Modern Girls

by Gary S. Griffin

  Walking slowly provided me with a perspective of the neighborhood and the home unlike other means of observation. This estate was quiet, well-tended and private. As a pedestrian, I was a rarity, an oddity. People got around here in cars or stayed inside. It looked like no one ever used their front yards. All activities were done in private; indoors or in the backyard.

  As such, I had uninterrupted quiet time to observe the Gabriel estate. The lawn was perfect; green, weedless, lush, fertilized and regularly watered. The hedge began at the street on both sides of the property and continued at its eight foot height to the backyard. One large maple tree with a flower bed stood in the middle of the front yard. All other vegetation was semi-tropical and wrapped around the front and right of the mansion. The driveway on the left side curved slightly as it made its way up the front yard, and on into the back yard. As I turned up the drive, my casual shoes made subtle sounds on the red paving stones.

  The drive had nearly hidden foot lights, and as I got closer to the mansion, I noticed that the shrubs actually shielded the walkway to the front door. The yard rose about five feet from the street and I passed a turn-in circle where guests could be left off. I saw a half dozen palm trees in the back yard, and a three-car garage, in the same Spanish style, at the end of the driveway. I turned right and walked up to the front door.

  I rang the door bell and waited. There was no answer. I could hear no sounds inside. I had noticed a blue BMW convertible and a white Jeep at the end of the driveway, so I figured someone was on the estate somewhere. I decided to look for them.

  I headed back down the sidewalk and turned right at the driveway and walked towards the backyard. I touched the hoods of both vehicles and each was warm; they had been driven in the last few hours.

  I turned and the beauty of this estate lay out in front of me. A tiled terrace spread out from the French doors off the kitchen. It had a round white metal table with four padded chairs, two matching side chairs, a gas grille, an outdoor bar, three small palm trees and potted flowers. A rectangular garden stretched out behind the terrace surrounded by miniature boxwood hedge. Inside this border a patch of yellow flowers - I think pansies - wrapped around matching purple flowers. The purple flowers formed a cursive capital letter G - for Gabriel, I guessed.

  Behind the garden, the yard slanted downward for thirty feet, and leveled out again. The lower, back portion of the yard had a rectangular-shaped building that occupied the whole right side. This must be the pool house. It sat with its long side facing left towards the yard. It had its own patio out front. The pool house was one-story, red tile-roofed, stucco-sided, like the mansion, and tastefully landscaped with palm trees, flower beds and an awning that stretched over the patio.

  A large rectangular pool dominated the center of the back yard. Its clear blue water gently reflected the late afternoon sun. It looked to have blue tile around the walls and a white bottom. Stairs entered from the shallow end on the right, ten feet from the pool house’s patio. On the concrete border sat four cushioned chaise lounges.

  Before I explored the far back yard space, I looked to my right and walked across the terrace. I noticed a set of stairs that led down to a rear entrance. I walked down the steps and realized this was the servant’s quarters. A picture window revealed a living room within. I continued around the corner of the mansion and noticed more windows on this lower level, which must be for the servant’s bedrooms. Along the side of the estate was a hidden small patio that the servants could use in privacy, out of sight of the owners. The side yard was about thirty feet wide, and a fence hid this patio from the street. I imagined there was an interior door from these quarters to the mansion’s basement. I knocked on the outside door, waited and there was no answer. Where were the people? Perhaps, the hired help have Sunday off.

  As I climbed back up the stairs I heard a woman’s laugh and squeal coming from the back yard. When I got to the top step I stopped and listened. I thought I heard a splash. Yet, there was no one in the pool. Then, it dawned on me; there must be a hot tub to the left of the pool, screened by the garage.

  I crossed the terrace and headed that way. The hill had steps covered with built-in stepping stones that ended at a concrete path that led to the pool. At the bottom of the hill, a below ground door greeted me. It led to a passage way under the hill and terrace back towards the mansion. How convenient and private!

  The path ended at a T with the right leading to the pool house. I walked on the path and found that the left side did indeed lead to a hot tub.

