I’d almost passed out by the time she returned, but I made myself snap back in time to realize we were moving again. I heard the sound of a cheap metal door squeaking. And then we were outside, in what I guessed was an alley behind the gym. The night seemed damp and sticky — or maybe that was just how I felt inside my plastic tomb. Suddenly I was rising. On my way to heaven so soon? No, just a lift on the hand truck hauling me about three feet off the ground. Julie gave a mighty push, and I landed first on a soft cushion, then slammed down hard on a stiff, bumpy surface. I craned my neck until I was able to see out an inch and realized I was in the backseat of my own Lexus. Julie must have pulled it around. I’d bought the car for the extra cargo space. Who knew the cargo would be me?
Julie got in the driver’s seat, and then threw something back to me. My Michael Kors bag.
“I sent the ‘OK’ message again. Wouldn’t want anyone to worry. I’ll keep sending it until you’re dead,” Julie said nastily.
“You don’t have to kill me, Julie.” My voice was so muffled that I wasn’t sure she could hear. “I’ll do anything you want.”
“I’m not going to kill you, you’re going to kill yourself,” Julie said, turning on the motor and starting to drive. “It’s all planned. Your suicide note is right here. It’s very touching. You confess that you killed Nora because she knew too much. You can’t bear the pain anymore of what your husband did. You ask that your friend Molly raise your children when he goes to jail.”
Inside my sweaty, stale casing, I swallowed hard. Nobody was raising my family except Dan and me. Who else could talk to Grant about string theory, to Ashley about stringy hair, and to Jimmy about string cheese? And then there was Ashley’s plan to redecorate her room. What if I wasn’t around and instead of the Persian I’d picked, she bought one of those pink shag carpets from Pottery Barn Teen? I’d be spinning in my grave.
My situation was definitely grave — in every sense. But there had to be a way out. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. What would Sammie do in her screenplay?
Pleading was out. Telling Julie I’d do anything hadn’t made any impression. Trying to connect on a human level? Hadn’t done any good that day with Johnny Devito, and I wasn’t sure Julie had a human side, anyway. I’d certainly never seen it. Maybe Molly would get nervous after all and call the police. But they’d know only to go to Sanford’s gym. Jerry DeVito wasn’t about to tell them where we’d gone. In fact, he probably didn’t even know. Julie had turned crooked after the rest of the family went straight.
“So how do you want to kill yourself?” asked Julie conversationally. “I have some drugs if you’d like to OD. But you don’t seem very cooperative. With Nora, I cuffed her hands and put a plastic bag over her head. But there can’t be any doubts with you that it’s suicide. I have a gun and I don’t mind using it. Definitely the quickest. But I’m partial to carbon monoxide in the garage. Kind of a woman’s way to kill herself, don’t you think?”
If she was expecting an answer from me, I didn’t have one, because I was busy trying to work my right arm out of the casing. I’d managed to find a little slack in the material, and my hand was inching upward. At about my shoulder, it got stuck again, and try as I might, I couldn’t budge anymore. I almost screamed in frustration.
But I’d been in tight situations before — like the night I wore that size 6 Dolce & Gabbana gown to a charity ball with Dan. I’d gotten into it, but it wasn’t clear how I’d get out of it. I’d managed, after ten minutes of patient squirming. Now I had to get out of this. I turned my shoulders slightly and got my elbow in front of my chest, then pushed my arm up with all the energy I could muster. My hand flew forward, suddenly released from the tight wrapping. I wasn’t helpless after all.
My little victory got my blood pumping again — quite literally. My arm had fallen asleep, and now that I could move it, pins and needles prickled from my shoulder to wrist. I clenched and un-clenched my fist, and as soon as I got some sensation back, I groped around the small area I could reach, feeling for something I could use to defend myself. Under the seat of the car, my fingers squished into a handful of discarded raisins and the Legos that Jimmy played with on long rides. Then I felt a football, an electronic toy, and a pile of action figures — all the comic book heroes Jimmy worshiped. Boy, I could use a real Superman now. I’d even settle for Halle Berry as Catwoman.
