“Why yes, but it’s a two-hour flight and I’m only in three scenes on Monday. I’ll be able to learn most of my lines in the air. They’ll e-mail me the final version of the script tomorrow morning. Funny thing is, I usually wake up about three a.m. the morning of a shoot and go over them again.”
“An internal alarm clock?”
“Something like that.”
“I’ll bet your boyfriend doesn’t like that,” Pat said.
“No, none of them do,” Mary Lisa agreed. “Whine, whine, whine, all of them, not a single stoic in the lot.” She laughed.
When Mary Lisa left Patricia Bigelow and her double-edged sword, she made her way to the nearest waiter to get another glass of champagne.
“Wait up, Mary Lisa, this isn’t a race.”
She turned to see John Goddard closing on her. She studied his face a moment. “Patricia Bigelow says she admires your butt, even if she does have to kick it sometimes.”
He shrugged, smiled charmingly, and lied cleanly. “Only business as usual, nothing more than that.”
Yeah, right. “She’s a beautiful woman, and she seems terrifyingly smart. But what’s odd to me about all this is that she has a thing for you.”
“What thing? A voodoo doll in her pocket, needles sticking out of its gullet?”
“Nah. I don’t think she’d go the voodoo-doll route. Just the way she looked at you, and your fine butt.”
“Pat treats every guy like that. I haven’t heard her say she likes my butt, though. And you agreed? That’s nice.” He looked beyond her left shoulder, his attention taken by something.
“She seems to admire Jack Wolf’s butt, as well, so I wouldn’t crow too much about it.”
“I’ll wait to tell him when he’s taking a drink off a beer, watch him spew it all over everything.”
She followed his line of vision and saw her sister Kelly looking toward them, her face cold and set.
This wasn’t good. She said quietly, “It’s tough to be in a small town when there’s a breakup. And now my sister sees me consorting with the enemy.” She was reminded of The Young and the Restless, and laughed at herself.
“That’s me, Kelly’s enemy. Patricia Bigelow’s enemy. I am very unpopular at the moment. By the way, you really don’t look bad in Bethy’s dress. But why does Jack look like he wants to throw you in his jail without a blanket?”
“You could say I got in a little trouble before I left three years ago, and as a matter of fact, I did spend some time in his jail. I don’t remember if there was a blanket or not.”
“What possible kind of trouble could you have gotten yourself into to warrant a jail cell? Parking on Lover’s Lane up on Grayland’s Point? Four-wheeling on the sand dunes?”
“I was too old even then to park on Lover’s Lane. And no four-wheeling either, not on those fragile sand dunes.” She smiled at him, but said nothing more.
He glanced quickly at Kelly again, gave Mary Lisa a small salute, and turned on his heel to walk through the crowd to where his mother and father were holding court. She saw Patricia Bigelow looking after him.
“Beth’s dress makes your shoulders look all bony. It never looked good on her either.”
Mary Lisa turned to face her sister, saw the bright eyes, the flushed face. She had obviously downed too much of Monica’s excellent champagne and was in a mood to rock and roll, or kill. It hadn’t taken her long to spot Mary Lisa finally alone on the living room balcony. She took her sister’s hand and squeezed it, to get her attention. “Kelly, listen to me now. I’m your sister. You’re supposed to be kind to me, perhaps even love me a little bit.”
“Yeah, yada, yada, but I just saw my sister yucking it up with John. Did you mention me?”
“I’m very sorry to tell you this, Kelly, but the world isn’t always focused on you. It’s a bummer, but it’s true.”
Kelly drank half of her champagne, gave a dainty hiccup, and eyed her sister with glaze-eyed frustration. “Monica says you’re after Mark again and you think you can get him back since you’re a big star now. She says men are so brain-dead it might be true.”
“Is that really what Monica says?”
“Stop making fun of me, Mary Lisa!”
Mary Lisa sighed. “Then why did Monica throw this party for me if she thinks I’m a home wrecker?”
“Are you stupid? You know very well it’s for her political campaign. You could have run down her mother-in-law and you’d still be her guest of honor.”
“I’m surprised she’d believe I could be that important to her.”
