His father had slipped out a few minutes earlier. ‘It’ll be less of a party that way,’ Price had said.
Yeah, sure, Teddy had thought. Like the press is going to ignore Mr Major Star.
Ginee was hanging around outside, waiting for him to emerge. As soon as she saw him, she grabbed his arm and clung to it, urging him to pose for pictures with her.
‘No,’ Howard said brusquely. He and Mason had discussed it earlier, and they’d decided that in view of Ginee’s unsuitable appearance, they should keep Teddy well away from her. She was not the comforting mother figure they’d envisioned.
‘Dad said I mustn’t pose for pictures,’ Teddy mumbled, shaking his head.
‘Oh, c’mon,’ Ginee crowed, basking in the limelight. ‘I’m your mommy, for Chrissakes. C’mere an’ cuddle up for a photo op. It’ll make all the front pages.’
Teddy backed away. The press, sensing dissension, began to yell. ‘C’mon, Teddy, let’s have a picture with your mom. Teddy! Teddy! This way, this way. Smile! Wave! Do something.’
Howard hustled him through the rabid throng, leaving Ginee to pose all by herself.
She was happy. She was a woman finally getting what she wanted after all these years of being shoved in the background.
Eat your heart out, Price Washington. I’m a star, too.
And she beamed for the cameras.
* * *
While Ginee posed, Irena sidled quietly from the court, unnoticed. She’d slipped out of the house directly after Price, leaving Consuella in charge. She and Price had not discussed the case, it was such an awkward situation, and at this point in the proceedings it was probably just as well not to get into it.
When she’d entered the courtroom she’d made sure Price had not seen her sitting at the back. Even if he spotted her, there was no way she was going to miss being there, she was just as entitled as anyone else to watch what happened.
Mila had not noticed her either, so all day long she’d sat there, staring at her and Price’s daughter, thinking to herself that maybe she was mistaken, because there was nothing to remind anyone of Price in Mila’s looks. In fact, she was the image of Irena at the same age.
The truth was, it didn’t matter who Mila looked like, she was Price Washington’s daughter. That was a fact.
As Irena left the courtroom she was more confused than ever because apparently Mila had been saying such terrible things – accusing Teddy of plying her with drugs and raping her. If it came out that she was his half-sister, the scandal would be too much for anyone to bear. It would also cast Irena into the spotlight, which she feared because of her nefarious past.
Besides, she could never do it to Price.
She could never ruin his career.
Because if she revealed the truth – the scandal surely would.
* * *
Steven needed a drink. On the way home he had a strong desire to stop at a bar, but he knew that if he did one drink would not be enough.
Being in court all day had left him numb. Listening to the two sides present their opening statements had completely stunned him. He’d known what had happened to Mary Lou, but hearing it in so many words was beyond his comprehension. And the Russian girl sitting there, her pointed face blank and expressionless. No remorse there.
He’d wanted to stand up, go over and beat her senseless. She’d taken away the love of his life, and he hated her for it. He, who’d always been so liberal, wanted to see her die for what she’d done.
God, what was happening to him? He drove home filled with a mix of emotions.
It wasn’t until he got into the house and Carioca ran to greet him, throwing herself into his arms, that he started to feel even slightly normal.
‘Hey, cutie,’ he said, hugging her close.
‘How was it today, Daddy?’ Carioca asked, all big eyes and sticky hands, for she was in the middle of eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
‘Not much fun,’ Steven said, glancing over at his English au pair, Jennifer. She was a bright girl, and nice too. He was fortunate that she’d been there for him and Carioca all the way.
‘You know, Jen, I’ve got an idea,’ he said.
‘Yes, Mr Berkeley?’
‘How about you take Carioca to London for a few weeks? You know, just while the case is going on.’
‘Sounds like a brilliant idea to me,’ Jennifer said cheerfully. ‘Carioca will love London. We can stay with my parents in St John’s Wood. When would you like us to go?’
