One Too Many Husbands
In lieu of a wedding gown, Lola Hart donned a pink Balenciaga suit. She would not wear a veil this time around nor carry a bouquet; a simple corsage would suffice. It was to be a simple ceremony, one much different from her first wedding and from any of her subsequent ones. This was to be Lola's sixth marriage; a high number but not an unheard-of one for a movie actress. At least she was not quite as bad as Liz Taylor—not yet, anyway.
"The limo is here, Miss Hart," her maid informed her.
"Tell the driver I'll be right down, Yvette."
Lola took one last look in the mirror.
Not bad for sixty-two, she thought.
There were few lines or wrinkles. (Thank God for facelifts!) Her hair was still the same shade of honey blond; only now it came out of a bottle. Cosmetic surgery and hair coloring were easy, though. The hard part was keeping her weight down, something Lola was able to do for more than forty years. In all that time, she never weighed more than one hundred and fifteen pounds, except, of course, when she was pregnant.
As Lola rode in the back seat of the limo on her way to the Beverly Hills Hotel, she remembered her first wedding. She was only twenty at the time and had just had her first starring role.
* * *
Jerry Stafford, her first husband, had been a twenty-five-year-old singing sensation, a crooner of early rock songs. Back in the late Fifties and early Sixties, before the arrival of longhaired rock groups from England, teenage girls swooned over singers such as Elvis Presley, Frankie Avalon and Paul Anka. Although Lola was a beautiful young Hollywood starlet, she was by no means immune to Jerry's sexy voice and his boyish good looks.
Everyone tried to talk the young couple out of marrying. Lola's mother felt the actress was too young, and her father thought that Jerry was not man enough to make his daughter happy. Both Lola's agent and Jerry's manager felt a marriage would ruin both their careers. Lola did not care; she was in love. Jerry could not be dissuaded either. He was marrying one of the hottest young starlets in Hollywood, one who was sure to be the next Marilyn Monroe or Jayne Mansfield.
The wedding was a large one with over six hundred guests. Lola, in a Christian Dior wedding gown, walked down the aisle behind five bridesmaids, all Hollywood actresses. To the movie community, it was the social event of the season. Lola and Jerry honeymooned in Paris. Afterward, the bride flew to England to film her next movie, and the groom headed to New York to record a new album.
Six months after the wedding, Lola's agent called a meeting with Jerry and his manager.
"Does this have anything to do with Bobby Darrin starring in a movie with Sandra Dee?" Jerry asked.
The agent smiled.
"I must admit it did give me an idea."
"Forget it," Jerry said. "I'm a singer, not an actor."
"So, Bobby's a singer; Sandra's an actress. It's a perfect combination of marriage and career."
Jerry's manager, eager for his ten percent, took the agent's side.
"It's not just Bobby Darrin," he pointed out to his client. "Look at how many movies Elvis has made. Then you've got Frankie Avalon working in movies with Annette Funicello, and Fabian appearing in Five Weeks in a Balloon."
"But I don't know how to act," Jerry argued.
"You don't have to act," the agent assured him. "Just be yourself and sing."
Lola and Jerry made four movies together. They were by no means Oscar contenders, but they were not that bad either, and more importantly, they were profitable. As his manager had predicted, Jerry became more popular after stepping in front of the camera and reaching a wider audience. An unexpected result of the cinematic pairing was the change in the public's perception of Lola Hart. Instead of becoming the next blond bombshell, she became America's sweetheart, the girl next door.
Then in 1963 four young men from Liverpool appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show. Little did he know it, but as Jerry watched the Beatles singing "She Loves You" in front of an American television audience, his days in the sun were numbered.
Lola's career, on the other hand, blossomed once she stopped making teenage films with her husband and the world discovered she could do more than dance the Twist and play volleyball at the beach. At twenty-four she received her first Academy Award nomination, but Lola's excitement at that honor was dampened by the ever-widening rift between her and her husband.
