Sunset & Vine: Loose Lips (18 page)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Fishy delight

“Whew! Man can I use some R&R this weekend on the boat! I think I’ll go out early Friday instead of the afternoon. I’ll call up that sexy English actress I met at the Emerald gig. The one with the killer body that knocked the socks off of the photographers with that little dip in the pool. Summer, yeah … that’s her name. What the hell did I do with her number?”

Clay had his assistant locate Summer’s number and put together a small cocktail party for Friday night on the
Cosmos
.

He would occasionally throw an impromptu party with a small bevy of friends from Malibu and the Marina.

“I’d love to come. What time? May I bring a friend?” Summer asked.

“Sure,” Clay replied.

“Terrific, thanks!” Summer was laughing at the idea of attending a party on such a huge yacht given by a Stanford. She promptly rang up her handsome lover Gavin and told him to keep Friday night open, that they were going to a party on the Stanford’s yacht in Marina Del Rey.

“I guess that little invite is paying off” Gavin smiled to himself after getting her call.

Summer’s roles were getting bigger and bigger. Her next role would soundly put her on the Hollywood working actor’s list. For that she was proud of herself. And she appreciated the help Gavin had given her. He had been instrumental in strategizing her climb.

“Tell Kazuo that I’ll be looking for something special from him this weekend. I’ve missed his food this week,” Clay instructed his assistant.

“Yes sir, Mr. Stanford.”

Kazuo met up with Kai on the pier for his weekend supplies as usual.

“Kai, I need something a little special this weekend, maybe a mix of the freshest you have. I’ve got a party to cook for and Mr. Stanford will be onboard all weekend.”

“Got lots of good fresh stuff, some came in just this morning. How about some barracuda? I also have a gift for you that I put together myself … well, with a little help from a new sushi chef. It’s to thank you for being such a good customer, Kazuo.” Telling just a small white lie.

“Excellent, set up an order for me and throw some fresh eel in there as well.”

“This is for you, and this is for Mr. Sanford. It will save you from having to prepare. It just came in this morning.”

“Wow … this is a beautiful spread. Are you sure I can’t pay you for this?”

“Naw, just let me know what Mr. Stanford thinks of the quality. My friend wants some feedback on his skills.”

“You got it, my friend! Load everything up. I gotta get prepped for a party tonight.”

With that the food was loaded and chef Kazuo was on his way back to the boat.

Kazuo snacked on the platter that had been made for him and the crew. He was impressed, it was fresh, delicious, and expertly prepared. He couldn’t have done a better job himself. He was confident in laying the food out for Mr. Stanford.

* * *

His Saturday began as usual. Clay rose from bed around 9:30 a.m. after enjoying a fun, lighthearted evening. He was a bit disappointed that his targeted English dish had shown up with a lover instead of a girlfriend.

“Make note to self, verify singlehood next time.” Reminding himself.

His Saturday routine was to jump on his bike for a quick spin around the Marina and down to the beach and back in time for a healthy, delicious lunch.

“My bike ride will burn up some of this built-up sexual energy. I’ll call Sandy to pop in for a little romp today after lunch. She’s always good for a good roll in the sack, and she’s close by … Santa Monica.” Planning his usual day on the water.

Returning from a hard bike ride, Clay was pumped and famished.

“OK, Kazuo, what’s on the menu for today? I could eat a whale!” he said while turning on Puccini’s
La Traviata
.

“Oh … Mr. Clay, you are in for a special treat today! You will enjoy lunch very much today, sir!” the chef said proudly.

Chef Kazuo laid out the extraordinary platters of seafood that had been prepared and given to him by his seafood supplier. There was eel, lobster, sushi, ceviche, oysters, and two rare treats, barracuda and blowfish (a small serving of which can run $500), both caught, iced, and flown in fresh.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Kazuo! This is nothing short of wow!” Clay couldn’t restrain himself another moment and dug in.