‘As soon as possible,’ he said, grateful that Jennifer was so together.
‘Super! I’ll organize it.’
‘Hey, cutie,’ he said to his daughter, ‘what d’you think?’
‘Do I get to ride on a plane?’ Carioca asked excitedly.
‘You certainly do.’
‘Then I wanna do it, Daddy. It’ll be cool!’
When Carioca went off to bed, Steven wandered into the den, put on the television, and fell asleep in his favourite leather chair. The next thing he knew, Lina was standing behind him with her hands over his eyes.
‘Surprise, surprise,’ she said. ‘It’s your trusty FedEx lady delivering a package from the Bahamas.’
‘Oh, baby,’ he said, pulling her around the chair and on to his lap. ‘You’re a sight for very tired old eyes.’
‘Was it tough today?’ she asked, settling on his knee and cuddling up.
‘It was.’
‘Wish I could’ve been there with you.’
‘I know.’
‘Listen to this,’ she said. ‘I’ve cancelled all my gigs for the next two weeks. This girl ain’t goin’ nowhere!’
‘You can’t do that because of me.’
‘Already done,’ she said firmly. ‘I want you to ’ave someone t’ come ’ome to.’
He couldn’t believe how sweet she was. To look at her, most people would imagine she ate guys up and spat ’em out. Maybe she did that to other men. To him she was an angel. A very sexy angel who’d come along to help him through this painful ordeal.
‘How did the shoot go?’ he asked.
‘Same old boring thongs.’
He summoned a smile. ‘You might find them boring.’
‘Can you imagine if your mate from New York, Jerry what-sisname, was there?’ she said, with a ribald laugh. ‘’E’d ’ave bin drooling from ’ere to Sin City.’
‘You got his number.’
‘You eaten anything?’ she asked, climbing off his knee.
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘I am,’ she said forcefully. ‘They served the most disgusting ’amburger on the plane. I refused to ’ave anythin’ t’ do with it.’
‘Not a Fatburger, huh?’
‘’Ow about we go out somewhere cosy an’ grab a bite?’ she suggested.
‘This is LA, Lina,’ he said, standing up and stretching. ‘There’s nowhere cosy. Besides, you’ll be spotted everywhere we go.’
‘Then let’s send out,’ she said. ‘I’m ’appy to stay right ’ere.’
‘I don’t want to turn you into a hermit.’
‘We can stay ’ome as much as you want until this is over. That ’ardly makes us ’ermits.’
‘You’re very sweet.’
‘Ooooh.’ She giggled. ‘Never been called sweet before.’
‘There’s always a first with you, isn’t there?’
‘Yup. An’ you’re my first soul brother. An’ you know what, Steven?’
‘What?’
‘I like it.’
‘So do I, sweetheart, so do I.’
Somehow Lina always managed to make him a little less sad.
Chapter Seventy-Four
By the time Lennie left the courtroom to go home, he had the headache from hell. Being in a small, stuffy room all day, not knowing what was going on, except for occasional reports from Brett, the other deputy DA who was working the case with Penelope McKay, did not make for a pleasant day.
He felt totally out of it and alo
ne, especially as he knew Lucky was in there somewhere. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, and the truth was that he needed her. She might be gone from his life for now, but he was determined that it was only on a temporary basis. There had to be some way of winning her back. Only how?
Flowers didn’t work with Lucky. She wasn’t into roses and heartfelt speeches, so how could he prove to her that he loved her above all else? How could he make it up to her?
He’d sat in the little room for hours, developing a major headache, trying to work things out.
Shortly before he left, he’d called the hotel and spoken to Claudia. ‘What’s going on?’
‘A lady phoned,’ she’d said. ‘I am to tell you she’s found the perfect house.’
‘Good. Call her back, say I’ll go see it tonight.’
He wondered how Claudia would manage without him once he had settled them in a house. He’d been thinking about buying her the house as opposed to renting: it was the least he could do under the circumstances.
