A PORTRAIT OF OLIVIA (31 page)

Peter bent to kiss her cheek. “Got any coffee brewing?” he asked, trying to hold a yawn in check.

His mother nodded. “I just poured this cup, so it’s nice and fresh. Help yourself dear. Where’s Jeff?”

“He had to meet Nick early this morning,” he replied as he poured himself some coffee. “Something about a bogus insurance claim they’ve been working on. What are you up to this weekend?”

“Actually, Fred and I are driving up to Las Vegas to see one of the new Cir-que shows—can’t remember which one.”

“That’ll be nice.” Peter sat down opposite her. “Where are you staying?’

“At the Mirage, I think…By the way,” she handed him a copy of People magazine. “Did you read about Olivia getting engaged?”

“No, really?” He scanned the article quickly. “Brad Kingman…I think I remember that show he was in…Wow, Olivia’s forty? She doesn’t look it, does she?”

“She carries it very well,” Eve agreed. “But, I must say she’s not one of my favorite people anymore. That awful show she put on about that poor woman—Emily’s mother—just dreadful.”

“Mmm…” Peter sipped his coffee. “I don’t think it did Olivia’s reputation much good. So…” He winked at his mother. “Are you and Fred getting married while you’re in Vegas?”

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Brenda tossed the copy of the magazine she was carrying onto her coffee table, then, with a snort of disgust, she slumped down onto her couch. Damn them both, she thought—they had made that announcement without telling her first. She had felt like a fool when the ‘People’ reporter had called for confirmation of the story, and she knew nothing about it. Of course, she had managed to blurt something out—years of being with Olivia had honed her senses to be prepared for any contingency.

Still, it hurt. More and more, ever since Brad had come back on the scene, she’d felt herself being shut out. She should never have allowed them to meet again. She should have known he’d use that fatal charm to ingratiate himself back into Olivia’s good graces—she’d always been crazy about him. Ever since the time she’d seen him on stage in that play where he’d been naked as nature intended, Olivia had been hot for him. She’d even sneaked him into the studio for a quickie, right under her husband’s nose. Stupid Charlie—he’d never suspected a thing, at first. Then when he did, it was all too late. Olivia and Brad were exchanging vows of undying love and hotfooting it to LA, leaving poor stupid Charlie in the lurch—and Brenda, dear Brenda had to tell him his wife wouldn’t be coming back. He’d gone ballistic and she’d had to take care of him…

It was the video that had finished it—that and the god-awful row they’d had shortly after. That’s when Brad had started the threats and the blackmail.

Brenda had always thought he’d never intended it to go that far, that it had just escalated into a brutal, mindless screaming match that had left both he and Olivia verbally beaten and battered and beyond apology. She could have helped them…she could have brought them together and told them they were behaving like asses and that they needed each other and…But why should she?

What would it have done for her? With Brad out of her life, Olivia was vulnerable and malleable—easy prey for Brenda’s vicious innuendos and tales of Brad’s infidelities. She had blocked all of his calls, letting Olivia believe that he had gone from her life for good. Brenda had got what she wanted—Olivia, all to herself. Not quite in the way she had hoped for, but nevertheless, she had made herself indispensable—until now. Now, he was back and Olivia was once more under his spell.

At first, Brenda had thought it was just Olivia playing the game…fooling the fool…building him up for the big fall—but now, she knew it was much more than that. Olivia had fallen again for his easy charm and the great sex she claimed they had every night. That was Olivia’s problem. She was needy,
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though she’d never admit it. But it was true…Olivia needed a man to love her.

And right now, Brad was that man.

Brenda sat staring straight ahead, chewing her lower lip furiously as she mulled over the present situation. There was no doubt in her mind that Brad had become, once more, a huge influence in Olivia’s life. They went everywhere together; he was always around. It was as if she, Brenda, had become invisible and it had become more and more difficult for her to be alone with Olivia. If she was going to survive this, she needed to bring back the status quo—she needed to be in control again.

The question was, how? How to get rid of him without too many questions being asked? Could she manipulate both he and Olivia into some kind of argument? With both their egos constantly on display and that short fuse temper of Olivia’s almost always bubbling near the surface, it might not be too hard to instigate some kind of friction between them. Something that could develop into a major brawl—something that would cause him to walk out, or better still, have Olivia throw him out…But then, would that be enough? He’d be back for sure. Brad was not about to walk away from what he had so blatantly aspired to. No, he’d come back, and the problem would not be resolved.

