by PamelaDuMond
“Catching up on old times.”
She looked under the file header labeled F. “Is there anyone you haven’t messed with?”
“Yes. You.”
“I beg to differ,” she said and pulled out a file labeled, “Fuller, Derrick.” Opened it – nothing there.
When a sultry voice came from the office doorway. “My, my, Duchess. It’s been so long, I don’t even remember meeting you.”
Annie turned and saw Lewis’s famous mother and clothes designer, Roberta Lilly Scuchiani. Roberta leaned against the doorframe clad in one of her new retro Age of Aquarius-inspired print wrap dresses. She was tall, about five feet ten inches without heels, and in bitchin’ shape for being in her sixties. Her hair was styled and her boney clavicles peeked out from her expensive silk scarf draped around her neck.
Annie shoved another wandering paperclip back under her wig. Time to punt. “Dahling Roberta, it’s been forever. I have a surprise for Lewis. A Stoneycliff Cheesy Cake,” Annie said, walked back to Lewis’s desk, pulled a saran wrapped mini-cheesecake out of her purse and placed it next to his family photo montage.
Roberta picked up the cheesecake and examined it. “I thought you spent all your time dating wealthy men with one foot in the grave. When did you diverge into pastries?”
“Well, you haven’t met my duke,” Annie said. Maybe she should skip the punt, play it dangerous and go for the first down on the fourth. “Roberta as stunning as you are, if you had an ounce of brain cells that still fired after our copious late nights at Studio 54, you would remember I always baked confections. And shared them with my friends. You were my test subjects for perfecting my future bakery.”
“Right.” Roberta eyed Annie suspiciously. “Nice brow lift, I mean forehead,” she said. “New York or L.A.?”
More like Staples, thought Annie. “Zurich.”
Roberta’s eyes narrowed. “Decent work on your neck job,” she said.
“I haven’t a clue as to what you’re talking about,” Annie said, patted her neck and covered tape with strands from her wig.
“Oh please, my dearest, oldest friend. Who’s your fabulous doctor? In case my neck needs work some day,” Roberta said.
Annie rolled her eyes. “Love you, Robbie, but your neck is not your best physical attribute.”
Roberta frowned and adjusted the scarf that decorated her long neck. “Oh, be an angel, and share the name of your plastic surgeon. Doctor, who?”
“Dr. Feffenhorfer of the famed Feffenhorfer Clinic.”
“I’ve never heard of him or the clinic.”
“That’s because they’re very exclusive and require a prominent referral,” Annie said. Two could play at this game. “Don’t be shy, Darling. Feel free to drop my name.” Drop it into a giant vat of pudding for all the good it would do her.
“What did we do, besides Studio 54?” Roberta squinted at her.
Annie squinted back. There was something slightly off about Roberta. “Oh what didn’t we do, Robbie! Those were the days, my friend,” Annie replied. She thought hard, ground her teeth and more pieces of tape popped. Her right ear dropped half an inch. Her ears were now asymmetrical. “We thought they’d never end.”
“We’d sing and dance forever and a day?” Roberta pointed to Annie’s right ear. “Did your ear just have a stroke?”
“Face yoga, it’s all the rage. Learned it from a Swami on va-ca in Gstaad,” Annie said and glanced at the family pics on Lewis’s desk. Looked back up at Roberta. Something clicked. “Where’s Lewis?”
“We chatted. He just left to go to his party.”
“No. I would have passed him in the hallway.” Annie picked up the white envelope and waved it in front of Roberta’s face. “Did he show you this?”
“No.”
Annie pulled out the photos of Derrick with Roberta and, Derrick with Lewis’s dad. “How about these?” she asked.
Roberta leaned in, held the photo on one end while Annie held its other end. Roberta did a double take and shook her head. “Oh, my God. I still can’t believe Derrick’s dead.”
Annie felt something shift inside her body, and closed her eyes to concentrate. On her left side, she craved mani-pedis, chocolate, great communication skills, a fab purse, a hot new romantic-suspense novel, re-runs of Sex and the City, and Home Depot. On the right side of her body, Annie lusted after Hooters, White Castle sliders, Playboy, internet porn, a universal remote control, sports playoffs, more internet porn, and Home Depot. The feelings were overwhelming, confusing, and like a three car whiplash, slammed her brain back and forth, and back again.
