by Helen Jacey
‘Of course. I can say you are a nose, not a nosey parker!’ She burst out laughing.
‘What?’ I didn’t get the joke.
‘A nose. You help me test my new perfume? Nose? Very funny!’ Then she stopped laughing. ‘But maybe then people ask you too many questions about my business and you cannot answer. So yes, just a friend.’
‘Will you live here all the time?’
‘No, no, no. I come and go. My beauty business is very big now. It takes up so much time. I love the city, but here my heart belongs.’ She tapped her chest. ‘I grow olive, almond and lemon orchards, my Sicily. Many trees! And my darling Antonio rests here, he is waiting for me, but I tell him, ‘Not now, you must be patient. I am not ready to join you yet!’’
I knew Floriana was a widow, but I had no idea how Antonio Luciano had died.
‘Is Simonetta here?’ I was referring to Floriana’s daughter. A model and the face of Oliverelle. If appearances could deceive, Simonetta’s were the pinnacle of treachery. On the surface, the spoilt rich daughter, but underneath, a lawless, risk-taking and fiery spirit.
‘Of course. She will be so happy to see you, too. I tell her to be very hush hush about you. Hushissimo!’
We both laughed. Hushissimo. A new mantra for life?
Floriana was utterly magnetic. Standing near her felt like standing in sunshine. Her warmth, her smile and her generosity—were those the secret ingredients behind her vast wealth?
If so, I would never get rich.
Floriana suddenly rattled off a speedy command in Italian to a passing maid, a slight girl with a sallow thin face, dressed in a black dress and white lace apron and cap. The maid nodded, hiding a sullenness under the veneer of obedience.
I would be a fool to idealize Luciano, for all her joie de vivre. She was successful because she knew exactly what she wanted, dished out the orders and would let nothing and nobody stand in her way. Maybe making everyone feel fantastic was all part of the strategy, but she could only get so far with that. The rest took gumption and a love of power.
‘Go with Valeria, she will give you breakfast. Enjoy the rest of day. Ask for whatever you need. And look nice for my party! My beauty salon can fix your hair, in the spa building over there. My guest, there is nothing to pay.’
‘That’s very kind.’
‘Not at all. Next year, no war, no more death. Just life! Tonight, we celebrate it, together!’
The maid escorted me in silence to the dining room. A large fresco covered the walls. Olive trees, countryside birds and flowers.
The room opened onto a vast terrace, with wicker and glass tables and chairs. Flowers, in sprays of white, green and yellow blooms, spilt out of crystal vases. The terrace overlooked the sea, beyond gardens lined with phoenix palms.
At least I had showered and was feeling less delicate. I didn’t feel too out of place, thanks to the silk crepe floral dress Alberta had packed for me. It was as if she knew what I’d need to blend in.
After she had left me earlier, I had rummaged through the case. She had thought of everything—makeup, jewelry and underwear. Even red nail polish. I didn’t deserve it, but she had my back, for some reason. Pity, probably. I needed to make it up to her, somehow.
And at the bottom of the case was June’s red velvet dress. There were also some peep-toe red suede sandals with gold buckles which I had never seen before. They looked my size.
The perfect party outfit. All I needed now was a red rose in my hair. Could Villa Rosa come up with the goods? I decided I would take a stroll.
But not quite yet. I wanted to sip black coffee on the terrace, bask in the sunshine and feel the breeze on my skin.
40
Gazing at the sea, I knew Alberta had been right.
Getting out of the city was more than a good idea.
The salty air of the Atlantic Ocean filled my lungs. My spot looked down across the gardens, through the wilder landscape, over the lake and beyond, to the rippling expanse of sea.
A whirring sound suddenly broke the peace. A steady line of dirty trucks bouncing down a back road that wound up behind the main house. As they parked, Mexican men unloaded boxes and crates. In the sweltering heat, they carted them up the stone steps that led towards a huge circular tent erected on a high lawn—the scene of the party.
