Mary Lisa held up her hand. “Okay, you’re in cop mode.”
He grinned, and again it surprised her. All she’d ever seen on him was a hard, detached face, as if he didn’t want to be in the same room with her, or in the same room with most people. She wanted to smile back, but she thought of the man on the phone and simply couldn’t. “He said, exactly, ‘Shame on you, sleeping with a married man. Maybe next time you won’t be so lucky.’ That was all. He hung up. His voice was whispery, sort of hoarse. I’m sure it was a guy, but he didn’t sound familiar, and he didn’t sound particularly angry, sort of world-weary, like he’d expected all this, which sounds odd, but it’s true. I didn’t hear anything in the background. I couldn’t tell how old he was-not real young and not real old either, I guess. I might recognize his voice if I heard it again, though. The only thing I’m sure of is that he wasn’t an orangutan.”
“Okay, that’s good. Do you have any ideas on what you might have done to draw a crazy like this to you?”
“What I might have done?”
“You’re an actress, Ms.-Mary Lisa. A celebrity. Most young women can kiss off a guy at a party, or spend lots of cash shopping on Rodeo Drive, and no one notices. For you, it’s different. Someone has been watching, and that someone went over the edge.”
She shook her head, her lips tightly seamed, until she interrupted him, her voice as cold as her mom’s. “You’re right, Chief Wolf-”
“Since I’m trying to help you, I guess you’d better call me Jack.”
She couldn’t say why, but it simply stunned her. How could this man possibly be simply Jack to her? “Why are you acting like this?”
“Like what?”
She waved her hands in his face. “Like you’re human, like you might consider me human too.”
“All right, you’re angry with me. Go on. I believe you were about to pin my ears back.”
“Yes, I am. You’re acting as if I’m a party girl, without any morals or sense. Most actresses, myself included, work hard, enjoy their friends, spend most of their time at home. None of my actor friends go boozing at wild parties and I think I’ve only been on Rodeo Drive one time-to buy myself a real pearl necklace for winning my second Emmy.”
“So, cutting through all that, you mean to say you haven’t a clue who’s doing this and you can’t think of any way you could have brought it on.”
“Would you like a soda? Lower your blasted eyebrow, Chie-Jack. I’m thirsty.”
Venting at him had helped her get her balance back, he thought as he watched her walk to her kitchen. He followed her, and stopped dead, blown away by the magnificent view. Her cottage sat right on the beach. Not fifty feet away the Pacific waves lapped gently onto the sand, and a brilliant sun shone through the few wispy clouds that dotted the sky. He saw a few teenagers, her neighbors, he supposed, since this was a gated community, mostly lolling about, some playing volleyball, others simply stretched out on towels, sunning, the girls dressed in little designer swimsuits.
He said, “I love the ocean, always have. Unfortunately, my house is a bit too far inland to hear the waves. I love that sound, don’t you?”
Again, she stared at him.
“Mary Lisa, I’m just a guy, like any other guy, and I like the ocean. I’d like it if I could sit beside Daniel and Lou Lou, feet up on the deck railing, just basking like they are.”
She didn’t look happy and so he said simply, “I also happen to be a cop. It’s my job, like yours is being an actress. We need to get past what happened in Goddard Bay-you did something stupid three years ago and I’ll admit it, I got the wrong impression of you.”
“You treated me like a juvenile delinquent, a stupid teenager.”
“Yep, I did. Even your father couldn’t make me see you were so hurt you’d lashed out. Okay, the truth here-I’d just come to Goddard Bay and been elected chief of police. Then this ditsy girl comes along who destroys a valuable vehicle, and isn’t at all sorry about what she’s done. It’s no real excuse, but I was coming off a really miserable divorce.” He looked like he wanted to shut up and not say another word.
“Go ahead, spit it out, Jack.”
“I guess I put you in the same boat with my ex-wife. She burned me bad, Mary Lisa. No excuse for what I did to you, but there you have it. I’m sorry.”
She gave him a brilliant smile. “Now that’s an apology I can live with.” She handed him a Diet Dr Pepper, opened one for herself. She clicked her can to his. “Thanks for coming down to help me, Jack.”
“Yeah, you’re welcome. You really did kiss off John because of Kelly, didn’t you?”
“I wasn’t about to hurt her like Monica had hurt me. No way.”
He nodded, drank more of his soda.
“Ah, so John made you think I’m selfless? Noble?”
“Nah, but he made me see you’re okay.”
“Nice to hear that from a yahoo chief of police from the boondocks.”
For the first time, they smiled at each other.
TWENTY-SIX
Ricky Martin played Miguel, a hunky, world-famous singer, on General Hospital.
BORN TO BE WILD
Thursday morning
Sunday looks up to see her mother, Lydia Cavendish, sweep into her office, while her secretary, Ellis, waves his hands ineffectively behind her. “It’s all right, Ellis. No one can stop a moving train.” She waits until he closes the door, rises slowly but doesn’t come around her desk. She’s wearing a black suit with an open white silk blouse, a black ribbon choker around her neck. Her skirt is short, her long legs ending in black stiletto heels. Her red hair is in her signature chignon, two curls dangling in front of her black earrings. She arches an eyebrow and looks impatient. She says sarcastically, “To what do I owe this pleasure, Mother? Last thing I knew, you weren’t speaking to me. Are you planning to use sign language?”
Lydia Cavendish is wearing a white suit with a bright red silk camisole that shows a good deal of cleavage. She looks more flamboyant than elegant, on the voluptuous side, and as arrogant as her eldest daughter. She’s wearing flashy diamonds at her ears, throat, and wrist. “You needn’t be so snide, Sunday,” she says and tosses her purse on a chair.
Sunday crosses her arms over her chest, remains behind her desk. “I’m very busy, Mother, though you hardly seem to have noticed I’ve even come back from that boarding school in Austria. At least you came yourself, rather than sending another of those little psychos you seem to collect. By the way, how is Bernard? In jail yet?”
Lydia walks to the sideboard, pours herself a big shot of brandy, gulps it down. “You were better off in Europe.” She throws back her head, closes her eyes. “You needn’t bother sleeping with Damian. He’s not worth it.” Sunday is shocked, opens her mouth, but says nothing as she realizes her mother is very upset, almost ready to break down.
Alarmed, Sunday walks around her desk, but no closer. “What’s wrong, Mother? Has Susan done something? Damian? You needn’t cry about Bernard, he’s a dishonest creep and we all know that now. You’re far better off without him.”
“No, this has nothing to do with Susan or with Bernard.” She’s silent again, looks around Sunday’s office, frowns a bit. “How I hate this, Sunday. I hoped you would never know. He swore he would never come back. But he’s here.”
Sunday looks down at her watch. “I’m very busy, Mother. Who’s here?”
“I didn’t have to think about him for a very long time, but lately I see his face all over the TV, he’s gotten so popular, and then of course I have to think about him. And now he’s in town. He’s here. The bastard.”
“Mother, who are you talking about? Stop being such a drama queen and tell me!”