A Dead Sister (Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery)

by Anna Burke

  “Roberta, please. It’s really no trouble at all. Can I help you with your bags?”

  Jessica had packed in a remarkably efficient manner, for her anyway. She only had one bag on wheels and a small overnight case. By the time she pulled the from the car, along with her laptop and purse, she was glad to have Roberta’s assistance. They went into the front foyer, and a rush of childhood memories washed over Jessica. The house had a comfortable, casual feel to it, even though it sported the fine finishes and furnishings both parents loved. Everything was a bit more traditional here than in the desert house. There were more curves to the furniture frames, buttons on the cushions, a splash of check or plaid. More wood was evident in this house, and brick rather than the stacked stone so prominent in the Rancho Mirage estate. Something radiated the same sensibility as the desert house, though. A comfortable elegance, large expanses of windows, and sliding glass doors gave it the same light and airy feel. Like the desert home, those glass panel doors could be slipped back into pockets that opened up the whole place, blurring the lines between inside and out.

  Her father already owned this house when he married Alexis Baldwin. An old-style California ranch, the house comprised several wings, each with a low-slung, gabled roof. It was adorned with white clapboard siding and a rambling white picket fence. Sitting on nearly five acres, it was surrounded by grass and shrubs and trees that seemed lavish compared to the desert. Tall palms waved above the house along with Italian cypress, jacaranda, sweet acacia and African tulip trees. They all bloomed at different times of the year. Clumps of manzanita bushes stood out with their thick, leathery leaves and cinnamon-kissed bark twisted into fanciful shapes. Ferns, and giant-leaved elephant ears, lilies and wild roses, added to the lush feel of the place.

  Jessica dropped her bags and rushed through the house to the back patio area. Built at the top of a slope, the house had a view of the city in the distance, magical at night. An infinity edge pool created the impression that you would drop off and tumble into the gardens below, if you stepped too close. The slope was, in reality, a gradual one. Jessica and her childhood friends had run up and down, playing hide and seek. They had all sorts of adventures on imagined jungle safaris, voyages to pirate islands, and escapes to fairy lands in those gardens.

  Her mother loved this house and would have been happy to stay put when Hank Huntington got the urge to build his dream home in Rancho Mirage. After Jessica was born, they continued to shuttle back and forth between LA and the Palm Springs area until Jessica started school. Maybe that’s when the trouble began between Hank and Alexis. Something changed that drove a wedge between them by the time Jessica had finished grade school, ending in divorce not long after that. They had seemed so happy here. Who knew what it was that turned an apparently good marriage into a bad one? Jessica was in no position to judge.

  Stepping back into the house, Jessica spent a few minutes chatting with Roberta Palmer who showed her where they had stashed the things Jessica asked them to purchase. She gave her the new pass code for the alarm system, and the device Jessica needed in order to operate the front gate to the estate, and the garage door. As soon as Roberta left, Jessica settled into her old room in her father’s house.

  After her parents’ divorce, Jessica had continued to visit the Brentwood house but without her mother. She lost track of friends who had been with her throughout elementary school, once she was kicked out of Palm Valley. When she was expelled from St. Margaret’s Episcopal School soon after enrolling, she hardly knew a soul. Riding, angry and alone, in the back of the limo transporting her from Rancho Mirage to LA, the dissolution of her family was painfully evident. Her father tried to make her feel better with outings to the zoo or ball park. She liked that he tried, but was too angry to tell him.

  When she made the transition to St. Theresa’s, she also made friends again. After that, she almost always brought someone along. Usually Kelly, Laura, or both of them, accompanied Jessica on that limo ride to Brentwood. Relieved that she had companions, her father was often relegated to chauffer, sometimes delegating those duties to the limo service.

  By then, Jessica preferred the excitement of Hollywood, shopping and spas to ball games or zoos. Hank tried to accommodate her changing interests. He surprised Jessica and her friends with tickets to the taping of popular TV shows at local studios. He bought tickets and pulled strings to get them backstage passes for an Alanis Morissette concert after hearing Jessica tell Kelly how much she liked her Jagged Little Pill album. He arranged special seats for Jessica and her friends at Fashion Week in LA, and red carpet events like movie premiers.

