“Hey! Behave yourself,” Mercy snaps at him. Once he is immobilized, she steps back and reaches into her pocket for a handkerchief to wipe her shoe. “Believe me when I say you can’t afford to replace these beauties.”
Helen hangs up the phone and hands it to Mercy. Then Helen unties the belt from her tattered trench coat, and with Mercy’s help, she lassoes the mugger’s foot, anchoring it to the dumpster wheel.
Helen thanks Mercy profusely as the LAPD cruiser pulls up, followed by Lucienne’s unmarked LAPD Chevrolet Tahoe. Lucienne steps out of the Tahoe and approaches her sister.
“Sis, what on earth happened here?” She surveys Helen, Lindsey and the tied-up mugger. “Are you okay?” Looking at Lindsey, she asks the little girl, “Are you okay, sweetie?” To Helen, “And you, Ma’am? Are you hurt? I’ve called an ambulance to check you out.”
Helen shakes her head, “Please no. I can’t afford to pay for an ambulance, and thanks to this nice woman, we’re fine.”
The ambulance pulls up and Mercy speaks to the attendant. She turns to Helen. “Just let them have a peek at you and … your daughter, is it? I’ve spoken to the ambulance dispatcher. There will be no bill.”
“Yes, this is my daughter, Lindsey. But how can that be right about the ambulance? They charge you, even if they don’t do anything,” worries Helen.
Lucienne reassures Helen. “Mercy’s father-in-law is the District Attorney, and our uncle is the Chief of Police. I’m sure we can get the ambulance fee waived for you today.”
Helen is visibly relieved. “Well, in that case, I wouldn’t mind if they took a look at Lindsey. She suffers from asthma.”
Mercy whispers to the EMT. After examining Lindsey’s inhaler, he hands a bag of extras to Helen, who breaks down in tears of gratitude.
As the women finish their statements to the police, Helen thanks Mercy repeatedly, and apologizes that her clothes got dirty. She tightly holds her own purse with one hand and Lindsey’s hand with the other as they watch the officers in the cruiser drive away with the mugger.
“I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t come along. My daughter’s asthma has been much worse lately, and that man was about to take her last inhaler.”
Mercy pushes a stray hair from the young girl’s face. Mercy replies, “Clothes can be replaced, but an angel-face like Lindsey’s is one-of-a-kind.”
Helen hugs her daughter tightly. “Yes, since her dad was killed in Afghanistan, I’m probably a little overprotective.”
Mercy searches for words that could help, but there are none. “I heard you tell the mugger about the Purple Heart. Our dad was honored with one, as well, but fortunately, he was only wounded. I am very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” says Helen. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know your name, but I’d be happy to clean your house or do your gardening or something to repay you for saving us. I’m very trustworthy, and I don’t steal. We’re just a little down on our luck at the moment.”
Touched by the offer and sympathetic to Helen’s situation, Mercy says, “I’m Mercy Wilde and this is my sister, Lucienne Wilde. And there is nothing to repay. You would have done the same for me. Actually, you did. You saved me from getting slashed by kicking away the knife.”
Lucienne gives Mercy a deadpan look. “No wonder he got the jump on you. You and your stilettos.” She turns to Helen. “Thank you for saving my sister from her devotion to fashion.”
Helen laughs a little and says, “I’m glad I could help. He got the drop on me from behind when I was looking in the dumpster. Normally, I’m much more careful. My husband and I both went to the Police Academy before he enlisted in the military. I didn’t know I was pregnant when he shipped out. He never got to see Lindsey.”
Helen sticks out her hand to shake with the Wilde sisters, but pulls it back and tries to wipe away the dirt. “I’m Helen Sands, and you’ve met Lindsey. I would shake your hand, but I’ll wait until I’ve had a chance to clean up.”
Helen picks up a discarded Styrofoam container and looks relieved that the contents have not spilled. “I’m sure you have things to do, so we won’t keep you. Thank you so much again for saving us. I wish we had some way to repay you, but I haven’t worked in a couple of years except for cleaning houses. I have good references, if you ever need your house cleaned. My only issue is that I have to bring Lindsey, but she is very good with other children and pets.”
