“Should we let him know we’re in the neighborhood?”
Jack knocked on the trailer door.
Jean Paul opened it wearing only jeans.
“Why don’t you come by my house later? I’d love to see you,” he said, looking at the card in Jack’s hand.
“Absolutely.”
Jean Paul hurriedly shut the door.
“Well, that’s an unusual way to be invited to someone’s house.”
“Must be a Hollywood thing.”
“Should we stop for a bite? Do you want a treat, Tatania?” Grace reached in her purse for the dried tuna treats she kept for the cats.
She put one in her hand for Tatania. The kitty looked away.
“Can dried tuna go bad?”
“She’s probably up to her usual. She’s probably dining somewhere else.”
Tatania meowed.
“And Jean Paul’s having some kind of Hollywood thing in that trailer,” Jack whispered.
They took their time getting back to the plane. No one questioned their presence on the lot. From the time they flew in and landed on the lot like they owned it, they were treated like they did.
“I miss Zeus,” Grace said.
“I know. I do too.”
“I just wish we could telephone him.”
“Even Gloria Swanson and Clara Bow don’t get to call their cats. The question is, if we could call our cats, would they take our calls?”
“Little Zeus would take our calls.”
“Meow,” Tatania said, rubbing her whiskers on Grace’s Ferragamo pumps.
“And I think Tatania would too.”
“Jean Paul’s living a sweet life here. I don’t think he’d have to kill Marco for anything. He could get a gig with his own talent. Or stay with Marco. Or both. I think they were friendly competitors.”
“And with Lauren unlikely to even think about any boyfriend long enough to kill him, it’s looking like Lucia did it. Why would she have disappeared?”
“Good looking plane.” An actor patted their plane on the side.
“What are you in?” He asked.
“For now, only the plane,” Jack said.
“We’re private investigators,” Grace explained, pulling goggles and scarves out of the passenger seat.
“Oh, you have a movie star look.” He lumbered away on the platforms they’d put on his feet so he’d be the same height as the leading lady.
“He couldn’t get away quickly enough after I mentioned we were private investigators. Jack, if we leave now, will we get to Jean Paul’s house too soon?”
“No. He has a plane too.”
Jack held out his hand and Grace took it, for help climbing in the passenger seat. Tatania jumped in effortlessly on her own. On take off, Grace waved to Lauren. She waved back, smiling, relaxing with champagne on a terrace outside a house facade. Grace and Tatania watched the buildings grow smaller as the plane flew higher.
Jack flew over the HOLLYWOODLAND sign. Another plane flew next to them. When it was within a few feet of their left wing, the pilot waved. Grace recognized Jean Paul. He smiled insouciantly, dipped a wing, and moved in front, effortlessly righting the plane.
Grace watched the homes beneath her. Small moving objects that must have been cars were climbing the hillsides to homes befitting kings.
They landed like synchronized pilots that had flown together for years. Flying together seemed to bond Jack and Jean Paul like two veterans who had gone through the Great War together instead of two guys who had met on a movie lot and then flown to a mansion. Jean Paul’s love nest on the hill blended glass and wood to perfection. Grace thought of Hearst’s statement again, “houses should look as if they grow on the land.”
“Let me get you a drink,” Jean Paul said after they disembarked, opening his unlocked door for Tatania, who walked in first, and paused to admire the marble stairway. The house promised opulence. A uniformed maid appeared to take their coats.
Chapter Twelve
“Come to my library,” Jean Paul beckoned them.
“I call this my Prohibition bookcase.” Jean Paul pulled out a book, opened it, and revealed a bottle of gin inside.
“Adore the cherry wood.” Grace rubbed the shelves.
“Beautiful and functional design,” Jack said.
“I like books more than ever before.” Jean Paul smiled.
“I’m going to spoil you with my Martini Bar.”
He led them to a glass balcony built on the side of his Hollywood Hills home. The view was spectacular. Even from the glass bottom of the balcony, they could see the hillside. Grace felt her stomach flip a little while she stood on the glass. Tatania walked out on the balcony like she owned it. Tatania always acted to the manor born.
