Crown Jewel

by Fern Michaels

  “I’m going to sit here and stew on this till Roxy gets here. I think I might need a woman’s perspective. I’m a piss-poor excuse for a detective, I can tell you that. I can almost guarantee I’m not going to like the outcome of this.”

  “Think in terms of a movie. Maybe that will make it easier for you to handle.”

  Ricky felt stunned at his son’s words. They had like minds. “Maybe. Listen, I appreciate your calling. Gracie’s coming across the lawn. I guess she saw my car and knew I got home. Hold on, Max, and I’ll put her on the phone.” Ricky laid the phone on the counter and walked outside.

  Gracie handed him a thick brown envelope. “I really like the pictures.”

  “Max is on the phone. You can take it in the kitchen. I’ll sit out here and read through everything. Be nice, Gracie. This is a humbling experience for Max.”

  “How nice is nice?” Gracie asked carefully.

  Ricky laughed. “My mother always said you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.”

  “My mother used to say the same thing. I want your honest opinion when you’re finished,” Gracie said, pointing to the envelope she’d handed Ricky. He nodded.

  Stretching out on the chaise, Ricky read the article not once, not twice, but three times. In all of his years in Hollywood, no one had ever written such a glowing, honest article on him or his career. Gracie Lick had a way with words. She’d used every single one of his own quotes in regard to his colorful past. She didn’t mince words anywhere. When he thought he could recite the article verbatim, and only then, did he reach for the pictures. Candid shots, yet professional, of Tyler and Max with the dogs and the pups. In one of them, Max had as much soap on him as the dogs. Their smiles were wide and genuine. The last picture brought a decided lump to his throat. It was the three of them looking into the sun, his sons’ arms around his shoulders. The caption underneath read, “Father, and sons Max and Tyler.” The boys were going to love the article and the pictures. He could hardly wait to fax them off.

  He looked at the printed words again, homing in on a quote from both his sons. Gracie had asked them their opinion of their famous father and both of them said the same thing, at the same moment, “He’s a hell of a guy.”

  Ricky savored the words. If he had one wish at that moment, it would have been that his sons said, “He’s one hell of a father.” He wondered if and when he would ever earn that title.

  He really liked his sons. He remembered how he’d held his breath at the end of the three-month trial period, wondering if they’d stay on or head back home to their mothers. He’d paced the floor that entire day like a father-in-waiting. When midnight approached, he couldn’t stand it a minute longer. He’d called then and asked. Max asked if the three months were really up already. “Count me in,” he’d said. When he called Tyler he had asked, “Are you sure I’ve been here three months already? I can go for the long haul if you’ll have me.” He’d walked on air for at least a week after that.

  “See ya, Mr. Lam. When are you going to read the article?” Gracie called over her shoulder.

  “I read it, Gracie. You did good. I think you aced out Dickie Tee. You should send him a copy of this.”

  Gracie laughed. “I already did. The minute I finished it. I haven’t heard back. His book will be a bomb. His publisher might even cancel his contract. If they do, the studio will cancel the movie. It pays to be front and center from the git-go. You really like it, huh? You aren’t just saying that, are you?” Gracie said, fishing for a compliment.

  “No, I wouldn’t do that to you, Gracie. It was fair and unbiased. Like I said, you did real good. What I liked best was the line where my sons said I was quite a guy.”

  “Yeah, I liked that line myself. One of these days they’re both going to call you Dad. You wait and see. I’m hardly ever wrong.”

  “Okay, Gracie. I’ll go with your instincts.” Ricky could feel himself beaming.

  Gracie shuffled her feet. She looked nervous. “Max invited me to Antigua for Carnival.”

  “No kidding,” Ricky said, trying to act surprised.

  “Yeah. I’m going to think about it. I’ve never had a real vacation. The kind where you buy new clothes, get on an airplane, and stay in a hotel. I have to talk to my brother and sister to see if they can manage without me. Ah, did you…what I mean is…?”

  “Did I tell him to ask you? Come on, Gracie, my son has a mind of his own and doesn’t need any coaching from me. Max has a crush on you, and I suspect you have a crush on him. If the two of you would stop squaring off against each other, you might find that you really are compatible. Then again, maybe you’ll just become friends. Good friends.”