I thought of the band, rehearsing somewhere. They, too, had driven for hours, setting off at dawn. I bet even Zetty wouldn’t be off duty later.
Everybody was hard at work except me. I had nothing to do and it felt odd. I looked away from the scene, turning back to the ocean again.
In London, I’d be polishing the glassware for toffee-nosed guests, at a bash like this.
America enabled me, a white woman from low origins, to better myself. Here and now, I was free to enjoy myself, enjoy the surroundings like a guest, while everyone else was hard at work.
Alberta’s words. You’re lucky.
She was right.
I had the right color skin. Dolly could manage it, too. We were poor white girls, but our lives and our futures could be different. We were both lucky, we could break into different worlds, be different people, play different parts.
What Sonia Parker had managed to pull off for Dolly, I had no idea. I couldn’t imagine how I’d helped.
But mission accomplished. Part of me didn’t even care about the details of any deal that may have been made. Ronald Hunter didn’t deserve to die, but it wasn’t my job to find his killer. That worthy task fell to Detective Flannery, who seemed to have come to his senses about Dolly.
Or he had found the right killer. Only time, and the press, would tell.
I silently wished Dolly well. I didn’t want to see her again. Meeting her had pressed on a big button called Pain.
I lit a cigarette. It tasted foul but I gritted my teeth and smoked it all the same.
Maybe I should quit next year. My first New Year’s resolution in five years. In prison, resolutions were pointless. Survival was the only game in town.
I inhaled. It already felt smoother. Ironic how another drink and another smoke could strip away the pain they inflicted.
The wind was getting up. At least the Mexicans would cool down.
With nothing better to do, I decided to stroll around the grounds.
You name it, Floriana had it. Several annexes formed the spa, the beauty parlor, and an indoor swimming pool and steam room. All the buildings echoed the Mediterranean style of the main house, painted in white with green and terracotta features, connected by tiled terracotta paths and fat palm trees. Beyond the buildings were tennis courts, riding stables and a paddock. Between me and the lake were substantial terraces, edged with tall cypress trees, that spread out around the main house. These included a croquet lawn, a rose garden, a maze and a Romanesque outdoor amphitheater.
Antonio’s mausoleum was tucked away somewhere.
Floriana was expansive. She wouldn’t stop here. This estate would not be the pinnacle.
A new shop in Westwood Village wouldn’t be enough, either.
She was the right role model, at the right time. I needed to move on from everything negative in my life.
Lauder. Self-doubt. Fear of failure.
And tonight was the night to let go, to celebrate the end of a year that had ultimately seen me, and millions of others, right.
I was alive, not rotting in some hole in England, where I’d never been happy anyway.
I hadn’t been blown to pieces by a bomb. I hadn’t been hung, or gassed to death.
I had a life to live, a lover to forget, and friends who gave a damn enough not to leave me wallowing in hell of my own making.
I would thank 1945 with style and welcome 1946 with a great big kiss.
41
The lake was further away than I’d appreciated. After some huffing and puffing, a glimmer of water appeared in the distance like a mirage. To get to it, the path crossed a small bridge that led into some kind of small forest.
; The dappled light and shade gave a subdued, gentle light but crossing the forest also took longer. I was about to sit down and rest when I glimpsed something. A metal fence?
I went nearer. Yes. Thick mesh was held in place by strong wooden posts, creating a perimeter to the lake area.
‘She cannot be dead, can she?’ The unmistakable voice of Floriana.
‘We did everything you said, didn’t we, Zetty?’ This sounded like Wanda, sounding like she was trying to reassure.
‘Yes, Boss. She ate everything up. Even the feathers. Here, I try.’
Who or what ate feathers? I crept across the carpet of dried out leaves, trying and failing not to make a sound.
When I got getting closer, I stopped. I could make out some figures.
Floriana and Zetty stood near what looked like a case for a long and wide musical instrument. Nearer the fence, a good few feet away from them, Wanda hovered.