“I don’t want to talk about Monica, I want to talk about John. I want you to keep away from him, Mary Lisa. Don’t run tomorrow morning. He’ll want to meet you because he’s using you to upset me, make me jealous.”
“But why would it upset you or make you jealous when you were the one who kissed him off? Why would you care what he does or who he dates now?”
Kelly downed the rest of her champagne. She walked to the railing with the careful gait of a person who knows they’re seriously impaired. She leaned on the railing, looked down into a mess of rosebushes, and, laughing, dropped her champagne glass. It disappeared into the thick leaves.
She turned, leaned her elbows on the railing. “You’re right. He’s not worth my time, never was. I’ve decided I want Jack. Did you get a good look at him tonight? In that tux he’s wearing, he looks elegant, more classy than dear old John.”
“Not as elegant or classy as Dad.”
Kelly ignored her. “I know for a fact Jack hasn’t dated for a long while. I know he was married before he came here, back in Chicago. So he must be ready by now. Don’t you think?”
NINETEEN
Mary Lisa followed her sister’s eyes. Jack did look fine in a tux, but then again, so did most men. Uniforms and tuxes were definitely dangerous. “Chief of Police Jack Wolf? John Goddard’s best friend? You think maybe this has something to do with making someone jealous? You know he’d arrest you in a minute for drunk driving if you headed out of here right now.”
Kelly’s voice sounded dreamy from all the champagne. “His name-it sounds sexy, doesn’t it? Jack Wolf, like one of those macho fake names down in Hollywood.”
“Nah, I think Matt Damon has a sexier name.”
Kelly ignored that. “When I decide I’m ready, I think I’ll take Jack next. Sooner or later, he’ll hop to. What’s even better is he doesn’t like you.”
Mary Lisa was nearly twenty-eight and Kelly was twenty-five-her younger sister hadn’t been this self-absorbed, this seemingly man-crazy when she’d last seen her three years ago. What had happened? Was she still stuck on John?
Mary Lisa sighed. She found herself repeating to Kelly what she’d just said to Monica. “We’re sisters, Kelly. I’m not on this earth to hurt you. I’m not here to steal guys away from you.” Then she thought of the girl-fight she’d had with Lou Lou over a surfer dude who’d asked them both out. For a day or two it had been touch-and-go between them until they saw him flirting with another girl on the beach; they just looked at each other and laughed their heads off. Lou Lou, as usually happened, had the last word. “That girl shouldn’t wear a thong.”
Kelly said, “He’s only thirty-two, you know, same age as John.”
“But he seems a hard man, Kelly. Have you ever seen him smile?”
“Sure, all the time. It’s only you he doesn’t smile at. Of course he doesn’t like Pat Bigelow either, but that makes sense, what with Pat hassling him about the Hildebrands. What’d you do to make him dislike you so much?”
“Are you about ready to go home, Kelly? It’s late, I swear I’ve spoken to every person in Monica’s living room and powder room, and-”
“There’s Jack looming over Patricia Bigelow. He looks like he wants to smack her. Hey, wouldn’t that make Monica’s boring party memorable? Could you imagine if the Hildebrands were here? Of course Monica didn’t invite them.”
Mary Lisa knew it was way past time to tak
e her sister home. But Kelly wasn’t done yet. She leaned back, her elbows on the railing. “So, Mary Lisa, tell me, did Monica take Mark from you because he’s such a stud in bed?”
No, I think I was too happy and she couldn’t stand that. “Could be. I don’t remember. Let’s go home.”
Kelly twisted about and looked down into the bushes where she’d tossed the champagne flute. “I wonder how much that glass cost. I hope it puts her back some.”
“Yeah, she might have to move out of this beautiful house,” Mary Lisa said as she took her sister’s arm. She’d managed ten steps inside the door when Kelly pulled away and went like a homing pigeon to Chief Jack Wolf.
“Jack,” she said, her smile dazzling, looking not at all drunk. “You look taller tonight. Are you wearing lifts?”
For an instant, Mary Lisa thought she saw a flash of humor in the chief’s dark blue eyes, but his mask settled in again. “No, not tonight, Kelly,” he said, “I must have forgotten them at home. If it’s height you want, why not borrow a pair of your sister’s shoes? A big Hollywood actress probably has dozens of pairs of pole-vault heels.”