As Lola sat opposite Jerry at dinner one evening, she found it hard to stay awake. She had been up at four to report to the set at five. She was playing the lead role in a movie about Marie Antoinette and had to spend more than an hour in makeup and wardrobe each morning.
"You look like hell," Jerry said.
"I had an exhausting day," she explained. "What about you? How did your meeting go with the record company executives?"
Jerry threw his napkin down and pushed his plate away.
"Executives? That's a laugh. They're nothing but a bunch of over-aged hippies. Can you believe it? Some bald guy wearing bell bottom pants and love beads told me my music is old-fashioned, that I'm too square for today's kids."
"Rock 'n' roll has certainly changed a lot in the past few years."
"Yeah, don't I know it! Half of these guys making records can't even sing. They just scream over the noise of electric guitars. I tell you, babe, I'm through with music. I've decided to go back to acting."
"Are you sure that's a good idea? The parts you played required you to sing."
"I know. That's because I was typecast in those pictures I made with you. There's no reason I can't take on more serious roles just like you did."
"But I was always an actress. I've been making films since I was thirteen."
"Yes, and since your Oscar nod you've had your pick of roles. It wouldn't be difficult for you to find a part for me in one of your pictures—nothing major, just a supporting role to start with. Then I'll gradually work my way up to a leading man. Hey, maybe there's a part for me in the movie you're making now."
"I'll talk to my producer, Jerry, but I can't promise anything."
The producer flatly refused. There was no way he would cast a Fifties teen idol in a movie about the French Revolution. None of Lola's other Hollywood friends would help either. Finally, rejected by both the film and recording industries, Jerry took a job as a road manager for a psychedelic rock group. When Lola learned that her husband's duties consisted mainly of keeping the group's members supplied with alcohol, groupies and illegal narcotics—all of which Jerry enjoyed himself—she ended the marriage.
* * *
The limo pulled up in front of the Beverly Hills Hotel where Lola was greeted by a throng of reporters. She smiled sweetly at them and answered their questions with well-rehearsed, witty replies. Eventually, a hotel employee came to her rescue and led her inside.
"Your fiancé is already here, Miss Hart," the man announced, leading her to the private ballroom that had been reserved for the ceremony and reception. "But I understand the minister hasn't arrived yet. Perhaps you'd prefer to wait in the lounge."
"Thank you. I'd appreciate that."
The young man led her to the lounge and offered her a complimentary glass of champagne.
What a nice-looking boy, Lola thought.
She realized with a start that he was not much younger than her fiancé, about the same age as her second husband had been when she first met him. As she sat in the lounge, sipping her champagne, she remembered the day as if it were only yesterday.
* * *
Lola and her leading man, Grant Chambers, were between takes on the movie they were filming and decided to get some exercise by taking a walk around the lot. In true Hollywood fashion, Grant Chambers was a handsome, sexy ladies' man on screen, a great romantic lead. Off-screen, he was a confirmed homosexual. He was also one of Lola's dearest friends and closest confidantes.
"Who's that, Grant?" Lola asked when she spied a tall, well-built man coming out of one of the sound studios in which a country-western TV program was being shot.
"You're not into sports, I take it," Grant laughed. "That's Judd Clinton, the centerfielder for the Boston Red Sox. He's not only an excellent ballplayer; he's also a celebrity. Judd is to baseball what Broadway Joe Namath is to football. Isn't he gorgeous?"
As Lola and Grant drew nearer to him, Judd recognized the two stars.
With a captivating smile, he asked, "Aren't you Lola Hart?" Then he quickly added, "And you're Grant Chambers."
The two celebrities acknowledged their identities, and Judd's attention focused on Lola.
"I'm a big fan of yours. I saw your last movie three times."
Grant tactfully excused himself and returned to the set. There was little doubt that the ballplayer was straight anyway, he thought, consoling himself.
"What are you doing in Hollywood?" Lola asked. "This is a long way from Boston."
