A PORTRAIT OF OLIVIA (2 page)

“Oh well, we’re having just a few friends over tomorrow…”

“But let me do something.” Olivia’s voice held an almost plaintive note.

“You know I love Jeff.” She grabbed a thick leather planner from the side table and quickly skimmed through the pages.

“Olivia,” Peter protested, “this really isn’t necessary. Jeff can come up with me on our next session and we could have a drink or…”

“Great idea! We’ll go out—Sardi’s or somethin’. Just leave it to me.” She threw the planner back on the table.

“Please don’t go to any trouble…”

“Are you kidding? It’s no trouble to be seen out on the town with two great looking guys.”

Peter groaned mentally. Lord, Jeff was going to hate this, he thought, looking at his watch again. “Olivia, I’m sorry. Would you mind if we called it a day?

J.P. Bowie

6

The traffic’s going to be a bitch shortly and I wanted to be home before Jeff got there.”

“I’ll just bet you do, you little devil.” Olivia leered at him. “Oh, you guys…Tell me, who’s top man?”

Peter’s jaw dropped. Was she kidding? He could feel his face burning as she let out a raucous laugh.

“Gotcha!” she roared. “Peter, you are such a prude.”

“Not really…”

“Yes you
are
.” She continued to laugh at his expense. Then she stood and held her arms open. “Give me a hug, shy boy, then run home to your lover. I never want to get in the way of true love.”

Peter hid his annoyance as he stood and allowed Olivia to wrap her arms around him. He grimaced as she put her hands on his backside and pulled him in tight.

“Mmm,” she murmured, her lips against his neck. “If you ever want to try the real thing, let me know.” She laughed again as she released him. “Tell Jeff I said ‘Happy Birthday’, wontcha?”

“I’ll tell him.” Peter kissed her cheek then headed for the door. He paused, and knew he was going to hate himself for what he was about to say. “Uh, Olivia…if you’re not busy tomorrow, maybe you’d like to come to Jeff ’s party?

It’s from five on…very casual…”

Olivia’s smile was sweet. “Gee honey, that’s so nice of you, but I have a bunch of meetings and all. Thanks anyway.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you next week.”

Olivia watched him leave, her smile quickly fading. She picked up her wine-glass and threw back its contents. “Joyce?” she yelled. “Bring me the rest of that bottle!”

“I cannot stand this,” Peter moaned within the confines of his car as he pulled out of Olivia’s driveway. Why, oh why, had he ever agreed to this? Or rather when did it start to become such a chore? It had all seemed so fantastic in the beginning. The phone call from Olivia’s manager, Brenda Shapiro, telling him that Olivia had read the piece People magazine had done on him and Jeff after the Paul Lefevre case, and how much she wanted them on her show.

Peter had not quite believed it. Olivia Winters’ show was peopled with mega-celebrities and Peter had never considered himself remotely in that league. After he’d put the phone down, he had called Jeff with the news.

“She wants me there too?” he’d gasped. “But why? You’re the talent.”

J.P. Bowie

7

“Well, from what I could gather from her manager, she’s also into the crime busting aspect. You know, the ‘Gay Hardy Boys bit’ that the media dubbed us.”

“Oh.” Jeff was quiet for a moment. “What do you think? I’ve never seen her show, have you?”

“A couple of times. Mom likes it, so I’ve watched it with her. It’s OK.”

“Well, I guess it might be fun…”

“That’s kinda what I thought. So I’ll say ‘yes’ when they call back?”

“I guess…Nick can take over at the office for the day.” He paused. “I’ve never been on TV before. What the heck do you say?”

Peter laughed. “You answer questions. It’s all taped beforehand, so if we mess up no one will know.”

He sighed as he remembered how excited his mother had been when he told her they were to be interviewed by Olivia. “The Olivia Winters’ Hour!” she’d exclaimed with delight. “Oh, how marvelous. You and Jeff on the Olivia Winters’ show—I can’t believe it.”

“Better wear your best dress,” he’d teased her.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there’s no way I could let you miss out on all the excitement, Mom.

You’ll be coming with us.”

The day of the taping Peter and Jeff had a taste of what it felt like to be treated like ‘very famous people’. Early that morning a limo arrived at their home to take them to the studio. While Eve was escorted to her seat in the theatre, they were taken to a luxurious ‘green room’ where they were told Olivia would meet with them prior to the taping. In the meanwhile, would they care for some light refreshments?

