Dangerous Kiss

by Jackie Collins

  Jury selection had taken place the previous week. There were two sets of jurors, one for Mila and one for Teddy. Steven took a seat near the front, and waited for them to file in so he could check them out. He had an eye for jurors: experience usually told him which way they’d go.

  Penelope McKay had informed him that they’d selected an interesting mixed group. Teddy’s jury was a perfect balance of six men and six women. Three of the women were black, as were two of the men. There was also an Asian woman and two Hispanic men. The rest of the jurors were white. Mila’s jury was mostly women, with only two men included.

  Steven was well aware that when it was his time to get on the witness stand he should play to the women. He didn’t fool himself: his appeal to the opposite sex had been one of his greatest assets as a successful lawyer. Women always fell for his looks. At first he’d tried not to use it – it had seemed like a cheap ploy – but now, he thought, what the hell? Jerry had taught him to go with what he had, and he planned to.

  Before the judge arrived, Steven got up and went over to Mary Lou’s family, greeting them all. Her mother had tears in her eyes. ‘Why?’ she said to Steven, desperately clutching a framed photo of Mary Lou on her lap. ‘Why?’

  It was a question he had asked himself on many a sleepless night.

  * * *

  When Mila was brought into the courtroom there was a hush. Everyone wanted to get a look at the girl at the centre of this drama. She was dressed in a plain white blouse, below-the-knee blue skirt and penny loafers. Her hair, recently white blonde, was back to its natural shade of brown. She wore little makeup and no jewellery. Her expression was as demure as she could make it.

  Maybelline had given her advice on how to come across. ‘I know it’s a drag,’ she’d said, ‘but you gotta play to the stupid jury. Get their sympathy.’

  So Mila had followed her advice, although she’d have preferred to tell them all to go fuck themselves. Mila did not care to be judged by anyone.

  Her narrow eyes raked the courtroom. Bunch of wankers come to watch.

  Willard Hocksmith, her lawyer, touched her arm. His suit smelled of mothballs, he gave her the creeps. ‘What?’ she snapped, pulling away.

  ‘Put a pleasant expression on your face,’ Willard whispered, his bad breath disgusting her.

  ‘Why?’ she whispered back. ‘They all hate me. I’ll never get a fair trial.’

  She didn’t look at Teddy, even though he was only a few feet away.

  Teddy. What a pathetic dork.

  Soon she’d finish him off for good.

  * * *

  Penelope McKay had attitude and style, all of which impressed Lucky, and she listened carefully as the deputy DA presented the case for the prosecution.

  As Penelope spoke, Lucky inspected the jurors. Steven had taught her plenty about reading people’s faces, and she was good at it. She imagined being one of them, sitting in their place and listening to the case. Who would have their sympathy? Teddy Washington, rich son of a famous superstar? Mila Kopistani, an ordinary-looking girl of Russian descent, arrogant and pinch-faced?

  Or Mary Lou Berkeley, a gorgeous young black actress murdered in her prime, and Lennie Golden, also shot?

  Lucky studied the defendants. Teddy, the boy, looked scared shitless. And Mila Kopistani, yes, definitely guilty. Lucky didn’t need to sit through the trial to realize that. Lennie’s word was enough. He’d told her all about the hate in the girl’s voice and the way she’d lifted her gun and shot Mary Lou without giving it a second thought.

  Lucky did not feel sorry for either of them. Play with guns and you get hurt. This girl had shot Mary Lou in cold blood, and for that she deserved to be locked away for a long, long time.

  And if she wasn’t . . .

  Santangelo justice was not a bad thing.

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Duke Browning was twenty-five and a psychopath. Baby-faced, of medium height, slim and well dressed in grey pants and a preppie sweater, he sat in a stolen car across the street from Price Washington’s house, watching and waiting.

  He observed Price’s exit early in the morning, thinking to himself that this was one stylish dude. Black guys, when they possessed style, had it going for them. As far as Duke was concerned, black guys had always known how to have a better time than their white brothers. They were better dancers, better dressers and, from what his ladyfriends had told him, certainly better in the sack.