"That's true, but we're playing the California Angels. Today's an off day, however, and I decided to pay a call on an old friend of mine who happens to be a country-western singer."
As Judd spoke, Lola eyed him appreciatively. He was, as Grant observed, gorgeous. He had straight brown hair cut just above the collar and a brown mustache. His hazel eyes were large and heavy-lidded, giving him a rakish look that raised Lola's heart rate.
"I was just going to get some lunch. Care to join me?" Judd offered.
"I'd love to, but I have to get back to the set."
"What about dinner then?"
Lola smiled and nodded.
She had dinner with him later that night and breakfast with him the following morning. After she finished shooting the next day, she went to Anaheim Stadium to watch the Red Sox play the Angels. Judd went three for four, hitting a home run and two singles.
Lola sat in the stands with a kerchief tied around her hair and dark glasses covering her eyes so that no one would recognize her. When she was not watching Judd at bat or playing the outfield, she listened to comments made about him by the people sitting near her. The general consensus seemed to be that he was an outstanding athlete who had a promising career ahead of him.
During the next two days, Lola also learned a good deal about his personal life. Judd had been a farm boy from Nebraska. As a child, he never owned much and never went anywhere. When he was not in school or helping his father in the fields, he would hang out at the ballpark.
"The only fun I had as a kid was playing baseball, but I had no idea I'd ever be any good at it," Judd confessed, "much less make it to the majors. Hell, I always thought I'd end up a poor farmer like my old man. Like him, I was married when I was sixteen and was a father by the time I was seventeen."
"You're married?" Lola asked with obvious disappointment.
"Separated," he replied with a mischievous wink.
Two days later Judd Clinton returned to Boston with his team. Lola was miserable. She hated the lonely, empty nights in her Malibu beach house. Twenty-eight years old, and what did she have to show for it? Sure, she was rich and successful, but there was a painful void in her personal life. That void, however, was soon filled by the young baseball player from Nebraska.
The day after his divorce was final, Judd Clinton proposed.
"Of course," he added after Lola eagerly accepted, "I could never be happy with this long-distance relationship. You'll have to move to Massachusetts."
It did not occur to Lola to question why her career was any less important than his, why she had to be the one to make the sacrifice. Once again, she was in love and that was all that mattered. After a second big wedding, the actress sold her Malibu beach house and moved into Judd's Boston brownstone.
Lola became the perfect baseball wife. She cheered whenever Judd had a good day and was consoling and encouraging when he had a bad one. When the Red Sox were at home, she attended every game, and when they were on the road, she traveled from ballpark to ballpark.
The only cloud on the otherwise blue horizon of their marriage was that Judd wanted more children, and Lola had yet to conceive. Eighteen months into their marriage, Judd insisted she see a doctor. After two days of medical tests, Lola boarded a plane and joined her husband in New York, where the Red Sox were playing the Yankees. When the game ended, Lola returned to her suite at the Plaza, and Judd went to a meeting with a sporting goods mogul to discuss a possible endorsement deal.
The doctor phoned Lola at the hotel. After hearing the news, which was not good, she fell to the bed in tears, wishing her husband were there to comfort her. When Judd came in several hours later, Lola told him the bad news. Although Judd said nothing, his disappointment was evident. He suffered in silence, with not so much as a word of commiseration to his wife.
"I'm sorry I can't have children," Lola cried, "but we can still be happy together."
Judd was devastated; without the hope of children, he did not consider their union a true marriage.
"Please hold me," Lola sobbed, desperate for comfort and reassurance.
Judd went to his suitcase and took out the bottle of sleeping pills the team doctor handed out to players to help them cope with jetlag when they traveled to the West Coast.
"Here, take two of these," he told her.
"I don't want them," she replied, trying to embrace him. "I want you."
"Take them," he insisted, pulling away. "They'll help calm you down."
At her husband's urging, Lola took the pills and within twenty minutes she was sound asleep. When she woke the next morning, Judd Clinton was gone.
