by J. P. Bowie
Olivia looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You really want to go through with this, don’t you? The marriage thing, I mean.”
“You bet. It’ll be the event of the year…”
“It’ll be that all right,” Olivia muttered.
“Look Olivia…” Brad took her in his arms. “We’ve been through some bad times, you and me…but in all the time we’ve been apart I’ve never stopped wanting you. I know I come across as some kind of gold-digger, ‘specially now that you’re the queen of daytime TV, but I’ve missed you, honey. Really and truly I have. I wish I could make you believe that. Just give this time. It’ll be great, I promise.”
Olivia leaned against his chest and sighed. He had no idea how much she really wanted to believe it. The sex they had just shared was as fantastic as she remembered it to be. She could not deny it—he was good. If only she could trust him—if only…
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Later, after another bout of athletic sex, Olivia rose and left Brad sleeping like a bear in hibernation. Quickly, she crossed through the living room into her office, and picked up the phone. She glanced at her watch as she listened to the ringing tone.
“One o’clock,” she said to herself. “Wake up Brenda…”
“Yeah?” Brenda’s naturally rough voice was made even raspier with sleep.
“Hello, Brenda, dear. I have some good news for you…”
c h a p t e r 1 5
s
Anthony hesitated before ringing the doorbell to his mother’s home. He was not looking forward to this confrontation. His instincts told him it was not going to go well—but he could not just leave things the way they were. Surely she must be hurting, he thought. Perhaps now, when all that she had said and done had come back to haunt her in a way she could never have imagined, perhaps now she would listen to reason. If not now, she never would. Justin had wanted to come with him, but Anthony had felt that his presence might exac-erbate the problem. As much as he would have welcomed Justin’s company, he had felt it better that he went alone. With some reluctance, Justin had agreed to let him go alone, after a promise that he would call if things did not go well.
Taking a deep breath, he rang the doorbell and waited. And waited. He rang the bell again, then worried that there was still no response, he walked round to the back garden and peered through the French doors. Seeing nothing, he tried the handle—it was locked. Cursing the fact that his mother had demanded he return his house keys when he left to live with Justin, he pushed at the door then rapped loudly on the glass.
“Mom!” he yelled. “It’s Anthony—let me in—please.” He stepped back and looked up at his mother’s bedroom window. Picking up a stone from one of the flowerbeds he flung it up at the glass. “Mom!” he yelled again. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and speed dialed her number. After two rings her answering machine clicked on. He listened to the robot-like voice telling him to leave a message, then yelled into the mouthpiece; “Mom! It’s Anthony.
I’m outside. Let me in— please. I know you’re there. You’re car is in the driveway. I’m not leaving till you let me in!” He waited for several minutes until it became apparent that his mother was not going to respond to his entreaties.
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“Damn,” he muttered. There was only one thing he could do. It was going to make her very angry, but he was beyond caring about that now. He stepped back and delivered a hefty kick at the French door. The wood splintered enough that one more kick was sufficient for the door to swing open. He stood waiting for the alarm to begin its strident shrieking—but nothing happened.
“Strange…” He ran into the living room. “Mom, are you here?” He bounded up the stairs and flung his mother’s bedroom door open. The room was in darkness with just a slant of light appearing through the closed shutters.
His mother lay, face down, across the bed.
“Mom!” he screamed, racing to her side. He switched on the bedside lamp before turning her over onto her back. There was an empty pill bottle on the nightstand. “Oh, my God,” he whispered. He pulled his cell phone out and dialed 911. “It’s my mother,” he gasped when the operator answered. “She’s taken pills…” He gave his name and address and listened as the operator gave him instructions while waiting for the paramedics. He flung the shutters and the windows wide open, flooding the room with light. He pulled his mother to her feet and tried to make her walk, all the while encouraging her to wake up.
“Come on, Mom, please wake up. You can’t give up like this—you have to wake up. Mom, please.”
But even as he carried her around the room, he knew it was hopeless. His mother’s body sagged in his arms; there was no response to his pleas, and when the paramedics arrived and went into full emergency mode, they could do nothing to revive her.
One of them looked up at Anthony, his eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry…I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do.”
They took her body away while a police officer questioned Anthony about the possible circumstances that may have led to his mother’s suicide.
“She left a letter.” Anthony handed it to the officer. “She was very depressed…very angry about some things that had happened recently.”
The cop scanned the letter, then looked at Anthony with surprise. “She mentions Olivia Winters. Was she was on that show?”
“Yes. It hasn’t been shown yet…”
“I read about this—was she the one who decked Olivia?”
Anthony nodded and the cop grimaced. “I’ll need to take this with me.”
“Can I make a copy? My sisters will want to read it…there’s a printer in my father’s study. It won’t take a minute.”
“Okay.” He gave the letter back to Anthony. “Give my condolences to your sisters.”