  I turned and saw a thin, small-chested, topless, twenty-something, black-haired woman lying on a white towel close to the far-side of the tub. Her bikini top lay next to the towel. Her body glistened in the sun from a liberal amount of sun tan lotion. Her head was resting on another towel and turned to talk to a young gentleman standing in the tub. His back faced me. I guessed the young man was the new owner of this mansion, looking well recovered from the death of his father.

  I wondered about the young lady. She clearly looked at ease and at home here. That last thought made me guess she was Edie McCall. That was to be confirmed, but it sure changed my perspective on many things about these two young people.

  To this point, neither noticed my unexpected entrance to their private event. I continued to watch them for ten seconds, thinking what to do, and clearly realized that they would not want to be interrupted. The woman confirmed some of my guesses by saying, “Oh, Troy”, to some joke or story he was telling. I’d have to wait.

  So, I stepped backwards, slowly, silently, until I was out of sight, blocked by the garage and shrubs. I turned and walked back up the yard to the terrace. I sat on one of the white chairs and thought, now what?

  I’d wait. Not fifteen minutes had passed since I left the Mustang. I figured the private party would end sometime soon. I’d wait until I saw one of them walk away from the hot tub. I could see lights in the pool house and in the large apartment-like area above the garage. OK, so, Troy and Edie were both living here, but not in the mansion itself. And, they were busy at the moment, with each other. Plus, the caretakers weren’t home. The temptation was too great.

  ***

  I stood, turned and walked to the mansion’s French doors. The knob turned, I opened the door and stepped into the large, well equipped kitchen. Cool air surrounded me. In the late-day reflected sun, large modern appliances sparkled from careful cleaning. In the center of the kitchen stood an island with a Jenn Air range and three stools tucked under one side. I walked through the kitchen, down the main hall, towards the front door, passing the dining room on my right.

  To the left, the living room was filled with light wood furniture, like the dining room. The floor was covered with a large, exquisite oriental rug. Original art of Pacific beach scenes hung on three walls. This room had the signs of the family tragedy, with ten bouquets of flowers and sympathy cards on every flat surface. A large black and white photo of Sid sat in the middle of the fireplace mantle. The photographer captured Sid’s winning, knowing smile. Confidence exuded from the man. I wondered if this photo was from the night he earned his Oscar. Three Academy Award statues sat on the mantle too; the one on the right was Sid’s and the two on the left were his father’s. A large ceramic jar sat next to the photo; this had to be Sid’s urn of ashes. Wow! A man’s life captured like that.

  Over the right and left shoulders of Sid’s photo, above the mantle, were two color paintings of his parents. All three Gabriels were captured at happy times in life; times that were now gone. I remembered Andi said Sid’s parents died in a boating accident when he was in his thirties. Now, Sid’s son was living a similarly strange, tragic life event, and this pleasure palace was all his at an even younger age.

  I walked towards the closed interior French doors in this room, turned the knob and entered the library. Book shelves lined the walls. Half the shelves held old books, while the other half was filled to overflowing with CD’s and video tapes and DVD’s. The room felt
private, cozy but cramped, compared to the other larger, public rooms. A brown leather couch, love seat and side chair, a coffee table, two side tables, a large TV and good stereo equipment filled the room. In one corner stood two electric guitars, a lead and a bass, and two small amplifiers. Scripts were stacked on one side table. The windows were covered by wood blinds, creating a dark, closed feeling. The room gave me a bad vibe. I imagined Andi and Sid and Edie having weird sex in this secluded room. I quickly left.

  I retraced my steps to the main hall, while I shook off the negative thoughts. The main staircase was wide and headed straight to the second floor. The lobby area by the front door was open, creating a dramatic two-story ceiling that extended back to the stairs. I climbed up the steps two at a time.

  The master suite occupied the entire right side of the upstairs, above the living room and library. A family bathroom was center rear, and three small bedrooms took up the left side, by the driveway.

  It looked like these small bedrooms had been unused for some time. One must have been Troy’s years ago, before he moved to the garage apartment, as some of his boyhood possessions were neatly displayed on the walls and bureau tops.

