by R. J. Kaiser
Jade said, “You want me to go?”
“My wife’s here because she’s upset. I called her this morning and told her about Caldron’s visit. I figured he’d be headed her way.”
Jade got to her feet.
“No, don’t go,” he said. “At least not yet. This is a good opportunity for you to meet Stella, maybe even talk to her if she’s in any condition to talk.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Jade sat back down on the sofa and Mac went to the door, just as one of the girls from out front came with a mug of coffee for him and tea for Jade. He told her to bring another coffee for Stella. Then he stepped into the outer office.
His wife was seated on a sofa, perched on the edge of the cushion. She was in a lilac summer suit, well groomed as always, but struck him as overly made up. Seeing him, she stood.
“Mac, I have to talk to you.”
“Maybe it’s good you’re here. Ms. Morro, the private investigator, is in my office. I’d like for you to meet her.”
Stella looked distressed by the suggestion. “Is it necessary?”
“It won’t hurt for you to meet her, maybe talk a little. Anyway, I’ve got more news.”
“Lord, I don’t know if I can take any more of your news, Mac.”
“Come on in.”
He escorted Stella into his office. Jade was instantly on her feet and shaking hands with Stella.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. McGowan.”
Stella mumbled something in return, looking bewildered. She dropped into the chair Mac had been in. He sat on the sofa next to Jade.
Mac didn’t waste any time. “You might as well know, Stella, I got another anonymous note this morning. I found it on my front door after we spoke.”
She blinked with surprise, her eyes going to Jade.
“I’ve shown it to Ms. Morro.”
“Really?”
“No confidences have been breached,” he said. “She’s aware of the delicacy of the matter and is focusing on the origins of the notes, not the story behind them. Anyway, she can’t do her job in a vacuum.”
“Yes, Mac, but…”
“Part of my job is to be discreet, Mrs. McGowan,” Jade said. “Embarrassing anyone is the last thing I want to do.”
“That’s good to know,” Stella muttered.
One of the clerks brought in another mug of coffee, put it on the coffee table, then left the room. Jade sipped her tea. Mac drank some coffee. Stella ignored her cup, nervously wringing her hands.
Mac took the latest note from his pocket and handed it to her. She read it, briefly closed her eyes, then handed it back. She said nothing for a moment or two.
Then, “It’s a sad commentary that people feel they can exploit anyone who’s made a little money. We’ve become a society of vultures.” The comment was clearly made for Jade’s benefit.
Mac could tell this meeting probably wasn’t a very good idea. He glanced at Jade, who was politely silent, perhaps uncomfortable for Stella as much as for herself. Looking at the two of them, he was struck by how different they were. First, there was enough difference in their ages that they could be mother and daughter, though that wasn’t the essence of it. One was in a two-thousand-dollar suit, the other in jeans and a T-shirt. Stella was groomed and painted to a portrait-perfect standard of perfection; Jade was scrubbed and freckled, her hair slightly tousled, a young woman who appeared ready to romp on the beach. Just looking at her made him think of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, something that probably hadn’t entered his mind in thirty-five years.
“Mac, there are some private matters we need to discuss,” his wife said to him.
“Yes, Stella, we can talk. But would you mind if Jade asked you a few questions while you’re both here?”
“Must we? I’m really not in a very coherent state of mind.”
“We can do it another time, Mac,” Jade volunteered. “There’s nothing urgent I need to ask.”
“Bless you,” Stella said.
“And I’ll be better prepared later,” Jade added.
“All right,” Mac said.
Jade looked at the sports watch on her tanned wrist. “Art’s expecting me, so maybe I should run.”
Mac couldn’t help feeling disappointed. He watched her take a big gulp of tea and put down the mug. She reached across the table and gave Stella’s hand a shake.
“Nice meeting you, Mrs. McGowan. We’ll talk another time.”
Stella nodded, smiling faintly. Jade looked at Mac, running her fingers back through her hair, a mannerism he found terribly endearing. Reaching down, she lifted her purse, slinging it over her shoulder.
“Talk to you later then, Mac.”
He went with her to the door and into the outer office. “Thanks,” he said, though it wasn’t entirely clear in his own mind what he was thanking her for.
“I’m sorry about what’s happened,” she said. “It’s obviously bothering your wife a lot.”
“Stella’s prone to emotional extremes. She’s an actress above all else. Which is not to say she isn’t upset, but you get to know the symptoms pretty well when the patient’s familiar.”
Jade chewed on her lip and nodded.
“You know, I had an idea while we were sitting in there,” Mac said.
“What’s that?”
He glanced over at Bev, who worked at her desk, acting completely oblivious to their presence. He knew better, of course. Mac tossed his head toward the outer door. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
He didn’t say anything until they were outside the building. Jade looked up at him with wholesome innocence, yet, at the same time, an air of plucky self-assurance.
“If you’re going to help me,” he said, “I think we’ll need to have an in-depth discussion about the situation. Is there any chance you could come by my place this evening?”
“I’ve got a late afternoon appointment, Mac. I don’t know how long it will take.”