Kelly said, “I would hope so. I’ve never seen Mary Lisa’s shoe collection. Rodeo Drive, can you imagine how great that would be? Pradas and Blahniks on every block. But it wouldn’t matter, Mary Lisa’s feet are bigger than mine.”
“Let’s go, Kelly,” Mary Lisa said, her hand cupping her sister’s elbow. “Dad’s waving at us.”
He wasn’t, Chief Wolf knew he wasn’t, but he didn’t say anything. “I hope you’re not driving, Kelly,” he said finally. “I’d have to give you a ticket.”
Again, that glittering smile. “One of your guys gave me a ticket in March for speeding, only I wasn’t, at least that time. It was Officer Gruber and he wanted to go out with me.”
“I hope you took pity on him and didn’t.”
Mary Lisa saw that her sister was too trashed to figure her way to the insult. Mary Lisa looked him straight in the eye. “My sister is beautiful, smart, and fun. Any man she’d accept would be lucky.”
He nodded. “As you say, Ms. Beverly. Good night.” He turned abruptly, only to say over his shoulder, “The name of your show is perfect for you.”
Kelly got her brain to focus. “What’s that? Oh, you mean Born to Be Wild? Mary Lisa, wild?” Kelly laughed. “Mary Lisa is about as wild as listening to teeth grind. I think you’ve got us confused.”
Mary Lisa rolled her eyes, grinned at Chief Wolf, and shrugged. “Call me Steppenwolf.”
As Jack Wolf walked away, Kelly looked after him, and hiccupped. “Isn’t he funny?”
“Oh yeah. Maybe he was a stand-up comedian before he got into law enforcement.”
“Look over at old Mark. He’s eyeballing you again, Mary Lisa. You want me to tell him to stop before Monica sees him?”
“Yeah, you tell him that, Kelly, but first let’s get ourselves home.”
“A lovely party,” Kathleen said while George was driving them back to the house. “Beautifully planned and executed. Monica was impressive, as usual.”
George pulled at the neck of his collar. “Executed is about right.”
“Don’t whine, Dad, you look very handsome. Every woman there was envying Mother. You rule.”
“Yeah, Dad, you’re a tux stud,” Kelly said and giggled.
He looked in the rearview mirror at Mary Lisa and winked at her. “You were certainly popular tonight, sweetheart.”
“It’s the power of TV, that’s all. I call it TVness. People kind of lose it around TVness.”
Kelly was frowning. George said quickly, “Talk about popular, Kelly, I don’t think I ever saw you alone.”
“I guess not,” Kelly said, her head drooping now from the champagne. “I only felt that way.”
TWENTY
Early the next morning Mary Lisa took one last run before she had to pack and drive to the airport for her ll:05 fight back to L.A.
She hoped she would see John Goddard one last time. She had to see him, really, this morning or soon. She had set herself straight last night. Now she had to set him straight as well.
I am not a small person, she thought as she took off down the long beach, through the long tongue of gray fog that rolled over the valley nearly to the line of low coastal hills a mile inland. I was bordering on being small last night, but not now. She’d made up her mind before she went to sleep, and she’d slept soundly until near morning, when Jack Wolf had poked his head into her dreams. Suddenly he’d been standing in front of her, towering over her, telling her she was a spoiled brat and a juvenile delinquent-and, at all of twenty-five, a little old to be acting like a half-brained teenager.
She could smile about it now. Sort of. It was something like what Jack had said to her three years ago when he’d hauled her off to jail.
She picked up her pace, but didn’t see John. He didn’t seem to be running this morning. She’d have to write him, which she hated to have to do. Well, it was Sunday and maybe he was at church. She decided to run all out, letting the sweat run down her face and the lipstick she’d applied fend for itself. She had just started to slow again when he suddenly burst out of the fog, looking fine indeed, his sleeveless T-shirt sweated to his chest, his face stubbled with his morning beard.
“I am not a small person,” she said aloud without thinking.
