came in carrying his plate, no doubt for seconds. He gave me a hello nod and started to glance back toward the Chinese food, when he did a sudden double take.
“You’re that guy,” he said to North as awe gushed through his voice. “You’re Jake Blake on L.A. 911. North Adams, right?”
North smiled at Jeffrey’s exuberance as the boy actor put down his plate and stuck out his hand while telling North that he was an actor, too. “You should have seen me as Curly in Carousel. Everyone says I really nailed it.”
“I bet you did,” North said in a friendly voice. Jeffrey seemed to have forgotten why he came in the kitchen and stood watching North with wide adoring eyes.
Barry walked into the kitchen. His brows were furrowed and he clearly had something on his mind. He stopped in front of me before jumping in. “About this afternoon at the bookstore,” he began. “I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry—” But suddenly he stopped short and his expression went to neutral—he’d noticed there was a visitor present. Ever the cop, he scrutinized the actor’s face. I had the feeling Barry thought North looked familiar, but couldn’t place him. Was it because he was on a wanted poster somewhere or had they met?
My two dogs came in to check out what was going on. Cosmo, the bolder of the two, sniffed North’s shoes before sitting down. Then Samuel’s cats, Holstein and Cat Woman, arrived silently and moved through the group before going to check their food bowl.
I stepped in and did introductions, explaining that Barry was an LAPD homicide detective and that North played one.
North seemed interested in meeting Barry and asked Barry if he would pass along some hints. “I like to put in the little touches to make my performance seem real,” North explained.
“I don’t really watch the show,” Barry said, “although I might have caught it once or twice. But for starters, if you want to make it accurate, you could have a few wrinkles in your dress shirt. Try spending all night going over a crime scene, and then knocking on somebody’s door at five A.M. to tell them their son’s been killed over something stupid like road rage or he owed somebody a few bucks for some weed, followed by getting a lead that takes you to a homeless encampment in the dirt under the freeway, and then see what your shirt looks like.” North seemed a little overwhelmed with the information, but said he’d tell the wardrobe people.
When Barry looked away, I caught his expression of distaste. I knew what he thought of TV cops. He said they were all flash with no cash, meaning they had the swagger, but nothing to back it up with. Hoping to avoid an awkward silence, I mentioned that Barry was working cold cases at the moment.
“Oh, yeah?” North sounded interested. “What made you switch?”
There was a flash of irritation on Barry’s face. “It’s only temporary. Once I settle the two cases I’m working on, I’m going back to homicide. I just went back to work after an injury.” Barry started to talk about the cases as a way to direct the conversation. Not that it worked.
“What kind of injury? Like something in the line of duty?” North asked.
“Something like that.” Barry turned toward me as if he was trying to figure out what I was doing with the actor. Meanwhile North tried to ferret out more details.
Remembering that North was an important client of my son’s and I was supposed to be keeping him happy, I answered for Barry and said that he’d been shot by a shoplifter. Barry blew out his breath in consternation.
“Molly, you make it sound so lame,” Barry said. He glared at North. “If you’re looking for something for your show—just remember that any situation can turn deadly.”
North’s face was suddenly animated. “I remember hearing about that. You’re the one who was trying to help the newbie cop arresting the shoplifter at some discount store. The shoplifter got hold of the newbie’s gun, right?” Without pausing a beat, North stepped closer and patted Barry on the shoulder as if they were somehow connected. “Our writers loved that story and were writing something like it into an upcoming show. You’ve got to admit, it’s kind of funny being shot by a guy in handcuffs.” Barry’s response was a glower.
I heard the kitchen door open behind us. “What’s going on?” Mason said coming into the