Gilberto: “What is it about my family? Why do the Davies men always find themselves drawn to the wrong women?”
Thea: Laughing vampishly. (Vampishly? Is that even a word? Guys, howzabout I simply throw my head back and let that laughter come from my throat, while I maniacally flutter my eyelashes— is that ‘vampishly’ enough for everyone? ) “Such as—your wife? Is she also wrong for you? Of course she is! A dull, uninspiring shrew you protest you cannot leave because she would bleed you dry in a divorce. Or is it me? Are you saying I’m wrong for you, Gilberto? You, the man every woman in America wishes to have make love to her?” (Laughs again.) “Tell me, my darling, what kind of woman am I that makes me so wrong?”
(He pulls her toward him again. After a long and passionate kiss he murmurs,)
Gilberto: “You, my lovely Althea, are the kind of woman a man commits murder for.”
“Cut!” yelled Dolores. “Nice job, you two. And talk about the perfect commercial break line."
I chuckled. “Which the networks will doubtless ensure hawking corn chips or gummy bears or soda or popcorn or something else not terribly sexy.”
Dusty winked at me as we unclutched from our clutch. “That’s to keep the viewers hungry and ready to spend money instead of eyeing their mates and wondering if their partner is thinking of killing or having illicit sex. No profit in that. And, that being said, since we’re on a break I’m going to go call my lovely wife, whom I am not planning to murder or step out on and check if the twins have finished their science project without any help from their adoring Daddy and also ask if that lovely wife is up for some ‘licit’ sex this weekend.”
We grinned at each other. “Tell her 'Thea Donovan' gives you leave to enjoy yourself. I’m going to try—operative word try—to get in touch with Johnny Gerard, whom I am considering killing if he doesn’t start returning my phone calls.”
Dusty and Max the production assistant simultaneously jumped in with, “And illicit sex?”
“Go away, boys. Our fifteen-minute break is rapidly extinguishing."
Dusty and I walked off the set in opposite directions to find some private spots to make our calls. No active cell phones are allowed on set— for good reason—so I now flipped mine open and dialed Johnny, who was number one on speed dial.
“Johnny? Hallelujah! You’re actually there. I was beginning to wonder if the New York libraries had swallowed you whole or if Yolanda had decided to send you off to Bora Bora for a brand new storyline involving politicians stashing money, escorts and massive amounts of pineapples in island accounts.”
“I’m sorry, Hon. I’m aware you’ve tried to call. But I swear, every time I’ve literally had phone in hand and started to call you back, something crazy has happened. Ready for this? My dad called me to ask if I knew anything about the whomping big scandal about to break featuring Senator Eddie Edge since his son and I roomed together at Columbia. One would think the district attorney's office would have investigators Kieran could use rather than his son. Anyway, I’ve been doing double duty trying to find out what's what with Edge while continuing to dig into anything I can find about Cinnamon the clown.”
“Dirt about a state senator! Dang! We’ve all been isolated beyond belief here. I had no idea such doin’s were bein’ done in the city! What’s the down and low?"
“I can give you the basics. Sadly, since Ron Edge is a friend I hate to see it happen but it's the oldest story in politics. You came close with your Bora Bora scenario, only this is the good senator stashing hookers in his hotel rooms and stashing money in 'can't get to it' accounts. The money apparently comes from some very organized criminals and Senator Edge is typing numbers into accounts in the classic and classy Switzerland. Ron isn't answering his phone even though I've left a ton of messages."
“Ah. ‘twas ever thus. These guys never learn. Well, I hope you nail his sorry serpentey senatorey self six ways to Sunday even if his son is a friend. I never liked his politics. He’s a bigot who voted against every Arts in School bill that’s been proposed ever since he was a congressman from Staten Island. He’s also voted against every gun ban in the history of automatic weapons and he’s managed to cut funding for some of the best homeless shelters in Manhattan. Creep.”