  The master suite consisted of a sleeping area, a sitting area, a bathroom and a large walk-in closet. The decorating theme was very different from the remainder of the mansion; stark black and white, with modern furniture, white walls, black and white photos, black sheets and curtains, black wall-to-wall carpeting and a fluffy white comforter on the bed. The sitting area had black furniture too; a leather love seat, and a dining table and a leather executive’s chair which served as Sid’s desk. The desk had a personal computer, a printer and a phone. On one corner was a framed photo of Sid, Andi and Edie. Sid and Edie were in black clothes; Sid wore a suit and Edie was in black leather pants and halter top. Andi was dressed in a very short, sexy white dress. All were smiling, but Andi looked a little scared. The photo was taken in the bedroom as the three of them stood in front of the king-sized, black metal bed. The opposite desk corner had Troy’s high school graduation photo. Next to the table was a three-drawer filing cabinet. I resisted temptation and didn’t look in any drawers.

  The walls had a dozen photos of Sid and his friends and co-stars; Jack Nicholson, Peter and Jane Fonda, Dennis Hopper, Michael Douglas, the Wilson Brothers and Mike Love of the Beach Boys, and many others.

  I continued into the walk-in closet. Clothes filled the racks and shelves to my left and right. It looked like nothing had been touched in here, yet. Sid had a spectrum of styles and colors, and formal and informal wear, but mostly it went to the black look. At the back of the closet was another door. I walked there and opened the unlocked door. Within was the top of a spiral staircase that led down. Dim foot lights were glowing at every other step. Hmm…how convenient. Wonder where this goes?

  I turned around, walked back to the closet’s entrance door and closed that. Then, I returned to the staircase door, entered and closed the closet door behind me. I quietly walked down the spiral until I reached the main level of the house. A similar door to the house was here. I opened it and found myself in a closet stacked with games, sex toys, a collection of pornographic movies, photos and magazines, and provocative men’s and women’s clothing. A door faced me at the other side of this closet. I walked there, opened the door and found myself in the library. Sid truly had a private world here.

  I retraced my steps back to the spiral staircase, closing the two closet doors behind me, and continued down the stairs to the lower level. I landed in a small enclosed room, with another door in front of me. I opened it into the basement hall. To my left, at the front of the mansion were the laundry room, utility area with the heater and air conditioner, and a work room with tools and a bench. Behind me and to right, was a door that must lead to the caretaker’s residence. Across from me was a play room with a pool table. Just in front of it was the public staircase leading up to the main hall.

  To my right, at the back middle of the basement, was a heavy metal door. I walked to it, opened it and entered a room twenty feet square. It was windowless, cooler and dark, save for low-wattage lights mounted on the walls. I wasn’t sure of the room’s original purpose, perhaps it was an air raid or natural disaster shelter. But, now, it had been converted into a very well stocked wine cellar. Hundreds of bottles of red wine lie on their sides in well-made wooden shelves. To the left, a glass-front double-door refrigerator held an impressive collection of white wines and champagnes. A side table and chairs with a counter top and cabinets lined the right side.

  Ahead of me was another metal door. I opened it and saw the entrance to a fifteen foot tunnel that ended in yet another metal door. I walked that way, slowly opened it and squinted as bright natural light flooded into the tunnel. I was at the landing at the bottom of the path that led from the terrace. In front of me was the pool, with the pool house to my right and the garage and hot tub to my left. I stepped out, leaving the door unlocked behind me. I walked towards the pool and glanced around an evergreen bush at the hot tub. They were still in their same positions and Edie was on her left side, looking at Troy, and they were talking to each other. I listened and heard them discuss dinner plans. Troy said he had agreed to go to his mother’s Malibu home. Troy didn’t invite Edie to go with him, and Edie broke the awkward moment by saying something about spending the evening in the pool house as she needed to memorize a script. Troy promised to stop by there when he got home.

  I saw my opportunity to speak to Edie, alone. I’d go back the way I came and watch until Troy left the estate. I quietly retraced my steps, closing doors as I went.