  Duke reached in his pocket, removing a small bottle of Binaca spray. He opened his mouth and took a couple of hits. Keeping fresh was important to Duke. He sweetened his breath every hour, and carried a toothbrush, which he always tried to use after meals. First thing every morning he took a shower; if he happened to be home at lunch, he jumped in another time; before going out at night, shower number three; and finally, before bed, one last wash-down.

  Cleanliness was next to godliness. Duke Browning knew that only too well.

  Shortly after Price left his house, a woman appeared. Obviously the Russian housekeeper: he’d had a description of her from his sister.

  Poor Maybelline, stuck in jail awaiting trial. At least she seemed to be making the best of it. Making connections, that’s what Grandpa Harry had always taught them. Making connections, according to Grandpa Harry, was the most important thing a man or a woman could do.

  Grandpa Harry had been a highly respected con man, and fortunately he’d done very well at it. He’d taught Duke and his sister a thing or two when they were growing up. Oh, yes, Duke and Maybelline had had quite an education.

  Their parents had been killed in a car crash when they were eight. A somewhat eccentric couple, they’d named him after the famous jazz musician Duke Ellington, and Maybelline after a makeup company. She wasn’t thrilled with her name. He loved his.

  After the demise of their parents, they’d been sent to live with Grandpa Harry, the only sour note being Harry’s second wife, step-grandma Renee, a bitch on roller skates with an insatiable appetite for money. Maybelline loathed Renee, and Renee loathed her back.

  Since Harry’s unfortunate death – he’d died choking on a piece of undercooked liver – they’d all lived together in a rambling Hollywood Hills house, left to the three of them by Harry.

  Not any more. Maybelline had ruined that cushy set-up with her vicious, unpredictable moods. One day he’d have to teach her how to control that nasty little temper. It got her into more trouble . . .

  Duke was sad that his sister was languishing in jail. He missed her. They’d done everything together. Of course, if Maybelline had exhibited more sense she would’ve waited for him before stabbing Renee with the stupid bread-knife. What a dumb thing to do. What was she thinking?

  If he’d been there – instead of doing time in Florida for a series of rapes – he would have come up with a far better way to get rid of Renee. And he certainly wouldn’t’ve gotten caught.

  He waited five minutes after the Russian woman’s departure before alighting from the car and slowly crossing the street. Then he strolled casually up to the front door and rang the bell.

  Consuella answered. Consuella was Hispanic and pretty with a round ass and big belly.

  ‘Good morning,’ Duke said politely, flashing a phoney identification card. ‘I’m from the DA’s office. I’ve been sent to collect some items from Teddy Washington’s room. Is it all right if I come in? Or would you prefer me to return later?’

  Consuella regarded the well-dressed, nice-looking man and decided it was perfectly okay to let him in. After all, if he was from the DA’s office, what could be wrong about it?

  ‘Come in, please,’ she said, holding open the front door.

  And Duke entered the house. An invited guest.

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Lucky spent the entire morning in court. As soon as they called lunch recess, she hurried off to join the group at Alex’s production office.

  When she arrived, his Asian assistant, Lili, stopped her outside the confere
nce room. ‘They’ve already seen seventeen actors this morning,’ Lili confided, ‘every one of them quite gorgeous. Right now they have a young TV actor in there.’

  ‘Has Alex liked any of them?’ Lucky asked.

  ‘No,’ Lili replied. ‘However, Venus is perfectly happy. At the last moment she decided to come in and read with all of them.’

  ‘Hmm . . . I wonder how Cooper will feel about that,’ Lucky said, thinking of Venus’s movie star husband, who had a definite jealous streak.

  ‘Not too happy,’ Lili said, with an enigmatic smile.

  Lucky snuck into the conference room and took a seat next to Mary, the casting director, with whom Alex had worked on five movies and whom he trusted implicitly. Venus was reading through a scene with a young, good-looking actor.

  Alex glanced up. ‘Everything okay?’ he mouthed.

  She nodded.

  When the TV actor had done his stuff, and everyone had told him how excellent he was, and Mary had said that they’d contact his agent, Alex stood up and announced, ‘Time for a break. I’ve got actor phobia. They’re all too goddamn eager.’

  ‘Interesting morning?’ Lucky asked.