“Believe me, his snaky self's butt will look like a game of ‘pin the tail on the donkey’ after the story breaks. And you haven't heard anything. From what Kieran told me there's more dirt on Eddie Edge than found on a toddler in a mud pile and they want to gather more evidence. Aside from the whole sleaze and criminality issue, apparently he’s a first class misogynist. His fourth wife has filed domestic abuse charges on him that unfortunately haven’t stuck because he’s the great Senator Edge and no judge has wanted to offend him by granting Mrs. Edge a restraining order. No wonder Ron isn't answering the phone. How does one explain even to an old roommate that one's father is that much of a what did you say? Slimy serpent?"
“Close enough. I knew it. Domestic abuse and hookers. Add sicko to the slimy serpentey senatorey self. And s.o.b. He needs to be behind bars if possible and if not, we all need to make damned sure there’s no way he’ll ever get re-elected. Put Senator Edge on the edge!" I paused. "But I am truly sorry he's related to your friend. That's just lousy."
Johnny stated, "It does take the glee out of watching a slime-bucket go down. Ron's a good guy.” He paused. “I suppose you’d like to know if I managed to dig up anything else on Cinnamon in between phone calls to Kieran and Ron?"
“Well duh."
“You’ll be very proud of me. I am the energizer researcher. I roamed many libraries and bookstores and even went online once I figured out which keywords to use, but you’re going to have to wait for the goods.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s too much to tell over the phone and Kieran has me running around talking to people like he believes I'm really Gregory Noble." He laughed. "Kind of fun though. I've always enjoyed doing the Supercop thing. Anyway, I want you and Shay to meet me at the corner of Forty-sixth and Tenth Avenue tomorrow at one so I can lay out the whole story to both of you. And before you ask, neither of us is scheduled to film."
“Well, dang. Not about the schedule. I just don't want to wait to hear the scoop about Cinnamon. My impatience is ramping up.”
“Sorry. But I know Shay is going to want to hear all this and I don’t have time to do reruns. Oh. Bring Ivan if you want. I know he’s been really worried about your safety since the Cameo Theatre. Wish I had an agent like that. Honestly, I’d tell you more about my findings but your break is rapidly coming to a close and I’m approximately two minutes away from meeting a hooker Kieran found who is willing to tell me all about Edge’s sick penchant for . . .”
“For what?”
I could hear the grin. “You’re too young.”
“Fine. Rat-fink.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, Abby and I'll give you all I've learned about Cinnamon. If you’re lucky I’ll also have some good stuff to share about Senator Edge. By the way what are you working on later today? You’re not rappelling down cliffs, are you? Since it rained yesterday, I’d prefer not to have you sliding down very slick mountains, even if they’re not steep.”
My turn to grin. “Not to fear. We’re still shooting inside. What am I working on? Can we say massive making out leading to massive illicit sex. In a saloon. With me wearing very little and with a certain very hot actor playing a Latin lover silent movie star. Wild abandonment with, I repeat, a very hot and extremely sexy actor.”
“Ah. Say ‘howdy’ to Dusty for me, would you?”
Chapter 15
“Are we being followed? I’m sure we’re being followed. Shay, you’re by far the tallest. Peer over the heads of the miniscule Manhattanites, including Ivan and me, and see if anyone creepy is following us. And don’t tell Johnny I’m sure we’re being followed. He’d think I was nuts.”
Shay stopped dead in the center of the crosswalk at West 47th Street and Broadw
ay and grabbed my shoulder. “Will you stop it? You’ve gone from mildly curious to ravingly paranoid in less than three blocks.”
“I have good reason. And can we get out of the street before that taxi decides to do the work for whomever wants to do me harm?”
Shay, Ivan and I scuttled out of the way of the oncoming cab, which apparently was intent on grabbing a fare from the opposite side of the street even if it meant plowing through pedestrians who were, admittedly, going against the light. It’s Manhattan. Pedestrians ignore lights. If they didn’t the city would stop.
We reached the curb. Shay again grabbed my shoulder. “What are you talking about— good reason?”
“You were in San Francisco for a week and I didn’t want to bug you but someone has been calling me at various hours— usually between midnight and four a.m., saying nothing, then hanging up. I had to get my stinkin’ room changed at the Inn, which did not make Mandy happy since she's my roomie and did not make Johnny happy since he's worried about me. I had to tell the staff not to put through any calls between nine p.m. and eight a.m. and also tell them no calls at all were to be put through unless the person identified themselves and Mandy or I okayed it.”