* * *
The door to the lounge opened, and Grant Chambers entered the room.
"Don't you look divine!" he exclaimed.
"You don't look too bad yourself," Lola replied, noting his new Armani suit. "Thanks for coming, Grant. I know you're not too fond of Dustin, but I wanted you to stand up with me today."
"No problem, honey. Just answer one question: if your groom's brother is the best man, does that make me the maid of honor?"
Lola hugged her old friend who could always make her laugh. If it had not been for him, she probably would have ended up a lonely, neurotic suicide like Marilyn Monroe. When Jerry Stafford was found dead of a drug overdose, it was Grant who helped her come to terms with her grief. And when Judd Clinton divorced her, Grant came to her aid. He made her the leading lady in his next movie, a role for which Lola won an Oscar.
There was a knock on the door.
"They're ready for us now," Grant declared, taking Lola's arm.
The bride walked into the ballroom where folding chairs, lined in two rows, created an aisle down which she and Grant were to walk. As she took her first step onto the red carpet, she saw Dustin waiting for her near the minister's podium.
Was it the poor lighting or a trick of her eyes that made her young fiancé suddenly look very much like her third husband?
* * *
After Lola's success at the Academy Awards, her choice of roles was limitless. For that reason, she was astonished when her agent suggested she take a guest role on a science fiction television series.
"Space Voyager is the greatest TV show since The Twilight Zone," he said. "It's one of those shows that will live forever in syndication."
"It's still a TV series, and I'm a movie actress," she argued. "If I make the switch now, I may never get another good role on screen."
"Lola, honey, top-grossing movie actors are fighting to get a guest appearance on this show. Trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong before?"
Lola played a blue-haired queen of a highly advanced planet who falls in love with Captain Loring, the hero of Space Voyager. Royce Erickson was the forty-eight-year-old actor who starred in the lead role. Although he was eighteen years her senior, Lola found him extremely charming and sexy. He had classic good looks and a strong, muscular body. Royce had been divorced twice and was the father of two grown children. He was a fun-loving, extroverted man who thoroughly enjoyed his newfound fame and fortune. The last thing he wanted was a third wife and young children to tie him down.
At first, Lola's relationship with Royce was purely platonic, similar in many ways to the one she had with Grant Chambers. But Royce was not gay, and eventually, close proximity to a beautiful woman was too tempting for him to resist. Lola enjoyed being with Royce; he had a great sense of humor and knew how to show her a good time. Although she was not looking for a commitment—she still felt too much pain from her previous marriage—Lola was not comfortable living with a man out of wedlock. So, against his better judgment, Royce asked her to marry him, and against her better judgment, she accepted.
Their marriage was a happy one at first. Life at that point was one big party. In time, however, Lola wanted to settle down, sell their condominium and buy a house. Children, of course, were out of the question, but childless couples could have a successful marriage if they were committed to making the union work.
Sadly, Royce was not monogamous by nature, wedding vows notwithstanding. One day Lola flew home from a shoot in New York a day earlier than expected, and she decided to surprise Royce on the set of his latest TV movie. Unfortunately, the surprise was on her. When she opened the door to his dressing room, she discovered her husband in bed with a studio tour guide. There was no ugly scene, no screaming, shouting or crying. Lola simply closed the door and left quietly, preferring to let her lawyer speak and act on her behalf.
* * *
"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the minister said, making the marriage official.
The words brought a nervous flutter to Lola's stomach every time she heard them. This time was no exception.
Dustin took her in his arms and kissed her, but she experienced no thrill, no hunger for more. What did she really feel for him, she wondered. It was not the young girl's infatuation she felt for Jerry, the adoration she had for Judd or even the good-natured camaraderie she shared with Royce. And it was most definitely not the wild passion she felt for Dirk Patterson.
* * *
At thirty-four, Lola Hart was one of the most accomplished and respected actresses in Hollywood. She was also head of her own production company, one that had already turned out more than a dozen critically acclaimed and commercially successful films.