  Mostly her dad remained behind the scenes, providing chaperones for Jessica and her friends, but rarely accompanying them. Somehow, though, Hank increasingly became the parent Jessica could talk to about her life and what she might do with it. He encouraged and rewarded her efforts to get good grades in school and inquired about the areas that interested her. He also talked about his own work, sharing what he liked and didn’t like about it. He showed her the designs in development, then, took her to the building sites. She listened as he talked about the Huntington family legacy. That included telling her stories about their role in the development of California. It also included visits to places like the Huntington Library, tangible symbols of the family legacy.

  At his urging, Jessica began to read books about architecture, design and development. They discussed problems in cities, like sprawl, traffic, pollution, and the loss of neighborhoods, and about the need for well-planned, livable communities. Whether intentional or not, their conversations about such issues greatly influenced her career choices. So did his passion for good design and sensible development, for fairness and doing the right thing even when it was difficult in business. When she finally decided to pursue environmental studies and urban planning as an undergrad, she had a real head start from the hours spent discussing such things with her father.

  She loved him most of all for trying: trying to make his life and the lives of others better, especially hers. Jessica was his daughter and cared as much as he did about figuring things out, solving problems, and making things right. It had shaken her to the core when Hank Huntington couldn’t fix his marriage. Now, here she was in the same situation, no better able than he had been to mend the breach.

  She was her mother’s daughter, too. It was almost 2:00 and she had some serious shopping to do. Truth be told, she was more than a little nervous about her meeting at Paul’s law firm tomorrow. She wanted to create a good impression, and that meant finding the perfect dress. She had made a three o’clock appointment with an associate at Max Mara’s on Rodeo Drive. Store hours varied, and she was taking no chances. Jessica also asked that they have a tailor on hand who could make minor alterations while she waited. Or while she shopped nearby for shoes and bags once she had found “the dress.” Max Mara was not the only designer Jessica admired. She had come to trust the company’s prêt-à-porter collection, shopping frequently at their Palo Alto store, when she lived and worked in that area. If time permitted, she could order from their fall collection as well.

  Jessica cruised down Rodeo Drive, taking in the palm lined street featuring a dazzling array of iconic designer names: Dior, Prada, Gucci, Armani, Versace, Cartier and Harry Winston. Plus newer, hipper names like Michael Kors, Etro, Juicy Couture, Jimmy Choo, Guess, and Bebe. She admired the architecture, set off by elaborate facades, expanses of glass, store names in bold lettering, and gleaming brass accents. She had planned to use the valet parking near Two Rodeo Drive and walk to Max Mara’s, strolling along the cobblestone pedestrian thoroughfare so often featured in the movies. As luck would have it, a Bentley was pulling out of a parking space close to the Max Mara storefront.

  She could feel the blood pulsing in her ears. The thrill of the hunt, and the challenge to find the perfect outfit, had her on point. She struggled to modulate her excitement, hoping to avoid the embarrassment she had experienced on a number of occasions in the p
ast year or so. Exhilaration had, at times, morphed into anxiety and even panic. “Focus, Jessica. Relax and focus,” she said to herself as she angled her white BMW coupe into the now empty parking space.

  The first time her body betrayed her she had been in a doctor’s office. Waiting for the results of yet another pregnancy test, Jessica was caught up in a familiar mix of excitement and apprehension. Suddenly, without warning, she was hit by a torrent of heart-pumping, head-pounding, throat-tightening adrenalin. She feared it was a heart attack. As she stood up to get help from medical staff, she became light-headed and saw stars. The next thing she knew she was on the floor. She had been aiming for her seat but miscalculated and landed on the floor instead.

  A slew of tests followed. They revealed nothing wrong with her heart; no brain tumor or other neurological problem, no diabetes or hypoglycemia, etc. It took a few weeks to do the tests and get the results back. During that time, the same thing happened again, several times. Jessica’s own careful review of test results, and a ton of internet research, finally led her to concede that she was experiencing an anxiety reaction.