“Maybe it’s a fan?” Ivan asked without conviction.
“I thought about that,” I replied. “I mean, fans can get loony but most of them are very respectful of a person’s time and space. And no one else in the cast has been getting calls. It’s not a fan. Why would a fan stay silent? They don’t do that. They hang out outside the set and ask for autographs and want to know when Gregory Noble and Vanessa Manilow are going to start having wild monkey sex. Nope. Not a fan. It can only refer to Colette. I know it in my gut and my gut is usually on target."
“Not to mention usually filled with goodies from the Marsden Hotel and any other food source nearby,” came the mildly sarcastic comment from right behind me.
“Johnny! I’m going to ignore that very rude statement because my curiosity is stronger than my ire. What’s up? Why exactly are we taking a tour of mid-town Manhattan? I meant to ask you yesterday before we hung up, why couldn’t we have met at Seven D for the imparting of knowledge?”
”Because—unlike Abigail Marie, I did my research this week.”
I snarled, “Well, excuse me for not being joined at the hip with any device connecting me online. I kind of had some work to do. Not everyone at Endless Time got to waltz in for one scene and then break for like a week. As you might recall, my work involved, oh, filming scenes in a saloon that were so badly written, Dolores Ellison called off the shoot for two hours to allow the writers to redo. We have got to get Yolanda back from wherever the heck she went traipsing off to. Where was I? Oh! Rehearsing rappelling from the cliffs of the Palisades on the one day it didn’t rain. Dangling from the cliffs of the Palisades on the one day it didn’t rain.”
Shay beamed at me. “You got to do that? You’re really truly rappelling and dangling off cliffs? I love it. Tres cool!”
I glared at her. “You would. Why on earth would any sane person think this was cool? Never mind. I just remembered whom I’m talking to. Shay Martin, who wants me to do every stunt that might possibly result in my death before I hit age twenty-four which is coming far too soon for me to complete or even contemplate completing those stunts. Why the hell don’t you come out and give a few of these a try? Preferably the railroad tracks jobbie. With a train coming through. Which, you understand, the script calls for. I may be in pieces by the end of next week. Dolores Ellison is hoping for one take on that delightful scene. Of course, she may get her wish if the guy behind the wheel or engine or whatever of that train doesn’t stop in time. Endless Time would get great footage but I’d have to watch it from someplace that probably doesn’t get cable. Like a cemetery”
Shay mused, “Do you suppose there’s TV and film in heaven? Assuming, of course, any of us make it there.”
I had to smile at that. “We’ll make it. You're Episcopalian and I'm Catholic, Shay. We have on more than one occasion broken several of the little sins but I’m pretty sure we’ve never abused any of the Big Ten. I had twelve years of nuns pounded into my head telling me to avoid those specifically so I can avoid a really lousy eternity. And when they weren't pounding, mother Minette was. I still sing in the choir at the Church of the Annunciation when I can. That should count for something since it's on Convent Avenue, which nearly gives me hives remembering nuns. And you may deny it, Shay Martin, but I have seen you stop to give money to the homeless guy who hangs out on Seventy-eighth and Amsterdam. Granted, we’ll probably have to have a pit stop in Purgatory to wait for total redemption. That’s where the ban on TV and movies will doubtless be upheld since we have to have some sort of torture to finish cleansing our souls.” I calmly stated.
Johnny frantically waved at both of us before Shay could respond. “Stop! Back it up there from heaven. Last I heard you were simply having illicit sex in a saloon with Dusty Howard. You really are rappelling off cliffs? I thought you were joking. Why haven’t I been told about this? Why is Vanessa doing this and not Gregory? Or at least with Gregory?"
Shay and I turned as one and stared at him. I spoke first. “Back it up and listen to yourself, Gerard. Consider that someone, who shall remain nameless but his alter ego is Gregory Noble, told Yolanda who apparently then told the producers that Abby Fouchet could ride horses. That Abby Fouchet is a Renaissance actress who can do it all. 'Rappelling down cliffs is nothing to Ms. Fouchet.' I'm not sure when dancer, singer, actress turned into stuntwoman extraordinaire but whatever you told Yolanda got taken wildly out of proportion.