He ate voraciously for almost an hour, making sure he tasted every dish on the table, washing it down with a glass of 2003 Kongsgaard Napa Valley, a favorite Chardonnay from his small vineyard in Napa where the wine is left untouched in the barrel. A process known as “death and resurrection.”

* * *

Clay stretched out on the yacht’s sun deck to sunbathe and contemplated his recent “accomplishments” and the methods utilized to achieve them. His thoughts switched gears to the pending arrival of his afternoon delight and the carnal pleasure that he intended to partake in.

Fifteen minutes into sunbathing, he retired to his stateroom below.

An hour later Clay lay on the floor of the stateroom writhing in pain. His mouth was on fire and his tongue tingled. He felt numbness, drowsiness, and his speech became incoherent. He was unable to stand and knew he was in serious trouble and needed help fast. Trembling and sweating profusely from his face and forehead, he managed to crawl to the intercom and moan a whispered plea for “help.” He remembered there was a banging on the door and then trying to say “hospital” before passing out. The crew was en route to the hospital within minutes of finding him on the floor. He had a pulse, but it was weak and getting weaker with sporadic, desperate attempts at breathing.

“Call his parents, have them meet us at the hospital, extreme emergency!” barked out the ship’s captain as they raced to the hospital. Clay was being attended to by the ship’s trained onboard nurse who frantically commenced CPR as fluids were pumped into his body via an IV.

“Captain! We’re losing him!” yelled the nurse.

The SUV hurled into the emergency room area at a dangerous speed. The hospital had been alerted and had staff on standby upon arrival.

Clay was whisked into the ER where they began attempts to stabilize him.

He died within three minutes of his arrival.

The crew of the
Cosmos
were in a state of absolute shock.

Cosima Stanford had to be sedated after learning of her son’s death and becoming hysterical. Montague sobbed like a child as he fell to his knees on the hospital floor. His only child was gone.

Police swarmed the yacht and no one was allowed to board or leave. All 25 crew members were sequestered in the main dining room. The ship’s chef, Kazuo, was almost incoherent. He was so upset that his English had broken down. He was sure it was his fault.

“He was just fine at lunch. He ate lunch, sunned for a while, then went down below. He had a young lady guest coming over and I assumed he was getting ready for her visit,” he stuttered.

“I was on the deck when my first mate, myself, and a few other crew members heard a faint cry for help come over the intercom. We recognized it as Mr. Stanford’s voice immediately, and we rushed to his stateroom and banged on the door. When there was no response, I opened it and found him lying on the floor in a fetal position shaking and sweating profusely. He was almost unconscious. It was evident that he was in serious condition. Our onboard nurse ordered us to proceed to the hospital as fast as possible. Which we did,” was the captain’s statement.

Montague ordered an autopsy to be done at once, then retreated into seclusion along with Cosima.

The autopsy report concluded that Clay Stanford III had died as a result of a lethal dose of scombroid, tetrodotoxin (a nerve poison 100 times more potent than curare or strychnine), and saxitoxin (the most fearsome and easily the deadliest of the three poisons). One toxic clam or mussel can contain less than 5 milligrams of the lethal, naturally occurring poison that causes paralysis and respiratory failure.

Clay III’s body contained 20 milligrams of all three.

All three toxins can be found naturally in certain raw fish. It would be up to the L.A. District Attorney’s Office to determine if this was a homicide or accident. The investigation led directly to the ship’s chef, Kazuo.

“I tell you, I ate some of the same food,” he insisted to the police. He hadn’t told them it was from a different platter.

There was no motive for the chef to commit murder. He was well paid, liked his employer, and got along very well with him by all accounts.

Investigating the chain of contact for the digested food led them to the chef’s supplier, Kai Miyako.

“Never in 70 years of business has anything like this ever happened!” He was afraid to tell the police that the platters had been gifts from an outside source. That would surely be the end of his family’s 70 plus years of business. He kept his mouth shut. He knew that if the seafood was not kept properly refrigerated this could occur. Fault laid squarely upon Kazuo’s shoulders, who was not about to mention that he had served his employer food that was prepared by someone else. Kai wasn’t going to sacrifice his family’s livelihood for Kazuo’s mistake.

