She greatly preferred this spot to staying in the studio, though some people walking by, especially if they were tourists, would do a double take. Most wouldn’t notice her, since this was L.A. and seeing a woman in full makeup was no big deal, but every once in a while, someone would stop and ask her who she was. Rarely, someone would recognize her as Sunday and ask for an autograph.

Lou Lou said, “Promise you won’t leave the studio and come outside by yourself, Mary Lisa. Right now, you should plan to have someone with you at all times. I can’t believe Puker actually broke into the studio. This time, they’re going to nail his butt. Frank in security was all muzzy-headed. He thinks Puker may have put something in his coffee. Otherwise, he doesn’t know how Puker could have slipped by him.”

“You’d think Frank would know about the danger of gift horses.”

“Well, not this time. Puker must think he’s on a roll, after getting those pictures he took of you in the ambulance into the tabloids. The truth is, all the paparazzi are getting out of hand, not just Puker. First they started boxing celebrities into their cars so they can’t escape, taking as many photos as they want, and now they’re even causing traffic accidents-remember that Mercedes convertible they broadsided?-all to get pictures of the actors and their reactions. Things have shifted now, so like I said, I think the studio is going to go after him-they’re going to start arresting these jerks, taking them and the magazines who publish their photos to court.”

Mary Lisa said, “I hope so. Clyde’s already filled out a police report and the police said they can get a warrant to arrest Puker-for breaking and entering on the set and taking my picture, and maybe assault for drugging Frank, who got a nice little nap out of it. They said that one could be hard to prove, though. Go figure.”

“And don’t forget he violated your restraining order again, even though you had it renewed last week and he knew it. Arresting him is just a start-I want them to fry the little creep. At the very least, this will cost him big lawyer fees. Oh, I called Danny. He said the Burbank cops are handling Puker’s case but he knows the detective who drew the case and he’ll keep in touch.”

“Danny? You mean Detective Daniel Vasquez? Why did you call him Danny?”

In 1987 Brad Pitt appeared on Another World for one day.

“Yep, that’s him.”

“Hmm…so tell me when all this Danny business came about. Now, no evasions.”

Lou Lou bit into three large chips, shrugged, and said in an offhand voice, “Well, we had dinner Saturday night over at Crockers on Ellis and Vine. Not bad. They’re heavy on the hot peppers, which makes you drink tons and keeps the cash register cha-chinging all night. They charge a truckload for beers, not to mention the heavy stuff.”

“I guess I just assumed Detective Vasquez was married.”

“He’s a widower; his wife died of breast cancer three years ago. He said no one expected the cancer would go so fast, said it was really tough for a while. He hasn’t dated much since then.”

Mary Lisa pictured the no-nonsense detective whose job it was to find the man who ran her down. Danny? It was a Danny handling her case? “It’s the oddest thing,” Mary Lisa said, staring down at the remaining three bites of salad, “but you never know anyone, do you? Here I was only thinking of Detective Vasquez as a cop trying to help me, but he’s a person with a life of his own, and this tragedy to deal with.”

Lou Lou slowly nodded. “I think he’s doing okay now. But we’ve been talking about this guy who hit you. And I remembered the guy who was stalking you last year.”

Mary Lisa shook her head before Lou Lou stopped speaking. “No, you’re kidding, right? That guy seemed to be around every corner for maybe a week, but then he disappeared when the studio hired on a bodyguard for a few days. Everybody thought he got scared, probably left L.A.”

“So, it’s been-what, eight months since the creep went walkabout? He could be back, he could be pissed, he could have escalated. That’s the word the shrinks use on the cop shows, isn’t it?”

“What did Detective Vasquez think about it?”

“He wishes you’d told him earlier. I remembered you’d worked with a police artist so he dug out the sketch of the guy from the studio, brought it over to me yesterday since you weren’t back in town yet. He wants me to show it to you again.”

Mary Lisa raised an eyebrow. “You saw Detective Vasquez again yesterday?”

Lou Lou huffed into her Diet Dr Pepper. “Chrysler, Mary Lisa, I’ve got a life, he’s got a life. I don’t shut myself in a suitcase when you’re not around.”

“I didn’t mean that, it’s-”

“Yeah, I know. It sort of freaks me out a little bit too. Me, Lou Lou Bollinger-the five-earringed rebel-with a cop.” Lou Lou picked up her small, expensive leather bag with its long shoulder strap and opened it up. “Here’s the police sketch. Take a look.”

Mary Lisa stared down at the face of the man she hadn’t thought about for a good many months, not even in an occasional dream. She looked down at the fleshy face with wide-set dark eyes, the light brown hair covered by a baseball cap, remembered his belly hanging over the wide belt of his blue jeans, and slowly nodded. “As best as I can remember, that looks like him. I only saw him clearly that one time when I caught him off guard.”

“I remember. You and I went into Barneys and you remembered you’d left the blouse you were returning in the car. You walked right out and there he was, lurking by your car.”

“He took off when he saw me. You know, as I think back, he looked a bit older than he does here, maybe late forties. If I hadn’t frozen, I probably could have caught up with him. He wasn’t in good shape.”

“I’m glad you froze. That would have been way too dangerous. Danny will deal with it now. And he’ll make sure old Puker is put behind bars, all cozy with a new boyfriend, if we’re lucky. I hope there’s a big bubba in residence at the sheriff ’s lockup who can fill the role. Now, it’s your turn. Tell me more about the guy you met in Goddard Bay this weekend.”

“Guy? Why would you say that?”

“Give me a break, Mary Lisa. Look at you, you’re smiling too much, you’re bouncing around, you were chatty with Candy even after she rooster-tailed your hair this morning.”

Mary Lisa touched her fingers to the fan of hair. “Hmm. It’s not too bad, is it? I have no idea how she did it. Do you know what amazes me? Sunday’s rich. She’s got people cleaning her mansion, draining her swimming pool, mowing her grounds-not just a simple yard, but grounds-chauffeuring her around in her big cars. She’s even got a sexy male secretary and an English houseman who’s her confidant. But she doesn’t seem to have a hair stylist or a manicurist or a personal shopper-yet every day she’s dressed like a fashion plate and her hair looks like it’s been styled by a magician.”

Lou Lou patted her knee. “It’s Hollywood, sweetie, magic land. As for your hair, it looks nice since you went into your dressing room and calmed it down. Don’t worry, it’s just fine, as usual.”

Mary Lisa looked deep into the plastic container. One more beef cube. “Don’t forget I hate you for eating like that, Lou Lou.”

Lou Lou laughed at her around a big bite of steak sandwich. “Don’t whine, Mary Lisa, you gotta suffer for the big bucks, it’s only fair. Now, out with it. Tell me all the dirt in Goddard Bay. Tell me about this dishy guy. Does he have a great butt?”

“What is all this sudden interest on everyone’s part about guys’ butts?”

Lou Lou said, “Well, Danny has a great butt, I guess he got me focused on them again. It’s been a long dry spell.”

“Cops don’t have butts, Lou Lou. They have guns and handcuffs. They’re not supposed to be sex objects. They’re supposed to be the neck-ripping rottweilers who are protecting me. How can I focus on Detective Vasquez catching this guy if you get me thinking about his butt?”