A PORTRAIT OF OLIVIA (22 page)

“Did you not wonder why they were always so tired?” Olivia asked. “Could it have been that their sleep patterns were being interrupted by something—or someone?”

“I have no idea what you mean by that.”

“Well, let me ask you this…” Olivia drove the point home. “Did you take them to a doctor or specialist in order to find out why they were always so tired?”

“I took them to our family doctor many times, and he said there was nothing wrong with them. Which was just as I suspected. They were merely play-acting.”

“But why, Mrs. Hastings? Why would two young girls accuse their father of such a hideous crime?”

“Because they wanted to destroy him.”

“That just doesn’t make any sense,” Olivia said flatly. “There had to be more…”

“You were not
there
,” Patricia almost screeched, rising from her seat. “You could never understand the horrors I went through living with those two sluts.”

“Mrs. Hastings, calm down.” Olivia rose and faced her while the audience reacted with some name-calling.

Patricia turned and glared at them. “None of you will judge me. Only God can do that—and He knows I am speaking the truth.”

“Yeah—your version of the truth,” someone yelled.

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“Okay everyone, calm down,” Olivia said, appealing for quiet. “Let Mrs.

Hastings continue.” Once they were seated again, she asked; “How did the circumstances of your husband’s death—murder actually—tie in with your belief that he had not molested your daughters. He was preying on young girls, was he not?”

Patricia looked at a place over Olivia’s head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It was in the newspapers, Mrs. Hastings.”

“Lies—all of it lies.”

“So, everyone is lying—except you. Is that right?”

“That is correct.”

Several titters broke out from the audience. Olivia turned to them with a raised eyebrow, before asking Patricia; “And your son, Anthony—is he a liar too?”

Patricia’s veneer of disdain crumbled a little and she looked down at her hands clasped in her lap as she answered; “My son meant the world to me. He was the most darling little boy and I loved him with all my heart.”

“You speak as though he’s not around anymore…”

“He chose a lifestyle that is abhorrent to me…”

“You mean he’s gay.”

“Gay?” Patricia suddenly threw back her head and let out what most people would later describe as a cackle. “What an absurd word to use. How could that word be used to describe all that is vile in human nature? Those two you had on your show—that artist and that other—
they
are the cause of my son’s fall from grace. They, and that
wretch
he lives with, destroyed all my hopes that he would find favor in the Lord’s eyes. I have prayed night and day for my son’s redemption, but the evildoers have him under their spell. The first time he brought his sodomite to my home, I gave him a choice—never see him again or leave my sight forever.” She fixed a baleful gaze on Olivia. “And people like you, Miss Winters, with your liberal views and so-called acceptance of all that is immoral and unnatural—you and your ilk are to blame also. God will punish you, Miss Winters. He will bring damnation upon your head!”

Now the audience was in an uproar. Someone yelled; “Get that stupid bitch out of here!” Two security guards jumped onto the stage and stood by Olivia as she confronted the ranting woman. “Mrs. Hastings,” Olivia said, her voice calm and controlled. “That just sounded an awful lot like the letters I’ve been getting—anonymous letters. Usually an unsigned letter is the sign of a coward…”

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“I am not a coward,” Patricia screamed. “Yes, I sent you those letters. I am acting on God’s will!” She lunged at Olivia and in front of everyone’s horrified eyes, struck her hard across the face. Olivia reeled back as the security guards grabbed Patricia and hustled her off the stage. Olivia collapsed onto her chair as Brenda rushed to her side.

“Are you OK?”

Olivia nodded, holding her hand to her bruised cheek.

“I told you having that bitch on your show would be a disaster!” Brenda seethed.

Olivia looked up at her. “Are you kiddin’?” she laughed. “That woman just gave us the greatest show ever!”

c h a p t e r 1 4

s

“You seen this?” Nick tossed the newspaper onto Jeff ’s desk.

Jeff whistled softly as he read the headline: OLIVIA WINTERS ASSAULTED BY SHOW GUEST!

He let out a low chuckle. “Oh, my God. Wait till Peter hears about this…”

“Eric heard it on the news this morning on his way to the gallery—he’s probably called Peter by now.” Nick grinned at his partner. “You look mighty pleased.”