  ‘You missed it,’ he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Oh, boy, did you miss it!’ Venus said, joining in. ‘There sure are some hot and horny guys in this town. I can’t wait to get home and tell Cooper how old and decrepit he is!’

  ‘That’ll be good for your marriage,’ Lucky remarked drily, groping in her purse for a cigarette.

  ‘It’ll do him good to know about all the studly competition floating about.’

  ‘Competition? Or great butts?’

  Alex shook his head. ‘You girls! Is this the way you talk about guys?’

  ‘Yes, when we’re being clean,’ Venus said, fluffing out her platinum hair.

  ‘Was there anyone really exciting?’ Lucky asked.

  ‘A couple of possibles,’ Alex said. ‘Nobody special. How about you, Venus? See anything big in the talent department?’

  ‘I thought that Jack Something guy was kind of great. He had intense eyes and great shoulders.’

  ‘Too old,’ Alex said, dismissing him instantly.

  ‘Oh, right,’ Venus responded sarcastically. ‘He must’ve been all of twenty-five, definitely too old.’

  ‘Hey, c’mon, you know what I mean. The character in the script is twenty. Kind of a young Richard Gere.’

  Sylvia put in her two cents. ‘I liked the second actor we saw today,’ she said. ‘He had a lot of sexual energy.’

  ‘Bad skin,’ Venus said. ‘I saw a guy on TV the other night. He had a small role in one of those sitcoms but, boy, he really buzzed the screen.’

  ‘So tell Mary, and she’ll get him in,’ Alex said.

  ‘Dunno his name,’ Venus said vaguely.

  ‘Find out what show it was and when it aired. Mary’ll do the rest. All it takes is a little detective work.’ A beat. ‘Now, can I take you ladies to lunch?’

  ‘Oh, wow, Alex, you’re getting so formal,’ Venus said, teasing him. ‘Lucky shows up and all of a sudden you turn into Mr Nice.’

  ‘Something wrong with that?’ he said, putting his arm around Lucky’s shoulders. ‘How was it?’ he asked.

  ‘Pretty harrowing,’ she said. ‘I didn’t see Lennie. They’re keeping him outside because he’s their key witness. Steven was there, of course. And all of Mary Lou’s family.’ She took a long drag on her cigarette. ‘You know what really blew my mind?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Watching that girl. Her name’s Mila Kopistani. She’s a bad one.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with bad girls,’ Alex said, being flippant.

  ‘Don’t even joke about it,’ Lucky snapped, her eyes flashing. ‘You know exactly what I mean.’

  The three of them went to lunch at Alex’s favourite Chinese restaurant around the corner. He invited Sylvia to join them, but she informed him she was meeting her girlfriend.

  ‘Don’t you think it looks a little odd, your production associate being a dyke?’ he mentioned to Venus as they settled into a corner booth.

  ‘You know, Alex,’ Venus said, dazzling the hovering proprietor with her famous smile, ‘for someone so hip, you really are an old-fashioned guy.’

  ‘People might think you’re gay,’ he said, ordering three large bottles of Evian for the table.

  ‘Why would they think that?’

  ‘Well, if I had a fag by my side at all times—’

  ‘You probably have and you don’t even know it,’ Venus said. ‘And I might remind you that fag is not a politically correct term.’

  ‘I can see you two are getting along great,’ Lucky interrupted. ‘What am I? The outsider.’

  ‘No, as a matter of fact,’ Alex said. ‘Venus and I have discussed it.’

  ‘Discussed what?’

  ‘We want to do an intervention.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ she said, frowning.

  ‘An intervention,’ Alex repeated, wondering why he’d allowed Venus to talk him into this.

  ‘I hate to tell you guys this, but I hardly ever drink,’ Lucky said, thinking they’d both gone a little bit crazy.

  ‘It’s not about your drinking,’ Venus said, leaning across the table. ‘It’s about your marital status.’

  ‘My marital status is nobody’s business but mine,’ Lucky said irritably.

  Alex summoned a waiter and quickly ordered an obscene amount of food.

  ‘Don’t we get a choice?’ Lucky asked.

  ‘I know what’s good here,’ he said.