  Her physician made a referral and Jessica Huntington-Harper was officially given a mental health diagnosis by a psychiatrist: generalized anxiety disorder with episodes of panic. Since she was still earnestly seeking a baby at the time, she declined medication and pursued behavioral treatment.

  It took her months to learn about the disorder and begin to acquire skills to manage the symptoms. That included learning to recognize the early signs that she was spiraling toward a loss of control. She developed a range of strategies: relaxation, thought-stopping and self-talk to counteract the rumination that could send her body into overdrive. All the good things she was doing, exercise, healthy food, and sleep were part of her continued recovery. More than once, Jessica had wondered if her body knew her marriage was over long before she stumbled upon Jim and that minx. The unavoidable truth of that discovery still caused a surge of neurochemicals and unwanted emotions.

  “Stop!” Jessica commanded silently. Jessica called to mind her morning swim: the soothing feel of sparkling water, buoyant and cleansing, the steady rhythm of her stroke propelling her through laps. She counted off the laps in her mind as she locked the bimmer with a couple chirps of the electronic key, and fed the meter with coins from her purse. Much calmer, she observed that it was one hour parking. She would run out and feed the meter if she had to, and hauling her purchases to the car would be a breeze.

  Angela, the store associate at Max Mara, was waiting for her, and introduced her to Alfonso, the tailor who would be working with them. Based on their phone conversation, Angela had already pulled together a dozen items for Jessica’s consideration. The first thing that caught Jessica’s eye was a short-sleeved sheath dress in a deep red, with a split neckline. Made of a wool stretch blend and fully lined, it had a smooth feel to the touch and draped well. When she put the dress on, it was too large. Working out and eating right had begun to pay off. She had them bring her the same dress, in a size smaller.

  Jessica took a good look in the mirrors surrounding her. The smaller size was nearly perfect. The color added a glow to Jessica’s complexion that made her green eyes look even greener. If she didn’t find something she liked better, this dress would work. She slipped into the pair of black Jimmy Choo pumps she had brought along from home. They worked, giving her the elegant, professional look she was shopping for. What a find, and on the first try!

  Jessica next tried on a dress from Max Mara’s studio collection that Angela had already swapped out for the smaller size. A gorgeous caramel color with side panels in black, the dress seemingly subtracted even more of the pounds she was struggling to lose. The sharp contrast of the inset panels added interest. Yet it had the same clean lines she liked, with short sleeves and a higher neck than the red dress. The concealed zipper and vent on the back of the skirt gave the dress an elegant look from the back too. She had found another dress that would work.

  Angela had also chosen a couple sleeveless dresses for her. One, a wool-silk blend in a silvery gray, created a similar silhouette, but seemed a bit too casual for the work-to-dinner thing on Tuesday. It could be worn to the office in Palm Desert and she’d be grateful that it was sleeveless in the desert heat. A second sleeveless dress, in white with black color blocking insets and a detachable black belt, had a round neck. Pleats gave the line of the skirt more flare than the other dresses she had tried on. The black insets were dramatic from the back, and the zipper inset in black created a vertical line that flattered her figure. The classic lines, flawless cut, and drape of the fabric in both dresses promised to make it easy to look pulled together. Even if she didn’t always feel that way, Jessica intended to create the effect. In the fall when the weather cooled, she could add a jacket or cardigan, extending the usefulness of both dresses. She was on a roll.

  That ended abruptly. The next three dresses did not work at all. One was too broad in the shoulders, another would have looked great if she were 5’7” instead of 5’4”, and the third was in a shade of gold that somehow washed the color out of her hair. She was growing weary of the process when Angela brought her a luxuriously soft, beautifully tailored camel’s hair blazer and matching pencil skirt. The suit fit like a glove. She disliked suits but the color, fit and luscious fabric won her over. Unfortunately, they didn’t have a camisole or blouse to match in her size, but she could find one later if she didn’t already have something in her closet at home that worked. They did have a simple cashmere wool-blend sweater in black with a V-neck, which fit well and could be worn with the pencil skirt, giving it a finished look without the blazer.