“The time doesn’t matter. It can be late. In fact, I’m going to be tied up here for quite a while this evening.”
She looked reluctant, and he wondered if he was pressing too hard, asking too much. She, after all, didn’t share either his commitment or concern.
“If that’s not convenient,” he said, “don’t worry about it. We can do it later.”
“How about if I call you when I’m through? And if it’s not too late, I’ll come by.”
“That would be fine.”
“Okay, then,” she said, “talk to you later.”
He watched her head off toward the warehouse, her purse slung back over her shoulder. It wasn’t what you’d call an ultrafeminine walk, because there was a touch of warrior in it. But Jade was plainly a woman. That came through strongly, as well.
He did not turn and go inside immediately, instead watching her until she was practically out of sight. Mac wondered if he had a crush on her or if he was so desperate to escape from the woman waiting in his office that any halfway pleasant fantasy was welcome, no matter how outlandish or unlikely.
Stella seemed a bit more relaxed when he returned to his office. She sat back in the chair, her legs crossed, the coffee mug cradled in her hands.
“What an unusual young woman,” she said. “She’s really a detective?”
“Yes, former cop. Decorated, as a matter of fact.”
“She certainly has a casual air.”
“Yeah,” Mac said, dropping onto the sofa, “she does.”
Stella, looking at him sadly and a touch wistfully said, “Mac, what’s to become of us?”
“I wish I knew.” He picked up his mug, then put it back down without drinking any coffee.
His wife let one of her long, dramatic pauses build, then said, “I’ve thought a lot about us the past several days.”
She hesitated, waiting for a reaction, but Mac hardly heard her. He was still thinking of Jade.
“It’s times like this I miss you most,” she con
fessed.
The comment got his full attention, making him wonder where she was headed. Stella did not keep him wondering for long.
“Can I ask you a very direct question?”
“Sure.”
“Do you think we’d be well served to try and improve our relationship?”
“What do you mean by that?”
Stella bit her lip, seemingly uncertain how to explain her thoughts. But then she plunged ahead. “Why don’t you come over for dinner this evening? We haven’t had a warm, friendly conversation in God knows how long. I’m feeling kindly toward you, Mac. And missing you. It occurs to me that maybe maintaining this isolation is foolish.”
He wondered how she could come up with something like that after all this time and after all the water that had passed under their marital bridge. Was she that desperate, that needy?
“I’m not opposed to good relations,” he said, “but I’m not sure what you’re getting at. A reconciliation?”
“I suppose it’s foolish of me to think giving it another try would be worthwhile.”
“Stella, you’re frightened. That’s not a very good reason to jump in bed with someone, even someone you know. That’s how we got started in the first place, remember?”
“You certainly know how to let down a girl gently, Mac.”
“I don’t mean to hurt you. But I’ve got to be honest.”
“Maybe I’m deluding myself. Maybe I deluded myself twenty years ago. But it would hurt me to think the sacrifices I made are unappreciated. We’ve both given and we’ve both received a lot in this marriage.”
“And that’s why we’re sitting here now as man and wife.”
“All I’m questioning is whether we’ve focused too much on the negative.”
“The middle of a crisis is not the best time to evaluate things,” he said.
“Mac, a crisis can open your eyes.”
Pacific Palisades
To say it had been a day of ups and downs would be a gross understatement. Venita had gone from despair to joy and back again. Troy had left to “take care of some business,” for which she was glad. She couldn’t tell him what had happened with Percy, though her heart cried out to share her anxieties. But with who? Not Arjay. She could no more trust him than the snake charmer could trust the snake.
And so, she’d wandered about the house, hopelessly torn between euphoria and gloom. Cala scrubbed the tiles in the entry hall and Arjay lounged in the family room, watching videos of “his” films on the big-screen TV. He’d taken his role as Amal Kory very seriously. Arjay was actually quite remarkable in that he’d mastered so much of the jargon. In the beginning Venita had schooled him, but he’d taken to studying Amal’s films on his own, some of his questions and insights striking her as astute.
Jugnu had made himself scarce, spending most of his time in his room, though that wasn’t particularly unusual. She was never fully sure what he did with his time, except that he liked to read and listen to music. Over the years, Venita rarely entered his room.
But after the morning’s events, she was sorely tempted to go to him so she could look into his eyes and gauge his mood. But Jugnu would sense her need for reassurance. When a master showed weakness—weakness of any sort— a servant lost his fear and his will to obedience. She could always find some excuse to summon him, whether to give her a massage or tend to some errand. But that would seem transparent, unless the need were real. No, she was much better off treating Jugnu as she would if nothing had happened.
But something dramatic had happened. She’d shoved Percy Gaylord to his death. And that was the source of her torment.
But where were the police? That, above all else, was driving her to distraction. Were they playing games with her? Surely not. She could only assume the body had not been found, which was odd, considering that people were always roaming about, even on a weekday—kids on their bikes, people walking their dogs. Plus, many of the homes had full views of the canyon. There was a little-used trail at the bottom of the ravine. When Venita had looked down, she’d noted that the journalist’s body was right at the edge of it, in plain sight.
