by J. P. Bowie
“Oh girl, you are so blind,” Brenda said, shaking her head. “You can’t see what’s going on right in front of you, can you?”
“What are you talking about now?”
“Joyce,” Brenda yelled. “Your little maid…he’s been schtupping your little helper, right under your nose.”
“What?” Olivia stared at her, appalled for the moment, then she waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, you’re crazy,” she snapped. “Joyce? Oh come on, Brenda—you can do better than that.”
“I’ve seen them…in the kitchen…all close and cozy. Him telling her not to be scared of you—he’d look after her. I heard it all just the other day, right here. And that’s not all…There’s Elaine, Ernie’s assistant…”
Olivia held a hand to her temple where a pulse had started to pound. She turned away from Brenda who could not stop the smirk that now flitted across her face. It’s working, she thought. I’ve got to her…She watched as Olivia poured herself another drink. That’s it girl, get good and drunk—and mad.
Brad saw Joyce enter Olivia’s building just ahead of him. “Hey Joyce, wait up…” He ran to catch up as the doorman held the door open for her. He eyed the two big paper bags she was struggling with and took one from her.
“Thanks, Mr. Kingman,” she said, smiling up at him. “They are a bit heavy.”
He looked at her, frowning. “God, couldn’t she have got this delivered, instead of sending you out?”
“I think she wanted rid of me for a while,” Joyce replied as they walked to the elevator. “Miss Shapiro’s up there, and they were having some kind of argument…”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” Brad’s handsome face twisted with anger. “Why in hell won’t she give it up? She’s been trying to put the knife in ever since Olivia and I got back together. She’s a jealous cun…Sorry…” He grimaced at her. “That broad brings out the worst in me.”
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Joyce looked at him with sympathy, stepping into the elevator ahead of him.
“She’s not a very nice person…” But then, she thought, neither is Olivia.
Whatever Brad’s past life had been, she could never see him being as cruel and vicious as Brenda or Olivia. He might be a bit of a flake, but there was something innately likeable about him…
Brad smiled at her as they reached Olivia’s floor. “Well, time to face the demon queen. I wonder what it is this time…” He pushed the door open, letting Joyce pass in front of him. Both of them stopped short when they saw the cold stares directed at them by the two women who stood in the center of the living room.
“Where the hell have you been?” Olivia rasped. “And what’s she doing with you?”
Brad ignored the questions and signaled to Joyce that they should take the bags into the kitchen. Olivia stalked behind them, then stood, hands on hips, watching while they put the bags on the kitchen counter.
“I said, where the hell have you been?”
“I heard what you said, Olivia…” Brad turned to face her, his voice calm, trying to placate her. “You know where I’ve been. I told you earlier I had a meeting at the studio…”
“Horseshit!” Olivia barked. “Brenda’s told me what you’re really up to, you lying sack of…”
“That’s enough, Olivia…” Brad grabbed her by the arm. “The one that’s lying to you is that bitch out there. She’s crazy jealous of you and me and she’ll do anything to screw it up.” He paused and stared intently into Olivia’s eyes.
“It’s amazing to me that you can’t see this. What…you’d rather believe her than me, is that it?”
Olivia pulled herself from his grasp. “When have you ever given me a reason to believe you? You’ve lied to me for years, one way or another. She said you’re doing it with this…this slut here. My maid, for Chrissakes.”
Joyce gasped and stumbled back, looking at Olivia in horror. “Oh, Miss Winters…”
“Shut up…you’re fired,” Olivia snarled. “You can get the hell outta here now…”
“Olivia, for God’s sake, stop this!” Brad reached for her again, but she stepped back, evading his touch. “Brenda’s gone off the deep end if she’s saying stuff like that.” He marched past her out into the living room. “Come here, Brenda,” he yelled. “Let me hear the crap you’ve been feeding her.”
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Brenda laughed as she looked from him to Olivia’s cold, detached expression. Yes, I’ve got her, she thought. She’ll believe anything I say now. “You know I’m not lying, Brad,” she said, keeping her voice tight and controlled.
