The Grieving Man
Marietta Walton was arguably the most beautiful teenager in the small town of Whitewood, if not in the entire state of Massachusetts. Yet even with her finely sculpted facial structure, flawless complexion and shapely figure, the young woman did not enjoy the popularity of many of the less attractive girls in school, for Marietta came from a poor family. The daughter of a man who made his living selling knock-off handbags at weekend flea markets, she grew up living in a trailer park. Her clothes were purchased at Kmart, Walmart and sometimes the Salvation Army thrift store rather than the more fashionable clothing stores in the mall.
Despite her poverty and lack of friends, even the most popular boys at school were taken by her feminine charms and frequently asked her out. They did not, however, want to take her to the movies or to school dances, and they certainly wouldn't bring her home to meet their parents. They wanted only one thing from Marietta, and she knew it. Consequently, she went out on very few dates.
Then one day, Rudy Lucas, a twenty-five-year-old plumbing supplies salesman traveling from Boston to Bangor, stopped at the hamburger restaurant in which Marietta was working. He took one look at the beautiful blonde with the dazzling blue eyes, small waist and full breasts and saw not a poor waitress to be seduced and discarded but a potential super-model or even a movie star.
While most women correctly sized Rudy up for what he was—a slick, two-bit hustler—to the naive, small-town Marietta, the city boy appeared to be a cosmopolitan, handsome and extremely sexy man. Unlike the brash schoolboys she was forced to fend off, Rudy took her out to dinner and sent her flowers. When he was around her, his manners were impeccable: he always opened the door for her and never used foul language or sexual innuendos in her presence. The fact that his gentlemanly behavior was all an act never occurred to her.
The two had been dating for just over three months when Marietta found a copy of Man's World magazine on the coffee table in Rudy's apartment.
Marietta blushed and asked, "You actually bought this?"
"Sure," Rudy replied. "I buy it every month."
"Let me guess. You only get it to read the articles."
"You mean there are articles in there?" Rudy laughed. "I like to look at beautiful women. What's wrong with that?"
Marietta thumbed through the magazine.
"Not all of these girls are what I'd consider beautiful."
"True," Rudy admitted. "The really gorgeous ones are usually found in the centerfold."
"I think it's disgusting to pose naked like that. Don't they have any shame?"
"It's art. Look at the work of Picasso and Botticelli. Most of the world's great artists have painted or sculpted nudes."
"Somehow I can't imagine the Mona Lisa or Whistler's Mother exposing their breasts or flashing their bare asses for the camera. Where do you suppose they find all these girls?"
"Sometimes in small towns like yours. Young women send in their photographs to the magazine, hoping to be chosen as a Man's World pussycat. In fact, there was something in last month's issue about a contest."
Rudy went to his bedroom and began going through the pile of clothes and papers at the bottom of his closet, looking for back issues of the men's magazine. A few minutes later he returned to the living room.
"I was right," he announced, victoriously holding the periodical above his head. "Here it is. The magazine is sponsoring a nationwide talent search. All finalists will be flown to Los Angeles to be photographed by one of Man's World's photographers. Then one lucky girl will be chosen to be the July centerfold. Hey, I bet that if you entered, you would win that contest hands down."
At first, Marietta balked at the suggestion, but eventually, the gears in her mind started to turn, and with a little persuasion from Rudy, she agreed to pose in the nude for him. With even less persuasion, Rudy got her permission to send the pictures to Man's World magazine.
* * *
As Rudy had hoped, Marietta was selected as a finalist. The most photogenic of the hopeful young women who were competing in L.A., she was inevitably chosen as the winner and was photographed as Miss July. Before the issue hit the stands, though, she and Rudy Lucas got married.
Dmitri Anastas, the founder and owner of Man's World, was quite impressed by the beautiful and shapely blonde. He saw in her a youthful innocence, something that was rarer in his world than an honest politician. Dmitri unselfishly took it upon himself to preserve her unique freshness. He soon became a father figure to the young girl and grew to love her a great deal, albeit in a strictly platonic way. He was not so impressed by Rudy, however. In fact, Dmitri did his best to convince his newest pussycat to leave her husband.
Although she chose not to take Dmitri's advice concerning her marriage, Marietta was quite willing to let the magazine mogul guide her career. She had been quite excited when a top New York modeling agency offered her a contract, but Dmitri advised her against signing.
"Where do most successful models wind up?" he asked and then gave her the answer. "In the movies! My dear, I know dozens of directors and producers. I can introduce you to someone who can get you a part in a picture right away. Why waste years being a model first?"
"But I don't know if I'd make a good actress. What if I don't have any talent?"
"With your beauty and shape, you won't need talent."
When Marietta discussed her career options with her husband, he quickly agreed that Hollywood was the right choice. It was the only thing Dmitri and Rudy would ever see eye to eye on.
True to his word, Anastas introduced the July centerfold to several of his friends, one of whom was a director of popular slasher films who cast Marietta as a young college student who is butchered by a crazed serial killer while making out with her boyfriend in a parked car.