“Roberta, stop dicking around and tell me about this photo.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything.” Roberta dropped her end of the photo. “I don’t even remember who you are!” She said and tossed her scarf over her shoulder.
Hailey popped her head in the doorway. “I’m sorry. I know this is completely the wrong time to interrupt your reunion. But everyone’s looking for Lewis? And even I can’t find him and it’s freaking me out!”
A big piece of this puzzle clunked together for Annie. Lewis was being blackmailed. “Hailey, was Lewis happy about his promotion?” Annie asked.
“He was thrilled. Until a couple of days after his client, Derrick Fuller died. He’s been depressed ever since. I keep telling him that Derrick’s passing is tragic, but he’ll get over it. Lewis doesn’t answer me. Doesn’t even see me.”
“Damn,” Annie said. “How do we get to the roof?”
Annie, Derrick, Hillary, and Roberta Schuchiani burst through the door that led from the stairwell to the roof of this Beverly Hills twenty-five-story building. Between the air ducts, AC equipment, other pipes and tubes and equipment, there was a decent view of West Los Angeles and the Pacific Ocean.
Hailey screamed, “Lewis! Are you here?” There was no answer.
Annie said, “We spread out. Check the entire roof. Go!”
The three women ran in different directions.
Derrick stared at his toes. “Do you think I need a pedicure?”
“I don’t see Lewis!” Hailey yelled.
Annie searched the west end the high-rise. No signs of human life. “He’s not here,” she said.
“I can’t find my baby!” Roberta said.
“One. Lewis is a lawyer. Two. Someone’s blackmailing him with disturbing photos,” Derrick said. “Check the copy room. Plenty of shredders in the copy room.”
“Hailey! Where’s the copy room?” Annie asked.
The law firm’s copy room was small and packed with industrial sized copiers and shredders. Lewis Schuchiani shoved some papers into a shredder, clutched some papers and wiped away a few tears.
“Lewis! What are you doing?” Hailey said and walked towards him.
Lewis stuck out his hand to stop her approach. “I can’t hurt you, Hailey.”
She looked confused, but stopped.
Roberta put her hand over her chest. “Lewis, baby. Come to Mommy.”
“I can’t hurt Hailey, Mom. I won’t live with that,” Lewis said. He lifted his hand to hit the shred button.
“That better not be my new will,” Derrick said. “You’re my personal assistant, Annie. Time to ramp it up a notch. By the way, your wig’s askew and your hat makes you look like someone who forgot personal appearances are everything.”
Annie frowned. “Lewis,” she asked. “Who’s the primary beneficiary in Derrick Fuller’s new will?”
Lewis clutched papers to his chest. “I don’t know.”
“That’s a lie, Lewis. You’ve read Dr. Fuller’s new will. You know the primary beneficiary is Franco Fennedy.”
“I don’t know anything, anymore,” Lewis said, as he pushed the button and began shredding a Fuller document.
“I really hope that wasn’t my new will,” Derrick said.
“You have copies, right?” Annie asked and coughed into her sleeve.
“No,” Derrick said and looked bummed.
“Lewis Schuchiani. There are multiple copies of Dr. Derrick Fuller’s will,” Annie said. “However, Mr. Schuchiani, if you shred Derrick Fuller’s new last will and testament, you are in violation of the lawyer’s code of ethics’ number...” Oh God, she thought, what would sound like an official number? “You, Lewis Schuchiani, are in violation of ethics’ number second-in-15-penalty-flag-on-the-play.”
Lewis hesitated and looked confused. “That wasn’t Dr. Fuller’s will. It was just a mean, spiteful picture,” he said. Stared at Roberta. “I’m doing this for you too, Mom.”
Roberta fidgeted with her scarf. “Stop it, son. I won’t allow you to ruin your career. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
“I can’t risk either of you being hurt.” Lewis shoved more papers into the shredder.
“Stop him!” Derrick yelled. “Protect Franco!”
“Lewis! Just say no!” Annie said.
“I can’t!” Lewis said.