Should I hurl one of the toys through the window to attract attention? I wouldn’t get much leverage from my position on the floor, and even the heaviest would probably just bounce off the safety glass and land on my back. Aim for Julie? I remembered all the times I’d warned Jimmy and his friends that distracting the driver was dangerous. Maybe it was, but the likelihood of a tossed football getting Julie into an accident was minimal.
I listened carefully to the sounds outside the car. Local roads, not a thruway. Some cars passing. Not a completely deserted neighborhood yet. I didn’t know where Julie was taking me. But once we arrived at the destination, I’d be dead in minutes. Julie had her plan. She’d probably already scrawled my signature on the suicide note.
I pulled myself forward, painfully crawling along the car floor an inch at a time. My free hand finally felt the door, and I reached for the handle. Please God, don’t let Julie know about backseat child locks. I had one chance. We weren’t going fast, but I couldn’t imagine flinging myself from a moving car. Wait until we stopped, though, and it might be too late.
Even in my facedown position, I could tell we weren’t in total darkness. Still an area with streetlights, which probably meant people around. Now or never.
In the smoothest move I could manage, I clutched the door handle and yanked myself upward. I flung open the door and launched myself forward.
“Help!” I screamed as loudly as I could. “Fire!”
A screeching of brakes from somewhere. The crunching of two cars colliding. Me, pitching to the pavement.
“What the hell…” I heard someone say.
And then I blacked out.
Chapter Sixteen
I insisted on leaving the hospital for Dan’s court hearing, even though my neck was in a brace, my arm was in a cast, and I was having trouble breathing thanks to my broken ribs. But who cared? I’d had a concussion but not gone into a coma. The doctor shook his head and said I was a lucky woman. Which, frankly, was exactly how I felt.
The kids had also insisted on coming, and given the circumstances, Chauncey said it would be fine. We all sat down in the second row, and despite the hard bench, even Jimmy sat up perfectly straight, without squirming. He stared straight ahead at the judge’s table, which was flanked by the flags of the United States and California. The room felt official and even a little intimidating — but really, it could use some sprucing up. Waiting for the proceedings to start, I decided that instead of the grayish-white paint on the walls, I’d probably recommend wood paneling for a more dignified feel. The IN GOD WE TRUST lettered above the judge’s bench was a sickly yellow that could be replaced with shiny bronze. And whose idea had it been to cordon off the jury box with a barrier so tall it looked like the jurors were jailed? I envisioned a low, S-shaped wall as a gracious way to separate without dividing.
Molly and Tim arrived as they’d promised they would, gave a little wave, and settled several rows behind us. Mandy had come with her mom to show her support for Ashley. To show her support for the American legal system, she’d worn a white eyelet blouse that didn’t reveal any midriff. Grant’s friend Jake was sitting in the back row looking vaguely terrified. Probably good. If one visit to a courtroom could convince him he didn’t want another, maybe he’d halt all hacking. A few of Grant’s other friends arrived, and with safety in numbers, Jake seemed to relax. At least nobody was going to throw him in jail today.
The bailiff came to the door and sonorously announced, “All rise,” and once we’d scrambled to our feet, the judge came in, an attractive woman in her fifties with dark hair and glowing skin. In this tow
n, even a judge was ready for her close-up. Luckily for her, she looked good in black.
I knew the judge had been well briefed on the case. In chambers, Chauncey had played her my recording, which the police had rescued from the backseat of my car. Forget Prada, I’d never again carry anything but Kors. Every woman needs a zippered compartment in her clutch.
The judge didn’t waste a lot of time on setup, just efficiently called the district attorney to come forward and present his case. Mr. Allan Vikars unfolded his lean, lanky form from a padded chair at the prosecution table. A hard-cover binder about six inches thick — the case against Dan? — was sitting in front of him. He glanced briefly at Dan, and I saw he had intelligent eyes and a serious, no-nonsense expression. Watching him lead the opposition during a long trial would be unnerving.
DA Vikars turned to face the judge.
“Your Honor, new evidence has come to light in this case. Therefore, we wish to drop all charges against Dr. Daniel K. Fields in the murder of Theresa Bartowski, aka Tasha Barlow, of Twin Falls, Idaho, and Los Angeles, California.”