“What? Oh. No, you’re not. What are you, five foot ten? In those stilts you were wearing last night, we were eye to eye.”
She wiped her forehead on the bottom of her sweatshirt, smiled at him. “Nah, I think I was up to your eyebrows. I wanted to speak to you before I left to go back south.”
“That makes two of us. That’s why I’m running on a Sunday morning instead of sleeping in. I wanted to speak to you too. What time are you taking off?”
“Not for a while yet. Oh yes, please thank your sister for the loan of her beautiful dress. My mom will have the cleaners deliver it to her.”
“No problem. Let’s run for a while.” She nodded. They ran side by side for ten minutes, and walked back to her car. Mary Lisa leaned over and waited for her breathing to ease and her heart to slow. Oddly, she didn’t want to come right out with it. What she said was, “You seem to have this unusual relationship with Pat Bigelow. She keeps talking about Jack Wolf harassing the Hildebrands, not looking at other suspects, like in the O.J. case.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her, but said easily enough, “Unusual is one way of putting it. The truth is that in the O.J. case, there was so much evidence against him so quickly, there wasn’t any reason to search elsewhere. Besides, can you begin to imagine any shop run by Jack Wolf doing anything but a solid investigation?”
“I don’t know. Chief Wolf doesn’t confide in me.”
“Trust me on this. Jack Wolf knows his job, and he does it well. But enough about Pat Bigelow. I enjoyed watching you center stage at Monica’s last night. You handled yourself very well.”
“Like I told my dad last night, the whole Hollywood thing fascinates people. They think, wow, she’s on TV and conjure up this naturally skinny woman who parties with Russell Crowe every day and drinks espresso at the Ivy.”
He stared at her a moment, raised his towel and wiped the sweat from her left temple. “I don’t understand. It isn’t true?”
“Maybe on Thursdays.” She laughed, and cleared her throat. It was time to get it all out, but he beat her to it. He said, “I watched you and your family last night at Monica’s party. Let me be honest here, Mary Lisa. Your mother and your sisters-I couldn’t see much affection or gentleness between them-hell, it isn’t any of my business if your family doesn’t get along. Well, except for your father. I know he visits you often down in L.A., but you’ve never come up here, not for three years. I couldn’t help but wonder why you came back here now if things are unpleasant for you with your family.”
“I love my father dearly.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
She hadn’t expected to
talk about that. She’d elected not to tell anyone here about what had happened in Malibu because she didn’t want to have to deal with her father wanting to come down and move in with her to protect her. They would probably find out soon enough.
“A short vacation, nothing more.”
She looked up at his face. His expression turned from concern to a rueful look that she imagined he’d perfected in the courtroom. She grinned and folded. “All right, I’ll tell you why I came back here after three years. But I want you to keep it quiet, all right?”
When he nodded, she said slowly, “Fact is, my friend Lou Lou suggested it because she was afraid for me.”
She’d caught him by surprise. “Afraid? Of what? What’s going on with you?”
“You remember the incident I mentioned to you Friday morning? Well, it was more like a hit and run. What happened is-well, some guy may have been trying to kill me.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. What happened?”
“Well, I’d just bought some T-shirts in an army surplus shop. I’d ducked in there because I was trying to get away from Puker Hodges, a paparazzo who’s decided I’m his ticket to fame, when a car tried to run me down.”
That stopped him cold. “That’s how you got hurt? Did he actually hit you?”
“I got banged up a little bit, but I’m okay now. The bruises are nearly gone. No major injuries to brag about. The cops are looking into it. I suppose it’s possible it was an accident. You know, someone who was high or not paying attention hit me, and was so freaked out he drove off.”
He waved that away. “L.A. is quite a place, isn’t it? What’s the name of the detective looking into this? What does he think?”
“Detective Daniel Vasquez is in charge. He’s with the Lost Hills Station. They take care of Malibu. He seems sharp and thorough. Don’t worry. Whoever did it-well, it seems to me now that I overreacted. I shouldn’t have come up here. And I’m sorry I even mentioned it. I would appreciate it if you’d keep it to yourself.”
“No, I promised I would. Maybe you should stay here for a while, Mary Lisa.”
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