“You know as well as I do that you’ve been screwing around with Elaine, Ernie’s assistant, right under Olivia’s nose almost…”
“What?” Brad looked at her in amazement. “Elaine? What are you talking about? I’ve never even spoken to her.” He turned to look at Olivia. “She’s nuts,”
he exclaimed, jerking his thumb at Brenda. “Surely you can’t believe one word of this?”
Olivia’s eyes glittered as she replied, “Oh, but I do Brad. I believe every word. You see, I called Elaine just a short time ago and asked her, point blank, if you’d fucked her and, of course, she denied it at first, but then she said yes, you had.”
Brad looked at her, stunned. “This is crazy,” he whispered. “Olivia, I swear to you, it never happened…” He spun round to face Brenda. “Tell her, you crazy dyke…tell her you fabricated this whole thing. How much did you pay Elaine to say she’d slept with me, huh? Tell her, or I’ll beat the shit out of you.”
Tears of rage sprang to his eyes as he advanced on Brenda who stood her ground, a defiant look on her face.
Unseen by anyone, Joyce backed toward the door, and slipped out without making a sound.
“You thought you had it made, didn’t you?” Brenda crowed. “Coming in here, threatening us with blackmail, pretending to be so in love with Olivia just so you could inveigle your way back into her life. Well, you haven’t fooled her or me. It was obvious from the get-go that all you wanted was to get back into the high life—to be someone that you never could be on your own. You’re a loser—a big, sorry loser.”
With all his might, Brad backhanded her across her face. With a cry, she went down, sprawling on the floor like a rag doll. For a moment Brad stood staring down at her, then he slowly turned to face Olivia who was looking at him, her face etched with terror.
“No Brad—please don’t hit me,” she pleaded. “Please!”
Brad’s shoulders slumped with despair as he walked toward her. “Olivia, I don’t want to hit you. I love you. Can’t you see this is all a hoax? She’s set this all up. I never slept with that girl…”
“But she said you did. She said you told her you could get her a better position at the studio…”
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“Olivia…” Brad reached for her, but she turned and ran from him into the safety of her bedroom, slamming the door and locking it against him.
Joyce raced from the elevator and pounded on Winifred’s door calling for help. A startled guest let her in and the gaiety of the assembled crowd was brought to an abrupt standstill as she burst into the living room, looking wildly around her.
Seeing Jeff and Peter, she yelled; “Oh help, there’s a terrible fight upstairs in Miss Winters’ apartment…”
Jeff grabbed her arm and sat her down on the couch. “Stay here…we’ll check it out.” He looked at Winifred. “Can you get her some brandy or something?”
“You bet, honey.” Winifred immediately went into command mode. “Give the poor girl some space and get that brandy over here, now.”
Jeff and Peter ran from the apartment, followed by one or two male guests, but Jeff told them to stay with the ladies and call the police. As they reached Olivia’s floor they could hear a man yelling her name.
“Olivia, come on out—I’m not going to hurt you…”
Jeff pushed the door open and he and P
eter stepped into the hallway. Ahead of them they could see Brenda, sitting on the living room floor, nursing her chin. As they rounded the corner, they saw a tall man knocking on Olivia’s bedroom door.
“Step away from there.” Jeff strode toward him as he spoke.
Brad whirled round to face him. “Who the hell are you?”
“Jeff Stevens. I’m a private investigator working for Miss Winters. Who are you?”
“I’m her fiancé, for fuck’s sake.”
“Oh, Brad Kingman,” Peter said helpfully, nudging Jeff, who gave him a raised eyebrow stare.
Brad looked a them both for a moment, then turned to the door again.
“Olivia, you can come out now. The cavalry’s here…” There was the sound of a key turning then a shaken Olivia appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, Jeff…Peter…Thank goodness.” She glared at Brad. “This madman was trying to kill me.”
“Olivia…” Brad groaned. “I was not trying to kill you. Guys…” He looked from Jeff to Peter. “Give me a moment alone with her, please.”