Grace knelt down and stroked Tatania’s chin. She felt suspended in the air. Tatania seemed to smile, partly at the human becoming accustomed to a glass balcony and partly because she liked the sweet spot where Grace stroked her chin.
“Excellent architecture,” Jack said.
“Jack’s brother is an architecture major at U.S.C.”
“I design for the architecture of the female body. My favorite form. I began designing when I was a little boy. I’d draw portraits of the women’s dresses while I sat at cafés in Paris.”
“What a perfect little boy you must have been.” Grace stood up and discovered she was liking the feeling of being on an all glass balcony.
“My mama thought so. And she convinced me of it,” he said.
“He can be insufferable. I’m his wife, Amelia.” A petite woman with a trace of a Provencal accent introduced herself.
“How do you like your martinis?”
“Served by my husband,” Grace said.
“Let him at the bar.”
Jack had been standing silently for a moment. Grace knew he was growing accustomed to the glass encased balcony too. And admiring the view.
“At your service.” Jack bowed.
“Bees Knees.” Grace watched Jack shake martinis in a silver tumbler.
“And may I serve you a martini too, Amelia?”
“Absolutely. I can see why you keep him around, Grace.” Amelia reached for a martini. She took a sip. “And he makes good martinis too.”
Grace thought that Amelia would be a delightful friend. Except it would be awkward to know about Jean Paul and Lauren if she was a friend of Amelia.
“We support the Better Homes in America movement. I adore this balcony.” Amelia blew smoke rings out over the balcony. Tatania watched, fascinated by the smoke rings, but didn’t make a move to chase them.
“Darling, President and Mrs. Coolidge are encouraging Americans to glory in the art of domesticity. Model homes are being built at schools across America with classes offered in the model homes on cooking and decor.” Amelia took another drag on her cigarette, encased in what looked like an ebony holder.
Something about Amelia reminded Grace of her friend Annie. It felt uncomfortable to know about Jean Paul’s affairs because his wife was likeable.
“You could be teaching them, Amelia,” Jack said.
“President Coolidge suggests a perfect marriage of prosperity and thrift.”
Grace watched Tatania stare at a field rabbit through the glass balcony floor. She was making that clicking-like noise in her throat that she made when she thought about hunting.
“There are no perfect marriages.” Amelia blew out smoke rings again.
“But there are perfect wives,” Jean Paul said.
Grace looked at Jack.
“I found one,” he whispered so that only she could hear.
Better Homes in America. Tatania thought the whole movement was silly. If you wanted a better home, get a cat. She decided it would be a good time to look for clues in the house. She swivelled her ears three times, became invisible, and went back inside.
“Marco loved the Better Homes in America movement. He came up with Lucia to look at a model home a few miles from here. You s
hould go see it.”
“Where did Tatania go?” Grace panicked. Had she slipped off the balcony while Grace wasn’t watching her?
Tatania sighed, swivelled her ears three times, became visible, and put her paws up on Grace’s leg. Grace picked her up and kissed her head. Tatania squirmed to get down. Then she let Grace watch her run inside the house before she became invisible again.
“In America, you are dancing so fast, you’re going to leave poverty behind.”
They heard whimpering coming from inside the house. “That’s our new puppy. We put him in a bedroom when we have guests because not everyone appreciates being jumped on as a substitute for hello.”
“Oh, we love dogs.”
“I know they say you’re either a cat person or a dog person. But we love all animals.” Grace rubbed Jack’s back.
“What about Tatania?”
“She doesn’t usually acknowledge dogs.”
Tatania was enjoying exploring Jean Paul’s house. She’d like to come back after she solved the case and quality test his silk cushions. She lept on top of Jean Paul’s desk. She pulled open the top drawer. Cigarettes, matches, pencils, pens, hotel stationery from around the world, a comb, and a slight scent of perfume that didn’t seem to fit kept her rifling through the drawer’s contents. Then, she found letters. Tatania read quickly. She grabbed the letters with her mouth.