  “Oh. All right. Well, like I said, I’m going to think about it. I’ll buy my own airline ticket, though. I will accept the hotel room because I know how hard it is to get one when Carnival is on.”

  “That sounds like a plan, Gracie.”

  “Did you just make coffee again? Do you ever drink it? That’s wasteful, you know. How about if I pour us each a cup?”

  “Okay.”

  A few minutes later, she set two cups of coffee down on the side table and took a seat in a deck chair.

  “Tell me what’s wrong. I’m very astute, you know. I know when things are bothering people. You tend to rub at your eyebrow when something is bothering you. My brother chews on his lower lip if something is troubling him. Your son Max tugs at his ear-lobe. I bet I can help you, and if I can’t, I bet I know someone who can.”

  Ricky smiled. She reminded him of a bright, precocious squirrel. “Wait here a minute.” He trotted into his TV room to retrieve the folder with the Mangarella file. He handed it to Gracie.

  “Are you sure you want me to read this?”

  Ricky nodded.

  When Gracie finished reading, she replaced the papers and closed the file. “This is the information you were seeking on your brother, isn’t it? Someone named Lorraine Woodworth is…was your brother’s biological mother. She gave birth with a midwife in attendance. She was fourteen years old. She must have had some kind of job because her Social Security number is right here. Back in those days, you couldn’t get a number unless you had a job. That alone is going to make it easier to trace her even if she married and has a new name. She refused to divulge the name of the father. It isn’t all that unusual. That can mean one of two things. One, she doesn’t know who the father is because she was involved with more than one boy. Two, the person is someone she’s either afraid of or someone who didn’t want his reputation tarnished. Which way are you leaning, Mr. Lam?”

  “I don’t know. I’d like to find her. She’s sixty-two now. If she’s still alive. I’m sure she’s married and has a different name. I’m toying with the idea of hiring a private detective.”

  “Don’t do that. That’s just one more person who will know your business. You never know if you can trust them. Me, you can trust. I have the whole afternoon and evening free. Let me give it a shot. It’s a good thing that guy’s mother made copies of the files if the originals disappeared. Stuff like that only disappears when it’s high-powered stuff. Get my drift?”

  Ricky nodded as he pulled the envelope out of his hip pocket. “This was in my mother’s safe-deposit box. I found it this morning. I don’t know the guy but his name sounds kind of familiar. It must mean something for my mother to hide it in a safe-deposit box.”

  “Maybe he’s your brother’s father. Think about it. It makes sense. If we can find Lorraine Woodworth, we can ask her. This is the age of DNA. It’s wonderful. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can find out about him. If this turns out to be anything near interesting, can I have an exclusive?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, Mr. Lam. Drink that coffee now and don’t waste it.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Ricky laughed.

  Ricky woke with a start. He felt stiff and sore, disoriented, when he looked down at his watch. He yawned. He’d slept, curled up on the deck chair, for ove
r six hours.

  It was dusk, the end of a very long day. In the old days, he’d always liked the approach of nightfall because he could party up a storm. These days, he looked forward to sunrise and the beginning of a new day. He liked new beginnings. Actually, at this point in his life, he treasured them.

  Sensing a presence behind him, Ricky half turned, then leaped off the chaise. “Roxy! I was going to pick you up. Why didn’t you call me?” Jesus, he sounded like a fifteen-year-old. He almost reached out to her, to draw her close. He wanted to kiss her so bad he had to clamp his teeth together. He didn’t want to scare her off.

  Roxy smiled as she covered the distance between them and stepped into his waiting arms. “It was just easier to hire a car service. You know what the airport is like at this time of day. I missed you, Ricky. I…”

  “No more than I missed you. Want some coffee? I’ve been making it all day and throwing it away.”

  “Coffee wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” She leaned closer and whispered in his ear.

  “No! You can really do that?”

  “I came prepared,” Roxy said with a little laugh. “Remember now, you said smoke, and I said fire.”