  ‘So you’re saying our tastes don’t count?’

  ‘What do you want that I haven’t ordered?’

  ‘Seaweed.’

  ‘Seaweed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The lady wants an order of seaweed,’ he said to the waiter, who added it to the order pad and departed. Alex turned back to Lucky. ‘Venus knows how I feel about you,’ he said. ‘She’s your best friend, so I’m sure there’re no secrets between you. In fact, you probably even told her about that one crazy night.’

  ‘What one crazy night?’ Venus asked, jumping in.

  ‘He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,’ Lucky said, throwing him an angry shut-the-fuck-up look.

  ‘Anyway, here’s the thing,’ Alex continued. ‘Venus and I have been talking and, for your own peace of mind, we’ve decided that you’ve got to give Lennie another chance.’

  She couldn’t believe these words were coming out of Alex’s mouth. ‘Excuse me?’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ Venus said, joining in. ‘You and Lennie are fantastic together. Everyone knows it.’

  ‘The jerk made a mistake,’ Alex said. ‘Which is understandable, because the poor bastard was trapped in a fucking cave for three months with no chance of escape, and along came this girl who gave him an opportunity to get out.’

  ‘He was lonely and frightened,’ Venus continued, ‘so he went for it. He’s destroyed, Lucky. All he wants is a chance to get you back.’

  ‘If he wants me back so much, how come he’s living in a hotel with that – that woman?’

  ‘He’s there because of his kid,’ Alex said. ‘People make mistakes. How did he know she’d get knocked up? The kid is deaf or something, Lennie’s trying to help.’

  ‘He’s renting a house for them to live in,’ Venus added. ‘He spoke to Cooper the other night and told him. He certainly doesn’t want to live with them himself.’

  ‘Then why is he?’

  ‘They’re in a huge suite at the Chateau Marmont, separate bedrooms.’

  ‘It’s not that I’m jealous of her,’ Lucky explained, feeling like a fool, because maybe if she was honest with herself she’d admit that she was jealous. ‘I mean, look at her, she’s just some kind of peasant girl.’

  ‘Now, now,’ Venus admonished, ‘don’t get bitchy. It doesn’t suit you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Alex said. ‘You’re usually so supportive of women, i
t’s not like you to put them down.’

  ‘I guess I’m upset.’ Lucky sighed. ‘You know, her being Bonnatti’s niece and all.’

  ‘She’s not really Bonnatti’s niece,’ Venus said.

  ‘Think about it,’ Alex said. ‘Donatella was married to Santino, so Claudia’s only his niece by marriage. It’s not as if she has Bonnatti blood running through her veins.’

  ‘She got him out of that cave,’ Venus said. ‘If she hadn’t, you’d probably never have seen him again.’

  ‘And y’ know, Lucky,’ Alex said, ‘I’m the last person who wants to see you back with Lennie, but you gotta give the guy a break. If you don’t, you could spend the rest of your life regretting it. And that I do not want to see.’

  ‘I don’t know . . .’ she said unsurely.

  ‘Go back to him, Lucky, before it’s too late,’ Venus urged.

  ‘Yes,’ Alex said. ‘Take him back, and although it pains me to say so, it could be the right thing for you to do.’

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Perhaps the first day in court was the worst. Teddy didn’t know. All he knew was that every eye was on him. It was quite unnerving. He saw his dad sitting near the front, and his mom next to him. He noticed people, probably journalists, scribbling in notebooks, and a handsome man whom he recognized from the pictures in the newspapers as Mary Lou’s husband.

  ‘Try to sit very still,’ Mason whispered in his ear. ‘And don’t make eye contact with any of the jurors. It’s too early to try to win them over.’

  So he sat and listened as both sides presented their opening statements, listened to Mason Dimaggio talk about him as if he wasn’t even there. Occasionally he glanced over at Mila. She refused to acknowledge his presence, her expression blank as she stared straight ahead.

  Late in the afternoon, when he was allowed to leave, there was no escaping the media onslaught. The TV news cameras and reporters made a frantic dash in his direction, yelling his name, thrusting microphones under his nose. Fortunately the judge had refused to allow TV cameras in the courtroom, so it was only outside that he was set upon.