Grace’s purse was too small for the letters. Her coat, hanging over the sofa, would have to suffice. Working with her dexterous paws, Tatania swiftly cut an opening between the coat lining and the coat, and slipped the letters inside.
“Have I played the piano yet for you, Grace?”
“Don’t encourage him,” Amelia said.
Jean Paul ignored Amelia and pulled out the piano bench, motioning for Grace to sit next to him. Jack stood behind Grace and rested his arms on her shoulders.
Grace was expecting something by Cole Porter. Instead, Jean Paul began playing, Home Sweet Home. “Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.”
“I’ve never been to one of your humble homes, Jean Paul.” Grace looked at the glass walls, sculptures, and art that adorned Jean Paul’s home.
Jumping up on top of the piano, Tatania felt impatient. She ran across the piano keys quickly.
“She’s never seemed musically inclined before.” Jack picked up Tatania, who decided to sit on one of Jack’s shoulders.
Grace sensed Tatania had clues to share.
“Sorry, sometimes she gets miffed if she’s not the center of attention.”
I can understand that. She’s a beautiful cat,” Jean Paul said.
“Some people think she’s vain. But I think she’s perfect. We’d love to look at the model home for Better Homes in America that Lucia and Marco came up to visit,” Grace said.
“It’s only a few miles from here.” Jean Paul pointed to a school sign. From the hilltop, you could see the whole town.
Tatania watched closely while Jack helped Grace put her coat on. She’d pick up any letter that fell out and make a run for the plane with it. She admired the hilltop house. The relentless urge of humans to build the highest house on the hill, and look down on everyone else, was kind of cat-like and charming.
Chapter Thirteen
“It’s awkward, Jack. Knowing Lauren and Amelia.”
He pulled a strand of her bobbed hair back from her face. “You take Jean Paul’s affairs more seriously than he does.”
“I know. It’s crazy. All wet. I feel guilty that I like Amelia and Lauren. He doesn’t. Do you think Amelia knows?”
“That you like both of them?”
“Ha Ha. Do you think Amelia knows about Lauren?” She hit Jack lightly on the shoulder.
“Absolutely. She likes being Jean Paul’s wife. So she ignores Lauren. Pretends she doesn’t know. You don’t want to talk to her about it. If you mention her husband’s affairs, you’re the woman who knows. And whether she stays with him, or leaves him, you’re a perennial remembrance of her humiliation.”
“I feel almost duplicitous just because I know what’s going on. Do you?”
“No.”
“It doesn’t bother you?”
“No.” He shrugged.
As they were getting in the plane parked next to Jean Paul’s house, Tatania pawed the lining of Grace’s coat so the letters fell out. She batted two letters towards Grace and Jack, and Jack picked one up, and read it:
Jean Paul,
“I’m always here for you if you need anything. You’re always in my thoughts.
With love,
Nelly.
“I hope he didn’t upchuck over being in Nelly’s thoughts. Nelly and Lucia knew Jean Paul. Like Marco, Jean Paul preferred Lucia. That must have annoyed Nelly.” He read another letter:
Jean Paul,
Merci Beaucoup. The Golden Scissors Award is an honor. But the greatest honor is knowing that you consider me a cut above the others.
Amities,
Lucia.
“What does ‘amities’ mean?”
“It’s not quite love. More like an affectionate friendship and high regard.”
“Why don’t we have a word like that in English?”
“Then what would be the beauty of French?’
Chapter Fourteen
Jack flew them by moonlight to the Better Homes in America model home on the junior high campus. He guided the plane to a stop. And they paused, taking off their goggles and scarves, and watched a curtain drawn back from an upper story window, revealing the face of an anxious woman.
They found Lucia at her work table. She was touching the fabric and staring at it. Almost vacuously, as if her mind was somewhere else, and she wasn’t truly seeing what was right in front of her.