In the middle of them tackling a large plate of sandwiches, Olivia and Brenda descended upon them. Peter was impressed with the physical presence of the daytime diva. She was tall and slender, elegantly dressed in an off-white silk pantsuit that clung in all the right places to her curvaceous body. Her hair, carefully arranged in tiny ringlets framing her fine-boned face, was made even more beautiful by an artist’s skillful application of makeup. Her dark green eyes gleamed under long black eyelashes and the honeyed darkness of her skin lent her an astonishingly exotic appeal. No one could deny that Olivia Winters was a beautiful woman.

Peter, ever the artist, found himself examining the planes and contours of her face with a critical eye until he was brought up short, startled, by her braying laugh.

J.P. Bowie

8

“Oh—My—
God
!” She stood, hands on hips, studying the two men before her. “You guys are even more gorgeous in real life. Shit, ain’t no one be lookin’

at
me
today!” She laughed again and then, with a mercurial shift in attitude smiled sweetly. “Hi, I’m Olivia.” She held out her hand and both Peter and Jeff took it gently and murmured polite hellos. Brenda, a short, stocky woman with brassy blonde hair cut ultra-short, handed them a list of possible questions Olivia might ask.

“Any objections to any of those?” she demanded.

They both skimmed through the seemingly banal, routine list. “Not that I can see,” Jeff said. He cast his killer smile at the two women. “Maybe you can spice it up a little so we don’t bore everyone to death.”

Olivia’s raucous laugh rang out again. “Oh, I like you. We’ll do just fine.

Okay guys. Relax till we need you. The makeup guys will have an easy day of it with you two. Ha ha!” With that she swept out, Brenda in her wake.

“Wow,” Jeff murmured. “That’s a ball-buster if ever I met one.”

“She’s a one off, that’s for sure,” Peter agreed. “Well, let’s finish off these sandwiches. I’m famished.”

They watched the start of the show on the monitor in the green room and marveled at the stunning difference between Olivia, the daytime show host, and the real woman. Now she was everyone’s best friend, chatting with the audience, cracking jokes, patting old ladies on the shoulder and rubbing noses with small kids.

After about ten minutes of this fluff, she began to tell the story of a young artist who had been viciously attacked and left for dead in an alleyway in Los Angeles. With a start, Peter realized she was talking about him. Both he and Jeff sat forward in their seats as Olivia, her face set in an expression of deep concern and sincerity, detailed the extent of his injuries and trauma.

“He was in a coma for three years ladies and gentlemen…. three
years
.

Three years, when his talent as an artist went to waste, when his friends and loved ones lived in despair that he would ever recover. Three years of desola-tion for his poor mother—who, incidentally, is here today folks. Can you imagine how it was for her when he finally did recover and she had to tell him that his friend, his
dearest
friend, Phillip, had been killed in that attack? Where are you Eve? Stand up, and let this audience see for themselves the beautiful, brave and determined woman you are!”

Amid wild applause, Peter watched as his mother, suffused in embarrassment, stood and acknowledged the cheers. Olivia then left the stage and
J.P. Bowie

9

walked slowly up the aisle, her arms spread wide before her, ready to embrace Peter’s brave mother.

“Oh lord,” Peter groaned. “This is even worse than I thought.”

“Are you kidding?” Jeff exclaimed. “Eve will be the talk of Laguna, after this airs.”

The door to the green room suddenly burst open and a young man beckoned them. “We’re ready for you guys,” he told them. “Follow me, please.”

“Can I change my mind now?” Peter whispered.

“No…” Jeff whispered back, giving him a push. “Just grin and bear it.”

They stood on the side of the stage as Olivia continued her dialogue. “As happens in the best of tales, this one has a happy ending—and here to finish the story is the artist, Peter Brandon, and his partner, the private investigator who helped bring the murderers to justice, Jeff Stevens!”

“You’re on,” the young man said behind them, and they walked out into the blinding lights and the sound of applause. Olivia stood in a statuesque pose, arms spread wide to receive her guests. Graciously, she accepted their perfunctory kiss on the cheek, then gestured toward the dais where stood three reproduction antique chairs.

