Authors: Mary Jane Clark
The Look of Love (8 page)
T
he video on
Good Morning America
and the story in the
Los Angeles Times
were a double punch. Vernon threw the newspaper down, knocking over his glass of orange juice. The liquid spilled onto his lap.
“Damn it!” he yelled, his face reddening beneath his tan.
Irene attempted to soothe her husband. “Vernon, try to relax, dear. Everything will be all right.”
Vernon leaned back, ran his fingers through his white hair, and held his head. “No, it will
not
be all right, Irene. People are going to think that Elysium is unsafe. The media are camped out front, blocking the entrance. Look at these pictures. Who’s going to want to come to a place where people are murdered? Bad enough that people still bring up Caryn’s death, and it’s just a matter of time before George Ellis files a malpractice suit against me for what I did to his daughter.”
“You weren’t responsible for Caryn’s death, and everyone knows it. She had a heart attack. And if George Ellis decides to sue, you’ll probably be able to reach a settlement before it ever goes to court. Elysium has a wonderful reputation, Vernon,” said Irene as she blotted the orange juice from his suit. “People have short memories. You know that expression about today’s news lining tomorrow’s garbage pails? This will blow over, and Elysium will go on as the miraculous place it’s always been.”
“Yes, and do
you
know the expression about a picture being worth a thousand words? These pictures will stay in people’s minds.” Vernon pushed her hand away and stood up. “Either someone who works for me is a traitor or someone who is staying here is responsible for taking these pictures. Either way, I want to know who did this.”
He picked up the newspaper again and read the byline on the front-page story. “Anastasia Fernands,” he said. “Who the hell is she? I’m going to find out, and when I do, she’s going to be one sorry woman.”
I
t had been an especially miserable morning at the Hollywood Haven Hotel. A tour bus arrived, carrying forty-seven people who were excited about their big trip to the “Land of Movie Stars.” Hudson had to check in every one of them. He had no patience for their stupid questions and requests for adjoining rooms.
It was almost noon before he had a chance to look at the newspaper. He pored over every word of the
Times’
account of the murder at Elysium. Hudson felt smugly satisfied that something terrible had happened there. Vernon and Jillian Abernathy had wronged him, and now they were being damaged as they faced the repercussions the murder could have on their business and professional reputations. And if Jillian had been devastated by the acid attack inflicted on her maid but meant for her, he could only imagine how she was being affected by the murder.
It was some small justice for what the Abernathys had done to his life. But not enough.
“Excuse me.”
Hudson looked up from the newspaper. Three middle-aged women were standing on the other side of the registration desk. All were carrying cameras and using their sunglasses as headbands.
“May I help you?” he asked.
“Can you tell us where Marilyn Monroe’s star is?” asked the tallest of the three.
“At 6774 Hollywood Boulevard,” Hudson answered without missing a beat. The Hollywood Walk of Fame was a tribute to over two thousand artists who had made a contribution to the film, theater, television, radio, and recording industries. Hudson prided himself on knowing the locations of the stars inlaid in the sidewalk for the most famous.
“What about Paul Newman?” asked the chubby one. “I
loved
Paul Newman.”
“He’s at 7060 Hollywood Boulevard.”
“Judy Garland?”
“She’s got two,” said Hudson, growing impatient. “One for recording at 6764 Hollywood and the other for motion pictures at 1715 Vine Street.”
The third woman leaned on the desk and dutifully wrote down addresses. Hudson could see there was a long list of names. There was no way these hags could expect him to provide the addresses for each star, was there?
The tall woman’s next request showed that they expected just that.
“Okay. How about Alfred Hitchcock?” she asked.
“For pity’s sake, lady!” Hudson yelled. “Get yourself a map!”
The moment the words were out of his mouth, Hudson knew he’d made a mistake. The women demanded to talk to the manager.
At the end of his shift, Hudson was fired.
A
fter breakfast Piper went back to her room to get some sunscreen and her straw hat. The light on the telephone next to her bed was blinking. She called down to the front desk.
“Do I have any messages?” she asked, hoping that Jack had called.
“Yes, Miss Donovan. Miss Abernathy would like you to come over to her cottage.”
“Where is it?” asked Piper.
“From the main building, go past the pool and take the path to the right. It’s the last one.”
“Thanks. Any other messages?”
“No, Miss Donovan. That’s all.”
T
he scent of lavender wafted through the air as Piper walked to Jillian’s cottage. She passed some of the facilities featured in Elysium’s online brochure: the studio where guests could draw, paint, or listen to art-appreciation lectures; the apothecary where guests could create their own custom blends of bath oils and lotions; and the yoga, spinning, and Pilates house, which also included rooms for personal training sessions. The tranquillity and calm were disturbed only by the occasional silent golf cart that passed, carrying passengers dressed in exercise clothes or plush terry-cloth robes—and the men in suits who Piper surmised were police detectives.