“Well, it’s just that sense of satisfaction you get when somebody you’ve come to really dislike gets theirs. We tried to talk her out of having Patricia Hastings on her show and she more or less told us to fuck off—so we did.” Jeff raised his arms in a parody of the daytime diva and crowed; “‘It’s my show and no one tells me what to do.’ Well, now she’s bit off more than her big mouth can chew.”

“Wonder what Anthony’s going to feel about it,” Nick said.

“That poor kid will be upset big-time,” Jeff replied, the smile leaving his face. “I better call Peter and have him get in touch…”

“Jeff…” Monica called from the outer office. “Peter’s on line one.”

Jeff picked up the phone. “Hi, babe.”

“Hi—you left so early this morning…”

“I know—sorry. Had a lot to catch up on. You heard the news, I guess?”

“Yeah, Eric called. Can you believe it?”

“Maybe you should give Anthony a call,” Jeff suggested.

“I will, before I head over to the gallery. He’s bound to be upset. God—can you imagine having your mother arrested for assault in front of everyone in that studio? That woman has to be out of her mind.”

- 139 -

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140

“No argument there. Let me know how he is.”

“Will do. I’ll call you later…”

“Okay. Wanna meet for lunch? I can stop by the gallery later.”

“That’d be great. I’ll see you then. Bye.”

“Bye.” Jeff put the phone down just as Monica put through another call.

“Detective McKenna’s on line two, Jeff.”

“Thanks, Monica. Hey Louis, how’s it going?”

“Good, Jeff. Just wanted you to know you can pick up your camera anytime you want. The lab released it today.”

“Okay, thanks—any developments in the Luke Taylor case?”

“Nope. Looks like we’re at a dead end there. No witnesses, every one of his friends and acquaintances has an airtight alibi. The Olivia Winters’ connection led us nowhere. I talked with Detective French in LA and he doesn’t think there’s a connection with the threatening letters Miss Winters has been getting.”

“There’s gotta be something,” Jeff muttered almost to himself.

“Well, if you can come up with any ideas, I’d be happy to hear them,” McKenna said, then added; “Hey, doesn’t your buddy Peter have any feelings about this? I remember he had some kind of psychic ability.”

“Yeah…” Jeff replied. “But so far, no luck. It’s a long story…”

“Too bad—we could use a lucky break in this case. Well, okay Jeff. Keep in touch. Let’s get together for a drink sometime…And don’t forget to pick up your camera.”

“Will do. Good luck with the Taylor case—and if I do have any hunches, I’ll call you right away.” Jeff hung up and looked at Nick. “No luck finding Luke Taylor’s killer yet.”

“That’ll be a tough one,” Nick said, with a shrug of his wide shoulders. “No witnesses—probably a ton of prints in the kid’s apartment. The cops are gonna have their work cut out for them all right. So—what’s happening to Ma Hastings? Is she in the slammer?”

Jeff scanned the newspaper report. “No—looks like Olivia’s not pressing charges. Amazing. I’d have thought she’d want to teach Patricia a lesson. Oh, oh…”

“What?” Nick asked.

“Seems she confessed to sending those anonymous letters…”

“You’re kidding me,” Nick laughed. “That crazy old broad.”

“Well, the LA cops are going to want to talk to her about that, for sure,” Jeff said, frowning. “Oh Jeez, when Anthony hears this part…”

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“He’ll come unglued, the poor kid.” Nick looked across at Jeff and shook his head. “He’s going to need you guys for support.”

“Peter’s on it this morning. He said he’d call Anthony before he went over to the gallery. He’ll probably arrange some kind of get-together.”

Olivia slammed the phone down. She looked at Brenda, her eyes shining with elation. “Yes, Brenda, yes! I’ve done it—the studio execs are gonna go for it. I knew selling the show as a kind of ‘true crime’ panel would work. How come you didn’t think of this? Why do I have to come up with all the great ideas? Never mind…” She waved off Brenda’s attempted reply. “I just knew I was on the right track here.” She rose from her dressing room couch and stalked around the room. “Picture it—we got a couple of psychiatrists, a detective and a preacher all watching that bitch going postal on my show—then they come up with what’s wrong with her and what should be done, yada, yada, yada—and when all that crap is out of the way, I do my big forgiveness speech and end up by saying; ‘Whatever happens to the poor lady, when she’s all better—I will have her on my show again to let her know I do not hold a grudge, and she’s all forgiven’…blah, blah, blah.”