So, what was going on? The silence, the uncertainty, were unbearable.
“My, but you seem restless today,” Arjay said as he passed her in the hallway on his way to the kitchen. “Worrying about Percy Gaylord, are you?”
Venita blinked with surprise until she recalled Arjay knew Percy was in town. What he didn’t know was that the bloody sod was dead. Taking Arjay’s arm, she walked with him toward the kitchen. “Should the bloke make trouble, I shall handle him, Arjay. You needn’t fear that.”
“Truly? Only last night you—”
“I confess I overreacted. Percy can be dealt with, though he has the ability to make things dicey, I admit. The important thing is that we not allow him to distract us from what we’re doing.”
“I admire your confidence.”
They entered the kitchen and she watched him fetch a glass of juice from the fridge. Venita knew that Arjay would cut and run the moment it appeared the game was over. She also knew the importance of keeping him on the line, and that meant appearing very much in charge regardless of how desperate the situation truly was.
When Arjay turned, his glass of juice in hand, she said, “I shall deal with Percy if and when he shows his face. He’s my concern, not yours. But I do have good news. It’s quite possible we’ll have our million, perhaps two, before very much longer.”
Arjay’s brow rose. “There’ve been developments, have there?”
“Troy seems to be a good deal more capable than I’d first thought,” she told him.
“The young man has ideas,” Arjay allowed. “And he’s a schemer. But I’ve always been a chap who puts greater stock in deeds than words.”
“You’re right, of course, Arjay. But we must show patience. And a steady hand. Most important of all we must stand together, you and I.”
“Indeed.”
“I chose you for this job, Arjay, because I knew there would be difficult moments, a need for patience and nerves of steel. That’s also why the rewards are substantial.”
“You needn’t be concerned about me, Venita. I’m very good at determining the best horse to ride. Get your two million and we’re on our way.” Smiling, he left the room.
Venita paced. She was frightened, perhaps more than she was willing to admit. Arjay Pantel, for all his gentle, reassuring words, was a concern. If the business with Percy were to blow up in her face, Arjay would turn tail. The key to keeping him in line was dangling those millions before his nose. Nonetheless, the man needed watching. Of that, Venita was thoroughly convinced.
Making her way to the window offering a perspective onto the garden, Venita looked out, her gaze going instantly to the low wall. In her mind’s eye, she pictured Percy as he went flying over it backward. She visualized his corpse at the foot of the cliff. Where were the bloody police?
She drew a long, slow breath, trying to calm herself. She couldn’t lose it now. This was her final chance. Wiping her eyes, she thought how incredible it was that her life, her future, were now totally dependent on a twenty-year-old boy and that corpse lying at the bottom of a ravine.
Beverly Hills
Stella had seen It’s a Wonderful Life so many times that, five years ago, she’d bought her own copy. She always cried when she watched it, and not always at the expected places. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe deep down she believed life truly could be that way, but wasn’t. Who or what had failed? she wondered. She could not bear to think it was she.
Bad luck. That’s what it was. Nobody could make it in this business alone. That was especially true if you were a woman. Twice she’d allied herself with a man who she thought could make a difference. Aubrey had failed her, and so had Mac. In a way, Mac was the greater disappointment, if only because he was a decent human being. And yet, he wouldn’t budge when it came to what mattered to her most.
After talking with him
that morning, she realized she was no closer to securing his cooperation than before. Nothing was working. She’d appealed to his self-interest only to discover the potential profits were of no interest to him. She’d appealed to his sense of duty, his obligations to her and his son, but that had fallen short, as well. She’d hoped to appeal to his heart, but Mac was unwilling to give her a chance. Any love he’d had for her was gone.
Stella quailed at the thought, but there was only one thing left. She could threaten to talk to the police. Either he put up the seed money for the film, or she would unburden herself of their dark secret. She dreaded doing that for there was danger in it for her, too. And Mac would hate her forever. But what, besides surrender, was left?
“Again, madame?” Bonny said, indicating the television set as she entered the room with Stella’s tea.
“I can’t bear not to see it at least once a month. Do you want to sit and watch with me?”
Stella, propped up on her bed, patted the mattress beside her. Marie Boniface, who as a rule was not given to undue familiarity, though she could be outspoken at times, deigned to sit on the corner of the bed. She watched the TV with Stella for a minute or two.
Then, shaking her head, she said, “I am sorry, madame, but I don’t understand. What is this saying?”
“It’s saying that if people will just open their eyes, they will see what a difference they can make. Like my husband, for example. It’s within his power to change my life and Troy’s life, if he will.”
“You are saying he could be an angel?”
“He could be, Bonny.”
“And what about you, madame?”
But before Stella could consider the question, the door chimes sounded. Bonny left to answer the door.
“Unless it’s terribly urgent, I’m indisposed,” Stella called after her.
“Oui, madame.”
Stella watched Jimmy Stewart and mouthed the dialogue along with him. Why, she wondered, hadn’t she ever had a role and a script like this? Where were her angels? Bonny was soon back.