At the end of the long path, cactus, agave, sedum, and other moisture-filled succulents covered the ground in front of a stuccoed, southwestern-style cottage. Piper was about to knock when the wood-and-wrought-iron door opened. Jillian stood there, looking very different from the way she had when Piper met her the day before. The skin around her eyes was swollen, her nose was red, and her smooth complexion was blotchy.
“I was watching out the window for you, Piper,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Piper walked inside and took in her surroundings. While her suite in the main building was all soothing creams and whites, the living room of the cottage was a more colorful mix of sage green, tan, and turquoise. The furniture was rustic. A Native American–inspired rug covered the floor, and metal art pieces decorated the walls. At the side of the room was a bistro table with two chairs. Piper saw that it was set.
“Have a seat.” Jillian gestured. “I went to see my sister yesterday after everything happened. She can always make me feel better, like everything is going to be all right. Nina had her hands full yesterday, though.” She managed a wry smile. “Anyway, before I left, I picked up some of the monastery’s famous pumpkin bread for you to sample.”
As she sat, Piper decided to let Jillian take the lead in the conversation. She wasn’t going to bring up Esperanza’s murder unless Jillian wanted to talk about it. The bride-to-be was clearly suffering, and Piper didn’t want to contribute to any more angst.
Jillian’s hand shook as she sliced into the loaf.
Piper reached over and took the knife. “Let me,” she said.
She cut two pieces and put them on their plates.
“Mmmm. This is absolutely delicious,” said Piper after she took the first bite. She chewed carefully, savoring the bread’s taste and texture. “I don’t know. Maybe we don’t even have to change the recipe—with icing on it, I think it could pass as cake. If you wanted to make it less dense, I guess the sisters could adjust the amount of flour, or if you wanted it sweeter, they could add more sugar. But I think it’s fabulous just the way it is.”
Jillian’s face brightened a bit. “It
is
good, isn’t it?”
As they ate, Piper asked Jillian questions about the wedding. “Where will the ceremony itself be?”
“There are lots of pretty places on the grounds here,” said Jillian, without much enthusiasm in her voice. “But we think the gazebo might be the best spot. That way Ben and I would be on a raised platform and the guests would be able to see us more easily.”
Piper smiled. “I was admiring the gazebo when I had breakfast. In fact, I met your fiancé as I was sketching a picture of it.”
“Ben’s a great guy,” said Jillian. “He’s been so patient with me and so willing to listen to all my concerns and fears. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I want to be his wife, not his patient. I love him so, and I look forward to our life together—if we can ever get past all this.” She shook her head and looked at Piper. “How about you? When you’re decorating other people’s wedding cakes, you must be thinking about what yours will look like someday.”
Piper shrugged. “There
is
someone, but things are a little tense between us right now. I’m starting to realize that I miss him.”
“Well, I hope it works out for you,” said Jillian.
They had almost finished eating when there was a knock at the front door. Jillian jumped.
“Forgive me,” she said. “I’m so on edge. The slightest thing startles me these days.”
She got up and looked out the front window. “It’s my stepmother,” she said as she walked to the door. “She’s been such a doll through all this. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s trying so hard to stand in for my mother. She’s even putting together a hope chest for me.”
“Darling!” Piper heard the voice before she saw the face. “How are you today, Jillian? Feeling better?”
“Come in, Irene,” said Jillian, moving back to make way for Irene to enter. “I want you to meet Piper Donovan.”
The attractive older woman came straight at Piper. “Oh, our wedding-cake maker! Wonderful to meet you. Jillian showed me that cake you made for that soap-opera star. Beautiful, just beautiful.”
Piper rose to shake hands. She remembered Jillian saying that her stepmother had wanted to use a local baker, yet right now Irene Abernathy didn’t look like she was anything but happy to see Piper.
“I’m sorry, dear,” said Irene. “I can’t shake your hand. My nail polish isn’t totally dry yet.”
“No problem,” said Piper.
“What are you having here?” asked Irene, looking at the table. “A little tea party?”
“Piper was trying the pumpkin bread,” said Jillian. “She thinks it might be good enough just the way it is for our wedding cake.”
Irene looked surprised. “Really?”
“Of course, it really only matters that Jillian and Ben like it,” said Piper. “They’re the ones who have to be into it. Plus, we haven’t tried any adjusted recipe that the sisters might come up with.” She turned to Jillian. “I’d love to go to the Monastery of the Angels, see where they bake, and find out if they have any ideas about how we can make this work.”