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My dear Anthony,
So it has come to this. All my hopes that you might be saved from sin have been dashed by my foolishness. I thought that by appearing on the Olivia Winters show, I could reach out to the millions of good Christian people who need to be shown just how easy it is for wickedness to enter their lives and destroy everything they have hoped to achieve. It was my intention to alert them to the depravity that exists all around us, and has even taken you away from me.
Instead, I allowed myself to be goaded by that dreadful woman into a display of fury unworthy of a person who believes in self-control and disciplined thought. I was driven to violence and subsequently humiliated by my actions.
Forgive me for that, for by giving in to my baser instincts I proved myself to be as unworthy as the rest of them—no better than the shallow and superficial ghouls with which Miss Winters surrounds herself.
You have asked me to accept your lifestyle and the man you call your ‘lover’.
You have broken my heart with these requests. How could I ever accept a vile wretch who has seduced you into a life of wickedness—a life that can only end in everlasting damnation? Oh, how I prayed that I could be the one to open your eyes to the enormity of your sin, but by my act of arrogance I have made myself unworthy of the task. God condemns hubris, of which I am guilty. Only the righteous can judge and subsequently save the sinner.
My life is over. I have no desire to live in this world filled with sinners, liars and betrayers. Ultimately, one is judged by one’s successes or failures—and I have failed to save my family from the paths of evil they have chosen to follow. I can only now pray that you and your sisters will one day renounce your lies and wicked ways, for I can no longer protect you. God help you all, Your Mother
Emily put the letter down and looked at her brother, who sat with Justin by his side. “My God,” she said, her voice edged with bitterness. “Even in her last hour she couldn’t face the truth. She just could not bear to admit that our lives were made hell by her denial. Talk about perversity…”
Anthony took the l
etter, folded it and placed it carefully in the inside pocket of his jacket. “Have you called Paula?” he asked.
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“Yes. She said she’d come down for the funeral.”
“How did she take the news?”
“Like you’d expect. Surprised, more than anything else.”
Anthony looked away. “Am I the only one who will miss her?” His eyes filled with tears as Justin put his arm around him.
The heavy silence that followed his question hung in the air till Jerry, Emily’s husband, said gently; “Anthony, you have been the most loving son a mother could ever wish for. You have managed to forgive when others could not.”
“I couldn’t save her, though. I couldn’t make her see that what we all wanted was to be a truly loving family.”
“Anthony…” Emily reached for her brother’s hand and held it tightly. “As hard as it is to accept, the fact is our mother did not love us—she resented us.
Oh, she loved you in her own way, much more than she ever cared for Paula and me—but it was a love bound by conditions—conditions she demanded were met at all times. You found your own life; a life that brought you happiness…”
“I just wanted her to be a part of it,” Anthony said. “I wanted her to share in our happiness—to be a part of all our lives.”
“I know, Anthony, I know,” Emily sighed. “I’m afraid that she just could not bring herself to admit that perhaps she was wrong. This obsession with religion blinded her to what the real problems were…”
“Some religion,” Justin interjected. “A religion based on hatred and intoler-ance, not on love and compassion.”
“Let’s not get into that right now,” Jerry said, quietly.
“Yeah, right—sorry.” Justin hugged Anthony to him as he spoke. “I get a little too over-protective at times.”
“And that’s OK…” Emily smiled at Justin. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that Anthony has you in his life.” She rose from the couch. “I’m going to fix us something to eat.”
“I’ll give you a hand.” Jerry followed her into the kitchen.
Anthony turned to Justin and kissed his cheek. “You can go on being over-protective for as long as you want,” he said with a small smile.
“Right now, it’s what you need,” Justin told him, holding him close. “Don’t worry, we’ll get through this. After the funeral, I’m going to take you away for a few days…” He fell quiet as a loud knocking sounded at the door.
“I’ll get it,” Jerry called from the hall.
“Maybe it’s Peter…”
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“Wouldn’t he call first?” Justin walked to the window and looked out. “Oh, my God, Anthony…reporters and TV cameras. Shit! Jerry, don’t open the door…”
His warning came too late as Jerry swung the door open and was blinded by flash bulbs popping in his face. Microphones were thrust at him as the reporters hurled a barrage of questions at him:
“Is it true your mother committed suicide because Olivia Winters threatened to sue her for assault and battery?”
“Did you know that Olivia Winters is going to air the segment with your mother assaulting her?”
Jerry stood, momentarily stunned by the chaos surrounding him, then he yelled angrily; “Get out of here, you morons…Back off now, before I call the police!” He slammed the door in their faces then, as they hammered at the door and rang the bell non-stop, he strode to the phone and dialed 911.
“My God,” Emily cried. “What do they want?”
“Give me the police,” Jerry snapped when the operator answered. He looked at Emily, and took her hand. “They want a story. They’ve obviously got wind of the fact that your mother was the woman who smacked Olivia on her show the other day. Jeez, this is going to be a mess.”
Eve, watching the local six o’clock news, was startled to see an even more startled Jerry on her TV screen. “Good heavens,” she murmured, turning up the volume. “What’s that about?”