"You were right," she confessed to Dmitri. "I didn't need any acting talent. I only had four lines to learn."
"But mark my words: everyone will notice you in this movie," he replied.
"Sure they will. I was just about falling out of that skimpy little dress they made me wear."
Dmitri laughed.
"Marietta, darling, don't underestimate the importance of having a pretty face and a good figure in Hollywood. And you can count yourself among the lucky ones; you don't need breast implants or plastic surgery."
After more than a dozen minor roles in television and motion pictures, Marietta got the break she and Rudy had been waiting for. At his lavish sixtieth birthday party, Dmitri Anastas introduced his protégé to Devon Faulkner, an Oscar-winning producer and director, whose films had earned the acclaim of both critics and moviegoers alike. Although Dmitri and Devon were good friends, the filmmaker needed no coaxing from the magazine owner to test Marietta for a role in his upcoming film. Devon took one look at the shapely blonde and was instantly smitten.
"She's not like most of the calculating, ambitious women you and I know," Dmitri told Devon in confidence. "She's a sweet kid, but she's married to a real loser."
"You forget, Dmitri, this isn't New York; it's Hollywood. No one here stays married for long. Let's give her a little time. I'm sure she'll begin to have second thoughts about the guy."
Dmitri nodded. Surely, once Marietta had been exposed to more educated, sophisticated, talented and successful men such as Devon Faulkner, her dime store Romeo would lose his luster.
* * *
"How's the new picture coming along?" Dmitri asked when he and Devon met for lunch six months later.
"Great. Marietta's much more talented than I had expected."
Dmitri raised his eyebrow.
"She tells me that you two have become quite close."
"That's right," Devon confirmed. "I'll be honest with you. I know I'm older than she is, but I love her very much. And I'm sure I could convince her to marry me if I could just get that no-good husband out of the picture."
"Have you tried?"
"She doesn't like to talk about him much, but next week we leave to go on location in London for seven weeks. I only hope he doesn't show up there, uninvited and unexpected."
"Maybe I can help you out in that regard," Dmitri offered with a smile. "I'll find something for him to do that will keep him busy here in L.A."
The following day the magazine owner offered Rudy Lucas a job. It was little more than a title with a salary, but it was sure to please the small-time punk's oversized ego.
"And just what am I supposed to do?" Rudy asked, delighted at his good fortune.
"You've got an eye for talent," Dmitri said, which was not entirely a lie. "After all, you discovered Marietta, didn't you?"
Rudy nodded and smiled.
"I knew she was pussycat material the moment I saw her in that burger joint."
"And you were absolutely right. What I want you to do for the magazine is frequent the clubs, the topless bars and the strip joints in and around Los Angeles and check out the young women who work there. You know the kind of girl we like to feature in Man's World."
"I sure do. A pretty face, an empty head and plenty of T and A."
Dmitri smiled, but inwardly he wanted to gag with revulsion. He considered Rudy Lucas a bottom feeder, little better than a pimp.
"I'm confident you will do a good job as a talent scout," he said facetiously, forcing himself to shake Rudy's outstretched, sweaty hand. "Besides, it will give you something to do while Marietta's in London working."
In his new position with Man's World magazine, Rudy came into contact with hundreds of attractive women, including exotic dancers, would-be models and aspiring actresses. Normally, these women would not have looked twice at a little weasel like Rudy Lucas, but as a representative of Man's World, he was able to catch and hold their attention. In true Hollywood fashion, the magazine's talent scout seduced hopeful centerfolds in California while his actress wife was in England having an affair with her director. And Dmitri Anastas lost no time in calling Marietta to let her know what her philandering husband was up to.
At the conclusion of filming in London, Devon Faulkner returned to the United States a very happy man. Not only had he managed to complete his film on time and under budget, but he was also able to win the heart of the woman he loved.
"I've made an appointment for you next Wednesday afternoon at three to meet the lawyer who handled my divorce," he told Marietta on the plane back to L.A.
"I wish you would let me talk to Rudy about this first," she replied.
"Darling, you know he isn't going to give you up without a fight. I'd rather you stay away from him and let a lawyer take care of everything."
Marietta turned away from her lover and looked out the window. When they got back to Los Angeles, she packed her bags and moved into Devon's Brentwood mansion.
* * *
Dmitri Anastas was sitting beside his pool getting a manicure from a shapely brunette in a string bikini and a pedicure from a stunning redhead when he heard the news on the radio. His heart fluttered, and his face turned pale.
"Oh no," he groaned. "Not my poor, sweet Marietta."
Earlier that morning, Rudy Lucas's next-door neighbor heard gunshots coming from the Lucases' home and phoned the police. After receiving no reply to their demands for entry, the responding officers forced the door open. The inside of the townhouse resembled an abattoir. Blood covered the walls, floor and ceiling. On the bed lay the naked body of Marietta Walton Lucas, although the police could not positively identify her at the time because her face had been blown off with a double-barrel shotgun. On the floor next to the bed was the body of her estranged husband, Rudy. He, too, was naked and missing most of his head. The shotgun was found within inches of his fingertips.