There had to be another solution—a more permanent one. Brenda sank back into the sofa’s soft cushions and muttered; “Yeah, that’s it—
permanent
.”

“How do I look?” Peter did a passable impersonation of a male runway model across the bedroom floor. Jeff looked on with some amusement and said nothing. Peter fixed him with one of his famous arched-eyebrow looks.

“Well?” he demanded.

“I don’t know…” Jeff studied him for a moment. “Do those slacks make you look a little hippy?”

“
What
?” Peter looked at him with horror then ran to the full-length mirror and peered at himself from all angles. The cream colored slacks were brand-new and, he thought, complimented the sea-foam green shirt he was wearing, admirably. “Hippy, you say? I don’t see it…” He glared at Jeff who was watching him with a big grin on his face. “Why you…”

Jeff roared with laughter. “You are just way too easy to fool, Peter Brandon.

I can get you every time.”

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“Hmpf!” Peter turned from him in disdain and looked at his reflection again, preening slightly for Jeff ’s benefit. “Some people just don’t recognize dazzling good looks when they see it…”

“Oh they do—when they see it,” Jeff told him, still laughing.

“That does it,” Peter yelled as he charged across the room, tackling Jeff, knocking him onto the bed and climbing on top of him. “You will pay for that slur, you…you…”

“Yes?”

“Wait—I’ll think of something…” Peter giggled, collapsing on top of him.

Jeff enveloped him in his arms. “You’re creasing my new ensemble,” Peter mumbled against Jeff ’s chest.

“Heaven forbid.” Jeff pushed him away, chuckling. “Okay, let’s hit the road.

Winifred said seven, and it’s nearly six-thirty…”

“We’ll be fashionably late, is all.” Peter picked up the gift-wrapped box of chocolates he’d bought for their hostess, then sighed as Jeff ’s cell phone rang.

“Jeff Stevens…”

“It’s Louis McKenna, Jeff.”

“Hi, how’s it going?”

“Good. Listen, remember that photograph you gave back to us for examina-tion?”

“Uh huh…”

“Well they blew it up real big, and the lab guys are pretty sure that it’s a woman in the photo.”

“A
woman
. How’d they figure that?”

“Well, the feet are smaller than a man’s in proportion to the length of the leg from the thigh down,” McKenna explained. “It could be just a guy with really small feet, of course, but they’re betting it’s a woman.”

Jeff let out a low whistle. “A woman,” he repeated. “That is very interesting.

You said you checked out Luke’s girlfriends, right?”

“Yeah, and we’ve double checked since we got this news. He’d been seeing one girl steady for a while—but she’s got a solid alibi. She seemed pretty upset with the news when we first talked with her. Lopez and me think it’s pretty genuine. Anyway, thought you’d be interested. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up.”

“Thanks. Talk to you later.” Jeff closed his cell phone and frowned at Peter.

“That photo in your camera…the lab guys think it’s a woman.”

Peter nodded. “I had a feeling…the scent of gardenias made me wonder.”

“Right…gardenias…” Jeff murmured.

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“We’d better go,” Peter said. “Now we’re going to be
un
fashionably late.”

Luck was with them on the freeway. About forty-five minutes later they were walking across the lobby of Olivia’s building heading for the elevator.

“I hope we don’t run into ‘She-who-must-not-be-named’ on the way up,”

Peter whispered. He jumped as the elevator doors slid open and Joyce, Olivia’s maid appeared. Seeing she was alone, he blew a sigh of relief. “Hi, Joyce,” he said, giving her a breezy smile.

“Hello.” Joyce’s answering smile was distinctly watery.

“Not allowed to talk to us?” Jeff asked.

Joyce shook her head. “Oh no, it’s not that,” she said with a sigh. “Miss Winters just sent me out to get some liquor. There’s a row going on up there between her and Miss Shapiro. I think she just wanted me out of the way for a while.”

“You poor thing,” Peter said with sympathy. “I don’t know how you can stand it.”

“I don’t think I can much longer.” She gave them both an anxious look.

“You’re not going up there are you?