“I can give you the number of the pay phone where we park the car. I clean two laundromats in the late afternoon, but we try to get back to the car so Lindsey can do her homework and get to sleep at a decent hour,” continues Helen.
“Living in your car isn’t very safe,” warns Lucienne.
“The manager of the laundromat down the street lets me park in their lot overnight. There is a lot of light and there is a carport area that’s been pretty safe, and it’s a block from Lindsey’s school so I can walk her there and back. The laundromat has what may be the last remaining pay phone in Los Angeles, so they can call me if Lindsey gets sick. Saves on gas, too,” explains Helen.
“How long have you been doing that?” asks Mercy.
Helen looks at her feet briefly, then struggles to answer, as her eyes brim up a little. “A couple of years. I mop the floors there and clean the machines, so we have clean clothes, but food and clothing are expensive, and Lindsey keeps growing. The lady who runs it lets us be inside during the open hours, but it’s owned by a corporation that has rules, so we try not to abuse the privilege.”
“Of course,” Mercy says, thinking. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you end up living in your car?”
“Lindsey and I stayed in Oceanside after my husband was killed, and I was a restaurant manager near the base. Lindsey’s asthma got worse when she was four. Her pre-school kept calling me to pick her up every time she had an asthma attack. The nurse there said that she did not have the type of training Lindsey needed, so the school couldn’t be responsible. I lost my last three jobs that way.”
Lucienne looks disturbed. “How can that be right? That’s a no-win choice.”
Helen says, “I understand. A restaurant manager needs to be onsite and dependable, but I couldn’t leave Lindsey’s health in the care of a school nurse who wasn’t equipped to deal with asthma. After I lost the third job, we lost our apartment and our insurance and had to live in our car. It was less stressful for Lindsey than living at the shelter. That was two years ago. We moved back to Los Angeles in the hopes I could find a more flexible job. I managed a couple of restaurants here before I got married.”
Lucienne is enraged. “You know, I hear a lot of stories in this job, and a lot of things have to roll off your back or you’ll just go crazy. But honestly, this makes me furious! Your husband gives his life for our country and you can’t get help?”
Helen shakes her head and says, “They tried. They really did. But once you lose your address, life becomes much more complicated. We take a shower at the Y and I mop floors at a couple of stores near the laundry after hours and clean houses for extra money. They don’t mind that I bring Lindsey with me. A lot of employers don’t allow that, so my options are limited. We have no other family.”
Lindsey pulls at her mother’s sleeve. “Mommy, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m really hungry. May I have a bite of our dinner?”
“Of course, sweetheart. Please thank the nice ladies who helped us first, though.”
Lindsey turns her angelic face up to Mercy and Lucienne. “Thank you very much for helping us, ladies. It was nice meeting you.”
Suddenly choking back tears, Mercy says, “Would you like to do me a favor, Lindsey?” Would you and your mom join me for dinner? My husband is working late, and I have to meet the owner here for a few minutes. If we work at it, we might even persuade my sister to join us. Have you ever had dinner with a real-life police detective before?”
Lindsey looks at Lucienne. “You’re a police detective? We learned all about police wo
rk in school. That’s really exciting!”
Looking inside the restaurant window, Lindsey sighs. “Can we, Mommy? They have chairs. And that man has cake!”
“Honey, we aren’t really dressed for dinner,” Helen says, choking back tears of her own.
“No worries, Helen,” says Lucienne. “Mercy would say that I’m not dressed properly either, but she’s picking up the check, and I vote we join her.”
“Don’t worry about the clothes. I’ve got tons of dry cleaning in the car. Follow me. I have one quick call to make, but I want to finish our conversation.” Mercy grabs the clothes, and she, Lucienne, Helen and Lindsey enter the estate gate behind The Vinery. Mercy guides them toward the guesthouse on the grounds.
Despite Helen’s wary protests, the chance of a hot meal for her daughter lessens her objections.
Mercy calls The Vinery owner. “Jonny, it’s Mercy. Meet me out at the guesthouse.”