I bent down, and edged through undergrowth for a better look.
‘No, Zetty. No stick! Do not hurt Olivia!’
Olivia? Floriana and Zetty now peered over the case. Zetty held some kind of branch, her face one of pure intent. ‘Okay,’ she said, opening the lid with extreme caution.
Suddenly Zetty and Floriana leapt back, in shock. The lid shut down fast. Everybody burst out laughing. Nervous laughter.
Wanda said, ‘Critter’s got some fangs!’
Critter? Fangs? What the hell was inside?
‘She is alive. My baby girl, welcome to your new home.’ Floriana sounded ecstatic. ‘You must release her. Now!’
‘All right, boss. You better go behind the fence.
Zetty easily picked up the case, under her arms. One strong woman. She carried it to the edge of the lake and gently placed it down.
Floriana called out ‘I stay, to watch.’ She tiptoed closer, unable to keep away.
A mother hen.
Undergrowth blocked the sight of Wanda retreating. I heard the squeak of a gate opening and closing.
I took it as a preventative measure.
Zetty suddenly tipped the box on its side, so the lid flopped onto the ground. She wore a gun holster, under her shoulder. Dressed for emergencies.
Then I saw why.
A silver gray alligator, about four feet long, slithered over the prostrate lid of the case. The sun illuminated an impressive row of fangs.
Floriana was over the moon. ‘So beautiful, aren’t you? Come on, Darling! Go to your new home. It’s very nice, and wet, after horrible hot bus!’
Was this all part of the job? Bringing an alligator on the bus, from L.A. to Santa Barbara? Was it one of the conditions behind Wanda even getting a bus?
Was Wanda, lining her own pockets with this freaky delivery? Had it been stowed in the bootleggers’ hatch?
But if the cops had stopped and searched the bus, and found a carnivorous reptile, never mind a drunken white woman, what price would Wanda have to pay? Was shipping a reptile even illegal?
Floriana’s fee would be good and cover all eventualities nicely.
The alligator was in no hurry to get into the lake, frozen half-in and half out of the case. ‘Go my darling! Dinner comes later!’ Floriana squealed, with encouragement. The alligator’s eyes seemed to roll in Floriana’s direction in a I don’t want to, Mommy kind of look. After a few second’s deliberation, it clambered over the narrow rocky shore and headlong into the water.
Its eyes remained visible, just above the surface. Released, and free.
Wanda said, ‘Can we go now?’
Floriana was speaking in Italian, to Zetty. I couldn’t get much but it was clear she wanted to finalise some plans for the evening, and had Zetty got everything ready?
‘Si, si,’ Zetty said, rather glum, heading back to Floriana.
I kept very still, lurking in the undergrowth. Luckily the women took another path. I wasn’t keen to hang around so near to the lake, but presumably the fence was secure enough to contain darling Olivia.
I had to give the women a few minutes ahead of me. Suddenly strolling around the grounds and standing on the jetty had lost all appeal.
Instead, I rather fancied getting my hair done in the beauty parlour. Hopefully the trip wouldn’t get any more bizarre.
42
At four o’clock, I emerged from a long and stupefying session under a hot hairdryer. A new woman, with a Betty Grable poodle hairstyle.
Floriana Luciano’s philosophy—to have and do whatever she wanted, including keeping alligators as pets—was ultimately responsible for my new thatch of glossy honey blonde curls that looked so shiny and soft, but were in fact brittle as fuse wire, thanks to several thick sprays of lacquer.
I was relieved I would be doing June’s beautiful dress justice. Honoring it in a way she would approve.
Besides, you only live once.
And the rigid hair lacquer meant at least nothing would fall out of place when I slipped the velvet dress on.
I still hadn’t found a red rose. Maybe one of the Charms could spare a few fake flowers.