Annie tackled Lewis. They fell to the floor between the shredders and copiers and fought over the papers he clutched to his chest. Lewis grabbed Annie’s hair. Paperclips torqued, tape snapped and her wig ripped off her head. She screamed. (Those clips were sharp and a few cut into her head and face. Also, ripping tape off one’s face, neck and hair, really hurt. And total bummer about that new nickel-sized bald patch on her scalp.)
Hailey threw herself onto Lewis and rolled him away from Annie. She cradled Lewis, kissed his check and all the fight went out of him.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Lewis apologized.
“I love you, son,” Roberta said. She sat on the floor next to them, ran her fingers through his hair and looked at Annie.
Annie’s wig lay on the floor, her eyebrows had dropped, her chin sank, her ears evened out. She now looked like a woman in her thirties, wearing too much makeup, as well as office supplies.
“I knew it! You’re an imposter!” Roberta said, picked the wig up off the floor and examined it. “Good God, where did you get this fabulous Asian hair?”
“You’re right, I’m not the duchess. Who cares? We saved your son’s career.” Annie flipped through the documents and photos she wrestled from Lewis. Found Derrick’s new will. His old will. Really looked at the photos and realized why, Lewis was being blackmailed. “I am authorized to investigate Dr. Derrick Fuller’s death,” Annie said. “Lewis is Fuller’s attorney and has direct access to his wills. Someone was blackmailing Lewis.”
“Why Lewis?” Hailey asked.
Annie shared a conspiratorial look with Roberta, aka Robbie. They were both strong and proud. Annie wanted to give Roberta, her worthy adversary, a way to maintain her dignity. The two women nodded to each other, warrior to warrior.
Roberta put her hand on Hailey’s arm. “Because, my darling future daughter in-law. Before I was Lewis’s mother, I was Lewis’s father.”
“Huh?” Hailey said, confused.
Roberta unwrapped her scarf. She’d already had some work done – a shaving of the prominent cartilage in the front of the neck that most men had, and women didn’t. Most women didn’t have the super low body fat percentage and distinctive clavicles that Robbie boasted. “Sweetie. Someone tried to blackmail Lewis because they knew that I, his mother, a celebrity fashion designer, had a sex-change operation.”
Hailey shook her head, confused. “Lewis?”
“Whoever sent me the photos threatened to leak them to the press. I thought you wouldn’t want me anymore. That you, your family and the firm would be embarrassed,” Lewis said.
“You’re the only one who has ever understood me, Lewis. I thought your mom worked out a lot and had a little lipo,” Hailey said.
Lewis kissed Hailey on the lips, turned and regarded Roberta, earnest. “What if the blackmailer goes to the press, mom? Can your business, can the fashion industry handle the scandal?”
Roberta tried to re-drape her scarf around her neck. Her hands shook. “Don’t worry honey…”
“Let me help.” Annie faced Robbie and futzed with her scarf until it draped perfectly down Robbie’s surgically enhanced cleavage. “You did the right thing. Job well done, Mom.”
Roberta finally exhaled.
Annie thought before she spoke. “Lewis, your mom’s a legend. Her talent transcends gender. As to the fashion industry? The headlines will run something like… ‘Robert was a delicate boy who knew fabric. But deep in his psyche, something wasn’t right. So, Robert became Roberta, a stunning girl who knew how to cut, drape and fold.’ The demand and prices for your mom’s clothing lines will skyrocket.”
Roberta put her hand to her face and wiped a tear away. “I owe you.”
Annie replied, “The silver wig was procured through a woman named Yang at Thai Massage Spa at Vermont and Beverly. If your story comes out, Roberta, trust me, there will be multiple offers for a TV movie of the week. Call me, I know a decent screenwriter. I’d love one of those wrap dresses some day. Those things make everyone look good.”
Back in Annie’s living room, the clock read 5 p.m. Still wearing her deli beekeeper outfit, she examined the photos of Mike and Derrick laid out on her apartment floor. Below the Mike photos were the pics donated by Sienna Saffron, the photos collected from Franco Fennedy’s apartment and the still intact glossies from Lewis Schuchiani. All showed people in compromising, embarrassing situations with Derrick.
“Come on!” Derrick said as he jogged in place, his silver thong package jiggled inches from her face.
She gagged and waved him away. “I’m reviewing evidence. The silver thong can only be tolerated for so long, Derrick. You need to find a way to cover up or I quit.”
“People loved my ass,” Derrick said.
