by J. P. Bowie
You’re his partner, right? I’m scared for my life and you’re telling me to make another call? What kind of asshole are you?”
“The kind that’s hanging up.” And he did.
Olivia looked at the phone in disbelief—then she hit redial.
“Stevens and Fall….”
“Never mind that,” Olivia snarled, interrupting Monica’s greeting. “Get that jerk back on the line, now.”
A moment of music then; “Nick Fallon.”
“Listen to me…” Olivia growled. “Nobody hangs up on me, you hear?
Nobody! I’ve hired you guys to…”
“Miss Winters,” Nick interrupted, “if you don’t put a decidedly more civil tone in your voice, I will hang up again. I may be Jeff ’s partner, and as such concerned with each and every client on our books—but my interest goes out the window when I’m railed at by someone who puts a great deal of store in their own self-importance. Let me assure you I am not impressed by your so-called celebrity, Miss Winters. If you’d like to give me the details of these threats, I’ll pass the information onto Jeff when he gets here.”
“I don’t believe this…” Olivia hissed, beside herself with rage.
“Believe it,” Nick said, his voice flat and impersonal. “Now, do you want to tell me about this call you had?”
Olivia took a deep breath to steady herself, then she chuckled softly. “My my, you’re quite the man in charge, aren’t you?”
She heard Nick sigh. “Miss Winters…”
“Okay, okay…The phone rang—I let the machine pick it up, then this guy with the creepiest damn voice I ever heard—apart from my ex-husband, said that I had been weighed in the balance and found wanting and if I didn’t quit associating with abominations I’d be punished. Somethin’ like that anyway…”
“It’s still on the tape?”
“Yeah.”
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“Okay, play it back for me.”
Olivia pressed the replay button and put the phone next to the speaker. She shuddered as she listened to the man’s cold voice repeating his threat. When it had finished she picked up the phone. “So what do you think?”
“Well, as corny and clichéd as he sounds, maybe he believes what he’s saying, so we should take it seriously…”
“You’re damned right we should,” Olivia interrupted. “He sounds like one of those religious nuts that’s been sending me those letters.”
“Right. Anyway…” Nick continued, “I’ve taped it and I’ll let Jeff hear it.
He’ll be here any minute. Keep that recording. The police will want to hear it, too.” He paused for a moment. “Do you have someone there with you?”
“No. It’s the maid’s day off and…after what happened to Luke…You think I might be in danger?” Her voice grew panicky.
“Don’t be alarmed, Miss Winters. I’ll call Joe French at LAPD and have him send a surveillance car round. I’ll have Jeff call you soon as he gets here.”
“Well, thank you Nick,” Olivia responded. “Sorry I came on like the bitch from hell, earlier.”
“No problem…Just take it easy.”
It was after Olivia put the phone down that she realized Nick had not argued with her on her ‘bitch from hell’ description of herself. “That son-of-a….” She shook her head ruefully, then walked into the living room and headed for the bar. She needed a friend at this moment and Johnny Walker would do just fine!
Jeff ’s face registered disbelief as he listened to the message Nick had taped earlier. “Jeez,” he muttered. “This is not good. The lunatic fringe is really out to get her. Did you get a hold of Joe?”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, I told him about the tape and how jumpy Olivia was, so he’s going over to talk to her and listen to the tape. He was just a tad pissed she hadn’t called him first.”
“I’ll bet,” Jeff said, hitting the rewind button on the tape machine. “Good thing he’s a friend.”
“Right—but you’re going to owe him after this one.”
Jeff pressed the play button again and listened intently to the man’s voice.
Then he said, “Do you get the feeling that the guy on this tape sounds a lot like the letters she was getting? I mean, the ones we thought were written by a woman? The tape has the same kind of pattern—‘weighed in the balance’, ‘path J.P. Bowie
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of the unrighteous’—that kind of thing. Whoever wrote the letters could have written this dialogue.”