Yes. He’d buy them a house, find her a job – if that’s what she wanted – and hopefully get the kid some help with his hearing difficulties. What more could she expect from him?
There was no way he could abandon them. He’d ruined her life, and she’d saved his. Why couldn’t Lucky understand that?
‘Do you think I’ll be called tomorrow?’ he asked Brett before leaving.
‘No,’ the young man said. ‘It’ll take a few days. There’s a huge amount of interest in this case, so both sides will take their time. You’re our star witness. We’re saving you.’
‘How are the lawyers on the other side?’
‘Naturally Teddy Washington has the creème de la crème, Mason Dimaggio. And the girl, Mila, she’s stuck with an ambulance-chaser.’
‘Is that good or bad?’
‘The good news is that they’re up against each other. The bad news is that it could work against us.’
‘How come?’
‘We might end up with one of the juries being split.’
‘What do you think?’
‘It’s a tough call. Mary Lou was a public figure with a clean reputation. You’re famous. In my experience, celebrities usually come out on top. Unless you’re Kim Basinger and the opposing lawyer gets the jury to turn against you. I think we’re in pretty good shape.’
Lennie was able to leave before the session was over. He’d parked several blocks away on purpose, so he ducked out of a back entrance and strode down the street, managing to avoid the crowds of media people milling around out front.
His mind was buzzing. If he could only put this case behind him, he could concentrate on getting Lucky back.
* * *
The press might have missed Lennie Golden’s exit through the back, but Duke Browning didn’t. He’d known exactly where Lennie would emerge. Duke had a knack for getting inside people’s heads and figuring out what they’d do. Lennie Golden would leave by the back entrance, and he would leave early. That was a fact.
Duke had spent a most enjoyable day, even finding time for a midday shower – not in his own home, but sometimes one had to make do with what was available.
He was in a different car from the one he’d stolen that morning. Now, instead of a 1990 Ford, he was in a ’92 green Chevy. He pressed a cassette into the tape deck to see what kind of musical taste his latest victim had. Joe Cocker. Duke was not pleased, his preference was classical.
He sat in the car allowing Lennie to get ahead of him as he walked along the street. Duke idled the engine, barely keeping up.
When Lennie finally reached his car, Duke pulled the Chevy into the kerb, stopped the car and emptied the centre ashtray out on to the road. If there was one thing he could not abide, it was the smell of stale smoke.
As soon as Lennie set off, Duke slid into the traffic behind him, humming softly to himself. The sound of his own voice pleased him far more than the annoying rasp of Joe Cocker.
This was an interesting assignment. Maybelline had come up trumps – she knew how he liked his juices tickled. And this morning he’d had more than his juices tickled.
He would never forget the look on the maid’s face when he’d turned on her. She was so trusting, so secure that he was a good person simply because he’d flashed some phoney ID that she’d hardly bothered looking at.
Why were these women so dumb? They deserved everything they got for not having plain common sense. They should all learn from his sister.
Nobody was more street smart than Maybelline. Which made it so irritating that she’d got herself caught. And not only caught, she hadn’t even finished the job. Step-grandma Renee was alive and well and living in their house.
He would have to take care of it himself at a later date. Now was not the time because it wouldn’t do to draw suspicion, considering he’d only recently been released from a Florida jail.
Yes, he mused. A little time, a good alibi, and then he could go in and finish Renee off.
A truck slid between his car and Lennie’s, annoying him. He honked his horn. The truck driver gave him the finger.
Ah! If only he had more time, the man behind the wheel would regret that little move. Duke did not appreciate rude gestures. Too bad that he had other things on his mind.
He was considering whether he should hit Lennie Golden now, or wait until he got out of his car. An interesting choice.
Or maybe he wouldn’t even do it today, because sometimes watching and waiting was the most fun of all.
Prolonged foreplay.
Prolonged foreplay to . . . murder.
Chapter Seventy-Five
Price couldn’t find his key so he rang the doorbell, expecting Irena to answer immediately. She didn’t, which annoyed him.