“Mother Prioress has already okayed making an exception and letting you see the kitchen,” said Jillian. “Nobody from the outside world is usually allowed, but because we’re hoping to spread the word about their wonderful bakery and candy kitchen, they’re praying that it will lead to more people buying their products. The money they make is what keeps the place going, and as you can imagine, times are tough. My sister Nina—I mean, Sister Mary Noelle—will be your guide.”
“Would it be possible to go today?” Piper asked eagerly.
Jillian heaved a deep sigh. Then she looked at her stepmother. “Would you be able to take Piper to the convent, Irene?” she asked. “I’m wiped out. I just don’t feel up to it.”
Irene smiled. “Of course, darling. I’ve told you over and over. I want to do anything I can to help. Oh, and I took the dress to the bridal shop for alterations. It will be all ready in time for the wedding.”
Jillian turned to Piper. “See what I mean?” she asked.
K
yle Quigley took inventory of the bottles of lotion and jars of cream on the shelves in the treatment room. Counting each container, he made notes on his clipboard. He calculated how much stock he had to order for the month ahead.
He finished too quickly. He had welcomed the usually boring task because it had taken his mind off Esperanza’s murder.
Kyle checked the clock. He wasn’t looking forward to being interviewed by the police detectives who were methodically questioning Elysium staff and guests. His turn was coming. The last thing he needed was police scrutiny.
As he booted up the computer and began filling in the orders he needed to place, Kyle was sick with guilt and remorse. Esperanza was dead because of what he’d done. She’d told him she had remembered something about the acid attack. Why had he told anyone? Why hadn’t he kept his big mouth shut?
Kyle knew he had a problem with gossip. It had gotten him into trouble before. He’d actually lost a couple of friends because they’d felt betrayed when they found out that he’d talked about their private business with other people.
He wondered why he continued to do it when it could be so destructive. He suspected it was because it made him feel important to share news that almost nobody else knew.
Knowledge was power, but this time he’d gone too far. And he was terrified that someday he might get carried away, make a slip, and reveal the dirty secret that lay buried in his own conscience.
I
think we’re going to get there in time for midday prayer in the chapel,” said Irene as she drove Piper down the curving road that led from Elysium toward the city and the Monastery of the Angels. “It’s really quite something, Piper. Would you like to hear them pray?”
“Ordinary people can go?” Piper asked with surprise.
“Oh, yes,” said Irene. “The public is welcome. But they don’t see the nuns. They’re hidden behind a screen. At various hours all the nuns assemble in the chapel, but there’s at least one of them praying there at all times. They take turns throughout the day and night adoring the Lord exposed on the altar in the form of the Host.”
“Wow,” Piper mused, “I can’t imagine living my life like that. But it’s kind of comforting to know there are people who live their lives just to pray.”
“Yes, but I can’t imagine it either,” said Irene as she turned off the freeway. “I enjoy the outside world too much. I like eating in fine restaurants and attending fun parties and getting massages and buying beautiful clothes. Just think of all the things the nuns give up.”
“I don’t know,” said Piper. “It could be liberating, not having to worry about all the physical stuff, just concentrating on the spiritual.”
“Well, it certainly isn’t for everybody,” said Irene. “I remember when Nina announced she was going to be a nun. Vernon was beside himself.”
“How long ago was that?” asked Piper.
“About three years ago,” answered Irene. “A few months after her mother died, Nina decided she was going into the convent. Everyone’s heart went out to the whole family when Caryn passed away. She was an absolutely beautiful woman, inside and out.”
As the car turned off Franklin Avenue, Piper pointed through the windshield. “Look!” she exclaimed. “The Hollywood sign!”
Piper couldn’t believe how excited she was. She had seen the iconic sign hundreds of times on television and in movies and magazines, but it was a thrill to see it in person. The worldwide symbol of the entertainment industry had letters forty-five feet high and was planted proudly in rough, steep terrain in the Hollywood Hills. When the car reached the next corner, the sign looked as though it stood right over the Monastery of the Angels.
“That’s kind of weird, isn’t it?” said Piper.
Irene shrugged. “I never really thought about it before, but I guess it
is
sort of an ironic juxtaposition.”
The monastery, complete with a bell tower, sat on almost four acres. The building, with its terra-cotta roof tiles, had once been the estate of a copper magnate, and eventually became the first monastery of cloistered nuns in Southern California. A chapel had been added on the side, and an art deco silver angel stood guard over the parking lot.