“So,” Olivia said with a smile as they sat down. “How are you both today?”

“Just fine,” Jeff said, returning her smile. Peter could not help noticing that most of the women in the audience seemed entranced by Jeff ’s appearance—and he couldn’t blame them. Jeff ’s strong features and sensual mouth gave him a movie star quality that Peter was sure was being captured by the TV

cameras. Olivia fluttered her eyelashes at him coquettishly then smiled at them both.

“You guys look great.” She turned to her audience. “Don’t they look terrific, folks?” A roar of approval followed her question and she beamed with satisfaction. “There now…So tell me Peter, what was your first thought when you woke up after three years?”

“My first thought?” Peter had been asked this question countless times, and couldn’t for the life of him remember a
first
thought. “Actually, I think I was more surprised than anything to find out where I was—in a hospital bed. Then of course, when my mother told me what had happened to Phillip, I was stunned and he became all I could think of…”

Olivia looked at him with quiet compassion. “It must have been so dreadful for you,” she murmured. “And you remembered nothing of the attack?”

“Right.” Peter looked at Jeff and smiled. “It took this man to wake me up to the reality that I was deeply in denial over the whole thing.”

J.P. Bowie

10

Olivia turned to Jeff. “You were hired to investigate Phillip’s murder, right Jeff?”

“Well, I originally went down to Laguna to talk to Peter to see if he could remember anything at all about the attack.” The camera zoomed in for a close up as Jeff related his part of the story. “I found out he hadn’t even read the newspaper accounts of the attack—something I frankly found amazing, and I told him so. He got very defensive and threw me out of his house.”

“Oh my God…” Olivia hooted and the audience gave forth with ripples of good-natured laughter. “
Peter
…what were you thinking?” she admonished him.

“Well, he was pressing too hard, and like I said I was still in denial.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well, he came back a few minutes later,” Peter said, with a grin. “My mother was there and kind of smoothed things over. I let him talk me into revisiting the scene of the crime…”

“Wow,” Olivia interjected. “That must have been tough.”

“Yes, it was.” Jeff picked up the story. “But it did have the results I had hoped for. I also think it strengthened Peter’s psychic link with Phillip. He had a vision, there in the alley where they were attacked, and he more or less had a mental image of one of the perpetrators.”

“Incredible,” Olivia whispered. The audience was quiet as they listened with rapt attention. “Later, you drew this man, isn’t that right, Peter?”

Peter nodded. “Yes, and Jeff recognized him as an ex-cop he’d had a run in with when they were both on the force.” He went on to tell the rest of the story, but as always left out the part of Senator Bowman’s involvement. He and Jeff had both decided that they should spare Bowman’s family the additional pain of scandal, after the Senator’s death, in a freak road accident.

After the commercial break, Olivia steered the conversation to the case involving Emily and Anthony Hastings and the abuse they had suffered at the hands of their father. Jeff took that opportunity to mention the good work that was being done by many volunteer associations to house and care for abused and abandoned children. To the delight of the studio audience and amid loud applause, Olivia immediately pledged a large amount of money to that cause.

“And then in New York,” Olivia prompted, “you solved yet another case while you were on what you thought would be a Christmas break.”

“Yes,” Peter replied. “We’d gone to visit our friends, Andrew and David, and in the middle of everything, an acquaintance of Andrew’s was murdered and poor Andrew was, for a time, the prime suspect.”

J.P. Bowie

11

“And again,” Jeff said, “it was Peter’s psychic ability that helped us unravel the mystery. Without him alerting us to the fact that Andrew and the real murderers were about to face off in a hotel room, Andrew and my business partner, Nick Fallon, might have been dead meat.”

Olivia nodded, wide-eyed. “Tell us more about those psychic abilities, Peter.”

“Well, I used to downplay it as an
abilit
y really. It could be so erratic and vague, but during the time that madman Paul Lefevre had my mother and friends in his clutches, it all sort of came to fruition. I truly felt linked to Phillip—like he was right beside me, helping Jeff and myself find my mother by guiding us to the place where she and our friends were being held hostage.”

“Amazing…” Olivia paused and gazed out at her audience for a moment, her eyes filled with seeming wonder. Then, she continued in a subdued tone.