“Police have revealed that Patricia Hastings, the Newport Beach woman who committed suicide yesterday, left a note blaming her decision to take her life on the daytime talk show host, Olivia Winters.” As the commentator continued with her dialogue, the station showed the same footage over and over of Jerry yelling at the gathered reporters and cameramen, before slamming the door on them. “Mrs. Hastings recently appeared as a guest on the Olivia Winters Show, and was involved in a shouting match and subsequent assault on Miss Winters. Today, Miss Winters’ representatives said the daytime diva had no comment to make. The show, featuring Mrs. Hastings has not been aired, as yet.”
Stunned, Eve reached for her phone and dialed Peter’s number at the gallery. He had told her earlier that he and Eric would be there later than usual as he had added an evening class to his already busy teaching schedule.
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“Hey Mom,” he chirped, seeing Eve’s name on his caller ID screen. “What’s up?”
“I’ve just seen Jerry on the television,” she exclaimed. “Apparently, their house is surrounded by TV people. He looked madder than a hornet.”
“Oh no,” Peter groaned. “This is just what they don’t need. Did he say anything?”
“He just called them a bunch of morons and slammed the door. Can’t say I blame him.”
“Lord, I think Anthony and Justin were going over there today,” Peter said.
“Anthony will be climbing walls with all this added pressure.”
“Well, thank goodness Jerry was there,” Eve remarked.
“Yeah, he can handle it. I’ll call Jeff and let him know. He might want to go over and lend moral support.”
“Good idea. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“Will do, Mom. Thanks for letting me know.” He hung up and dialed Emily’s number. The answering machine clicked on, but as he began to leave a message, Emily picked up.
“Hi Peter,” she said. “You’ve heard, obviously.”
“Yeah, Mom called. She saw Jerry on the news. How are you all doing?”
“Well, it’s pandemonium out there. I can’t quite believe it. I guess the mention of Olivia’s name got them all excited. It’s so stupid…”
“Would you like Jeff to come over?”
“I don’t think he’d get through this mob…”
“Oh, he’d get through, all right.”
“Let me ask Jerry…”
“Hi Peter…” Jerry’s calm voice told Peter he had everything under control.
“I just wondered if you’d like Jeff to come over—lend some moral support?”
“Fine—if he can get here. That bunch of clowns out there has the street almost closed down.”
“Did you call the police?”
“Yes, ages ago. There’s one patrol car at the end of the street, but no one’s come to the house.”
“Let me call Jeff,” Peter said. “I’m sure there’s something he can do…”
“Okay…Maybe if he brings Nick, the two of them could clear a path…I’d gladly lend them a hand.”
“Okay, stay cool. I’ll call him right now.”
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Detective Louis McKenna answered his cell phone on the first ring. “McKenna.”
“It’s Jeff Stevens, McKenna. I need a favor. Peter just called me and…” Jeff informed the OC detective what was going on at the Lambert residence. “I’m going over there, but I think we need some uniforms to deal with the reporters.
They’re not taking ‘no’ for an answer.”
“They never do,” McKenna groused. “They’re like leeches, man. I hate ’em.
Okay, I’ll see if I have a couple of free squad cars to break it up.”
“Thanks, I owe you one.”
“Then solve the Luke Taylor murder for me. I’m getting flack from above, if you know what I mean…”
“Sure do. Man, Nic
k and I’ve been over and over that one. We’re missing something—something really simple, I know.”
“Well, if you can come up with that something, I’d be grateful. Nothing from Peter, huh?”
“Not yet, but I haven’t given up on him. He’s come through before like some wild card. Anyway, thanks for the help—I appreciate it.”
Jeff hung up and walked out into the reception area. “Monica, let Nick know I’ve gone over to Emily and Jerry’s place. I’ll call him later.”
“Trouble?” she asked.
“Reporters all over the place…”
He figured it would only take him a few minutes to get to their house, but as he neared their street, the traffic built up and he could see why. “Jeez,” he muttered, pulling over. He got out of his car and walked past the lines of television trucks that were blocking the entrance to the street. “Where the heck are the cops?” he muttered. “Excuse me,” he said, pushing past a group of onlookers.
He managed to force his way to the front of the house, but the sheer number of reporters crowding Jerry’s driveway made it impossible for him to reach the door. Angry neighbors were now out in force, yelling at the reporters to get the hell off their property, and being totally ignored by cameramen and reporters alike as they babbled incessantly into their microphones. In the middle of the confusion, he managed to slip past one of Jerry’s irate neighbors and jump the wall between the two properties.
“Hey!” somebody yelled, but he ignored whoever it was and leaped down into Jerry and Emily’s backyard. He ran across to their kitchen window and rapped on the glass. Jerry’s angry face appeared on the other side, then his expression cleared as he recognized him.
“Can you believe this crap?” he said, letting Jeff in by the kitchen door.
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“I got a hold of McKenna,” Jeff told him. “Remember him? He’s sending a couple of squad cars to break this up.”