation that night with a bottle of Glenmorangie, so my memory may have some amber-colored gaps.”

Stride shook his head. Jungle Jack was smooth at providing nondenial denials.

“Have you seen this man anywhere else?” Stride asked.

“Like around Duluth?”

“Like in Florida,” Stride said. “We think he spent time in Naples, too.”

“Really? No, I don’t recall ever seeing him before. But like I said, it’s definitely a small world down there.” Jack glanced impatiently at the bathroom door again. “Are we done here, Lieutenant? Not that I don’t enjoy your company, but I have other things to be doing.”

“We’re done,” Stride told him, getting out of the chair.

“Again, sorry about the thing with your girl,” Jack said.

“You should be careful when you’re looking for companions,” Stride replied. “You wouldn’t want to make a mistake that would leave you in legal jeopardy.”

“Oh, I’ll be careful. Count on it.” As Stride turned toward the apartment door, Jack added in an oddly congenial voice, “You know, you should probably be a little careful, too, Lieutenant.”

Stride stopped. He turned back and tried to assess the meaning behind Jack’s warning. “I’m sorry. Careful about what?”

“You’re in the movies now. That means you’re playing in a whole different league. You’re fair game for the tabloids, just like Dean.”

“I’m not in the movies,” Stride said.

Jack shook his head. He slapped Stride on the shoulder as if they were old friends. He grinned again, but his smile felt nasty. “Oh, not true, Lieutenant. Not true at all. When someone makes a movie about you, believe me, you are instantly a celebrity. And the thing about celebrities is, someone out there is always trying to take them down.”