Death in Daytime by Eileen Davidson

exactly." I grimaced and brushed it off.
    "You're right. It wasn't a thing," he said. "It was just sex. She told me if I wanted to get a decent story line, wanted to show off more than my chest, I had to sleep with her."
    "She was that blatant about it?"
    "Yes," he said. He punched harder.
    "So . . ."
    "So we did it a couple of times--in her office, in her car--and that was it."
    In her car? Marcy, you cougar.
    "What do you mean, that was it?"
    "She lost interest."
    "Come on," I said. "She's a lonely woman and she's got one of the young studs of the soap world in her bed . . . and she lost interest?"
    "It wasn't about sex for her," he said. "I figured that out later. It was just about power." His punching was starting to make me nervous. Clearly, Roman had some anger issues. I wondered if they were big enough to make him kill.
    "I guess you noticed that I still pretty much just walk around in a towel."
    "So she didn't keep her word?"
    "Nope." He grunted and hit the heavy bag so hard it flew off its chain. "Bitch!"
    I backed away a little, "Bet that made you mad."
    "Of course it did," he said, picking up a towel and wiping off his brow. Then he backtracked when he realized how he must have sounded. "But not mad enough to kill her. I could never do that."
    He swallowed hard and sat down on a bench. Was he, oh my God he was, he was crying. He wiped the snot from his nose.
    "No, really, Alex--you're not gonna tell the cops, are you?"
    From what I'd seen he was definitely not that good an actor. He was really scared. He had displaced anger and a cocky attitude, but unfortunately, he wasn't a killer.
    "Roman," I said, "you should go and tell them yourself. It'd be better coming from you."
    "I'll--I'll think it over. Maybe you're right," he said, looking me up and down. "Thanks, Alex."
    "Sure."
    He quickly collected himself and stood up. He moved in so close to me I could see every ripple of his very well-developed chest.
    "Look," he said, "I'm sorry about before. You're not at all how I thought you were. You're not a--"
    I was afraid he was going to say diva, so I said,
    "Bitch?"
    "You're totally cool. And you're still hot. I mean considering you're pretty old. Maybe we should get together sometime after work, have a drink?"
    Was he kidding? What an asshole!
    "Oh, I can't. I'm seeing someone . . . uh, but, thanks."
    "Sure, let me know if something changes."
    He winked at me as he went back to his workout. Hollywood.

Chapter 18
    I decided to try Andy next. I thought I could get him and Henry Roswell in, and then pick up Sarah. Then maybe do somebody else later in the day. I was glad that my scenes had been scheduled so early. Andy McIntyre had started on the show about the same time I had. He played the role of police sergeant Hank Miller, the elder son of the broke but decent couple who had been cruelly taken advantage of by the Benedicts. In fact, Andy and I had played young lovers when we started on the show. You know, girl from rich, mean family falls in love with guy from poor, nice family. We have been involved in the same story lines off and on for years, and although we have great sexual chemistry on-screen, offscreen he's always been like a big brother to me. I have a lot of affection for him. Basically, we grew up together on TV and we'd been in the trenches.
    In spite of being well into his forties, Andy looked great. He had dirty blond hair that fell kind of rakishly over his brow, and a slightly crooked smile that still made lots of women weak at the knees. He kept himself in shape and had maybe a little nip and tuck done over the years. Not enough so that he looked pulled, but just enough so that he looked "fresh." Unfortunately, he recently decided he hadn't accomplished as much as he would have liked to in his life. He was unmarried, no kids, bored with his job, trying to move into directing, but just couldn't get self-motivated. He had slowly acquired an entourage of sorts, over the years. This consisted of a