Sadly, her private life was not as impressive. It had been two years since her marriage to Royce Erickson ended. During that time, she did not go out with anyone except her good friend, Grant Chambers. Most nights, after leaving the studio, she went home, ate dinner and read a book before going to bed.
Some exciting life for a Hollywood actress! she mused.
It was while she was watching a TV miniseries that she first saw a promising young actor who was to become to Lola Hart what Richard Burton had been to Elizabeth Taylor. Two days after she had seen Dirk Patterson on the miniseries, Lola knocked on his apartment door.
"Who is it?" he called from within.
"It's Lola Hart, Mr. Patterson," she replied.
"Yeah, and I'm Paul Newman," he joked as he opened the door.
When he saw Lola in the hallway, he froze.
"Hi, Paul," she laughed. "Mind if I come in?"
As they discussed the possibility of Dirk costarring with her in an upcoming film, Lola could not take her eyes off the actor. All her husbands had been physically attractive: Jerry was boyishly cute, Judd ruggedly good-looking and Royce exceptionally handsome. Dirk Patterson, however, was without a doubt the best-looking man Lola had ever seen.
After Dirk and Lola made five consecutive films together, the on-screen chemistry between them became legendary. But so, too, was Dirk's prowess as a ladies' man. It was his reputation that made Lola keep her costar at arm's length, despite the deep attraction she felt for him. She had been burned three times before and was not anxious to venture too close to the fire again.
Upon completion of their fifth movie, Dirk informed her that he would not be making a sixth. Tears immediately sprang to her eyes.
"I thought we were more than costars," she said with difficulty. "I thought we had become good friends."
"Like you and Grant?" he asked with mild sarcasm.
He saw the pain in her eyes and was immediately contrite.
"I'm sorry, Lola. I ...."
Suddenly, he reached out and pulled her close to him. His mouth came down on hers in a kiss more passionate than those he had ever bestowed on her in front of the camera. The feelings they both tried to keep under control could no longer be contained.
Theirs was a fairy-tale wedding. Both on and off screen they were America's favorite couple. In giving wedding presents, they tried to outdo one another: Dirk presented his bride with a new Ferrari Spyder, and she gave him fifty percent interest in her production company.
Two years later, thanks to advancements in modern medicine, Lola gave birth to a son, followed a year and a half later by a daughter. At last, Lola had everything she ever wanted.
There was little doubt that Dirk loved his wife wholeheartedly or that he was a faithful and devoted husband. However, he had also been born with the deep-rooted desire to succeed, and after taking control of Hart-Patterson Productions, that desire became an obsession. When he was not starring in a movie, he was producing one. Kept busy raising two small children, Lola never noticed the first signs of his illness. She did not even know he was sick until he collapsed on the set one day.
Three months later Dirk Patterson died of a brain tumor, leaving Lola Hart a widow.
* * *
"What a lovely wedding!" gossip columnist Bobbie Crane exclaimed. "And your outfit is simply stunning, darling!"
Lola saw through Bobbie's empty flattery. She would have given her the same compliment had Lola walked down the aisle wearing a cotton housedress from Kmart.
On more than one occasion, the hypocritical gossip columnist poked fun at Lola for wanting to marry her chauffeur. The actress knew that in her next column, Bobbie would again ridicule Lola's latest union, just as she had ridiculed her fifth. Bobbie had sworn that particular marriage would never last.
* * *
After Dirk's death, Lola resigned herself to being a widow. Although she missed her husband, she realized how lucky she was in many ways. First and foremost, she had her children. She vowed to live for them, if for nothing else. With Dirk gone, Lola had neither the desire nor the financial need to continue acting. Motherhood became her full-time job.
The former actress, rarely seen around Hollywood, was invited to a Halloween party thrown by Grant Chambers. Despite their close friendship, Lola declined; however, Grant insisted she attend.
"You never leave that house anymore! You're turning into a hermit. Now you are either going to come to this party of your own accord, or I'm going to drive over there and drag you out."