As I entered the lobby, Wanda emerged from a side door that said PRIVATE, carrying a brown envelope. Her pet-smuggling fee? She had rollers in her hair under a headscarf. She gave me a withering look. ‘Look who it is. Sleeping Beauty.’
‘Wanda! I want to thank you for bringing me here. I know it slowed you down.’
‘Alberta’s idea. I had nothing to do with it.’
‘Well, it’s your bus, right?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Well, it was real kind of you to let me travel with you.’
She put a hand on each hip. ‘Alberta says you’re a private eye?’
‘That’s right. New to town, new to the job.’
‘Why did you get so drunk?’
‘I’d had a bad day.’
‘What kind of business were you in before sleuthing?’ Her eyes were not altogether friendly. And it was a funny question. Was she suspicious about me? Or just curious?
I said, ‘I was in the wife kind of business. Then I got promoted to the widow department.’
She gave me a Shit happens look.
I shrugged it off. ‘Why do you want to know, anyway?’
‘Like to know who’s on my bus. Alberta says you’re okay. I’ll take her word if you don’t do anything else to embarrass us here.’
‘I understand. I promise I won’t. But let me assure you Mrs. Luciano likes me. I’ve worked for her before.’
She wasn’t about to be impressed anytime soon. ‘If you say so.’
‘Look, I’ve apologized. What else do you want me to do?’
‘Get your own ride home. There’s a station in town. You can take the train.’
Wanda headed for the service elevator. She really didn’t want anything to do with me.
When I got back to Zetty’s room, she was lying on the bed, smoking, cradling an astray in her hand. She was staring up at the ceiling, forlorn.
The case was open. Her olive and green formal gown was slung over the chair, carelessly. A pair of gleaming gold sandals had been kicked off and lay on the floor, alongside the hairpieces.
Now a trombone case lay open by the bed. I’d never seen one so close. Impressively large.
She glanced at me and nodded without smiling.
I tried to cut through the mood with a beaming smile. ‘Hi! I’m Elvira. You must be Zetty. We met at Joyce’s? And before, as a matter of fact. I saw you one day, when you were driving Mrs. Luciano.’
‘I know who you are.’ Her voice was heavy, disinterested.
‘I really appreciate you sharing your room with me.’
‘Why you do that to your hair?’
‘You don’t like it?’
‘You look like poodle.’
‘That’s kind of the idea,’ I grinned.
Zetty shrugged. Chat wasn’t going to flow with her either. Clearly my drunken antics hadn’t gotten me off on the right foot with any of the band.
‘Say, what a p
retty frock! This what you’re wearing tonight?’ I knew of course, but I was getting desperate. I went over and pretended to admire the dress.
Zetty grunted and then inhaled. ‘I like to play jazz. Dresses? I don’t care so much.’
‘Shall I leave you in peace? You practicing?’ I glanced at the trombone. I really wanted to paint my nails and have a rest as my hangover was raising its ugly head again.
‘No. There are things on my mind.’
Dolly. It had to be. Zetty was in despair but Alberta had banned me from saying anything. I couldn’t put her out of her misery.
‘Well, look on the bright side. Sometimes things just turn out fine when you least expect it.’
Zetty didn’t look very convinced. I decided against probing.
Time for my nails.
I rummaged around the suitcase and extracted the red nail lacquer. I sat down on my bed and put the bottle on the nightstand.
‘There is lady in the salon for this. Why do it yourself?’ Zetty pointed at the nail lacquer.
‘Oh, I know. But I was in there for an age already, having my hair done. I was about to go nuts sitting there. I’m just gonna touch it up.’ I smiled at her and started varnishing. ‘So, how long have you been Mrs. Luciano’s driver?’
A pause before Zetty shrugged. ‘Many years.’
Then she leaned over and pulled the drawer of her nightstand open. She took out a revolver and began examining it.
I gave a nervous laugh, especially when she vaguely pointed it in my direction. ‘Hey, er, I’m kinda nervous around those things.’