“No!” Olivia screeched, backing away from him. “Look what he did to Brenda.”
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“Just what happened here?” Jeff asked, putting himself between Brad and Olivia, while Peter went to see if Brenda needed any help.
“I’ll tell you what happened…” Brenda slapped away Peter’s helping hand and lurched toward them. “That bastard’s been blackmailing us. Now he’s gotten himself engaged to Olivia so he can drain her dry. Well, I’m not going to let that happen…”
Peter stood frozen for a moment as he inhaled a familiar scent…“Gardenias,” he whispered. “Oh my God…” He took a step forward and was overcome with a feeling of terrible nausea. “Jeff…” he croaked as he sank to his knees.
Jeff rushed to his side. “What happened?”
“Brenda… gardenias…” he managed to tell him before he slumped to the floor.
“What’s wrong with him?”
Jeff could hear Olivia’s near-panicked voice coming from somewhere in the room. He lifted Peter to his feet and helped him lie down on a nearby couch, then he stood and very carefully surveyed the group in front of him. Keeping his voice calm and steady he said, “Brad…would you do me a favor?”
“Uh…yeah…sure…” Brad moved toward him.
“Call 911 and get the medics here…”
“You got it…”
Jeff watched as Brad quickly pulled out his cell phone. “Olivia…would you come over here, please? Peter could use your help.” He stood perfectly still as Olivia ran to the couch and knelt by Peter, taking his hand in hers. He noticed with some surprise that Olivia seemed genuinely concerned for Peter’s well being.
“Brenda…” Jeff locked eyes with the woman who glared back at him, malice in her expression. “Brenda…you killed Luke, didn’t you?” Behind him, Jeff heard Olivia’s gasp of horror. The only movement in the room came from Brad as he closed his cell phone and put it away. Brenda stared defiantly at them, but remained still and silent. “Brenda?” Jeff walked slowly toward her.
“You’re full of shit,” Brenda hissed, shifting away from him slightly. She was holding something in her hand but Jeff could not quite make out what it was—something slim and silvery…
“Am I?” He took another step closer to her. “I don’t think so…You see, when you killed Luke, he was holding the camera he’d stolen from Peter. When it fell from his hand it took a photo of his assailant—you, Brenda.”
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“You are one crazy bitch,” Brad said, through clenched teeth. His angry glare swept from Brenda to where Olivia knelt, holding Peter’s hand. “And you would believe this…this murderer over me?”
“Brad, I’m sorry,” Olivia mumbled. “She had me confused…”
“Don’t listen to any of this,” Brenda screamed at the top of her voice.
“Olivia—its all lies…all of it.” She pointed at Brad. “He’ s the one who killed Luke. He couldn’t stand him being in the way…”
Brad let out a shout of laughter. “Good one Brenda—but the camera never lies. You should know that…”
With a scream of rage, Brenda evaded Jeff ’s outstretched hand and launched herself at Brad, causing him to stumble and fall on his back. Brenda was on him in an instant and now Jeff could see what she held in her hand—a syringe. Amid Olivia’s high-pitched screams of terror he sprang forward and grabbed Brenda’s upraised arm. He pulled the demented woman off Brad, who got to his feet, a murderous look in his eyes. As Jeff tried to wrest the syringe from her hand, Brad advanced on her, but was stopped short as she delivered a vicious kick to his crotch. His eyes bulged in his head and he dropped to his knees with a groan of exquisite pain. Jeff held Brenda at arm’s length as she turned her fury upon him, kicking at him, trying to inflict the same kind of damage she’d successfully used to bring Brad to his knees. Olivia’s screams intensified as a gunshot rang out and pieces of the plaster ceiling fell about her head.
“Hold it right there, sister!” Winifred, in the best Hollywood western tradi-tion, stood in the doorway, a large Colt .45 grasped firmly in both hands and pointed straight at Brenda.
As the sound of police sirens could be heard rapidly approaching the building, Brenda gave up her struggling, and sagged against Jeff. He took the syringe from her hand then let her drop to the floor where she lay, quietly sobbing.