“You could be right,” Nick agreed. “Are you thinking Patricia Hastings?”
“Yes, I am.” Jeff stood up and paced about the office. “God, I am having a hard time believing that she’d go this far…and yet, my gut tells me she’s in this thing up to her neck. I faxed Joe a copy of that letter she sent to Anthony. He agreed with me that there is a similarity to the letters Olivia’s been getting. Not enough to go on though, he says. Not enough to bring her in for questioning…”
Nick shook his head. “Those kids are going to be devastated if it turns out you’re right—especially Anthony. He still thinks his mother will come around one day.”
“It’s hard to believe isn’t it?” Jeff sat on the edge of his desk and looked at his partner, his face bleak. “I thought I had it rough with my father—but this…it’s just plain sick.” He paused as his cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID
screen. “Hi Peter, what’s up?”
“Just checking in with you,” Peter said. “How’s it going? You sound tense.”
“Nick and I were just going over some stuff here, but it’s time to call it a day, I think. What you doin’? Want to meet me for a drink at Cedars?”
“Love to. I’m just closing the gallery. I’ll see you there in about fifteen minutes.”
“Okay, babe.” He closed his cell phone and looked at his partner. “I’m outta here, Nick. I’ll call Olivia later—and Joe. I’m interested to see what he might make of this tape.” He stood and stretched. “How’s Eric? What did he cook up for you last night?”
“‘Scuse me?”
“You said he was making something special last night, remember?”
“Uh, oh right…It was good…” Nick swung himself round and started staring into his computer screen.
“Well, what was it?”
“What was it? Uh, let me think…”
Jeff watched with fascination as the back of Nick’s ears turned bright red.
He started to laugh. “Oh, I get it…”
“No you don’t,” Nick huffed, swinging his chair round again to face Jeff.
“You just caught me by surprise is all. It was…it was…” He started to laugh too. “It was great.”
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The Cedars Tavern on Coast Highway had become a favorite meeting place for Jeff and Peter over the years they had been together. It was quiet—no loud music and a mostly mixed crowd—a place where they could catch up and unwind after the rigors of the day. Jeff smiled as he watched Peter make his way through the crowd toward him. It was a source of wonder to Jeff that the sight of his lover never failed to make his heart lift—even when they had been apart for only a few hours. If anyone had told him he would find this kind of happiness with another man after his first few disastrous attempts at relationships, he would have laughed in that person’s face. But, here he was now in a committed and loving relationship; one, which he felt grew stronger with each passing day. They had their disagreements once in a while—usually because of the amount of time Jeff spent at work—but that had been less of a problem since Peter had opened the gallery and he’d found that the time needed to run one’s own business was challenging, to say the least.
Peter waved and smiled at Jeff as he espied him in the corner table near the fireplace. “This is nice,” he said, sliding into the booth and squeezing Jeff ’s thigh. “Almost like a date.”
“You’re right,” Jeff agreed. “We don’t get to do this
enough anymore…too many people and distractions.” He nudged Peter’s Scotch and water toward him. “Cheers. Here’s to you and me having a lot more time together—alone.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Peter winked at him over the rim of his glass. “So, how’s Miss Olivia?”
“Freaked—but I can’t say I blame her. Some loony left a message on her answering machine threatening her with God’s punishment.”
“She’s having a rough time, isn’t she?” Peter said quietly. “All those threatening letters, Luke’s murder and now this…”
“You getting any more vibes?” Jeff asked.
“No, not since that day of the taping…” He was quiet for a moment. “Poor Luke. He had so much going for him. I wish I could have prevented his death…”
“Well, that’s something only the murderer could have prevented.”
“Have you mentioned to Joe the possibility that Patricia Hastings wrote some of those letters to Olivia?”