Grant's was a costume party, and Lola went as Marie Antoinette, donning the original costume she had worn in her movie about the doomed Queen of France. During dinner she found herself seated next to a man with a British accent, who was dressed in a clown suit. Since Grant had introduced him as his "good friend" Hugh Garrett, Lola assumed that Hugh was gay, too.
Like most of the people at the party, Hugh was an actor. He had started his career on the London stage and gradually worked his way west—first Broadway and then Hollywood. He was a great actor, more talented than Lola but nowhere near as commercially successful. Lola enjoyed Hugh's company so much, that she agreed to have dinner with him the following weekend.
The next day, Grant took her to lunch.
"So, what did you think of Hugh?" he asked.
"I think he's a really nice guy," she admitted.
"He seems to think quite highly of you, too."
"Too bad he's gay," Lola teased him. "Just my luck!"
"What are you talking about? Hugh Garrett isn't gay. In fact, I believe he has a thing for you."
Lola wanted to run from the room and pretend she had not heard him. She did not want another romance. Her life was sailing on a smooth course, and she did not need any emotional turmoil to cause waves. She would simply not see him again. Hugh, however, would not be so easily dissuaded. After a three-week courtship, he asked her to marry him. Four weeks after that, Lola became Mrs. Hugh Garrett.
Hugh was wonderful! He was gentle, thoughtful, sensitive, affectionate and romantic. Yet almost everyone Lola knew asked her what she saw in him. "He's no Dirk Patterson" seemed to be the general consensus. Bobbie Crane had been more to the point, insinuating that Lola had been desperately lonely since the death of Dirk Patterson and would marry anyone to dispel the tragic emptiness in her life.
"I give this 'Beauty and the Beast' relationship six months, a year at the most."
Lola was furious. How dare they judge Hugh solely based his appearance! True, he was not as gorgeous as Dirk had been, but he was not unattractive by any means. He had dark, curly hair and captivating green eyes. On the surface, Hugh took things in stride and laughed the insults off, but he had already felt inferior to Dirk Patterson and such comments must have hurt him deeply.
While Lola's previous four husbands often placed their respective careers before their marriages, Hugh was a husband and a father to Lola's two children first and an actor second. There was nothing he would not do for Lola and the kids. If there was such a thing as a soul mate, then Hugh was Lola's.
The marriage that Bobbie Crane had predicted would last six months, lasted sixteen years. They were the happiest years Lola had ever known, but they all came to a sudden end on the worst day of her life: the day Hugh Garrett was killed by a drunk driver.
* * *
"Good night, darling," Grant said, giving Lola a kiss on both her cheeks.
The reception was drawing to an end, and Grant Chambers was one of the last guests to leave.
"I wish you all the happiness in the world."
That was odd coming from Grant, who had been so outspoken in his criticism of Dustin. In fact, he had repeatedly tried to talk her out of marrying the young man.
"But I'm so lonely, Grant," Lola had confided. "With the kids grown up and living on their own, I have no one."
"Then marry someone else, someone who'll love you as Hugh did."
Lola's eyes clouded with pain. Even after five years, she had not recovered from the loss of her beloved husband.
"No one ever loved me as he did, and no one ever will. Men like Hugh Garrett come along only once in a lifetime if at all."
Lola was adamant. No one had ever been able to talk her out of getting married, not her parents, her agent or her friends. But this time it was not love that drove her on, but desperation. She missed Hugh so badly and hoped to find some comfort—however small—in the arms of Dustin Frey.
"Here comes the lucky bridegroom now," Grant said with thinly veiled aversion.
"Let's go, sweetheart," Dustin urged, taking Lola's arm. "We don't want to miss our flight."
The limo was waiting at the curb to take them to the airport. From her seat in the back, Lola casually glanced at the driver's rearview mirror. She gasped. The man could have been Hugh Garrett's twin.
"Is something wrong?" Dustin asked with concern.
