Then there was the matter of money. After years of anxiously managing his own savings, Blaine finally had nothing to worry about, financially speaking, and it changed him.
Never forgetting the five-mile walk to the library in town after a long day of school and plowing, Blaine always cherished his books. Now, instead of one copy of a book, he buys two … one to read and one to put in the library without cracking the spine. Haunted by the memories of his ill-fitting, used shoes, he always buys two pairs of the same shoes to have a spare in case one gets scuffed. His spending habits overcompensate for his childhood poverty and have spiraled out of control until his expenditures have become almost as outrageous as Dana’s. He goes out for a coffee date and comes home with two pairs of Louis Vuitton dress shoes and a calf skin messenger bag, all without consulting the person whose fortune pays for it all.
Despite all of the flirting and despite Dana’s apparent anger at his behavior, Blaine wonders whether she really cares, or why she married him in the first place. For all Blaine knows, Dana may have married him to give Mark a father figure. Or she may have married him out of grief, and because she could not stand coming home to the lonely mansion that she had shared with her beloved Daniel.
Perhaps she said yes because the failure of her second and third marriages put her in a bad light in the press. Blaine knew she loved him — or he felt that she did — but if he were asked to list all the reasons why she married him, the possibility that Dana Montgomery actually loved him would rank about fourth or fifth.
Dana certainly did not marry him for his salary. A multibillionaire as a result of Daniel’s investments, Dana has more money than she could spend in three lifetimes, even with her extreme shopping habits. Yet, Blaine still worries that it all will come to an end someday, so he does his best to ensure that his wife continues to work, even if it means that some of his best acting is wasted on keeping her from falling over drunk in public. He has perfected the art of wrapping his arms around her at just the right angle to keep her on her feet.
But the worst are the nightmares. He often wakes up in the middle of the night and wonders where he is and who he is … Blaine Jeffries or poor little Evie Corb. On those nights, when he thinks his heart might explode out of his chest, he fights back the tears and clings to Dana for dear life, and she reciprocates. On those nights, they actually feel like they are in love.
Chapter 13
Back in Joseph’s office, Joseph and Ethan Luce discuss Dana Montgomery’s party while Mercy takes a phone call. She hangs up, in shock. “That was Uncle James telling me that Lucienne is going to Dana’s party and that Ethan would fill us in on the rest.”
A look of astonishment crosses Joseph’s face. “But … but … why? Your sister. LAPD Detective Lucienne Wilde ... at Dana Montgomery’s Pool and Pool Party … let me ponder the ramifications. How did this happen?”
Mercy measures her words. “I … have … no … idea. Maybe she’s doing it for Mom, although she usually finds a reason to avoid such things. She and Mom are going shopping to buy something that’s not ‘sensible.’ I can just imagine her showing up in a tailored jacket, button-down shirt and sensible shoes.”
Joseph says, “Well, to be fair, not everyone wants to chase criminals in stilettos as much as you do. Lucienne always looks appropriate.”
“Appropriate for a cop, yes. But for a Dana Montgomery dinner party? I don’t think so,” observes Mercy.
Ethan replies, “There are many of us at City Hall who think she dresses just fine, especially with the conviction rate we get on her cases.”
“Uncle James had another weird piece of news. Luci’s going with Penelope Hunt’s son as her plus-one.”
Ethan almost chokes. “Luci is dating ‘Inspector Rothschild?’” He pauses with an astonished look.
Mercy laughs. “Is that what they call Frank Lawshé?”
Ethan pauses. “Lucienne will have to do some pretty fancy shopping if she’s not going to be outshone by ‘Deputy Sheriff Brooks Brothers.’”
Joseph says, “I thought you called him ‘Inspector Rothschild.’”
Ethan replies, “Lawshé goes by many nicknames. Poor, handsome devil. It’s not that he’s a bad cop or a bad guy. He’s actually good on both fronts. It’s his looks.”
Joseph says, “Dad, I’ve never heard you judge anyone on their looks.”