  Jessica had been at it for nearly an hour, and she needed to feed the meter. She still hadn’t looked at the fall collections to see what she might ask them to set aside for her or send to her in Rancho Mirage. She was about to call it a day when Angela handed her one more dress. A soft knit, panel dress in navy blue with a V-neckline and three quarter length sleeves, it was form-fitting but tailored.

  Angela sent someone to pump coins into the meter urging Jessica to slip into the dress. A matching long-sleeved jacket with inverted notched lapels was also available in her size. The minute she put it on Jessica knew that was it. The dress she was going to wear. It was an inch or so too long, but Alfonso assured her he could hem and press the skirt for her in a half hour or less. Comfortable and elegant, the dress would put her at ease at the office, and would be suitable for dinner later. Of course, she’d take the others too. By morning, she might change her mind, and wear that gorgeous red dress instead. They would all be useful as she forged ahead, rebuilding her legal career. A shopping buzz pulsed through her body.

  While the tailor set to work altering her dress, Jessica went through a few remaining items Angela thought might be suitable as accessories. She bought a beautiful, classic pair of pumps in a deep caramel color with black heels, a wonderful roomy leather satchel in black, and a tote in navy. In addition, she purchased two luxurious multi-colored silk scarves that would add a bit of panache to the suit and dresses she had selected.

  Getting her second wind, Jessica picked out a pair of Doppio stretch wool, classic crop pants, and a matching tunic of the same lightweight fabric. Both were in a deep red they called Bordeaux. She couldn’t resist the soft allure of a scoop neck jersey tee in black. More than a little sexy paired with sleek skinny black pants with zippered cuffs. Not that sexy mattered. For a split second she flashed on Frank’s appreciative gaze as he left the house on Sunday. Maybe sexy did matter. “Ay yi yi,” Jessica thought.

  She was done. Ordering from the new collection would have to wait. When they rang up the total Jessica experienced a brief bout of vertigo. Yet another symptom of her anxiety disorder, perhaps. Worrying about money did not keep her awake at night. It did occur to her, however, that this tab was all hers now that she had signed those divorce papers. In only 24 hours, American Express had been happy to issue her a new card as Jes
sica Huntington, no hyphen. She had wasted no time in putting it to use.

  Jessica vowed to take a serious look at her finances before the end of the year. She was not nearly ready to buy a place of her own, in the desert or LA or anywhere else. If the contract she signed with Paul Worthington was extended beyond the year they agreed upon, then it might be worth making more permanent living arrangements. Of course, she might feel a great deal more urgency to find her own place if her mother, with husband-du-jour, turned up.

  “I need a year,” she cried inwardly for the umpteenth time, as that hyped-up feeling began to sweep over her again. She would have to start keeping tabs on the real estate market anyway if she and the Van der Woerts hit it off. What if they didn’t—hit it off that is? Then what? The panic was creeping up on her. She had to get out of there. Maybe it would help to go for a walk while she waited for Alfonso to finish his handiwork.

  Jessica hollered “back in a few minutes” as she rushed out of the store and into the waiting arms of a startlingly gorgeous afternoon in the 90210 zip code. The auric sunlight, vivid blues skies and swaying palms on Rodeo Drive, beckoned. All the wealth and beauty of that street countered her anxiety with a big dose of the “anything’s possible” spirit that pervades “LA-LA” land. The city of angels is, if nothing else, a city of dreamers. Despite her recent troubles Jessica’s life was about as close as you could get to the life so many Angelinos dreamed about. Jessica stood on the street, trying to decide what to do as tourists and locals streamed by.

  Suddenly, her heart sank. Out of a shop door, not half a block away, strode home-wrecker-Barbie. Having no baby bump yet, she wore tight, skinny white jeans and a sheer tank over a sports bra that left little to the imagination. Her wide-brimmed black-banded Panama hat teetered atop cascading, platinum locks, boosted by a surfeit of expensive hair extensions. As she made her way out of the store in strappy 6-inch stiletto heels, she did not wobble. Not even when stopping on a dime to smile for a member of the paparazzi. One hand carried shopping bags and the other held the leash for a large white standard poodle, all poofs and flounce, wearing a sparkly dog collar.