"I thought I saw someone I knew, that's all."
The driver turned to see if she was okay. The man bore absolutely no resemblance to her last husband.
"My eyes must be playing tricks on me, or maybe I'm getting tired."
"It's no wonder. At your age, all this excitement can't be good."
His thoughtless comment was like a slap in the face. Dustin had never made disparaging remarks about the difference in their ages before. They had not even been married a day, and already his attitude was changing.
As they walked through the busy airport toward the United terminal, Lola again saw a man who, at first glance, bore an uncanny resemblance to Hugh. Throughout their three-week honeymoon, hardly a day passed that Lola did not see a man who reminded her of her late husband.
By the time they returned to L.A., Lola's nerves were almost shot. She had started drinking and was taking pills to help her sleep. Dustin suggested she speak to a psychiatrist, but Lola would not hear of it.
"I just need a little rest. That's all."
"Why don't you go up to that cabin you own in the mountains for a week or two?" Dustin suggested.
"I haven't been there since ...."
Lola paled, and her voice faded.
"... since Hugh died."
"For Christ's sake, Lola! Hugh's been dead for five years. Look, if it makes you feel any better, we'll go up together, just the two of us."
At first, Lola flatly refused. The place held too many memories; she and Hugh had been so happy there, away from the madness of Hollywood.
"Maybe that's exactly what I need," she realized.
The following morning Dustin announced, "I have a few things to take care of here. You go up to the cabin, and I'll join you tomorrow."
"I can wait, and then we'll drive there together."
But Dustin insisted she leave immediately.
While Lola was on her way to the mountains, Dustin met Grant Chambers for lunch. Grant, who made no secret of his dislike for the former chauffeur, was surprised that the newlywed groom had invited him. Grant correctly assumed the young man wanted to talk about Lola.
"I'm really worried about her," Dustin confided. "She's not acting like herself at all. She's been drinking heavily and taking quite a few sleeping pills."
"Why come to me? Why not take her to a doctor?"
"She won't go. And there's more. She's been seeing things."
"What do you mean?"
"Everywhere we went, she claimed to see someone who looked like Hugh Garrett, yet I didn't see anyone who even remotely resembled him."
"Maybe it was just wishful thinking," Grant said, giving little thought to Dustin's feelings—if he had any.
"You're her best friend. Can you talk to her? Please? I want to see that she gets help before it's too late."
After his luncheon with Grant, the concerned husband drove to a cheap apartment twenty miles out of the city where he met with his mistress, Deena Ritter.
"Well?" Deena asked impatiently.
"It's all set." Dustin laughed. "It's going even better than we planned. My poor, old wife—and I do mean old—has gone off her royal rocker. She's seeing her dead husband at every turn. In less than a week from the day we were married, she began hitting the bottle and popping the pills."
"That's great! What about the cabin?"
"She's on her way there now. And—get this—I just had lunch with that queen Grant Chambers, and I really laid it on about how concerned I am for her welfare. I think he fell for it."
"Great. I guess I better go up there and finish the job. You go establish a solid alibi."
* * *
Lola removed the dust covers from the furniture in the cabin. She was glad she had retained a caretaker to regularly clean the place. If she had not, it would have taken her at least a week to make the cabin livable. As she walked through the rustic rooms, several emotions assailed her. The little reminders of her life with Hugh brought sadness and cherished memories of their shared happiness. She steeled herself and walked into the bedroom where Hugh's clothes were still hanging in the closet. Lola crushed them against her face, smelling the faded odor of his cologne.
"Oh Hugh," she cried.
Tears rolling down her cheeks, she went out to the car and brought in the bags she had gotten at the liquor store. She poured herself a large glass of vodka, took two sleeping pills and lay down on the bed. Before long, Lola entered Morpheus's kingdom, where nothing made sense, where black was white and time and space had no meaning. Hugh was there. Darling Hugh. Why was he so upset?
"Lola, wake up! You've got to get out of here."
"No," she moaned.