Brenda snorted. “Then you’ll have her dragged out back and shot—right?”

Olivia laughed raucously. “Something like that. Ha!—I wish.” She fell silent for a moment, then she said with equal relish; “I’ll bet those two fags are gnashing their teeth right now…”

“Okay, enough with the gloating,” Brenda said. “Remember, we still have Brad to deal with today.”

“I thought you were going to take care of that.” Olivia fixed Brenda with a glare of disapproval. “Don’t tell me you actually want me to meet with him?”

“I couldn’t head him off.” Brenda became defensive. “He wouldn’t meet me alone—said he would talk to both of us together—or not at all.”

“You mean he’s going to show up at my place?”

“That’s what he wants…”

“Damn him,” Olivia seethed. “And you too, Brenda. I told you to take care of it. I’m not going to listen to his pathetic threats anymore. If he thinks for one minute I’d even think of having him back in my life—he’s gotta be crazy.

She stormed around the room as she gave vent. “What the hell are we going to do about this? I can’t have him in my home—I won’t. He’ll start all that again…”

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“Calm it down, Olivia.” Brenda frowned as she listened to the other woman’s obvious anxiety. “Don’t go off the deep end till we know what he has to say. If it’s just the same old stuff, we can send him on his way with a few thou—but, if he’s serious about being a part of the team again, we may have to take care of him—permanently.”

“What are you saying?”

“Find someone to take care of him…”

“You mean…have someone kill him?” Olivia looked at her manager with big eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Or threaten him enough to scare the bejesus out of him. It might be the only way…”

“But what if…? No, Brenda.” Olivia shook her head emphatically. “As much as I hate the son-of-a-bitch for what he’s done, there’s no way I could go along with him getting seriously hurt.”

“Okay,” Brenda sighed. “I’ll talk to him first; see if I can get rid of him. But it’s you he wants to talk to—there just may not be a way out of it.”

“Fine. If he won’t listen to you, I’ll make him an offer he won’t refuse.”

“Like?”

“Like money, of course. That’s all he wants, isn’t it?”

“Ultimately, yes.”

“What does that mean?”

“I think he wants more than just a pay-off. I think he wants back in for good.”

Olivia gave a brittle laugh. “Well, that’s just not going to happen. There is no way I’m going to put up with looking at his face everyday, everywhere I turn.”

“You used to like looking at his face, as I remember,” Brenda said. “And other parts of him too…”

“That was then, Brenda. I’ve moved on since then to bigger and better things. How could I be seen in public with a nobody?”

“Luke was a nobody…”

“Luke was my bodyguard—and besides we looked good together. He was a honey, really.”

“A honey with photographs of you on your ass.”

Olivia sighed. “I don’t really think he’d have used them…”

“You still miss that goon?” Brenda asked with a sneer.

“Stop that, Brenda. The kid’s dead. He never did you anything to you…”

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“Right, forget it—we have Brad to contend with. He won’t be so…I mean, he’s tough and way clever…”

Olivia did not seem to be listening, her mind trying to find any excuse to get out of meeting Brad. “I just can’t be around when he’s there,” she whined.

“Can’t you call him and arrange to meet him somewhere else?”

“This is what he insisted on. I’m telling you, Olivia; if he decides to go public with some of the stuff he knows, you’ll have a helluva time with the media.”

“Damn,” Olivia fumed. “Why did I ever listen to you in the first place? Why did you drag me into all that?”

“Oh please, girl, you came with bells on—in more ways than one.”

“Don’t be crude, Brenda. That is not something I wish to discuss.”

“Well then, you’d better meet with Brad—or you might be discussing it with every Tom, Dick and Mary from the press.”

Peter, watching through his gallery window, sighed as he saw Anthony, his shoulders hunched with misery, crossing the street in front of the gallery.

“Here he is,” he said, loud enough so that Eric could hear him.

“Okay.” Eric came out from the back studio. “I’ll make myself scarce.”

“Sorry…” Peter put his hand on his friend’s arm.

“No problemo,” Eric grinned at him. “I’ll walk up to the office and bug Nick for a while.”

“He’ll like that,” Peter said.

“He’d better,” Eric laughed and opened the gallery door to let Anthony in.

“Hi, Anthony…”

Anthony looked at him without smiling. “Eric.”