A PORTRAIT OF OLIVIA (9 page)

Olivia’s laugh was brittle. “Some kook who thinks I shouldn’t be interviewing the likes of you, sweetie. A religious nut from all accounts. Brenda didn’t like the tone of the last letter, so she suggested we hire protection—and who better than Mr. Atlas here?”

Peter had to admit to himself that Luke looked pretty imposing. He was a picture of health and muscularity, his bulging biceps and well-developed pec-torals revealed to great effect by the thin cotton of his tight polo shirt. Too much for my taste, Peter thought, but definitely a candidate for the cover of a muscle magazine.

“Thanks for hiring me for your party,” Luke said with a sunny smile. “I never would have met this lovely lady if it hadn’t been for you.”

Peter wondered if Luke would still be saying that as time went by.

“Listen Peter,” Olivia said. “I was thinking about those letters—I think I’d like Jeff to do some investigating into this. Would you ask him if he’d take this on, honey?”

“Wait a minute,” Luke protested. “I’m the one who should be checkin’ this out…”

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“
Sweetie
…” Olivia sighed with impatience. “Jeff is a private investigator. He and his partner…What’s his name—the good lookin’ dude with the sourpuss…?” She looked at Peter for clarification.

“Uh, Nick?” he offered, trying not to chuckle. Wait till he told Jeff this one!

“Nick, that’s him.” She turned back to Luke. “They’re private detectives, sugar—they were both
cops
for Chrissakes. A week ago you were a bartender.

Who died and made you Sherlock Holmes…Hello?”

Luke flushed angrily. “I just want to look after you.”

“And you will, honey, you will,” Olivia said, her voice a provocative purr.

“Believe me, you will.”

“I should be going,” Peter said, feeling a surge of unease envelope him.

Without bothering to clean his brushes, he threw them into his case and snapped it shut. “Well…” he managed a watery smile. “I’ll be back for the last session next week, Olivia.”

“You bet—and don’t forget to ask Jeff if he’ll help me out here,” Olivia reminded him, as she kissed his cheek. “I’d feel safer knowing he was ‘on the case’, so to speak.”

“I’ll have him call you,” Peter told her, heading for the door. “Bye.”

c h a p t e r 5

s

On his way back to Laguna, Peter called Jeff on his cell phone to let him know what Olivia had asked. He winced as he heard Jeff ’s groan.

“I’m sorry. She kind of took me by surprise when she asked if you’d consider handling it.”

“That’s OK,” Jeff chuckled. “Your penance will be exacted later.”

“Anything you want, O Master,” Peter said, his good humor returning under the salve of Jeff ’s warm reassurance.

“Maybe I’ll let Nick handle it.”

Peter giggled. “She thinks he’s a sour-puss.”

“She said that?” Jeff ’s laugh was infectious.

“Well, she did say, ‘the good-looking sour-puss’.”

“Oh well then, he’s a shoo-in for her favor.”

“I seem to recall he was totally unimpressed by her, at your party.”

“All the better—he’ll cut through the bull-shit without any trouble. I’m beginning to think this is a great idea of mine.”

“By the way,” Peter said. “Guess who was at Olivia’s pad today?”

“Uh, Genghis Khan? Saddam Hussein? George W. Bush?”

Peter laughed. “No…Luke!”

“Luke who?”

“Luke, the bartender—at your birthday party.”

“That Luke?”

“That Luke.”

“Did you ask him if he has your camera?”

“What?”

“Your camera, Peter. Remember, the one we haven’t seen since the party?”

- 52 -

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“Jeez, I forgot all about that. No, I didn’t ask him.”

“What was Luke doing there?”

“Olivia’s hired him as her bodyguard.”

“Because of the threatening letters?”

“Uh huh. Her manager, Brenda, is apparently paranoid about them.”

“Has she been in touch with the police?”

“Yeah. They’ve got the letters…said they’d investigate.”

“Mmm…” Jeff was silent for a moment, then he said, “Maybe I’ll give Joe French a call, see if he can find out who’s handling it. Anyway, why don’t you drop by the office on your way home? Nick said Eric’s meeting him here. The four of us could grab some dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Peter agreed happily. “I’ll see you in about a half-hour.”

Jeff looked up from his desk as Nick, his partner, strode into the office. Nick waved the pile of papers he was carrying and flung himself into his chair. “That Monica,” he moaned. “She is way too efficient. Fire her and hire someone who can’t take messages.”