When Devon Faulkner was informed of the murder/suicide, the distraught director collapsed with grief. He was so devastated by Marietta's horrendous death that after her funeral, he left Hollywood and went to live in his house in the south of France, a place that wasn't haunted by memories of the former Man's World pussycat.
Nearly five years later, Devon returned to Los Angeles, intent on making a biographical movie about the short life and tragic death of the one-time centerfold. While filming it, he fell in love with and married the pretty young actress who played the lead role, a girl who looked remarkably like his murdered paramour.
Dmitri Anastas attended the star-studded premiere of the somewhat fictionalized biopic. When the crowds piled out of the theater, the media mogul congratulated Devon on his marriage and wished him well with the film.
"Thank you, Dmitri. Why don't you give me a call? We can have lunch sometime."
"Yes, I'd like that. There's something I've been meaning to discuss with you for some time now."
In the weeks that followed the Hollywood premiere of Marietta, Dmitri tried contacting Devon on several occasions, but the director was either not available or was deliberately avoiding his calls. Finally, the magazine tycoon showed up at Devon's Brentwood mansion unannounced.
"Dmitri," Faulkner said with surprise and then quickly looked down at his Rolex watch. "I wish I'd known you were coming. I have an appointment in ten minutes."
"I realize you're a very busy man, Devon, but I'm sure you can spare a few minutes for an old friend. I promise I won't take up too much of your time."
Dmitri walked past him without waiting to be invited inside and headed toward the living room, much to his host's consternation.
"I really wish you could come back another time. I have to ...."
Dmitri rudely cut him off.
"Your film about Marietta brought back a lot of sad memories," he said. "What a sweet, wonderful girl she was."
The director turned his head, not bothering to reply.
"What a shame she got mixed up with the wrong man," Dmitri added.
Devon was getting impatient.
"We both tried to warn her about her husband, but she wouldn't listen to either one of us. When it came to that scumbag, she was deaf, dumb and blind."
"Oh, I'm not referring to Rudy Lucas," Dmitri said, staring pointedly at his old friend. "He was a cheating, no-good low-life who used Marietta as a meal ticket, no doubt about it, but he wasn't a killer. And he loved himself far too much to ever commit suicide."
"Well, whatever you think you know about Marietta and her husband, the evidence was pretty clear. Against my advice, she went to the townhouse to discuss the divorce with him; he went crazy, shot her and then killed himself."
Dmitri shook his head.
"I don't believe she ever intended to divorce her husband. As hard as it was for me to understand, she loved that little creep, or maybe she believed she owed him something or just felt sorry for him. I don't know. But she didn't want to leave him."
"What makes you such an expert on Marietta's feelings? You're forgetting that I was in love with her and that the two of us had gotten quite close those weeks we were shooting in London. I tell you she was going to leave Rudy Lucas and marry me."
Dmitri closed his eyes. The guilt was almost too much for him to bear.
"I introduced you to her. I had hoped she would fall in love with you and realize what a louse her husband was."
"And she did."
"I don't think so. I think she liked you and enjoyed having the attention of such a well-respected producer and director, but I think she preferred staying with Rudy to marrying you. That's why you killed her—and him—wasn't it?"
Devon looked his friend in the eye.
"Are you working with the police? Have you got on a wire?"
"Of course not. I just want to know the truth, for my own peace of mind."
"It turns out we were both wrong about Marietta," Devon confessed, relieved at last to share the burden of his awful secret. "We thought she was a sweet, innocent young girl who was being manipulated by a greasy little hustler. What she felt for Rudy Lucas wasn't gratitude, pity or love. It was control. Marietta discovered a long time ago the power she held over men. She used Lucas to get her out of that little Massachusetts town; she used you, the owner of Man's World magazine, to get her start in pictures; and she used me to get her out of low-budget horror films and guest spots on TV shows and into more respectable acting roles."
"If what you say is true, then once she got to L.A. Lucas would be of no further use to her. Why would she have married him and kept him like a ball and chain around her ankle?"
"You and I were successful and wealthy men. As much as we adored her, we had careers and lives beyond being her stepping stones. But Lucas—that poor bastard was obsessed with her. He believed—and rightly so—that he was nothing without her. He must have been like putty in her hands, doing whatever she asked."
"I don't believe you. Marietta was simply not that type of girl."
"Don't you get it? She planned it all out when she was still flipping burgers back east. I believed she and I had been having an affair behind Rudy's back, but the truth was that he knew about us all along. She was sleeping with him behind my back. I followed her to the apartment that day. I was terrified that he would lose his temper and hurt her when he learned she was going to divorce him and marry me. That was when I saw her for what she really was: a cold, heartless, calculating little tramp."
"But she was beautiful," Dmitri sighed, reluctantly accepting the devastating truth.
"And a surprisingly good actress," Devon added with a bitter laugh. "After all, she had both of us believing her lies."
Image in upper left corner by Jonathan Earl Bowser.
Believe it or not, Salem was a former centerfold for Cat Fancier magazine.
