A Star is Dead

by Elaine Viets

  I agreed with the Times, but I had to keep my mouth shut, except around Katie, where we giggled like teenagers over the press slams.

  After Jessica Gray’s party, Reggie Du Pres was cool to his old friend, Clare Rappaport. She’d talked him into an expensive spread to honor the celebrity, and the only thing he got out of it was a few condescending mentions in the national press. ‘The star collapsed during a party at the home of a local grandee and was rushed to the hospital,’ was typical. One reporter sneered that the appetizers were ‘the usual tired party fare – lamb lollipops and grilled octopus.’

  The Forest was mightily impressed by the spread, but they were already impressed by Old Reggie. He was stuck with an impressive bill for more than twenty-five thousand dollars, including flowers, servers, and catering.

  True to his word, Stu Milano had a huge memorial service for his wife, Jessica Gray, at the Beverly Hilton Hotel, with clips from her movies and photos of her timeless beauty. Guests ate and drank the food and wine, but didn’t touch the samples of her Captivating line. ‘I don’t want to wind up like Jessica,’ was a common quip. It was a ready-made excuse to avoid the ground kale and whatever else was in that junk.

  Otherwise, Jessica would have loved her send-off. It was a weepy Hollywood spectacle, with dozens of Jessica’s frenemies lying about what an enduring talent she was.

  The memorial service was considered a success, except for the rejected Captivating samples and Stu’s announcement that he’d be returning to Vegas with his own magic show in six months. He had flyers made up and gave them to all the mourners. That was considered ‘tacky’ and Stu was accused of ‘trying to piggyback on Jessica’s fame.’ Many of Jessica’s friends turned their backs on her climber of a husband, and refused to see or back his show.

  Stu and Tawnee Simms flew to Maui to spread Jessica’s ashes on the island where Stu and Jessica would have had their honeymoon. Tawnee was staying on as his assistant.

  But the trouble started on their return to Los Angeles: Jessica’s Captivate line crashed. Stu had inherited more than four million dollars from his wife, but her youth drink never survived the publicity after Jessica drank it on camera and then died in a spectacular fashion. Saks and Nordstrom dropped the line, and that was the end – nothing could persuade consumers that the green gunk was safe to drink. Besides, it was kale. Stu lost more than two million dollars on that debacle.

  Stu used the rest of his fortune – two million dollars – to mount a show in Las Vegas called ‘Milano’s Marvels.’ It failed miserably. The nicest thing any critic said was ‘Stu Milano’s show is where vaudeville came to die. Someone needs to put it out of its misery.’

  Stu now manages Tawnee’s career on the nostalgia circuit. He has the opening act in her show – fifteen minutes of ‘Milano Magic,’ which makes many eyes glaze over. The couple live together but so far they have not married. They are doomed to wander from one small town to another – Elk Horn, Iowa, and Hickman, Nebraska – in search of an audience.

  Mario’s comeback party was a success, and he was named Chouteau Forest Business Leader of the Year, the closest the Forest would come to an apology for his bad treatment during the Jessica affair. After all, the police had apologized. The title came with an award of one thousand dollars, which helped him cover the wages he paid his staff while he was in jail. Mario’s business expanded rapidly in the next months. He had to hire three new stylists and two more manicurists. Even I had to wait a week for an appointment with him.

  If he was hurt by Will London’s betrayal, Mario never told me. ‘Boys come and boys go,’ he said. ‘There will be others.’ He’s currently dating a handsome young man from Brazil. They make a stunning couple.

  Will London was bitter about his plea deal for Jessica’s murder. He felt he’d been badly treated by the star and the judge should have been more understanding. His only comfort was that he could smoke in prison. Will died of lung cancer twenty years into his sentence.

  Tara Murphy, the woman who beat to death her construction worker husband Thomas Murphy, was charged with domestic assault in the first degree, a class A felony, and a host of other charges. Her father-in-law and her neighbors testified that she’d beaten and terrorized her long-suffering husband.

  She was sentenced to sixty years. She is in the women’s penitentiary, and has received several proposals of marriage. Two true crime writers tried to do books about the female spouse abuser, but neither project got anywhere. Her father-in-law campaigns to alert people to the signs of spouse abuse, especially in men.

  Specialist 4th Class Harold Galloway, the homeless man who died in the lot on Shirley Circle, was given a military funeral by the Chouteau Forest VFW.

  Lydia DePaul, the good daughter who spent her youth in the gloomy family mansion waiting on her dragon of a mother, the formidable Vera DePaul, inherited most of her mother’s vast estate, and that was fine with her wealthy brothers and sisters. After all, Lydia earned that money the hard way, tending to their difficult mother. Lydia sold the old pile and tried to ease her grief by taking a world cruise. The ship’s spa and the sea air did wonders for her. She eloped with a handsome Italian cabin steward who was twenty years younger than Lydia. The couple live in Tuscany, and he devotes his life to taking care of her.

  Denise Sanders, the third homeless woman who was on stage for Jessica’s show – the one with the shopping cart – was found dead in an alley the day after I saw her, the victim of a mugging. I hoped my twenty-dollar bill did not contribute to her death. Her shopping cart was missing and no one knew what was in those mysterious bags. Denise’s body was never claimed and she was buried in the city’s potter’s field.

  Suzanne Creighton – the legal name of Suzy the ‘homeless woman’ arrested for the murder of Becky (Rebecca) Barens – pleaded guilty to second-degree murder and was sentenced to ten years in prison. Suzy said prison was better than living on the streets – at least she got good meals. She is studying for her GED. Suzy mourns the loss of her suite in the Hofstedder Hotel, and with each description the rooms become more palatial. Losing that suite was the ultimate punishment for Suzy.

  I donated the five hundred dollars that Clare gave me to a homeless shelter in St Louis, in Becky Barens’ name. I donated another five hundred of my own money to Women’s Work, to give the homeless hope.

  Speaking of hope, Becky’s ex-husband claimed her body. I met him at the small funeral service. He told me that he did his best to keep Becky off the streets, but I don’t know if he was telling the truth. At the short service, the preacher read these comforting words from the Bible: ‘In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way to where I am going.’

  I prayed that Becky was safely in a comfortable heavenly room, clad in white robes, and that she would never again know hunger or humiliation, and her earthly trials would be forgotten.

  As I expected, after my dance with Officer Chris Ferretti at Mario’s party, my friends practically had us married. Katie was the worst, insisting I should ‘grab him while you can’ – as if he was a Black Friday bargain. I admit I enjoyed dancing with him amid the orchids, and Chris felt good to hold – solid and strong. But I’d given my heart to Donegan, and my lost love still has it. I wish I could be with another man and not see Donegan. I consider myself lucky to have had one great love, and that should be enough. As for a new man, well, I’ll keep on dancing around that subject.

 

 

 
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