The sleeping woman did not want to wake up, not now, not ever again. She wanted to remain in the surreal dreamscape where she could be with Hugh.
Outside the cabin, a battered old Chevy Camaro pulled into the driveway. A shapely blond woman emerged from the car and walked silently into the cabin, keeping herself hidden in the shadows. Deena opened a bottle of Vodka and spilled it on the couch, the curtains and the carpeting. Then she lit at least a dozen matches and tossed them into the flammable puddles. Once the flames started to spread, Deena ran back to the Camaro and drove to a concealed place where she could safely watch the progress of the fire.
Hugh continued to urge Lola to get up, but this Sleeping Beauty would need more than a kiss from her Prince Charming to wake her.
"I can't do this by myself," Hugh cried.
The bedroom window opened, and Lola could feel the cold mountain air blowing across her arms. Jerry Stafford stood outside, calling to her.
"Come on, Lola. Shake a leg, will you?"
"I'm sorry, Jerry. I can't do another teenage beach movie; I'm too old."
Then the living room door flew open. Flames were traveling across the carpet toward the bedroom.
"Lola," Dirk Patterson called from beyond the flames. "You've got to get out of here."
"Why are you home from the studio so early, Dirk? I wasn't expecting you until much later."
"Lola!" the spirits of the three men screamed in unison.
Awake and confused, she wondered why Hugh, Jerry and Dirk were urging her to hurry. She staggered across the bedroom floor toward the window. Icy hands seemed to pull her over the sill and out onto the cold ground.
Deena Ritter triumphantly watched the fire rage out of control. No doubt the old broad was dead, and she and Dustin could live in style.
Dustin! She could not wait to tell him.
She started the Camaro and sped down the hill. As she raced along the narrow mountain road, dreaming of the fortune she had just killed for, Deena saw a man who looked remarkably like the late Hugh Garrett standing in the middle of the road.
"Shit!" Deena swore and slammed on the brakes.
The Camaro skidded out of control and crashed into a roadside tree, killing the driver instantly.
* * *
Dustin Frey went to the crowded mall where he purchased a dozen roses for his wife and spent fifteen minutes talking to the salesgirl. He was sure she would remember him, should he need an alibi. Afterward, he went to the health club where he spent twenty minutes running on the treadmill and then had lunch at the club's snack bar, all the while in full view of at least eighteen other members.
Finally, he went downstairs to the pool. There were three other swimmers in the water: two women and a man. Before the former chauffeur completed ten laps, the two women got out, toweled off and left. The other man was sitting in the Jacuzzi. After twenty-five laps, Dustin needed a breather. He lay on his back, closed his eyes and floated.
When he heard the other man dive into the water and felt a splash on his face, he opened his eyes.
"What the ...?"
Hugh Garrett was in the pool, swimming circles around him. His wife's late husband did not speak; he just swam. But there was accusation in his glaring green eyes.
Dustin made his way to the side of the pool and climbed up the ladder. The former chauffeur was then confronted by Hugh Garrett, Jerry Stafford and Dirk Patterson. As they drew nearer, Dustin backed away in fear. Suddenly, Hugh broke ranks and rushed toward him. The would-be killer turned to run, missed his footing and fell back into the pool, hitting his head on the concrete siding.
* * *
Grant Chambers stood with Lola Hart beside the open grave as her most recent husband was laid to rest. Since the night of the fire, she had not touched a drop of alcohol, nor had she needed sleeping pills to make it through the night. Despite Dustin's death—or maybe because of it—she was happier than she had been in years. When the brief service was over, Grant took her arm and led her to the car.
"Wait," she said and walked the short distance to the site of another grave, one she had visited many times over the past five years.
The flowers upon it were still fresh; she had just put them there two days earlier. Lola knelt at the foot of Hugh's grave and said a prayer. Then she rose, turned and smiled at the vision of three of the men she once called husband—the men who, from beyond the grave, had managed to save her life.
As I've said before, I have one too many cats!