He had to do something about Irena. Keeping her on as his housekeeper was a big problem, considering that his son was in court accused of being an accessory to a murder, with Mila right next to him, pointing an accusing finger in the boy’s direction.
The fact that Irena was still living in his house wasn’t right. ‘You’ve got to fire her,’ Howard had told him repeatedly.
‘You don’t get it,’ Price had answered. ‘She organizes everything I do.’
‘So you’ll get somebody else to iron your shirts,’ Howard had said sarcastically. ‘It’s imperative you fire her, Price. If the press finds out . . .’
‘Yeah, yeah, I will,’ he’d promised.
But deep down he had no intention of doing so. Irena was part of his life, he couldn’t manage without her. Over the years she’d done so much for him, including helping him to conquer a fierce drug addiction, then keeping him more or less straight. The truth was that he owed her.
He rang the doorbell again, waiting impatiently for a response. Nobody came.
Goddamn Irena! The press could be here any minute, and he wanted to get safely inside before they arrived. He rang a third time. Still no answer. He searched his pockets, finally coming up with the elusive key. He let himself in quickly.
The first thing he noticed as he entered the house was a strange smell – kind of a musky, pungent odour.
‘Irena!’ he called out. ‘Where the hell are you?’
Throwing off his jacket, he started upstairs. Things were turning to shit. He had a son being tried for murder, an ex-wife who was the joke of the century, and his career was going to pot. Plus he had no time to work on new material, and his movie had been put on hold. Fuck! What else could go wrong?
What was it with kids today? Didn’t they have any conscience? He’d raised Teddy so carefully, giving him all the guidance he’d never had himself. And even if Teddy hadn’t pulled the trigger, he’d been there, watching, while that little Russian witch had blown Mary Lou Berkeley away. And Teddy, the dumb shit, hadn’t done a thing to stop her.
Price shook his head. Right now he needed some pleasure. He needed to get high.
One joint. Was that such a terrible thing? One joint and a woman.
Hey –
not a bad idea. One joint, one woman, and a good steak dinner. He’d take the fortunate lady to Dan Tana’s.
Yes. That’s exactly what he needed. One long night of mindless sex.
Naturally Krissie came to mind. He hadn’t spoken to her since he’d dumped her at Venus’s party, but she was the sort of woman who was always available to a star. And he wouldn’t mind burying his head in those huge silicone boobs and forgetting about everything.
He walked into his bedroom and was startled to see that his bed was unmade. Then he heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. It sounded like someone was in there taking a shower.
‘Irena!’ he called out again. ‘You there?’
No answer.
The smell he’d detected in the hall was even stronger now, a weird mix of scents.
God! he thought. Don’t tell me a fan has broken in and is taking a shower in my bathroom. Stranger things had happened.
Tentatively he entered his bathroom. The shower was indeed running, but the cubicle was empty, the etched-glass door swinging open, water starting to spill out on to the marble floor.
Every bottle of aftershave he possessed was open and lying around the black porcelain sink, the contents splashed all over the room. And sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor, tied to a stool, was Consuella – her mouth taped, hands and ankles bound to the chair. She was naked.
He stared at her.
She stared back at him, a hysterical whimper emerging from the back of her throat.
‘Jesus!’ he yelled. ‘What the fuck . . .’
Then he called 911.
* * *
Lucky was confused, she, who was usually so together. Lunch with Alex and Venus had thrown her. She wasn’t an idiot, she was well aware how Alex felt about her, and even though he was still with Pia, she knew he’d drop his girlfriend in a minute if she gave him any encouragement at all. So the fact that even Alex was trying to persuade her to take Lennie back made her think about it very carefully.
On her way home she called Gino from the car. ‘How’ya doin’, old man?’ she asked.
‘Who the fuck you callin’ old man?’ he grumbled, feisty as ever.
‘The kids are coming to stay with you again this weekend,’ she informed him. ‘I’m starting to think they’re spending more time with you than with me.’
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