Piper and Irene got out of the car and walked across the macadam. At one end of the parking lot was a small shrine. Bouquets of flowers had been placed at the feet of a religious statue. Off the lot there was a cement courtyard with a tall pine tree growing in the middle and bronze plaques depicting the Stations of the Cross affixed to the cinder-block walls. Piper noticed barbed wire spread across the top.
“That isn’t there to keep the nuns in, is it?” she asked.
Irene smiled. “I think the idea is to keep the bad guys
out
.”
They passed through a covered walkway that led to the Chapel of Perpetual Adoration. As they opened the door and entered, organ music was playing. A few people were scattered throughout the small church. Piper and Irene took seats in one of the many empty pews.
Light filtered in through the modern stained-glass windows. The altar was simple, but an exquisite golden monstrance sat atop it. On the far side of the altar, a divider was decorated with candles, and behind that was a tall screen. Piper could hear women’s voices coming from the other side of the screen.
While she said a prayer for Esperanza and for her own parents, her brother, and even her sister-in-law, the nuns sang. Fifteen minutes of singing was followed by reading and quiet contemplation, punctuated by an occasional anonymous cough. After a final prayer, the lights behind the screen went off, and Piper could hear the nuns shuffling away to the refectory and their main meal of the day.
Irene signaled for Piper to follow her. “Sister Mary Noelle should be in the gift shop now,” she whispered.
They exited the chapel and walked along the side of a quiet garden. When they reached the entrance to the gift shop, Irene rang the bell beside the wrought-iron door. A tall woman, wearing a simple white dress, a belt with rosary beads attached, and a short black veil, appeared and welcomed them inside. The woman was very pretty, her face unlined and makeup-free. Piper could instantly see the resemblance to Jillian.
Irene made the introductions.
“It’s good to meet you, Piper,” said Sister Mary Noelle. “I’m so glad Jillian has you to help make her wedding day special. She has been through so much, and I pray that the day my sister and Ben are married goes as well as she so richly deserves.”
“I hope so, too, Sister,” said Piper. “I’ve got to tell you that you’re making my life so much easier! With you baking the cake, all I have to do is decorate it.”
The nun smiled. “We are going to need you, Piper, to show us how to assemble it. When the layers are as large as I think you’ll want them to be, I would think you can’t just stack them one on top of the other.”
Piper nodded. “No, we’ll need supports, but it won’t be hard to do.”
“All right, then,” said Sister Mary Noelle as she gestured to a door at the rear of the room. “Let me show you our kitchen.”
Piper and Irene started walking.
“Oh, Irene,” said the sister, “I’m sorry, but Mother gave permission only for Piper to enter.”
“Surely she wouldn’t mind if I joined you,” said Irene.
The nun looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, but Mother isn’t available right now, and I’d never presume to amend the specific permission she gave me.”
Irene’s face registered disappointment, but she quickly composed herself. “No problem,” she said. “I’ll wait out in the garden for you, Piper.”
N
o one else was in the kitchen.
“All the sisters are having their dinner, and after that they will observe an hour of silence for midday rest and contemplation,” explained Sister Mary Noelle.
Piper looked around. Everything looked familiar. The kitchen was outfitted in much the same way as her mother’s bakery. A large refrigerator and stove, an industrial-size electric mixer, sacks of flour and sugar waiting to be opened, and shining stainless-steel bowls stacked neatly on long worktables. Just like The Icing on the Cupcake.
“I think the only things we’re missing are the large round baking pans,” said Piper after she had checked out the cabinets and drawers. “And I’ll also get the wooden dowels to support and fasten the graduated cake layers. I’ve brought my piping tips and other paraphernalia with me from New Jersey. Other than that, all we need to decide is whether you sisters will amend your recipe or if we’ll go with the original pumpkin bread. I had some this morning, and it definitely tastes good enough to be cake.”
Sister Mary Noelle opened the refrigerator door, took out a shopping bag, and handed it to Piper. “The sisters have tried a few variations,” she said. “There are samples inside. Would you take them to Jillian and Ben? All three of you can taste and decide.”
Just as they were about to leave, an older nun appeared at the kitchen door. Sister Mary Noelle introduced Piper to the prioress.
Mother Mary Dominic nodded and smiled pleasantly. “Nice to meet you, Piper. I hope that we’ll be able to help you. The Abernathys have been very generous to us, and we are happy if we can help in some small way.” She turned to Sister Mary Noelle. “Is that Mrs. Abernathy I saw waiting outside?” she asked.
“Yes, Mother, that’s my father’s wife.”
“Well, you certainly know, Sister, that she would be welcome in our kitchen, too.”
Sister Mary Noelle’s face reddened slightly. “We’re finished here anyway, Mother,” she said.