“Yeah. I faxed him a copy.” Jeff frowned into his glass as he continued. “He feels it’s a bit early to be looking at her as a suspect, but he agreed the letters J.P. Bowie
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were similar in tone. I keep thinking about Anthony’s reaction if it turns out she really is involved—she could go to jail, and I just don’t know how he would handle that.”
“It’d be rough for sure,” Peter agreed. “For all of them—but Jeff, if she is involved she’s got to be stopped somehow.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to believe she’d stoop this low. She has to know she’s breaking the law by threatening someone’s life.”
“I have a feeling Patricia Hastings thinks she’s above the law, somehow. I’ve never felt she’s dealing with a full deck. All that pent-up hatred she has for her daughters, all that denial of her husband’s perversions, all these years of it…it’s bound to have sent her over the edge. Look how she reacted when Charles Hastings was murdered—she wanted to see Emily arrested. What kind of woman would want to inflict that on her own daughter?”
Peter nodded. “She is a sick woman. Those poor kids—it seems there’s just no end to the horror for them.” His fingers brushed the back of Jeff ’s hand.
“We are so lucky, you know…you and I. Even though we don’t always see eye to eye, and despite everything that we’ve gone through, we’ve had so much happiness in our lives to compensate for the rough times. I know Emily has Jerry and the kids, and Anthony has Justin—and for that I am truly thankful.
But, there always seems to be this shadow hanging over their lives…”
“In the form of their mother,” Jeff said with a grimace. “Their mother—the one who should be giving them love and support. Instead, it’s as if she has gone out of her way to try and destroy their lives. You know, you’re right. We are darned lucky in so many ways. Everyday I find myself thanking the gods that I found you—that we found each other…”
Peter smiled. “I second that emotion. I wish I had the words to tell you just how much I love you, and how happy you’ve made me.”
They were silent for a moment as they looked into each other’s eyes, then Jeff took Peter’s hand in his and said with a wry chuckle; “We’d better get out of here before we make a public spectacle of ourselves.”
“Yeah…” Peter rose from the table. “I know of a much better place for where I want this conversation to go.”
Reaction to Emily and Anthony’s appearance on the Olivia Winter’s Show was nothing short of sensational. Despite all her problems, Olivia was on a high as she read the reviews and letters from critics and viewers.
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“I knew that show would blow ’em away,” she crowed as she and Brenda pored over the papers spread before them. “The ratings have never been better.
What is it about controversial shit that brings ’em out of the woodwork? I wish I had a dozen more like them with horror stories to tell. Jesus…we should do a follow-up with more kids from dysfunctional families…kids raised by drug-gies and the like. What d’ya think?”
“A follow-up might be a good idea,” Brenda said, putting one of the reviews aside. “But I think the shock value was so great because Emily and Anthony both came from a supposedly decent and respectable family. People kind of expect drunks and drug-addicts to abuse their kids. What made that story so astounding was the wall of respectability that surrounded the family. The father, a successful and well-known businessman and the mother involved in social and charitable affairs. And it didn’t hurt a bit that both those kids looked great on camera.”
“Yeah, that’s true…” Olivia paused, fixing Brenda with a calculating look.
“Wait…the mother…”
“What are thinking?”
“What if we got her story?” She stood and walked around the dressing room while Brenda gaped at her.
“Are you kidding?’ she gasped. “You think for one moment she’d even entertain such an idea, after the way she was portrayed on your last show? The woman has got to hate your guts.”
“But I’ll give her a shot at vindicating herself,” Olivia replied with a self-satisfied smirk. “I’ll offer her the chance to answer the criticism and make up with her son and daughter. Think of it, Brenda. The reconciliation, the forgiveness, the tears…it’ll be even better than the last one…”
“No Olivia,” Brenda interrupted. “It has the smell of disaster all over it…”
She stopped and sighed. “What am I saying? The woman will never agree to appear on the show anyway. She doesn’t strike me as being the sort who wants millions of viewers to witness any part of her personal life.”