“Give us a step by step account of the lunch served. Every detail and every person who handled the food from when it arrived to the boat,” requested the police.

The police followed up with Kai’s employees, who mentioned an individual that had recently become a frequent customer and friend of Kai’s.

“Oh him, I forgot about him, officer. In fact, he mentioned that he was studying to become a sushi chef. He basically was an acquaintance and customer.” Still not ready to divulge the fact that the he was the one who provided the deadly seafood because the seafood had come from Kai himself.

“I ate some myself, so I am positive it wasn’t my seafood that killed that guy,” he convinced himself.

“We’ll need a description and the name of the school he was attending if you can recall.”

“I can tell you right now, he was blond, about 6’1”, brown eyes, mustache. That much I am sure of. I am pretty sure he said that he was attending the Tokyo Sushi Academy.”

The ex-senator was brunette with blue eyes. The film industry wasn’t the only one who knew how to make use of colored contacts and wigs in Hollywood.

A few days later the police revisited the
Cosmos
seafood supplier.

“We’ve located the Tokyo Sushi Academy … In Tokyo! There’s no branch anywhere in the entire city of Los Angeles.”

No trace of the acquaintance could ever be located.

“We boarded the food. I carried the platters myself and stored them. Served them to him for lunch the next day. No one from the party the night before even knew where the galley was, let alone was able to enter it. I served Mr. Stanford his lunch the next day like I always had, right after his bike ride that morning at 11:00 a.m. He did eat some of it on a plate while lying in the sun. He mentioned that he had a young lady coming over and he wanted to catch a few rays before she got here,” Kazuo told the police.

“How long was the food sitting in the sun?” asked the detective.

“I really can’t say, officer, I was in the galley preparing food. I can tell you it was very hot that day, around 85 degrees at that time of day.”

“So the food could have heated up quite rapidly if left lying in the direct sunlight?”

“I suppose it could. Mr. Stanford was eating rather fast at the time so there was no worry about that. I have never had any issue with any of the food I’ve gotten from my supplier in all the years I’ve used him,” Kazuo stated.

Clay’s death was ruled an accident resulting from naturally occurring toxins in seafood while exposed to midday sunlight, a period of the day when the sun’s heat is at its peak.

It was a tragedy that Montague and Cosima thought they would not be able to recover from. Their only child and pride and joy was gone.

Clay’s death did not, however, halt the investigation into Dotty’s murder.

Rocco eventually traced the money used by Max Moriel to Clay III via a subpoenaed document covering his personal bank accounts and indicating he withdrew $9,999 dollars a month prior to Dotty’s death. He was apparently aware that any amount under $10,000 did not require reporting to the IRS.

Clay’s hired investigator admitted to police and Mr. Stanford that Clay had found out that Dotty was the lost Stanford daughter. This meant that he had lied to his father.

It wasn’t long before it became clear that Clay III had carried out Dotty Henderson’s heinous murder out of greed to prevent having to share half of the fortune he stood to inherit.

His parents were even more devastated, at first refusing to believe the evidence, but finally realizing that all roads led to Clay III.

“How could this family be rocked with so much tragedy?” was all Montague could muster.

He and Cosima grew closer to Brit in an attempt to replace the loss of Clay.

Montague made sure that Brit received every cent her mother was entitled to under his father’s estate codicil. It amounts to billions, enough to place her among the richest people in the world.

Brit had become incredibly generous to the group of Schwab’s friends who had been betrayed by her mother’s actions. It was they who had come to her rescue when she had little more than a dollar after her mother’s death.

Chapter Thirty-Four

New World

The tabloids were far more tempered this time around when news leaked out that the murdered Schwab’s waitress was the lost daughter of the billionaire Stanford family.