Ethan says, “It’s not derogatory. It’s that the guy always looks like he walked in from a GQ fashion shoot. The joke at the West Hollywood Sheriff’s Station is that he was born wearing a tuxedo and only has gone uphill since. No offense, but if he were interested in dating one of the Wilde women, it would be Francesca. Neither one of them ever looks less than perfect.”
Mercy gives her father-in-law a hug. “I know how silly that would sound in a court of law. Really, I do. But you’ve lived in this town a long time. It’s a company town, and all the players have to play by the rules or not play at all. Maybe Lawshé got stuck having to go to the party just like we did. You can be sure that his mother and assorted stepparents and their exes will be there.”
“Oh joy,” says Joseph. “Lucienne will be sitting with us, and if the studio stages another catfight between Francesca and Penelope, Luci may pull her service weapon.”
Ethan explains, “James and I spoke about this earlier, and it has nothing to do with the studio. The LAPD got wind of the fact that more burglaries may be going down at the party. James is assigning Luci and Lawshé to do undercover surveillance. It’s not a bad idea to have law enforcement in place in case a heist goes sideways.”
Mercy says, “Mom’s thrilled. Sis never goes to Hollywood parties. She says being surrounded by so much couture makes her itch.”
Joseph laughs, “Well, this should give her an outlet to scratch that itch. This is going to rock. Lucienne Wilde dressed in couture patting down rich people for smuggling out extra wrinkle remover in their swag bags.”
“It’s a little more than that. Dana told Ches that over fifty-thousand dollars in collectibles disappeared from her house during the last party. I think that’s why she’s going with the Pool and Pool Party theme … trying to keep most of the people outside.”
Joseph says, “Pity poor Frank. He’d better mind his manners on that date. You may be a tough broad, Mercy, but so is Lucienne, and she’s licensed to carry multiple firearms. And she’s going to be so cranky if she’s wearing heels.”
Ethan muses, “It will be interesting to see how she hides a nine-millimeter under a cocktail dress. And can you imagine her tooling around the estate grounds wearing Mercy’s stilettos? Whatever your Uncle James is thinking, I will never understand.”
“Perhaps he thought it would look more natural if the entire Luce and Wilde families showed up together. I’m afraid that the fashion gene skipped my sister-in-law. Slacks, button-downs and sensible shoes are more her thing. Thank heavens she became a cop instead of a fashion model,” says Joseph.
“I’m sure she can borrow something from Mercy. Your wife’s closet could stock a Milan runway,” Ethan reminds his son.
The air goes out of Joseph’s lighthearted demeanor. “Maybe it’s just as well that there will be a police presence at the party. Instead of a ‘Pool and Pool Party’ it could turn into another ‘Overpriced Barroom Brawl/Bikini Party.’ The last three years, it’s been in the low forties. Too bloody cold to swim, even if the pool is heated. You still have to get out of the pool and freeze. The only thing that’s hot is Dana’s temper after watching Blaine surveying the bikinis.”
Mercy nods and picks up her purse. “Ethan, I have some errands I need to run. Did you need to see me or is this just a father/son visit?”
“Neither, actually. I have a case that I’d like Joseph to consider taking. The client may need some detective research later, but I’m not even sure this is Joseph’s type of case.”
Mercy gathers her coat and purse. “I’ll let you gentlemen get on with your business, and I’ll get my errands .. I’ll pick u
p Mack and Mabel’s cat food while I’m out. I hate going home to cat protests.”
She gives each man a peck on the cheek and walks toward the door. Her exit is interrupted by her cell phone ringing.
Chapter 14
Outside Le Coeur Bel, Blaine’s Aston Martin Valkyrie speeds up the driveway and into the garage. A few minutes later, a Bella Palermo catering van , then heads along the deserted back drive toward what might be referred to in another era as “the servants’ entrance.”
Having left Le Coeur Bel and returned two hours later, Beth sneaks back to her spying place near the bay windows at the front of the house. She is crouching down to avoid detection when Dana Montgomery glides into the library wearing a long silk kimono over a pair of yoga pants and a white camisole, with her hair in a loose bun. Beth marvels at how elegant Dana looks in such an informal ensemble. Then Dana stumbles on a Persian carpet and ends up with her palms splayed on a mahogany desk. Drawing herself up slowly, her hair now a mess, Dana leans down to pick up a Moser martini glass that has fallen on the floor and sets it on the desk, then regathers her hair into a bun.