She hustles Helen and Lindsey through the gate and toward the back building. “Uh, what are we doing? Eating out back?” asks Helen.
“Heavens, no! I’m meeting with the owner, and I thought you and Lindsey might want to rest a bit before we eat, if that’s okay with you. Luci’s going to want to change out of her work clothes,” she says insistently.
Mercy continues, “My meeting won’t take long. Jon and I are old friends. He should be able to do my booking pretty easily. I’ll just be a minute.”
Unsure what is expected of them, Helen warily agrees that it would be nice to sit down someplace safe for a few minutes, especially with a police escort. While they wait for Jon, they wander around the grounds of the former estate filled with herbs and lettuces and other vegetables for use in the restaurant. Watching her daughter, Helen has a sudden premonition that things may be about to get better.
Chapter 20
Mark Lathem arrives home from class and speeds up the driveway in his Ferrari F8 Tributo. He sits in the garage checking his appearance in the rearview mirror. One of the many requirements of being Dana Montgomery’s son is that he always be camera-ready, and never be caught by the paparazzi looking less than perfect.
This expectation had been drilled into him by Dana’s image consultants from when he was a toddler, and the practice had become ingrained in his being. He had friends when he was young, but he never got to roughhouse or play outside where the long lenses might find him looking like a normal kid. It always was hard to tell if his friends really liked him or whether he was invited to do things with them because their parents wanted to hang around to meet Dana.
When Beth Luker and Sal Caggiano came into his life, that uncertainty vanished. Neither one cared if his hair was mussed or if he got pizza sauce on his shirt. They were regular kids, and when he was around them, he was a regular kid, too. Photographers did not think to look for him at Beth’s or Sal’s apartments.
Determined to give her son a life “out of the fishbowl,” Dana bought a car for her maid, Sula Clay, with a small proviso … Wesley could use it to shuttle Mark to visit his friends at their homes. Wesley had taken on the role of butler by then, so nobody suspected a thing when the butler left the house in a domestic sedan.
At the time, nobody thought young Mark might be hiding in the back seat, away from the camera lenses, or that Wesley was on a path to become Bel Air’s playboy butler. Wesley was happy to get to spend time with his nephew, even though Mark had no clue Wesley was his uncle. Sal was especially happy that Wesley was willing to drive Mark to the home of whichever foster family had taken him in for the money. Sal was a good kid, but foster homes were often overloaded and temporary. He lived in several places, including some in the seedier parts of Los Angeles, and was shuttled around frequently.
But now that they are older, the days of carefree fun are over, and everyone must mind their Ps and Qs. Mark dare not be photographed doing anything that puts Dana’s or his careers into a bad light. Sometimes, his preoccupation with his looks and conduct come across as self-absorption, and sometimes that is accurate. As the only child of an icon, his sheltered life has taught him how to convey empathy and concern, but sometimes he is acting. He feels something is missing. He just does not have the tools to fix it.
He enters the house to face another situation that he does not have the tools to fix … the conclusion of another battle between Blaine and Dana. Blaine passes him with a grunt and heads out the door while Dana hurls another barrage of glassware that slams against the library door.
Chapter 21
Hearing a crashing sound, Dana’s white knight, her brother Wesley Holley-Smythe, rushes from the foyer into the library. Mark kicks a piece of broken glass from a shattered martini glass toward the fireplace. “Wesley, could you please have Sula come in and clean up this mess? It looks like we’ve been rehearsing Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? in here. I need to run upstairs and change clothes.”
Wesley makes a small bow from the waist, butler-style. “Of course, Mark,” he says, then casts a brotherly look at Dana. “Is there anything else you need, Ms. Montgomery?”
Dana is on the verge of blurting out that she needs a hug from her brother but restrains herself. They plan to tell Mark about their secret after he is married. They fear that if Mark thought Wesley would be around to protect Dana, he might do something foolhardy like marry Beth, not because he loves her, but out of familiarity. Neither wants Beth around more than she is already, since Dana thinks Beth is after Blaine, and Wesley does not like how upset that makes Dana.