“No,” Jeff laughed. “We’re going to see Winifred Owen. Do you know her?”

“Oh yes, she’s very nice. I’ve had coffee with her now and then. She told me I could escape there any time I wanted to and I’ve taken her up on that a few times, believe me. Well…I’d better get going. Have fun.”

They watched her hurry through the foyer and disappear outside.

“Nothing’s changed then,” Peter remarked dryly as they stepped onto the elevator. He froze as the doors closed.

“What is it?” Jeff asked, seeing the troubled look on his face.

“That scent…d’you smell it?”

Jeff sniffed. “Something perfumy…”

“Gardenias…” Peter said, looking at Jeff with concern. “Joyce…?”

Jeff frowned. “I didn’t notice it when she was talking to us back there, did you? Anyway, I think that there have been quite a few ladies in this elevator tonight on their way up to Winifred’s party. Gardenias can’t be that rare a choice…”

“That’s true,” Peter agreed as they stepped off the elevator. “It just tends to be a bit more overpowering…Here we are.” He rang Winifred’s doorbell.

The muted sounds of laughter and chatter swelled as Winifred opened her door and beamed at her two guests. “You guys look great,” she chirped. “Come on in and meet what’s left of old Hollywood!”

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“Sorry we’re late,” Peter said, kissing her cheek and presenting her with the chocolates.

“You sweet things,” Winifred cooed. “You sure are going to brighten up this shindig. Most of ’em are falling asleep already.” She ushered them into her living room where a large and, contrary to Winifred’s opinion, a very animated crowd of people was milling about.

“Hey everybody,” Winifred yelled over the hubbub. “Here are the guys I was telling you about. Okay girls, line up for the intros! Peter and Jeff…” She began pointing at various elderly though still attractive ladies. “Arlene, Esther, Deb-bie, Stella…oh hell, you won’t remember all of these names anyway. Come and say ‘hi’, girls.”

They found themselves the center of attention as Winifred’s friends surrounded them, shaking hands and showing genuine interest in their recent appearances on the Olivia Winters’ Hour.

“Didn’t I tell you they were both dolls?” Winifred poked one of the ladies in the ribs as she spoke. “This is Ruby Estes, one of my
oldest
friends. We started at Silver Screen Studios the exact same day—didn’t we, girl?”

Ruby, an even more diminutive figure than Winifred, fluttered her false eyelashes at them. “We sure did. She tried to ace me out of a job I’d been lining up for all day. We got into a bit of cat-fight.” She laughed at the memory of it. “But we both got hired so it didn’t matter.”

“And we’ve been friends ever since,” Winifred said, fondly.

Ruby winked at them. “Well, when she wasn’t trying to steal my boyfriends.”

Olivia glared at Brenda from her position at the bar. “I’m telling you that I don’t believe what you’re saying. Brad has changed. He’s not seeing anyone behind my back, Brenda. He’s not going to blow what we have this time.”

“Oh, yeah?” Her manager’s face was a mask of scorn as she glared back at Olivia across the room. “Well, where is he? Where is your loving fiancé? Why isn’t he here with you on a Saturday night—the one night you can count on having some personal time?”

“He…he called and said he’d be over later. He has some business to attend to…”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Olivia,” Brenda sneered. “What the hell business does he have to attend to? He doesn’t have a business, for Chrissakes.”

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“He has that movie he’s producing,” Olivia protested.

“He has
nothing
without you, Olivia. Why aren’t you with him? What can he promise anyone without your say-so? I’m telling you he’s with some bimbo, screwing his brains out—that’s where he is.”

“Stop it, Brenda…” Olivia slid of the barstool and advanced on the other woman. “You’re just jealous because he’s come back to me. You’re threatened, and you’re trying to mess this up for me. Well, I won’t listen to anymore of this crap. Brad’s on his way and he won’t want to see you when he gets here—especially with the mood you’re in. You’d better go.”

“Oh girl, you are so blind,” Brenda said, shaking her head. “You can’t see what’s going on right in front of you, can you?”

“What are you talking about now?”

“
Joyce
,” Brenda yelled. “Your little maid…he’s been schtupping your little helper, right under your nose.”

“What?” Olivia stared at her, appalled for the moment, then she waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, you’re crazy,” she snapped. “Joyce? Oh come on, Brenda—you can do better than that.”