“You just might be wrong there, Brenda. Let’s send out feelers anyway. Find out where the old bat lives and send the usual letter of invitation to appear on the show. Make it sympathetic—make her think we feel her pain. She just might fall for it. Better still—why don’t you call her personally? She just might go for the personal approach.”
“Okay,” Brenda said. “I’ll get right on it—but don’t be surprised if she turns you down flat.”
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Justin paused as he walked into the kitchen, glad to be home after a tough day at work. Usually, he loved his position at Walker Entertainment, dealing with the many celebrities the agency represented, but today he’d had to deal with a new star’s over-inflated ego, and it had left him drained and disappointed. Still, as he now gazed at the young man he had fallen in love with three years before, he felt his heart lift.
He and Anthony had met in Los Angeles, shortly before Anthony had been almost raped by a madman who had broken into his house and held him, tied to a bed, for hours. Justin had relived that tortuous day many times over in his mind. If it had not been for Peter and Jeff alerting him to the danger Anthony faced, they might never have had the life together they now shared.
“Rough day?” Anthony asked him as he stepped into his arms and held him tightly.
“Yeah, just a tad. How about you?”
“So-so…” He kissed Justin’s ear. “Better now you’re home.”
Justin held him close. He knew Anthony was still depressed about the situation with his mother. Even the mostly positive reviews and letters concerning his appearance on Olivia’s show had not removed the deep sorrow he felt because of the strained relationship he now had with her. Strained? Justin thought. Not even the right word—non-existent was more like it. For Patricia refused to speak to her son when he tried to call her and did not return any of his messages. She had obviously chosen cold and contemptuous silence with which to punish him. He sighed and tightened his arms around his lover, kissing him gently on the lips.
“I love you,” he murmured.
Anthony trembled in his arms. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Justin. I’m sorry for being such a…such a drudge. I know this has got to be such a downer for you…me, moping around like this all the time…”
“Hush,” Justin said, putt
ing a finger lightly on Anthony’s lips. “You are not being a drudge—whatever that is. You are being a loving son.” He did not add what he was thinking, that Patricia did not deserve her son’s love and if he, Justin, would ever come face-to-face with the woman, he would tell her just that.
So many times he had wanted to confront her and demand that she listen to him while he told her exactly what he thought of her and how he detested her for the suffering she had inflicted on her family. But he knew that would solve J.P. Bowie
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nothing and would, in fact, only make matters worse—if that were possible. It hurt him to see Anthony so sad and depressed. He was such a beautiful man, so warm and compassionate, so ready to forgive her for all her coldness and un-motherly behavior.
“How was school?” he asked, releasing Anthony and walking to the fridge.
He pulled out two beers and held one up for Anthony who nodded and took the proffered bottle.
“Pretty good,” Anthony replied. He had been attending law-school for the past two years, encouraged by his cousin Gloria’s husband, Johnny. “I have a ton of text to study over the weekend though. Looks like I’ll be the proverbial dull boy.”
Justin grinned at him. “You’ll never be a dull boy.”
“Glad you think so.” He looked at Justin and managed a small smile. “You are the best, Justin.”
“Well, I’m glad we have a mutual admiration society going here,” Justin chuckled. “Now look,” he added, growing serious; “I know this situation with your mother has you all stressed out, but you mustn’t lose sight of what is important to you. You need to be concentrating on your studies and not worrying about what she might be up to next. Whatever it is, it can’t really harm us—not the way we feel for each other, I mean. She is not going to destroy what we have, no matter how hard she tries. If she would only see that she’s the real loser here—not you. You’re surrounded by people who love you, Anthony, and if those letters from Olivia’s viewers are anything to go by, Patricia has got to eventually realize she is in the wrong. She’ll come around one day—I know she will.” He had to admit to himself that he didn’t really know anything of the kind, but he wasn’t about to let Anthony hear any doubt in his voice. He took Anthony’s hand in his own. “Try to put it aside, won’t you?” he coaxed.