Over the next few minutes, Beth watches as Dana paces back and forth in the library, waving her arms and finishing off more martinis from glasses lined up like toy soldiers ready to do their duty. Her light-as-air kimono with its pattern of huge red hibiscus blooms flows behind her like a cape, rising and falling in a frantic figure-eight as she churns around the room. Then the turbulence stops, and Dana is standing in front of a large, gilded mirror, staring at her face, not moving. She touches one cheek, then drops her hand and turns away.
Beth remembers a story she heard about Dana’s arrival in Hollywood. She was a scared teenager who knew no one. Beth wonders if it is that frightened child who Dana sees in the mirror, or someone else.
Beth hears Blaine, calling out to Dana to let her know that he is home. He walks into the library to find Dana manically pacing in front of the mirror. Blaine stops in the doorway, hands frozen by his sides, and watches his wife. A smile passes over Beth’s lips as she gazes at her mentor and sometimes crush. Blaine is looking especially handsome today. Those Kiton light wash jeans fit him perfectly, and she knows the story of those fabulous shoes by A Diciannoveventitre, whose distressed footwear is taking over Hollywood and commanding prices of up to $1,500 a pair. Blaine bought his usual two pairs on his way home from class a couple of weeks ago, as a “pick-me-up.” Why he needed a lift, he did not say.
Within minutes of Blaine’s arrival, he and Dana begin to argue. The “Battlers of Bel Air,” as they have become known in private circles, storm around the library.
Dana goes on the offensive. “Ah, the professor returns,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Tell me, dahhhhling, any new prospects on the girlfriend horizon?”
Blaine glances at the martini glasses and melting ice on the bar. “No, dear. No new girlfriend prospects. No new wife prospects. Just the same old mess to clean up.”
Blaine walks over to the bar and wipes up a spill. As he does so, he spots a bottle of pills on the bar and reaches for it. Dana flies at him, her perfectly manicured claws outstretched, and throws herself between her husband and the pill bottle.
Grabbing the bottle, Dana screams, “Keep your filthy hands off my medicine! You’ve already had those hands all over the tramps in your classroom.”
“Your medicine,” Blaine says, laughing to himself quietly. “That’s a nice word for tranquilizers so strong that they should be saved for horses. And how do you know where my hands have been?” he asks. Then the lightbulb goes on. “Oh yes, my dear stepson. Let me guess, he’s jealous of the love scene that I did with Susana.”
“I knew it! I knew it! No, Mark didn’t mention anything. But it’s not hard to figure out. How hard is it to teach a bunch of sluts to act like sluts?” she says.
“Dana, why are you so jealous of my teaching?”
“Oh, gee, let me think. Why would I be jealous? Could it be because you flirt constantly, go out for drinks with your students, and give me reason to worry every time you go out?”
Blaine sits on a settee as Dana continues her tirade.
“You love it. You love having all of those cute newbies looking up to you and needing good grades and chasing your many, many charms,” Dana hisses. “It’s not like you need to teach at all. You could do films with me and make more money. You don’t even need an income! Thanks to my career and the fortune that Daniel left me, you never have to work again. But you love the feeling of power it gives you. You love it.”
Blaine looks up at her, his eyes full of righteous indignation. “Well, excuse me for doing something I love. I didn’t realize that my teaching was such a monetary affront to the family.”
Dana ties her kimono and refills her martini. “Family? What family? The three of us just inhabit this house together. I know who really loves me.”
Still clutching the tranquilizer bottle, Dana waves the pills at him, plants a kiss on the prescription sticker, and collapses dramatically on the divan, jiggling her drink. Spilling none, she throws a silent victory toast in Blaine’s direction.
Beth watches silently as Blaine dives onto the divan and tries to grab the pill bottle from Dana’s hand, then gives up when the agile actress beats him at “keep away.”
Exasperated, Blaine screams, “Damn it, Dana, must we go through this every time?”