  “You offering up any kind of guarantee, Roxy?” He watched, fascinated, as she removed her powder blue jacket. She tossed it over her shoulder, her eyes never leaving his. One by one she kicked off her shoes. They flew across the deck.

  “You’re a little slow this evening, Ricky? Why is that?” Her skirt dropped to the floor. She stepped out of it. “You really need to move a little faster, honey,” she purred.

  Ricky’s Docksiders slid across the deck at the same time he dropped his denim shorts. “Are we going for it right here, or do you prefer a nice soft bed?” he gasped as he pulled his tank top off. He whipped it across the deck. “How’s this for speed?” he almost yelled as he yanked at his jockeys.

  “Ahhh, I like that.” Roxy continued to purr as she stepped out of her thong and twirled it by the edge. It was so wispy, it floated to the floor of the deck. Her bra, a skimpy affair whose straps were nothing more than lace and ribbons, dropped from her fingers to land on his upright penis. “Now, tell me again why you don’t believe I can deliver on my promises.” Her voice was so seductive, Ricky grew light-headed.

  Ricky groaned as he reached for her. Together they fell to the deck. “I believe you, I believe you! You know our asses are going to be full of splinters, don’t you? It might be exciting to pick them out of each other later.” He couldn’t believe he’d said what he’d just said. Talk about romantic fools. He could head the list.

  “Your ass, not mine.” Roxy laughed as she assumed the top position and proceeded to keep her promise.

  The moon rode high in the sky when Ricky opened his eyes for the second time that night and asked if he was dead.

  “You better not be dead, Ricky Lam. I have big plans for you tonight. This was just the appetizer. We haven’t gotten to the main course. It’s the dessert that’s worth waiting for. Now, if you’re telling me you need a little nap…well, that’s something different.”

  “Nap? You must be kidding. No, I don’t need a nap. Do you need a nap? I slept all afternoon. Do you want me to make you some coffee?” When had he started babbling like this? Jesus, he couldn’t talk or think straight when he was around Roxy. He wondered if she noticed.

  “Is that desperation I’m hearing in your voice, Ricky Lam? No, I don’t want you to make me any coffee. What I want you to do is…”

  “Okay. I can do that. Uh-huh, you bet. Absolutely. But not for a couple of hours.” He guffawed. “C’mon, let’s go upstairs to bed.”

  “God, that’s the best offer I’ve had all day.” Roxy giggled in relief as she trailed Ricky into the house and up the stairs to the second floor.

  They sat together at Ricky’s kitchen table, silly, satisfied expressions on their faces. It was six-thirty in the morning.

  “Now, you can make some coffee!” Roxy said.

  Ricky hopped off the chair to reach for the coffee canister. A wicked grin played around the corners of his mouth. He half turned, and said, “So what happened to the fire and smoke?”

  Roxy reared back indignantly. “Are you complaining?”

  “Hell no. I was just curious.”

  “Your smoke and fire are sitting in the Charleston airport. They wouldn’t let me bring the firecrackers on the plane. Fireworks are legal in South Carolina. You can buy them anywhere. I had this grand…”

  “Save it and surprise me when we get back. Hey, you wanna get married?”

  Roxy sat up straighter in the chair. She clutched at Ricky’s maroon robe, her eyes wary. “Are you serious?”

  Was he? Hell, yes, he was. He liked her. No, he loved her. He really did. He said so. “It’s not like we have to ask anyone’s permission. I will tell my sons, and I guess you would want to tell your daughter. That’s if you say yes. I guess you want to think about it, huh?”

  “You really want to marry this old widow, your brother’s wife?”

  “Yeah, I do, Roxy. Hey, we’ve been working side by side for six months. I think I know you inside and out. You should know me the same way. Listen, though, there’s something I have to tell you. I didn’t want you to hear it over the phone.”

  Roxy propped her elbows on the table. “Are you going to tell me something that is going to upset me or make me mad?”

  Ricky grimaced. “Probably a little of both. Here, drink this coffee.”

  “I don’t want the damn coffee, Ricky. Tell me whatever it is you didn’t want to tell me on the phone.”