They stuck to the facts surrounding Clay’s involvement in the murder.

MOUTH
was the first to break the story with it’s unusually gentle headline in an attempt to curry favor from the Stanfords, “Lost billions of tragic Schwab’s Waitress: The slain Schwab’s waitress who was reduced to selling storied to Hollywood tabloids to survive was recently discovered to be the lost sister of the billionaire Stanford family. Family sources have confirmed the relationship via DNA testing. Apparently the child was somehow mixed up and adopted away at birth. The heartbroken family has searched for her since the 1940’s. The incredible story predates the tragedy that befell the family’s almost total loss of life in the 1956
Andrea Doria
catastrophe. The only surviving member of the family at the time was thought to be Montague Romeo Stanford. He miraculously escaped unharmed from the demolished cabin where his sister was killed along with his parents, Mr. Clay II and Mrs. Gemma Huntington-Stanford.

“Mrs. Henderson’s young daughter, now known as Brit Stanford Henderson, will inherit a massive fortune. Our sources tell us that she has already been reunited with her mother’s lost family. The family has been rocked with more than its fair share of tragedy over the years.”

National Radar
followed with “Down and Out Dotty was due to inherit Billions!”

The papers sales exceeded those of the murder scandal. Brit was unable to continue living in the home her mother had purchased just prior to her death. She was forced to move for a number of reasons. Once her name had been revealed by the press, connecting her to the Stanford’s billions, the house was engulfed by reporters and the gawking public. The phone rang constantly with solicitors asking for money or selling products.

Ralph’s young girlfriend left him for a younger man, one younger than herself.

He made amends with his daughter and begged her forgiveness. Over time she forgave her father and they helped each other survive the loss of Dotty.

The Stanford estate made clear that Dotty’s share went directly to Brit. This prevented the inheritance from being considered community property, therefore excluding Ralph.

Brit generously provided for her father for the rest of his life, which included a home not far from her new Trousdale, Beverly Hills estate. She allowed her father to keep her part of Dotty’s estate, and the funds from the sale of Dotty’s dream home in Sherman Oaks.

The repaired father-daughter relationship moved forward. Ralph was reluctant to involve himself with the Stanfords out of personal protectiveness of his daughter and a small tinge of jealousy.

* * *

“You think of money differently when you don’t have any than when you have so much you can’t comprehend it. You begin to realize that it is far less valuable than the sincerity of people who care about you,” Brit said, speaking at a private party she hosted at Schwab’s for all of her mother’s old regulars, including Sam and his new wife Vivien, but excluding Jacques. Who, she had made sure, through her uncle’s connections at the U.S. State Department, was promptly deported back to France after paying back taxes amounting to approximately $51,000 dollars.

“When Michael offered me the gift from all of you, it carried with it the weight of a billion dollars. I was at the lowest point in my life. I truly thought that I was not going to make it. How could a person whose mother had just been murdered even get up in the morning and find news stories in tabloids about what a terrible person she was face the world? I know she abused the trust of so many of you, but I am here to tell you she wasn’t all bad. Deep down inside she cared for all of you. I can say that because I had to grow up listening about how wonderful all of you were. Day in and day out! All of you are a forgiving bunch, and for that, I am grateful.”

They each spoke afterwards expressing their forgiveness of Dotty. The Tripartite went so far as to comment that “the only reason they were still mad at Dotty was that she beat them to the tabloids for all of that money!” That filled the room with laughter.

They noted that she would be sincerely missed as an endearing icon of legendary Schwab’s of Hollywood.

When Gavin and Summer had an opportunity to speak they told the group about how they had first notice each other at Schwab’s. Dotty had seen them eying each other, but both appeared too shy to make the first move. Dotty stepped in and told Summer that the handsome gentleman over there had paid for her breakfast. When Summer left to thank him, Gavin was confused. They turned to look at Dotty, who just smiled back at them. The ice was broken and we became a “cookin” item, as Dotty used to say.