“Beautiful texture and pattern,” Grace said quietly.
She jumped.
“We were trying not to startle you,” Grace said.
Tatania jumped up on her lap. Lucia smiled. Tatania reached out towards the fabric to see if it would be comfy for rolling on later.
“I can never stop working. I should be self-employed so I’m always earning money for myself instead of making someone else comfortable.”
“We’re self-employed. The best thing about self-employment is that you’re never out of a job.”
“Who reviews your performance?” Lucia asked.
“Grace. She enjoys it.”
“Did you hear that we were hired to investigate Marco’s death?”
Lucia’s hand moved over her chest. “Imagine if you loved only one thing in your life. And you were without the one thing you loved. That is what life is like for me without Marco.
Grace considered it. She’d always worried about losing Jack. But now, with Tatania and Zeus, even though she’d be devastated if anything happened to Jack, she’d still have her cats with her. Tatania and Zeus had taken up residence in her heart.
“Nelly would complain about picking up Marco’s lunch. She’d say, ‘I only spit it in once.’ and then, she’d laugh and say, ‘I’m just kidding. I would never do that. But it’s so funny when he gets diarrhea.’”
“How often did you talk to Nelly when you worked for Marco?” They’d decided not to immediately ask why she left abruptly because they didn’t want her to feel defensive from the start.
“On a good day, not at all. Nelly gets up every morning and thinks about how she can make life worse for someone.”
“I could see that,” Grace said.
“Given the choice, I wouldn’t want to spend a day with Nelly,” Jack agreed.
“I tolerated her because I hoped for Marco’s sake that I was wrong about Nelly. I feel forever grateful to Marco for getting me out of a dress shop factory. I loved California from the moment I saw it from a train.”
“So did I,” Grace said.
“Nelly always looked like she was sucking on a lemon. That’s what California was to her. She could be in Paradise and still be sour.”
“Wha
t was the Golden Scissors award about?”
“Jean Paul and Marco thought I should be appreciated. They both believed in recognizing people behind the scenes. They loved the way I could sew a dress to fit a woman’s body like a glove.”
“And Nelly got peeved?”
“She stole the award. Then she denied it. I knew it was her. I knew exactly where I had left it. And I knew she was the only one in the office the day it disappeared.”
“Did she solve problems for Marco though? Is that why he valued her?”
“I think she created problems with suppliers. Then, she solved the problems with the suppliers so that she would look like a heroine to him. It was a sick thing. Marco’s worst enemy was right in front of him. She was like a nurse poisoning the patient so she could give the antidote. Except the repeated poisoning took its toll on him. I think he didn’t know it until—” her voice broke, and she sobbed. Tatania purred, the universal language of healing, on Lucia’s lap.
“Why did you come here?”
“We were working with the Better Homes in America movement. Marco wanted to design fashions and sets for Hollywood movies. And then, he wanted to show that the glamour of Hollywood could be attainable for every woman in her home by designing for Better Homes in America. He liked the idea of Better Homes in America.”
“Building better homes? Sorry, I’m not that familiar—”
“—the idea that every American, even ones on a frugal budget could have beautiful things in their homes.”
“Ahhh, kind of like enjoying the view of Coronado beach and the bay, and the stars, whether you’re in a suite at the Hotel del Coronado, or in a Tent City cottage.”
“Yes. The most beautiful cottage at Tent City can be as aesthetically pleasing as the best suite at the Hotel del Coronado. And my uncle in Chicago told me never to stay in a room with a dead body in it. I saw Marco’s body and I ran. I ran from who I loved the most.” Lucia’s tears fell on Tatania but the kitty kept purring for her.
“He left everything to you,” Jack said quietly.
She sobbed. And Grace and Jack sat in the model living room while Tatania nudged Lucia’s arm with one paw so Lucia could pet her, and sink her hand into the soft, silky fluffiness of a perfect cat.
Magical Cool Cat Mysteries Boxed Set Volume 3 (Magical Cool Cats Mysteries) Page 14