“Yeah, okay, leave that to me. Now, about this guy in Goddard Bay?”

“Well, there could have been a dishy guy up there but it isn’t possible now.”

“You going to tell me why?”

Mary Lisa shrugged. “His name’s John Goddard-from the clan of the original Goddard who established the town back in the 1850s. He’s the local district attorney. The thing is, though, he broke up with my younger sister, Kelly, early last week. She claims she kissed him off, but she didn’t sound too convincing; in fact it was the other way around although John didn’t say a word. So I called it off, told him we could only be friends. No way am I going to do to her what Monica did to me. No way.”

Lou Lou grunted. “That’s a bummer, but you know what? I guess I’d do the same thing. A sister is a sister, after all, even though you’ve told me all about Kelly. Another thing, that guy’s a gentleman, and the good Lord knows they’re as rare as the great auk. I’m impressed. Now, about Kelly-”

“I know, I know. It’s complicated, Lou Lou. Do you know, I’m actually worried about Kelly. I think she might have really fallen for him. He’s up to his eyeballs now in a local murder case, along with the local chief of police, an honest-to-God rottweiler whose name is Jack Wolf. John told me he was going to tell Jack Wolf about this stuff down here. I should probably call him, see how the murder case is going.” Mary Lisa sighed, popped the last beef cube into her mouth, and leaned back against the park bench again.

“Which one? The rottweiler or the D.A.?”

“The D.A. Okay, Lou Lou, maybe I’ve said too much about Kelly, shot off my mouth. The thing is, she talks tough, but she’s vulnerable right now, kind of young for her age, you know?”

“From what you’ve told me over the years, she sounds like she’s a self-centered little goomba.”

“Goomba? Well, maybe. I found out quite by accident she was married to this guy I hadn’t even known about. Didn’t last long. She moved back into my parents’ house after the breakup with the D.A.”

“She’s twenty-five, right? Three years younger than you?”

Mary Lisa nodded.

“If you ask me, she and your mom deserve each other. We definitely need to talk more about this later, Mary Lisa, I think I’m beginning to change my mind. Hey, here comes Danny. I told him we’d be here for lunch. Don’t forget to tell him about aging the nutcase from last year.”

Mary Lisa looked at Detective Daniel Vasquez with new eyes. He wasn’t all that tall, but he was slender, with dark hair and dark eyes older than his years, a swarthy complexion, and a kind smile, kicked up charmingly by a small dimple in his cheek.

“Ms. Beverly,” he said. He studied her hair a moment, said “Nice ’do,” then turned to Lou Lou.

“Sit down, Detective Vasquez,” Lou Lou said, and scooted over. He planted himself between the two women. “Here, Danny, would you like a bite of my steak sandwich?”

He eyed the baguette with sudden interest. “It’s like the one you made me yesterday?”

“Sure is, all the way to being smothered in mayo.”

He ate the last bit of the sandwich, lightly touched a napkin to his mouth, and gave his full attention to Mary Lisa. Lou Lou looked very pleased with him.

Mary Lisa said, “Detective Vasquez, I looked at the sketch. As best I can remember, it looks like the guy except I think now that he was older, maybe in his late forties. I know I didn’t mention him earlier, but I’m sure you know that just about everybody in the business has experienced something like that. Frankly I hardly remember him. It’s been a long time.”

“Stalkers and movie stars-it’s sort of like the rumba and the mambo.”

“They’re both dances?”

“No, you rarely see one without the other. Of course you’re right, Ms. Beverly-there’s a lot of fascination with actors, but we rarely see any of them hurt. Still, I’m glad Lou Lou brought him to our attention. Older, huh? I’ll have the police artist age the guy a few years. Then we may be able to put it to use, see if anyone recognizes him. By the way, the Burbank police have got Puker Hodges’s apartment staked out. It was pretty stupid of him to commit at least a couple of crimes in public, particularly now, Ms. Beverly. I can’t believe he actually thought he’d get away with it.”

Lou Lou looked thoughtful. “You’re right. He couldn’t count on getting a good photo of Mary Lisa. I wonder why he took such a chance?”

Detective Vasquez said, “I look forward to asking him.”

Mary Lisa snorted. “I hope they break the little weasel’s camera finger.” She glanced at her watch, jumped to her feet. “I’m sorry, Detective Vasquez, but I’ve got to go. Being late is a major crime. Lou Lou, don’t forget, we’re having drinks with Freddie Morgan tonight, at Gumbo’s. Bye, Detective.” And Mary Lisa was off, headed back toward the studio.

Detective Vasquez asked, as he watched her rooster tail flopping, “Who’s Freddie Morgan?”

Lou Lou smiled as she wadded up her paper sack. “He’s a friend of Mary Lisa’s, a hotshot producer who’s got a couple of long-running TV series on-I forgot to tell you about tonight. The thing is, Freddie might want to sign me on to do the makeup for some of his A-list events. That would be big time, big names, it would really put me out there. I’ve got to go.”

“No problem, Lou Lou. I’ll call when I have some news. Tell your friend to be careful. I have this twitching elbow that tells me things.”

“I’ll keep reminding her.”

“Good girl.” He touched his fingers to her nose and smiled.

John Aniston, Jennifer Aniston’s father, played Victor Kiriakis on Days of Our Lives.

Malibu

Late Wednesday afternoon

Today Mary Lisa ignored all the advice. She was alone and on a mission. She looked carefully both ways down PCH before she crossed. There were no dark sedans, no suspicious men in backward baseball caps anywhere on the highway. But even if someone was hidden close by, she hoped he wouldn’t recognize her-she had her big Audrey Hepburn sunglasses firmly in place, and a 49ers cap pressed down on her head, covering her red hair. She was wearing a sloppy XL Colts sweatshirt over ratty jeans and high-top sneakers.

And she didn’t have to worry about Puker Hodges chasing her with his Kodak. Detective Malloy had called her from the Burbank PD to tell her they’d picked him up at his apartment Monday afternoon, not even bothering to hide their grins when he got all irate as they cuffed him, yelling his head off for a lawyer and claiming a violation of his civil rights as a member of the press. He insisted on taking a slice of pizza he was eating with him in one of his handcuffed hands, and ended up dropping it on the sidewalk since the cops wouldn’t unfasten the cuffs so he could eat it. The security guard Frank Hallick said Puker had offered him a piping hot grande nonfat mocha latte, his favorite, and how did the little dork know that? Turned out what was left of the grande was laced with heavy-duty sleeping pills. Detective Malloy of the Burbank PD laughed when he told Mary Lisa not to worry, they had the little loudmouth dead to rights. He said the doping charge was a serious one, and there were others, including Puker’s violating Mary Lisa’s new restraining order. Detective Malloy was pleased-he said Puker might even do some jail time, depending on the plea bargaining.

The only unfortunate thing was that Puker had already sold the photo to the National Enquirer. One of the Born to Be Wild deliveryboys, an enterprising son of a soap writer, had called to warn her. “Wow, Mary Lisa, you made the front page!” And so she was on her mission to buy a copy, see how bad the photo was and what lewd nonsense they’d invented to caption it.

The head of the studio, the savvy, no-nonsense, nail-biting Irene Ludlow, had called Mary Lisa, royally displeased, assuring her that the studio would prosecute Puker to the full extent of the law. This was studio policy now-like not negotiating with terrorists. Puker had already spent a night in jail, and they would use him to send a message, whether or not he and his lawyer screamed in two-part harmony for the ACLU.