It was an overcast day as they set out for San Diego. They took the station wagon, and Max drove. Jonathan rode in the front seat with him, while Jennifer and Freeway sat in the back.
Once they were on the freeway, Jennifer opened one of the packages of photos. She had gotten two rolls of film developed.
"What’ya got there, Darling?" Jonathan asked, turning to see what she was doing.
"These are the pictures I’ve been taking," she replied. "They didn’t turn out to badly. Here, take a look." She handed the first set of pictures to him.
Jonathan shuffled through the photos. "They’re very good," he confirmed. "Your eye is better than ever."
Jennifer smiled at him, then opened the second envelope. Jonathan was getting ready to hand back the ones he had already seen, but he stopped. Jennifer had an odd look on her face, and she was staring at one of the photos.
"What is it, Darling?" Jonathan asked.
She looked at the picture a few more seconds, then looked up at her husband. "These are from the day I was taking pictures at Griffith Park," she said, handing them to him. "Look here…" She scooted up in her seat and pointed out a man off to the left in two of the photos. He was walking toward the camera. "That’s him!" she exclaimed.
"Who? D.J.?" Jonathan asked.
"Yeah." Jennifer nodded and sat back, an uncomfortable look on her face.
Jonathan looked closely at the photo. "He’s pretty far away," he said, "but he doesn’t look familiar at all to me."
Jennifer took the photos back. "What if we get these blown up?" she asked.
"That’s what I was thinking," Jonathan answered, nodding. "We can do that and take them to Herschel. Maybe he can match him up with someone in his files."
"Okay," Jennifer replied. She was still studying the photos. "It’s funny I didn’t notice him when I was taking the pictures," she mused.
"You’ve got lots of people in the background of some of those pictures," Jonathan responded. "To be honest, he looks like any other park goer. Maybe he’s dressed a little wrong, but he doesn’t look out of the ordinary."
"That’s true," Jennifer had to admit. "He does look rather inconspicuous."
"Mrs. H?" Max said then. He had been listening to the whole exchange. "There’s another one of those photo developing places in Chula Vista. Do you want me to stop there?" Max knew they were eager to get this situation over with as soon as possible.
"Probably not, Max," Jennifer replied, after considering it. "It’ll take them a couple of hours to blow them up, and we may not be there that long."
"Okay, Mrs. H."
It was sprinkling a fine mist when they arrived at the Wayne house. "It’s supposed to rain the next few days," Max commented. He shut off the car engine. "Good luck, you two," he said.
"Thanks," Jonathan said, taking Jennifer’s hand. He pushed her car door shut, and they walked up the sidewalk to the house.
"What are we going to say?" Jennifer asked, as they approached the door. The house they were approaching was a white stone modern-designed house, with a large well-maintained front lawn. There was a gazebo off to the left of the house.
"I don’t know," Jonathan replied with a shrug. "But I’m sure we’ll think of something."
"I wish I had your confidence," Jennifer said ruefully.
"That’s okay," he replied, with a wink in his voice. "You’ve got great legs. That more than makes up for it." It got a laugh from her, as they walked up the steps to the house.
Jonathan reached out and rang the doorbell. They waited for a bit, and when the door wasn’t answered, he rang it again.
"I hope we didn’t come all this way for nothing," Jennifer said.
"It’s all right," Jonathan replied. "If there’s no one home, we’ll just stay in San Diego tonight and come back in the morning."
Jennifer was working the logistics in her mind, considering the fact that she didn’t have her makeup or a change of clothing, along with the fact they had Freeway with them, when the door opened. Standing before the Harts was a distinguished looking middle-aged man. His silver hair was thick and full, and he had steely blue eyes. They were rimmed in red, however, and his whole demeanor suggested someone who was suffering from a serious lack of sleep.
"May I help you?" he asked, looking at them pleasantly.
"I’m Jonathan Hart," Jonathan began, offering his hand with a congenial smile. "This is my wife, Jennifer. We just drove down from Los Angeles." The man shook hands with both of them.
"I’m Alan Wayne," he said.
"Are you Amanda Wayne’s husband?" Jennifer asked. "Actually, she’s who we came to see."
"I’m her husband," he replied. "But she isn’t here."
"Are you expecting her back soon?" Jonathan asked, not letting his frustration show through.
"No," Alan replied. The exhausted look in his eyes was suddenly replaced with a very sad look. "Amanda died three weeks ago. She had a heart attack driving home from the grocery store."
Jonathan and Jennifer exchanged looks, shocked by this. Then Jennifer held out her hand to Alan, who looked very near tears. "I’m terribly sorry," she told him gently. "We had no idea."
"That’s okay," Alan replied, smiling despite his obvious pain. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Jennifer looked at Jonathan for help. She didn’t quite know how to put it. He glanced at her, and said, "I’m not sure, Mr. Wayne. We’re in a rather bizarre situation."
"Why don’t you come in?" Alan asked suddenly, as if he had just noticed the rain. "I apologize for making you stand out there like that."
"It’s okay," Jennifer said, understanding.
He led the Harts into a medium sized, well-furnished living room. "May I get you something to drink?" he asked.
"No, thank you," Jonathan replied.
"No, thank you," Jennifer echoed.
"Have a seat," Alan said, waving toward the couch.
Jonathan and Jennifer sat next to each other, and Alan sat in the over-stuffed chair opposite them. He looked at the Harts expectantly.
"We’re here, Mr. Wayne, because of your wife’s book, Jennifer," Jonathan finally said.