She replies with guttural disdain, in a tone so deep that it bounces off the walls and seems to invoke the spirit of Tallulah Bankhead. “Yes, we must. Must you flirt with every woman you see? Every time you teach a new class, I endure another starry-eyed bimbo falling in love with my husband! At least my bad habits don’t hurt anyone.”
Blaine lets out a resigned sigh and stands up, then speaks softly, almost to himself. “I see. You mean that you don’t hurt anyone but me, and that doesn’t count.”
Dana rises from the divan and wanders over to the mirror, checking her reflection for any signs of an impending wrinkle. “You don’t have time to be hurt. You’re too busy with your new protégée. It’s Beth now, isn’t it? How unseemly of you to go back to that well, and to choose Mark’s old girlfriend. Risky, too. Won’t Mark be upset? Or does that not worry you at all?”
Blaine stares at her, seemingly unable to speak. Eventually he tries something new. He moves closer to his wife, puts his hand on her shoulder, and speaks softly. “Dana, honey, this is all so unnecessary. Beth may have a crush on me, but I don’t encourage her.”
Dana twirls unsteadily out of his reach and scoffs at the remark. “Give me a little credit, Blaine.”
“Dana, if I were interested in Beth, I would have pursued her when she was dating Mark. She was here often enough.”
Beth recoils when she hears Blaine’s words. She fears that the catering van has been parked around back long enough for someone to notice, so she tiptoes around toward the other side of the house and enters the kitchen under the guise of party planning.
After a couple of quick conversations with the cook who is working with Bella Palermo on a menu for the Pool and Pool Party, Beth hangs around near the entrance to the kitchen. She pretends to check her phone, while really continuing to eavesdrop on the battle royale that still is unfolding, audibly, down the hall. Beth hopes to get a moment alone with Blaine, but the library drama goes on so long that she dares not stay for fear of sparking gossip among the household staff. Thanking the chef, Beth digs around in her pockets to retrieve her keys and leaves.
Back in the library, Blaine is pressing for a resolution with Dana. “Why do you resent my teaching so much?” he asks her. “Did you ever consider that since I don’t have children, I need an outlet for my paternal feelings? Teaching offers me that outlet.”
“An outlet for something, I’m suuuurrre,” Dana says, slurring intentionally. Then she goes silent, and her eyes begin welling up. On the verge of hysterics, she chokes back tears, and bellows, “I’m sorry that Daniel died too late for me to marry yo
u and have any more children! But mostly, Blaine, I’m just sorry that Daniel died!”
Dana takes a sip of her martini and the tears begin falling in great sheets. Her shoulders shake as she sobs and turns her head away. Blaine softens, moves to comfort Dana, ponders her escalating outburst, and thinks better of it.
Dana’s crying grows louder as she continues to rave. “I give you all the money you need, and you spend your days with young actresses. You would have divorced me years ago if I weren’t so rich.”
“Well, it’s not too late, if that’s what you really want,” Blaine says bitterly.
“I didn’t say that I wanted a divorce. I asked if you want one.” That would have been enough, but she has to plunge the knife in, adding, “Do try to keep up, Blaine.”
Blaine lets this glance off him, determined to end this fight. He picks up the martini shaker and empties it into a little sink built into the bar. “If I wanted a divorce, I would have asked for one years ago. Why won’t you believe that I love you? You are the only woman I have ever loved! I will never understand you!”
“Yes, yes, and you have never had sex with that woman. Or that one over there. Or the one over there,” Dana screams as she waves her arms at an imaginary roomful of women. “Sometimes, infidelity of the brain is just as painful as infidelity of the body. How many women have you had affairs with in your imagination?” she cries.
“Probably as many as you’ve had with Mark’s friends. Do you think I don’t see how they flirt with you? And how you flirt back? I’m the one who should be jealous,” snorts Blaine.
“Well a girl needs some attention every now and then. It’s not like I can get your attention, unless we’re in front of the press,” Dana screams.
Blaine walks over to the blinds and shuts them. “How many times must I ask you to close the blinds if you’re going to spend the afternoon with the martini shaker? Those long lenses can pick up everything you do.”
The Case of the Stained Stilettos Page 5