Jeff grinned at him. “Keeping you busy, is she?”

“I’ll say—and she gaily informs me I have additional messages on my voice mail.”

“Well, at least it keeps you from being bored—that was your contention when I first asked you about being my partner.”

“How was I to know Orange County was such a hot bed of crime and passion?” Nick chuckled.

“Behind it’s oh-so-conservative facade,” Jeff intoned with melodramatic flair, “there lurk the secret desires of the profane and the perverse. Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we will take you behind the closed doors of respectability and show you enough sex and sadism to make your eyeballs combust.”

Nick laughed at his partner’s antics. “You’ve been around those television people too much.”

“You’re right about that,” Jeff grumbled. “And if what Peter just told me is any indication, we’ll be around them
way
too much.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the scoop?”

“Apparently, Olivia’s been getting threatening letters.”

“What a surprise,” Nick said, without a smile. “Someone see through all that phoniness?”

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“According to what she told Peter, the letters have become increasingly threatening over time. They sound like they come from some religious nut, but her manager suggested she hire a bodyguard just in case—and get this—she hired the guy who was our bartender on Saturday.”

“Mr. Muscles?”

Jeff nodded. “The same. No doubt he’s built for the job, but he’s just a kid who might be way in over his head.”

“I seem to recall she spent an inordinate amount of time at the bar.” Nick laughed as he added, “And here I thought it was the booze she wanted.”

“She was attracted to him, that’s for sure. Even called us later and asked for his phone number. Anyway Nick, I was wondering if you’d consider handling this, if we decide to take it on.”

“No way!” Nick blurted. “I can’t stand the woman.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” Jeff grinned at him. “What if I begged—and reminded you that I came to your rescue in New York when Bransky had a gun on you and…”

“No fair, Jeff.” Nick looked at him with desperation. “Wait a minute, what about when I saved your ass from that Satanist cult…”

“
Peter
saved both our asses, remember?”

“Yeah,” Nick murmured. “Peter—and Phillip.” He leaned back in his chair.

“Wow, all of that was so amazing. Okay, you got me. If you really want to pull in your markers, I guess I’ll have to submit to this ignominy.”

Jeff laughed at his partner’s discomfort. “Forget it,” he chuckled. “I can’t stand to see you look like a whipped cur…you’ll be in tears in a minute. God knows, I can’t bear it when a grown man cries in my presence.”

“Hey,” Nick said, rallying. “Watch it, buddy. I may be a tad overly sensitive, but I’m still all man.”

They were still laughing themselves silly when Eric walked into the office.

“What did I miss?” he asked.

“Nick was trying to convince me he was all man,” Jeff told him, with a grin.

“Well, I can attest to that,” Eric said, leering in Nick’s direction.

“Do tell,” Jeff said, dryly.

“No don’t,” Nick chuckled. “But thank you Eric, kind sir. I felt for a moment there, that my honor was in question.”

“How were things at the gallery?” Jeff asked.

“Pretty quiet.” Eric sat on the edge of Nick’s desk. “Gave me time to bone up on my sparse knowledge of the art world.”

“Peter says you’re doing really well,” Jeff remarked.

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“I love it a lot—that makes it easy.”

Jeff nodded. “Well, your ‘boss’ will be here any minute. I thought we could go for dinner—the four of us.”

“Sounds great.” Eric said. “Anywhere in particular?’

“I was thinking Cedar’s. We can walk there…Ah, here comes the love of my life now…”

“Hey, guys.” Peter bounced into the room, and immediately threw himself onto Jeff ’s lap.

“Jeez,” Jeff grunted. “What did you have for lunch?”

“‘Scuse me?” Peter protested. “Only the other day, you told me I was sylph-like, remember?”

“I said that?” Jeff gave him a teasing smile. “Come on—up with you. I’m starving.”

“Me too.” Nick heaved himself out of his chair. “Lead me to the trough!”

Over a pre-dinner cocktail, Peter filled them in on the conversation he’d had with Olivia. “Do you think she’s over-reacting? After all, celebrities seem to get this kind of nutty stuff all the time—especially if they’re at all controversial.”

“So she thinks the letters were a result of you and Jeff being on the show?”

Nick asked.

“That’s what she said. One of the letters actually mentions us, not by name, but by profession—artist and private eye.”