"That’s her last book," Alan replied. "It came out just a couple of weeks ago. Have you read it?"
"I have," Jennifer answered.
"And I’m working on it, but haven’t quite got it finished," Jonathan replied.
"I think it was her best effort yet," Alan said with a fond smile. "It’s selling very well."
"It was very well-written," Jennifer replied. "She has a marvelous style."
Alan was nodding, then he said, "What did you say your name was?" to Jennifer.
"Jennifer Hart," came the reply. "Jennifer…Edwards Hart."
"Jennifer Edwards," Alan mused. "Like in the book." It was a statement, not a question.
"Exactly," Jonathan said. "A friend told us about the book, and as she talked, we realized that several of the events in the book were happening to Jennifer."
Alan leaned forward. "What do you mean?"
Jennifer took over. "We were getting phone calls, and the person on the other end would hang up. Then, I got an invitation to a dinner party. It was from a Drake Richardson, and was worded identically to the invitation in the book. And then, a couple of days later, I was approached by a man who introduced himself as D.J. He wanted my autograph."
"Jennifer’s a writer too," Jonathan added, "but this man she met in the park called her Jennifer Edwards. Jennifer isn’t usually recognized in that manner."
"So what are you saying?" Alan asked. "That someone is using Amanda’s book as real life?"
"It appears so," Jonathan replied. "That’s why we came here today, to see if your wife might know anything about it."
"Amanda never said anything out of the unusual," Alan said thoughtfully. "The only thing I can tell you is she did realize there was an author named Jennifer Edwards after the book had gone to the publisher. Someone told her about it, but I’m pretty sure it was someone at her publisher’s that told her."
"I’ve worked with them before," Jennifer told him, "so it’s very possible someone remembered me."
Jonathan looked at her for several long seconds, then back at Alan. "Mr. Wayne," he began, slowly.
"Please, call me Alan,."
"Okay, I’m Jonathan. Alan," he was speaking rather hesitantly, carefully choosing his words. "I’m very concerned about my wife’s health, as I’m sure you can imagine." Alan nodded. "Can you tell me the circumstances of your wife’s death?"
Jennifer shot him a surprised look. Alan’s face got a pained expression, but he seemed to understand what Jonathan wanted. "Yes," he replied. "Amanda had a heart attack last summer, and despite all the doctors’ warnings, she couldn’t give up smoking. I nagged and nagged her, but she just couldn’t break the habit. She went to the store to pick up a few groceries. She called from the store and asked if I wanted her to stop and pick up a movie. She sounded fine. Then, about a half hour later, I got another phone call. It was the police. Apparently, she was feeling pain because she had pulled over to the side of the road. A couple stopped to help her, but she was already dead."
"I’m terribly sorry," Jennifer said again.
"Thank you," Alan smiled at her gratefully, through tears that had formed in his eyes.
"Alan," Jonathan said, "I don’t mean to sound callous-"
Alan cut him off, "I understand why you’re so concerned under the circumstances," he said, indicating Jennifer. "so you ask whatever you need to."
"Thank you," Jonathan smiled. "Was there an autopsy done?"
"Yes," Alan replied. "It showed she died of a heart attack. There was no foul play. She just didn’t take care of herself like she should have."
Jonathan nodded, silent. He felt as if they had run into a dead end.
Alan composed himself visibly, and said, "Are you sure I can’t get you something to drink?"
"No, thank you, " Jonathan answered, and Jennifer shook her head. Jonathan glanced over at her, raising her eyebrows in a questioning manner. She nodded, understanding his unspoken question. "I think we should be going now." He and Jennifer stood up, as did Alan.
Jonathan held out his hand. "Thank you very much for your help, Alan," he said.
Alan shook his hand, then Jennifer’s. "I’m sorry I couldn’t give you any more information," he said to Jennifer.
"It’s all right," she said. "We appreciate you taking the time to see us. Take care."
Alan showed them to the door, and as they were getting ready to leave, said, "If I can help you in any way at all, don’t hesitate to call."
"Actually," Jonathan responded, "we tried to call before we came today, but got a disconnect notice at the number we have for you."
"Oh yes, that was probably our listed line. After Amanda was gone, I kept getting calls from people expressing their condolences. It got to be too much for me, so I had the line disconnected." He leaned down at the table near the door, and wrote down a phone number. "Here’s the number you can reach me at," he said, handing it to Jonathan.
Jonathan folded the paper, and put it in the pocket of his jacket. "Thank you, Alan," he said with a smile.
The Harts said their goodbyes and walked quickly to the car. The rain had quit, at least for now, but the sky looked like it could open up again at any time. "Did you get some answers?" Max asked, as they got into the car.
"Not really, Max," Jennifer replied. "Amanda Wayne is dead. Died of a heart attack three weeks ago."
"You’re sure it was a heart attack?" Max asked.
"There was an autopsy done," Jonathan answered. "Her husband said she was a smoker with a pre-existing heart condition."
"Besides," Jennifer added thoughtfully. "Why would whoever’s doing all this want to hurt the author? It’s me, he’s after."
Jonathan looked back at her, but she didn’t look as if her own statement had upset her. "You just never know," he said. "We’re not really sure what exactly this guy is after."
"Do you want to stop somewhere for dinner?’ Max asked, then. "It will be late before we get home."
"I could go for that," Jonathan replied. "Darling?"
Jennifer nodded with a slight smile. "I could go for that too," she agreed.