“We feel like you are all good friends, having seen you here over the years then forging a common bond from this terrible experience. Summer and I would like to announce and invite you to our wedding!” A round of applause filled the restaurant upon the wedding announcement.

Cino and Victoria gave their offering of forgiveness, more for the sake of young Brit’s wellbeing than Dotty’s. They reserved their announcement of marriage for fear that it would somehow end up in the papers … Schwab’s had a history of that happening.

They were married and produced a bambino within 6 months, having had a head start. Cino left “Hollywood Ferrari/Jaguar” for a career making professional cars for the racing circuit. He never once took Victoria up on her pleas to cast him in one of her movies.

“No grazie!” was his repeated reply. Nothing more and nothing less.

They eventually brought a bambina into the world after which Victoria retired from the film business and never looked back. She had made tens of millions over her career. Cino’s income had begun to rival hers by becoming one of the most successful race car producers in the world.

Michael Deeves remained one of Brit’s most trusted confidants.

“At least I know who truly cared about me before all the millions.”

“Huh, it’s BILLIONS, my dear one. Billions and don’t you ever forget it!” Michael reminded her.

“I know, but it just sounds so weird, Michael. I don’t know if I will ever get used to that. Just like everyone else, I used to dream of what it would be like to be a millionaire, never ever thinking it would happen. Well, maybe if I had won the lottery. But, this … not in a billion years!” she told him.

“The reason you must always remember those billions is that having them can make your life wonderful, but they can also make you a target. There are plenty of sharks, shysters, and crooks out there in and out of fancy suits. It’s best to develop your third eye going forward.”

“My intuition, you mean?”

“Call it what you will, but you’ll need it more than ever now. We all need it in life, but not all of us are faced with the same kind of issues billions of dollars brings with it.” Hoping she would learn to protect herself.

“Gotcha!”

“My uncle has been fantastic about that. I really trust him, Michael. I mean, he could have fought me over my Mom’s share. He saw to it that I received every nickel right from the beginning. One thing for sure, Clay III was not the norm in this family. The family appears to have been intensely close. Perhaps it was because he lost his mother while so young, in that disaster at sea.” Speculating on her new family.

Michael’s film was an enormous hit commercially, yet panned by the critics. This prompted American International Films, led by Victoria, to offer him a three picture deal. He could have cared less about the film’s critics at that point. He was concerned with only one thing when making his first film.

“To be true to my idea and get on the map!” he was proud of saying.

Michael took Brit to his premiere and they made the Hollywood circuit parties. It was a new experience for both of them. So as not to cramp her potential prospects for male companionship, he made clear that his young friend was practically his niece. She demurely smiled, a little disappointed. She liked the idea of Hollywood thinking he was her handsome older companion.

* * *

Brit made a plea for her Aunt Marjorie to come live with her but was rebuffed until her son George had to move out of state for professional purposes. Left alone and facing the prospect of a senior housing, she took Brit up on her offer.

“Auntie, you have given more than you will ever know by telling me the truth about Mom’s past. That I can never put a price on. I am forever grateful.”

Aunt Marjorie lived to be 102, cared for by around the clock staff in a wing of Brit’s home. Her favorite treat was to share a dinner with Brit whenever she was available. Her mind remained sharp and focused until the day she died.

* * *

Ex-Senator Rick Masters used one of his former contacts to secure Brit Stanford Henderson’s contact number. Brit had added Stanford to her name as a bow to her mother’s true identity.

“Miss Henderson?”

“Speaking, who is this please?”

“I am an old friend of your mother’s and I’ve got a message for you that she wanted you to have. However, I must give it to you in person. It is very sensitive and important.”

“What is it?” Curious and annoyed. She had heard all the tricks by now.

“I can’t go into detail on the phone; however, suffice to say that I am absolutely sure you will find it to be personally very satisfying after receiving it. May we meet today?”

Something told Brit this was legit. Maybe she had begun to hone her third eye.