“What jerks,” Eric muttered, his light blue eyes clouding as he gazed at Peter. “Will they never leave us alone? Whatever happened to love thy neighbor? I am so sick and tired of these fanatics trying to break down everything the activists have accomplished in the last few years.”

“Well, they have a lot of help from those in high places,” Nick said. “And I don’t mean in heaven. The religious right zealots spend a lot of money getting their point across—and an awful lot of politicians have benefited from that.”

“And a lot of shows have been boycotted on their say-so,” Jeff added. “Olivia doesn’t necessarily have to be threatened physically. She could lose in the ratings if they set their sights on destroying her credibility.”

Peter sighed unhappily. “I don’t get it. Why do so many people have to be so damned mean? Can’t they just live and let live? Why does it all have to get so ugly?”

“Well, let’s not get too carried away,” Jeff said. “So far, it’s just some threatening letters. Like you said Peter, celebrities get these all the time. If the police can pinpoint their source, it could be all over very quickly.”

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“What if the letters weren’t from a religious group at all?” Peter looked at his friends intently. “What if they were just using that kind of language as a cover?”

“You mean, someone with a personal dislike of Olivia?” Jeff asked.

“There’s gotta be hundreds of those.” Nick’s tone was decidedly sour. “I can’t see her topping a popularity poll among those who know her well.”

“Nick is not a fan,” Eric chuckled.

“Tell me,” Jeff laughed. “He almost wept when I asked him to handle this case if we take it.”

“Don’t start that again,” Nick huffed. “All I’m saying is, if it involves an ex-friend or someone she works with—or worked with, we could be out there forever trying to find the guilty party. She’s got to have pissed off a lot of people in her time.”

“I would agree with that,” Peter said. “Only today, I met this sweet old lady who used to be in the movies—she lives in Olivia’s building—and she made no bones about the fact she couldn’t stand Olivia. Then, when I mentioned her to Olivia, I got ‘oh, that old has-been’ or something similar.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “I couldn’t help noticing that when she was ranting on about poor Winifred, the camera crew just stopped dead and stood around kind of glaring at her.”

“There you go…” Eric slapped the table with the palm of his hand. “Already you’ve got a whole bunch of likely suspects lined up…The religious right, an ageing movie star and a camera crew! This is going to be the TV movie of the week for sure.”

Later, as they walked back to the office to pick up their cars, Peter remembered Olivia’s idea that Emily and Anthony both appear in the second show.

“I can’t see Anthony agreeing to it though, can you?”

“I doubt it,” Jeff replied. “And Emily might be too shy to want to appear on national television.”

“Olivia wants the human tragedy element, as she calls it.”

“I just bet she does,” Nick sneered. “That’s so in keeping with her own phi-losophy of caring and compassion.”

“Oh babe, let it go,” Eric said, tugging Nick’s arm.

“Sorry,” Nick muttered, putting his arm around Eric’s shoulder. “I just let her get up my nose, I guess.”

“Well, it can only be Emily’s decision—and Anthony’s,” Jeff said. “Not even Olivia Winter’s can force them onto her show.”

“You know she’ll try. I’m supposed to ask Emily tomorrow.”

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“I don’t think you have to worry about Emily being browbeaten into doing something she doesn’t want any part of. That young lady is not a wimp, as we know. As for Anthony, he’ll just tell Olivia to go to hell if she pushes him too hard.”

“You’re right, as usual. I told Olivia I’d ask them—the rest is up to them.”

“Exactly. Okay Nick, I’ll see you in the morning. I guess I’ll have to at least call Olivia and talk to her about all this—but I won’t mention your name. I promise.”

Nick chuckled sheepishly. “You’re never going to let me forget this, are you?”

“Nope.”

Eric grinned at them then took Nick’s arm. “C’mon, you. Take me home—and show me that you are indeed, all man!”

Amid good-natured laughter, the friends bid each other goodnight.

c h a p t e r 6

s

I have just read, with anger, a newspaper report stating that Miss Olivia Winters
intends to continue with the second part of her show featuring those two men
whose lifestyle is, to put it mildly, ungodly.

I cannot believe it—has the woman no shame? I must confess that my earlier
opinion of her—that she was simply misguided, has now changed. It is obvious to
me that she is entirely without scruples of her own—and must be punished. Such
indifference to the wishes of her viewers cannot be allowed to go unchallenged. If
this horror is allowed to go on unchecked, it may become, due to the apathy of the
general public, the norm.