He stopped. The judge looked at him, waiting for him to go on. Apparently, district attorneys usually had a lot more to say. But he was done.
“Mr. Vikars, have you consulted with the Los Angeles Police Department, and do you speak on behalf of the district attorney’s office?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
She waited again, but he simply walked back to his chair and stood behind it.
“Very well,” said the judge. “All charges are hereby dropped. Dr. Fields, please rise.”
At the defense table, where he was sitting next to Chauncey, Dan stood up unsteadily, shaken to the core at having been a defendant for even five minutes. Though he’d just been cleared, his face was pale and I noticed a slight tic at his eye. Seeing him like this for weeks on end would have been too torturous to bear. My broken ribs were a lot less painful.
The judge shuffled though some papers. “Dr. Fields, on behalf of the People of the State of California, I order all charges against you dropped. You are absolved of any wrongdoing in this matter.”
Ashley yelped, “Yeah!” and Jimmy clapped his hands. The judge picked up her gavel to bang it, but then gave a little smile and put it back down.
“Dr. Fields, I also would like to offer this court’s apologies for the false arrest. I hope your wife has a speedy recovery and I wish you all the best as you resume your normal medical practice and good works.”
Now she did bang her gavel, saying, “Case dismissed,” and the whole courtroom broke into cheers.
We all stood up as the bailiff held the door for the judge to return to her chambers. Then Dan and Chauncey shook hands, and Dan came over to give me a tender kiss.
“Thank you,” he said.
I smiled. “That’s now the four thousand eight hundred and ninety-third time you’ve thanked me. Though I’m not counting.”
“Words aren’t enough,” said Dan, and he pulled a small box out of his pocket and handed it to me. “This is also inadequate. But it’s a small way of telling you how much I love you.”
The velvet box said Cartier on the outside, and when I opened it, a diamond and ruby bangle sparkled up at me.
I gasped. “Dan, this is gorgeous. But I don’t need it. All I need is you.”
“You have me,” said Dan. “And now you have the bracelet, too.”
Ashley peered over my shoulder and reached out to touch it. “Wow, Mom. If you really don’t want it, I’ll take it.”
“Not a chance,” I said with a laugh.
I held out my arm to Dan — the one without a cast — and he latched the bracelet around my wrist. For flinging myself from a moving car, I was remarkably free of cuts and contusions. The plastic shower curtain had shielded me well from the road.
“Family hug,” Dan said. He put his arm around Grant on one side and Ashley on the other, and then Jimmy and I joined the huddle, too. Despite my injuries, we managed one of our old-fashioned, good-as-it-gets family hugs.
“Thank you all for standing by me,” Dan said. “I love you all. Now we get to start again. Fresh and new.”
“One thing I’ve learned is to listen to my family,” I said with a smile. “You were right about the emails, Grant. I should have paid more attention to your clue that they were coming from Tasha.”
“Right, listen to me,” said Grant with a grin. “Maybe it can keep you out of trouble.”
Chauncey came over then to say that Dan was needed in the back, and as soon as they went off, Ashley and Grant slipped away to talk to their friends. Molly and Tim quickly appeared at my side, each giving me a double kiss on the cheek.
“I should have known you’d be the hero,” said Molly with a grin. “The well-dressed decorator solves the case.”
“If I do a story about you on the network, can I get exclusive rights to the tape?” Tim asked with an impish grin.
“I’ll have to see what other offers I get,” I said airily.
“Watch it or I’ll never lend you another tape recorder.”
“I hope I’ll never need one,” I said fervently.
“I haven’t heard,” said Molly. “Is Julie in jail?”
“Yup,” I said. “The judge keeps putting off the bail hearing. Which is fine with me.”
“And her brother?”
“Working as a grip somewhere, I guess. Dan’s not going to press blackmail charges. In fact, he wants to do reconstructive surgery on his face at no charge.” I rolled my eyes. But I knew Dan. He’d do it no matter what. And he’d make Johnny look good enough again to be on camera, never mind behind one.
“The only question I have left is about Roy Evans,” said Tim. “What was his connection, anyway?”