  It was almost forty minutes later before Troy exited the garage apartment, hopped in his Jeep and roared down the driveway on his way to Malibu. I had hung out at the kitchen table, in the dusk, watching the two small residences in the back yard. I waited five minutes more before I got up and started my walk towards the pool house.

  The sun had set and the reflection off the Pacific gave all light-colored surfaces an amber glow. The pool lights had come on and provided a complimentary blue color to the water. Edie had turned on more lights in the pool house. I could hear music playing and a woman singing as I approached the door. I knocked louder than I intended to be heard over the song.

  sophisticated subject

  The door opened after five seconds. Edie McCall said, “Did you decide not to…”

  She stopped short, gasped and said, “Oh, who are you?”

  I took in this young, petite, raven-haired lady. Edie was a beautiful woman. She looked better than poolside, dressed in her tight pink slacks and a white halter top. Up close I noticed the slightly exotic nature of Edie’s looks. She had a mix of something else with her mostly northern-European blood; perhaps Hispanic. Whatever her heritage, I loved the results. It was all I could do to blurt out, “Hi, I didn’t mean to startle you. My name is Stevie Garrett. May I speak to you for a few minutes?”

  Still surprised and scared, she said, “What are you doing here?”

  I handed her my card from Center City Investigators, and quickly said, “I’m investigating Sid Gabriel’s death. I’m a friend of Andi Anderson. Andi asked me to help her, and I flew out from Philadelphia. Are you Andi’s friend, Edie McCall?”

  She looked at the card, at my face, and seemed to only digest part of my introduction. My words shocked her. She took a step back, clutched tighter the script in her hand, and said, “Oh”.

  I spoke slower, “Edie, Andi needs help. She didn’t kill Sid. She was set up. Can I speak to you for just a few minutes?”

  “Who are you?”

  I spoke in short, clear sentences. “I’m Stevie, Stevie Garrett. I’m a friend of Andi’s. I’m an investigator, too. I live in Philadelphia. Andi called me and wanted my help. I’m doing that, I hope. Please, just a few minutes.”

  I pulled out my wallet and showed her my private eye licenses.

  Edie looked at them and thought about what I said. “But, Sid was sh
ot with Andi’s gun. They had an argument in the diner. The police said so. Plus, Andi was pissed at Sid, a lot of the time.”

  I said, “That’s not the whole story. Sid had given Andi a script for a good movie, a comedy. It’s a movie with that funny guy, Jim Carrey. She was happy with Sid. Plus, someone hit Andi over the head with something hard, before Sid was shot. She was knocked out for a minute, and when she woke up, Sid was shot dead. She still has a bruise on her head.”

  I could see Edie digesting what I said. But, then she looked wary, “How did you find me?”

  “Andi guessed you were still living here, in the pool house.”

  “Oh.” A different thought crossed Edie’s mind, “Hey, are you that guy Andi always talked about from back east?”

  “Yes, I’m her friend from Philadelphia, but I didn’t realize she talked about me.”

  “Oh, yeah, Andi has a crush on you.” She looked at me closer and said, “I can see why.”

  I wrinkled my nose and smiled. Edie continued to look me up and down, while lifting her left leg and curling the toes on her bare left foot and tapping them on the carpet. At that moment I really noticed the music that filled the air; a female singer with a strange voice, an enticing quality to the tune. I let the pregnant pause pass.

  She said, “OK, Stevie, I was about to have a Corona. Would you like one?”

  I said yes, and she turned and walked to the entertainment center where she turned down the stereo. Then, she tossed her script on the kitchen counter and headed to the refrigerator. I took that as my invitation to come in the pool house. I shut the door behind me and sat on the black leather love seat in the living area. I noticed the CD case sitting on the coffee table, and the album and artist, Post by Bjork.

  Edie took out two long necked bottles and a lime. She flipped off the bottle caps and then, grabbed a cutting board and a short sharp knife and began to slowly cut the lime in to small wedges. When she finished cutting, she placed two wedges in the tops of the bottles and handed me one. Then, she asked, “So, what do you want to know, Stevie?”