Johnny shook his head. “I don’t like this a bit. I told Yolanda you could ride a horse because apparently they have some scene that requires that and they wanted the real you instead of a double. Why did you agree to the other nutty stuff?”
I grinned at him. “So sayeth the man who has skied down cliffs in avalanches and fallen from parachutes which admittedly were only about ten feet in the air at the time but come on! It’s not as bad as it sounds. You've only been at the saloon set so you haven't gotten the outdoor tour, but the cliffs have these ginormous ledges and path thingies under them and these are the baby cliffs anyway. The rope is wire and rope and more wire and more rope so there’s no way it can snap unless someone pours acid or something on it. I’m not wearing my skivvies. I’m wearing padding under the riding pants and shirt and boots that grip stronger than a dog with a chew toy. It’s all good. Heck, I’m sure one day Vanessa will get launched into space in some evil device the set designers on Endless Time will dream up that resembles a snow cone and this will seem like a walk across a park."
Johnny sighed, “If you must rappel, I suppose you must. I admit it. I'm jealous this is going on without me. I think I'm being punished for not letting them put me into another coma. Whatever. Let’s focus on our own outdoor tour and hopefully get some answers as to who shot Colette.”
I nodded. “I agree. Focus. Midtown Manhattan. Hell’s Kitchen, which is so nice these days it’s called Clinton and it’s not even considered Purgatory; much less far further south to that area Shay and I refuse to spend eternity in. You have fun facts from research. Bring ‘em on.”
“I do have fun facts. A cursory search of Cinnamon, whose real name was Miss Gabrielle Garrity, reveals that she died alone in her residence in what was definitely then Hell’s Kitchen—and far more aptly named during that period in New York history. And it seemed to me that we needed to soak up the atmosphere of this whole area. That’s why I didn’t want to meet uptown at your apartment. There are a lot of places that have been here since the Nineteen-teens or Twenties. We don’t need to make this an actual tour but I’m hoping we’ll all get a sense of what it might have been like nearly a century ago.”
Shay emitted a mild snort. "Not to sound cynical but you're hoping Abby will bond with a ghost or get a nice vision of the future that will help solve the mystery of Colette's last words."
Johnny winked
at her. "That too."
We were right in front of one of those old places; a diner that had doubtless been renovated more times than an aging actress’s throat and chin. “I hate to sound dense and I’m all in favor of atmospheric soaking but can we have some coffee and a sandwich before we douse ourselves in atmosphere and ambiance?” I requested.
“Coffee, definitely. I need to fill everyone in on what I discovered this week while Abby was rappelling, Shay was leaving her heart in San Francisco and Ivan was—what were you doing this week, Mr. Ialovskaia?”
Ivan preened. “Networking with the casting directors for a movie reputed to make the Wizard of Oz look like a flop."
Shay, Johnny and I were instantly alert. "Give! Give!" Shay cried.
Ivan complied. “No title yet but it's a fantasy original. Sadly, ladies and gents, there are no roles for anyone over the age of twelve. And no, Abby, you may be tiny and cute and still under twenty-four but you do not look twelve. Now Shay might have a shot as an assistant director. Maybe. Like I said, I'm chatting with casting and will be chatting with producers."
“Cool,” Johnny stated. "Even if Abby and I can't be involved we like knowing Shay might be on the Oscar podium next year."
The four of us were escorted to a booth near a window. The guys ordered coffee and the turkey sandwich special; Shay ordered tea and a grilled cheese and I ordered a mocha Frappuccino, the veggie-wrap and a loaded baked potato. We’d stayed silent for the few minutes it took before our orders arrived.
I’d just taken a bite of the wrap when I glanced out that window and nearly charged out of the diner.
“Look!”
“What?” came from the other three.
“It’s those two naked actors! Geoff and Billie-Clare! What the hell are they doing out there? Do you think they’re following us? Following me? Determined to wrest Colette’s last words out of me?”
Cold Wind to Valhalla (Abby Fouchet Mysteries Book 3) Page 10