“Just what you already know,” I said. “He was making S-and-M tapes with Tasha, and when he found out she had been strangled to death, he panicked. But he’s too dumb to kill and frame as cleverly as Nora did. So if you don’t mind L.A.-style drugs and sex, nothing really criminal on his roster.”
Tim laughed. “Does that mean I have to rehire him?”
“Definitely not,” Molly said firmly.
“Julie had her little fling with Roy,” I explained, “but she didn’t know he was also involved with Tasha until I showed up. That first time I was in Julie’s office and mentioned Roy’s connection to his makeup girl, Julie looked shocked. Now I know why. She knew about Tasha from her brother Johnny.”
“So Julie finds out the same girl who was screwing over her brother was also screwing her lover. No wonder she was mad enough to murder,” said Tim.
Molly nodded. “What still gets me is that Nora, the Idaho rube, turned out to be the conniving manipulator.”
“Casting against type,” said Tim and I, at exactly the same time.
We all burst out laughing. But then Tim glanced worriedly at his watch and Molly announced that they’d better get back — Tim had a show to produce and she had at least twelve hours of work to catch up on. I felt incredibly grateful. They were two of the busiest people around, but they’d been there when I needed them. After another round of kisses, I watched them walking out of the courtroom with their arms around each other. A silver lining.
To celebrate the day, I figured we needed a family celebration, and I knew just the thing. A blowout lunch at Spago Beverly Hills. I’d call Wolfgang Puck right now and ask him to get a table ready with champagne and Ashley’s favorite smoked salmon pizza. I motioned to the kids, and when they came over, I described my plan.
“Um, Mom, if you don’t mind, I was going to head back to school with Jake,” said Grant. “He’s my lab partner in physics and we’re doing a really cool experiment this afternoon. We’re measuring the force of gravity with lasers.”
How could I complain? “Go ahead,” I said.
“Same with me, Mom,” said Ashley hesitantly. “I mean, nothing about lasers. But Mandy told her boyfriend that he could bring his best friend from camp to Starbucks after s
chool to meet me. Isn’t that cool? And I’m ready.” She cleared her throat. “I’m getting a grande soy cappuccino, half-and-half decaf and regular, whip but no sprinkles.”
“Good choice for impressing him,” I said.
“And I have Davey’s party!” said Jimmy. “Don’t you remember? Ice cream and cake and then that scary movie.”
“I thought you weren’t going because you were afraid you’d be —”
“Scared?” asked Jimmy. He puffed out his little chest and stood as tall as he could. “I don’t get scared anymore.”
Dan rejoined us and I took his hand. “How about going out for a romantic lunch?” I asked him hopefully. “Just the two of us at a back table at Spago.”
“Love to, but can we save it? Brandon Jackson called me. The hospital board is meeting this afternoon. They want to officially welcome me back.”
I felt tears spring to my eyes and went to wipe them away. Dan noticed and immediately looked worried.
“Oh, sweetie, if it means a lot to you, of course I’ll come,” said Dan.
“Me, too,” said Grant.
“Me, too,” echoed Ashley and Jimmy.
“No way.” I sniffled and Dan handed me a clean handkerchief. “It’s just that I suddenly realize how happy I am. You’re all too busy for me.”
“That makes you happy?” asked Ashley, baffled.
“You bet.” I blew my nose and then grinned. “I got what I wanted. Everything’s back to normal.”
Acknowledgments
I’m grateful to Jane Gelfman for her warm support of this book, and to Trish Lande Grader for her wonderful talents as an editor. I’m very lucky to have both of them on my side. To my new colleagues at Parade — I’m thrilled to be with you. I extend my admiration and appreciation to Walter Anderson, Lee Kravitz, Randy Siegel, and Ira Yoffe. I’m always thankful for Anthea Disney’s advice and encouragement. My friends at the television networks have given me an inside view of Los Angeles (including some very good restaurants), and I appreciate their help and good humor. Warm thanks to Susan Fine, Ronnie Siegel, Lynn Schnurnberger, Margot Stein, Leslie Mintz, Anna Ranieri, Marsha Edell, and many others for being great cheerleaders. I was guided on court proceedings and law by a state Supreme Court judge who generously opened his courtroom to me. He is too ethical to allow his name to be mentioned, but I am thankful for his help.
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