“There’s a cafe on Sunset Plaza, The Towers. I can meet you there at 12:00 noon. How will I know you?”

“I’ll recognize you from your pictures in the papers. Thank you, Miss Henderson. You won’t be disappointed.”

Rick Masters arrived early, took a seat at a table opposite the one he’d reserved for Brit and waited. Brit was right on time. She sat at the table waiting for the unknown man with whom she had the appointment.

“What more could there be … please, dear god, let this be some kind of good news,” she thought to herself, afraid to think that there could possibly more chaos added to her life.

He allowed 15 minutes to pass to ensure she was alone, then approached her table just as she appeared to prepare to leave.

“Hello, Miss Henderson. I apologize for holding you up.” Speaking to her with his eyes barely visible under the brim of his baseball cap in an attempt to conceal his identity.

“Hello, sir, I’m running late for another appointment. This will have to be quick,” she told him. A bit perturbed that he was late.

“What I have to give you will, I hope, bring some peace and closure over the murder of your mother and the individual responsible,” he stated delicately.

There was a noticeable cringe in her brow when the word murder was spoken. With that, he looked at her compellingly, straight in the eyes, and handed her a small folded slip of paper.

“Good luck to you, Miss.” He rose to leave before she had unfolded and read the note. His intention was to allow her to take in the information he’d provide, alone, in solitude. An opportunity to finally sleep peacefully knowing her mother’s killer had lost what they had stolen from Dotty, her life.

Brit quickly read the typed writing on the paper.

“Poisoning by tetrodotoxin, a nerve poison 100 times more potent than curare or strychnine. Several varieties of fish can harbor tetrodotoxin in their liver and other organs. Saxitoxin, the most fearsome dinoflagellate byproduct, is similar to tetrodotoxin. Five milligrams of the compound can be lethal. Clay III enjoyed 20 milligrams for his last supper.”

The note simply detailed the process that caused the deadly toxin that took the life of Clay. She knew instantly what it meant. Her mother’s murderer had himself been assassinated, for unknown reasons, by this mysterious man. A wave of blissful tranquility swept over her tense, beaten down soul.

Brit looked up, searching for the man. He was about to exit the cafe.

“Sir!” she called out.

He stopped but hesitated to turn around, not sure of what her reaction might be, then looked back at her.

“One moment please!” she pleaded as she rushed towards him.

“Yes?” Perplexed and nervous over the extraordinary risk he had just taken.

She reached into her purse and quickly wrote something down, then placed a small piece of folded paper into his hand.

“My mother has a message for you as well.” She turned and quickly left.

The ex-senator unfolded the paper to find a personal check made out to the order of blank, for the amount of $1 million dollars. By the time he looked up she had gone.

He had never expected anything of this sort. He had only wanted her to know that the murdering bastard, Clay III, had been dealt the same blow he had arranged for her mother.

Masters smiled to himself and dared to seriously think about that boat in the marina he had been wishfully admiring lately.

Later that year, on a sultry Southern California July evening, Brit was onboard the
Cosmos
with her aunt and uncle enjoying an early evening cocktail party while the yacht slowly motored out to sea on its way to Avalon for the evening. She stood staring out at the marina, the sunset, and all the beautiful sailboats passing by. Thinking about how free she felt when out to sea.

Glancing in the direction of an oncoming yacht she saw a handsome man standing at the helm facing her. As the two yachts passed in close range, the man’s face was easily discernible. He gave a long smile and slight wave with one hand to his head as if in a salute. Her eyes continued to follow the familiar looking man until Michael walked up behind her, trying not to startle her.

“You OK?”

“Yeah … just staring at that beautiful boat.”

“Which one?”

“That one.” Pointing towards the boat with the name on the back “
Killer Fish
.”

With that, Brit turned to face the ocean, let out a sigh of relief then took in a deep breath of wonderful, salty sea air. Thinking to herself, “I hope I see that handsome stranger again.”