Mark excuses himself and leaves the library to change, leaving Dana and Wesley alone. As soon as the door closes behind Mark, Wesley checks the blinds to ensure no shutterbugs can see in and gives his sister her much-needed hug.
Dana holds tightly to Wesley. “Is Blaine gone?”
“Yes.” Wesley picks up a trashcan and holds it out in front of her in case she needs to throw up. “I assume you’ll need this?”
“Not at the moment,” she slurs. “You know I never drink as much as people think I do. It just gives me an excuse to vent and get it out of my system. I ate a couple of hours ago and I’m not nauseated. I’m perfectly fine in that ‘department.’ That reminds me, I’m hungry.”
Wesley chortles, “If the awards committee knew that the best acting in town takes place in this house, it would have to create a new category.”
“Best Actress Pretending to be Drunker Than She Is?” Dana laughs. “It has a nice ring.”
“I don’t know why you put yourself through this,” says Wesley. If you think Blaine only stays with you for the money, does it really matter if you love him? Are you willing to settle for a marriage like that? Are you even sure he’s ever cheated on you?”
“I honestly don’t know. Every semester, he picks up at least one or two groupies, but I can’t swear it goes any farther than him enjoying being worshipped by young, beautiful women. I hate being so insecure, but for the life of me, I can’t see why he stays with me. “
“Sis, one of these days, you have to try to forget what that cinematographer told you about ‘exotic’ not being ‘the same as pretty.’ You are gorgeous and could have any man you want.”
Dana smiles at Wesley. “First of all, I love it when you call me Sis. The worst decision we made when we came to town was hiding the fact that you were my brother.”
Wesley agrees, but says, “It had to be done. Child Protective Services would have put me in a foster home if they had known I was underage, or worse, they could have sent us back to our parents. It’s all worked out. You pay me a fortune to dump a few trashcans, and I get to watch out for you.”
“The job of ‘watching out for me’ should be my job. And Blaine’s. But he’s too busy checking out the newest local talent to be worried about me. And I have to act like a darned fool to get his attention.”
“I’m sure Joseph Luce could get you out of any monetary issues if you divorced Blaine.”
“I’m sure he could, but my image can’t take the hit. Not at my age. The h
eadlines would read ‘Over-forty actress dumped for nubile acting student.’ I’ll only get hired to play third-rate roles after that.”
“And his star would rise. ‘Another forty-something actor picks up a brand-new arm-charm.’ Just what this town needs,” frowns Wesley.
“Yes, but honestly Wesley, I want Blaine. I just wish I knew if he wants me for me or for my bank account. If he left me, I wouldn’t have to work so much.”
Wesley furrows his brow. “If you still hate acting after all these years, why don’t you retire? Parts for women over forty aren’t worthy of your talent, anyway.”
Dana pats Wesley on the arm. “Thank you, dear brother, but I’m afraid I’ve gotten used to all this,” as she waves her arms around at the lavish rooms.
“Besides, how could I afford to pay your hefty salary if I stopped working? And you know I need you to keep my life organized.”
“So true. Your retiring definitely wasn’t my best idea of the day,” muses Wesley.
Dana teases, “And you couldn’t afford your playboy lifestyle without the salary. Maybe I should hire a private detective to keep tabs on you instead of on Blaine.”
Wesley chuckles, “That’s hardly necessary. I’m not married. I’m still waiting for Princess Charming. And my social life is an open book.”
“An open little black book,” Dana laughs.
Feigning resentment, Wesley replies, “There is nothing ‘little’ about my black book. I’ll have you know that I have a date every night for the next three months.”
Dana throws her head back and tosses her glorious mane of hair with an explosive laugh. “Ah, Wesley. You made me violate the ‘ladylike laugh’ rule! And it feels so good!”
For some, Wesley’s loyalty to Dana seems odd. Why would the incredibly handsome man be working as a butler when he could be an actor or model? The tabloids posit that Dana’s butler must be in love with her, but their friends know it is not that kind of relationship. What kind of relationship it is, however, is not one they can define. But all are jealous that an employee would go to the ends of the earth to defend his employer.
The Case of the Stained Stilettos Page 8