“Enough to shoot it and subsequently kill you,” Annie said.
“My point, exactly. Someone blackmailed Lewis to hide my new will, for a reason.”
“I’m blinded by your twenty-five watt bulb. Share,” Annie said.
“My old will gave fifty percent of all my worldly possessions to Tawny, and fifty percent to other greedy types. My new will gives fifty percent of my estate to my dear son Franco, twenty-five percent to Tawny and the rest divided between assorted hustlers and charities.”
“You didn’t have time to file a newer will before, you decided to divorce Tawny?”
“I was prepping my new book, doing line re-writes, and fine-tuning marketing strategies. Besides keeping up with my private clientele, I spent my remaining time on my personal spiritual, emotional and physical upkeep. I was exhausted, babe. You’re the one slacking. Call another suspect.”
“Fine. Tawny,” Annie said, grabbed the phone and dialed. A voicemail picked up. “Greetings in the name of the most righteous, sacred and beloved.” Annie stared at her phone. Maybe she dialed the wrong number. She hung up, looked at the number and dialed it again. “Greetings in the name of…” Okay. “You’ve reached the Church of the Reverend Tawny ‘Sunshine’ Fuller. I’m most likely baptizing a lonely, searching baby soul or reaching out to another of God’s creatures in need. So call my spiritual assistant, Madison Morgan at 310/555-LIVE. Today’s Word? Puppies!”
Annie hung up, dialed the other number and left a message. “Mr. Morgan, this is Crystal Light from Towering Cathedral Publications. We had an unexpected cancellation, thank you Higher Power, that provided a fortunate opening in our roster. Our board convened and we are inspired to interview the Reverend Tawny ‘Sunshine’ Fuller for our upcoming ‘Transform Your Life’, issue. We’re thinking about giving Reverend Tawny the magazine cover. So we all here at Towering Cathedral Publications pray that you call me back at 310/555-8181. Thank you...”
She was about to hang up, when a male voice came on the line. “Hello? Ms. Light?” Annie put the phone back to her ear. “Blessings, yes?”
Derrick jumped up and down, excited. Annie swatted him like a gnat. He leaned into her ear to catch the conversation.
“I’m Brother Madison Morgan; Reverend Tawny Fuller’s spiritual adv
isor. What kind of time frame are we talking about for the cover?”
“I’d need the interview almost immediately. Our photographer could do the photos wherever and whenever the Reverend would like, within the next week.”
“Oh,” Madison said, “Hold, please.”
Christian rock played on the phone muzak. Annie snapped her fingers at Derrick. “I’m getting a headache from your dead vibes. Back off.”
“Is someone hypoglycemic? Does someone need a sugar fix?” He pouted, but stepped away.
Shit. What if Madison didn’t believe her? She was a baker, not an actor. Her hands quivered as she waited for his answer. The Christian rock stopped, thank God, ’cause if she heard the words “lifted up” one more time, she’d either have to buy a new bra or kick her phone to the curb.
Madison got back on the line. “I’m looking at Reverend Tawny’s very busy schedule. Good news, I found an opening. The Reverend is attending a rejuvenating seminar at Inhale Spa in Santa Monica tomorrow. She can meet you in the lobby at 6:30 p.m. The Reverend’s a big fan of your magazine and honored to be on the cover.”
“Amen, Brother Madison! Reverend Tawny Fuller will be resplendent on our magazine’s cover. Thank you!” Annie said, jazzed that Tawny was a fan of her non-existent magazine.
“Thank you, Ms. Crystal Light. Blessings,” Madison Morgan said and hung up the phone.
Annie hung up and washed her hands in the kitchen sink. Twice. Spritzed some Lysol on a paper towel and wiped down her phone and answering machine. “Hey Derrick. Do you think whoever offed you is going to take a pass at me?”
Derrick looked at his feet. “Maybe.”
That word took the anger and the wind out of both of them. “If I end up sunny side dead, with my neck twisted or my head bashed in like I slipped and wiped out on a cat hairball, will you promise me, that you’ll help find who killed me?” Annie looked Derrick square in the eyes.
He took her hand and she didn’t pull away. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel skivvy, like she’d been injected with dirty needles or contacted flesh-eating bacteria and needed to take massive antibiotics.