Winifred looked at Brad with a deal of sympathy. “Gotcha in the cojones, huh Handsome?” He looked up at her with pain-filled eyes and, still not quite able to speak, nodded his head. “Ah well,” she added, handing Jeff the smoking Colt; “Time heals all things—even crushed nuts.”
Jeff grinned at her. “Winifred, you are too much,” he said with admiration.
“Well, I figured you weren’t packin’…at least not a gun…” she said giggling.
“So Rob’s trusty .45 seemed like a good idea.” She looked at the fallen Brenda.
“Not so full of yourself now, missy—huh?”
Peter sat up with a moan, rubbing his head. “What happened,” he asked groggily.
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“Oh, you sweet thing…” Winifred rushed to his side. “You’ve missed my best performance ever.” She gave Olivia the snake eye. “You’d better be more careful who you have around you, in future. Psychos like her are bad for your image.” She patted Peter on the head. “You all right, honey?”
“Yes thanks, Winifred.” Peter stood up shakily and looked at Brenda who was now struggling to her feet. “I was right?” he asked Jeff.
Jeff smiled at him. “You were right.”
“You knew it was Brenda, Peter?” Olivia gasped.
“Only because of the perfume she’s wearing—gardenias.” He went on to explain how he had smelled that same fragrance at Luke’s apartment and the fact that the person in the photograph taken with his camera was thought to be a woman.
“Thought to be?” Brenda exclaimed, glaring at Jeff. “You mean you didn’t know that it was me—you were bluffing?”
“Right.” Jeff gave her a big smile. “The guys at the police lab weren’t a hundred percent sure, given that it was a really vague picture—but when Peter reacted to you like he did, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind.”
“You can’t prove anything…” Brenda fumed.
“Well…” Jeff said, still smiling, “There is this handy dandy little syringe filled with, if I’m not mistaken, curare, which was used to kill Luke—and then, of course, there’s the attempt on Mr. Kingman here’s life which…as you know, we all witnessed.”
“Oh my God,” Olivia whispered. “Brenda, what were you thinking?” She slumped down on the couch and buried her head in her hands. Brad moved to her side with some difficulty and sat beside her, wincing as he did so.
“I did it for you,” Brenda yelled at her. “For you, because you were fucking up your life with these dea
dbeats—like Luke and this…this rat…” She waved a hand contemptuously at Brad. “Guys, whose only talent in life is to give you a good lay—if they can even do that…” Any further ranting was cut short as four police officers spilled into the room, guns drawn.
“Yea!” Winifred clapped her hands with delight. “The boys in blue. Boy, this is a night to remember. I haven’t had this much fun since Tab Hunter took me to a gay wild-west bar in Reno.”
An hour later, after Brenda had been cuffed and escorted from the building and driven away in a squad car, and after the paramedics had examined Peter and given him a clean bill of health, he, Jeff and Winifred gathered round her bar as she mixed her famous martinis.
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“You boys will have to stay the night,” she warned them. “I wouldn’t let anyone drive after just one of these. I have a super comfy bed in the spare room, so no arguments.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jeff said with a grin.
“Well, here’s mud in your eye.” Winifred raised her glass on high. “Wow, who knew this was going to be my best party ever. I’ll bet every one of my guests got a heart jumpstart tonight.”
Peter chuckled then almost choked as he sipped at the famous martini.
“Winifred…What on earth is in this?”
“Aha, that’s my secret.” She winked at him. “But it’s guaranteed to put lead in your pencil.”
Jeff roared with laughter at the expression on Peter’s face.
“Let’s go sit by the fire,” Winifred said. “These old bones of mine are feeling kinda chilled.”
“Winifred…” Jeff took her arm. “There is nothing old about you. I only hope that when Peter is your age, he’ll be as sprightly as you are.”
“Huh! What about you?” Peter asked.
Winifred beamed at them as she sat in her chair by the fire. “I think you’ll both be just fine. Tell me,” she mused, “D’you think the Dragon Lady was a mite miffed when I made that offer to her fiancé?”