  “You aren’t a widow. Philly was married to a woman named Lee Ann Oliver. He has…had…whatever…three daughters. I guess he was a bigamist. I suppose that’s one of the reasons you couldn’t claim half his estate. I don’t know about all that legal stuff. Dammit, Roxy, I’m not making this up. Say something, for God’s sake.”

  “I don’t know what to say. What do you want me to say? How…why?”

  “I don’t know, Roxy. He provided for his family but not in any grand way. I’ll take care of that. Did you have a clue, an inkling, anything?”

  “No. This blows my mind. You must have been stunned. What…what is she like?”

  “She’s pleasant. Her daughters didn’t have much to say. They live in a nice, quiet neighborhood. They’re ordinary people. The house is nothing fancy or spectacular. Philly redid the kitchen himself to make it look like my mother’s old kitchen. It’s bizarre. You’re taking this rather well. I thought you would be upset.”

  Roxy still clutched the collar of her robe. “I think I’m in shock. Perhaps if you had told me this six months ago, I might have imploded. You’re right, it’s bizarre.”

  “They didn’t know anything that would shed light on Philly. I left it at that. They didn’t seem interested in me at all. They made lives for themselves and I don’t fit into those lives and I’m thinking that’s just as well.”

  “How are you coping with all these strange surprises about Philly?”

  “Shit, I don’t know. I’ve been trying to think like Philly. That was my first mistake, since we were like night and day. I’m having trouble trying to comprehend his double life. I thought you might be able to bring a female perspective to it. You lived with him for all those years.”

  Roxy shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, Ricky. I just don’t know what to say right now.”

  “This is what I think we should do,” Ricky said, wanting to restore her good spirits. “Let’s shower, get dressed, and go out to breakfast. I’ll give you a half hour head start. I can be ready in ten minutes.”

  It was fifteen minutes past eight when Roxy entered the kitchen wearing a lime green sleeveless dress with matching espadrilles. It looked great with her tan. She hadn’t bothered to blow-dry her strawberry blonde hair. Instead she combed it straight back. It was just long enough to lick the back of her neck. “You look great as usual. I’m so used to seeing you in dungarees and a hard h
at that I’m always surprised at how good you look when you get dressed up.”

  Roxy eyed him from head to toe. He looked better than good, with his khaki walking shorts and cream-colored Polo shirt. His sandy blond hair was still damp from the shower. He can still cut it in the looks department, she thought. She wondered if her own eyes looked as worried as his.

  Ricky was holding the door of the Porsche open when Gracie raced across the lawn. “Hold on, Mr. Lam. I have something for you.”

  “So quick? Roxy, this is Gracie. I told you all about her.”

  “It’s so nice to meet you finally.”

  “Likewise.” Gracie walked a little bit away from the car, where she could speak privately to Ricky. “Listen, Mr. Lam, it wasn’t all that quick. I worked through the night. I haven’t been to bed yet. My brother was working with me on his computer, so between us we logged a lot of hours. We came up with three Lorraine Woodworths. One of them lives right in L.A., and her married name is Farquar. One of the other women lives in San Diego, and the third one lives in Glen Burnie, Maryland. All three did live here in L.A. at one time. The Social Security number you gave me matches Lorraine Farquar’s. Here, I printed everything out for you,” she said handing him a file. “Do you want to run with it?”

  “Damn, you’re good. Thanks, Gracie. I owe you, big-time.”

  “No, you don’t owe me anything. I was glad to do it. Your lady is real pretty. She looks nice, too.”

  “I’ll tell her you said so. See ya later. Hey, did the pups start to nurse?”

  Gracie laughed. “Yep, and they’re piglets. Their bellies are so fat and pink. Everyone is comfortable and happy. Including me.”

  “Go to bed. That’s an order,” Ricky said over his shoulder as he climbed into the Porsche.

  “So she’s the one who has Max in a tizzy. Pretty girl. I hope it works out for the two of them. So what did she give you?”

  “I believe she just found Philly’s biological mother. Get the map out of the glove compartment. I think we’ll pay her a little visit. After breakfast.”