Show Business Kills (42 page)

“
Mom, I have a confession to make. I was so shook about not being able to find you, I had this crazy idea that maybe you went
to L.A. And then I was reading some article in the paper about that guy you know, Jack Solomon, and it talked all about the
stuff he was doing at the network, so I took a chance and called information for the number of the network and asked for his
office, and I got through to his secretary. I guess I sounded really upset because she put me through to him
.

“
Mom, he is so nice! He said if I ever come to town I
should call him, and if I find you I should have you call him. He took my call because I said I was your daughter and you
had disappeared. So, Mom, he must really like you to have them put me through when he’s so busy. Anyway, please call me. Okay
?”

“
Yeah, this is Harvey again. I’m calling to tell you, you’re fired. I had to do all the billing myself, and you didn’t even
have the courtesy to call me. So don’t even come by on Monday for what I owe you. I’m keeping it and you can sue me.” Click
.

She went into the bathroom and put cold water on her face. She felt feverish and afraid. Now she didn’t even have a job at
home. And she didn’t have any money. But there was actually good news in all of this. A pony in there somewhere, like that
old joke about shoveling through the horse shit. And that was that Jack Solomon remembered her. Hah! He should only know that
she’d been standing ten feet away from him at the hospital the other night. Maybe she should go over to his office at the
network and pop in on him. Where the hell were those network offices anyway? She picked up her street map because there were
landmarks on it. Maybe she could find them there
.

Shit! Today was Sunday. Nobody would be in their office today. They’d be having barbecues with their families or brunches
at the beach. Jack Solomon lived at the beach. She could drive out to his house in Malibu. Malibu, just the name brought pictures
to her mind of pretty young girls in bathing suits, the way she was once, the way Jack Solomon remembered her. How could she
go out there and let him see her like this
?

After a while she picked up the phone at the same time she
pulled her address book out of her purse. Then she dialed nine for an outside line and the telephone number in Malibu. The
least she could do was call him, apologize for Polly’s panicked call. And her voice was still sexy. While the phone rang,
she folded the greasy McDonalds’ wrapper in half and in half again. She’d tell him she was in town to test for some film
.

“
Hello
.”

“
Jack?” she said into the phone. She felt afraid and queasy but proud of herself for getting up the nerve to do this
.

“
No, this is Jason. Who’s this
?”

“
Oh, is this Jack Solomon’s residence
?”

“
Yet it is. I’m his son. Who’s this
?”

“
Well, I’m an old college friend of his, and I was hoping to maybe say hello for a minute. I was in his class at Tech and I…
”

“
Hold on a sec. I’ll see if he can talk. Dad! Telephone…
”

Her heart was pounding. Jack Solomon had a son who sounded like a man. Of course he was probably in his twenties. Maybe he’d
like to meet Polly. Wouldn’t that be something. “Our children really should get to know one another,” she’d tell Jack once
the conversation got rolling. There was a whooshing sound in her ear, something from the other end of the line. Probably she
was actually hearing the surf outside the Solomons’ big, beautiful beach house
.

Jack Solomon was going to pick up the phone any minute, and he’d be so glad to hear from her. Here’s what she would say. “Hi,
darling. Hasn’t it just been forever? I’ve been working in England. But I really have been planning a move
back to the states. Helen Mirren and I were just talking about it. She’s doing that great detective series on PBS, and I’m
here testing for a…
”

“
Hello
.”

“
Jack?” Her heart was banging as loud as it used to when she stood offstage waiting for her cue
.

“
Um… my dad told me to tell you that he has to call you back later or maybe tomorrow. So can I get your name and number? He’s
outside on the deck with some of the people from the network and… he asked me to get your name and number and he’ll call you
some other time
.”

Some other time. She hadn’t even given her name yet, so it wasn’t personal. It was just that a man like that was always busy.
But if she left a number for Jack to call her back, the switchboard operator would say Tropi-Cal Motel, and then
…

“
This’ll just take a second,” she tried. “Maybe he could just excuse himself for a second and…
”

“
No. He told me to take a number,” Jason said to her
.

“
I’ll try another time,” she said and put down the phone
.

  
32
  

T
he hours they spent in the hospital on Saturday night and all day Sunday had a timelessness to them which was punctuated now
and then by the need for one of them to leave for a few hours to attend to the practical business of her life. But nearly
every issue in their own worlds was on hold or in the hands of others as they sat by the bed, continuing to talk to Jan or
to one another.

Sometimes while they sat, now bundled in sweaters to warm them in the chilled hospital room, Marly read in a tired voice from
A Course in Miracles
. But the doctor’s dour-faced visits and Andy’s helpless eyes when he came in to join them told them without words that there
would be no miracles. When Marly went home on Monday morning, she called Julie to tell her the news and to discuss the will.

“I mean, what are the chances she can make it?” It wasn’t just the miles that caused the distance in Julie’s voice. “I knew
she had me in that will for taking her little boy. But I sure as hell don’t want to be the one who says ‘pull the plug’ on
my own sister. I’d have nightmares about that for the rest of my life.” Marly’s mind was filled with a jumble of images
as she stood in her own room that morning and told Julie everything the doctor said about Janny’s chances.

She wore only a towel as she looked out into the backyard. At the iron-and-glass table under the gazebo Maria sat having breakfast,
while Joey, who had left his cereal behind, happily chased a butterfly around the lush green lawn. And among her white lacy
bedclothes, stretching lazily, after a night of sleeping there “to be available for the children” was Billy. Waiting for her
to finish her phone call and slide in next to him.

“I don’t want the responsibility,” Julie said, “and I already told Rose that I don’t want the boy. But maybe we can come to
some kind of terms about him.” Marly wondered if terms meant money. Of course she was talking about money. Julie was willing
to sell her right to Billy’s guardianship. Marly was too tired to scream, too pained to fight. When Billy tugged gently at
her towel, she decided she had better things to do than continue this conversation now.

“Maybe we
can
come to terms,” she said.

“And as far as the rest of it goes,” Julie told her, “you three friends do what the doctors think is best.” That was said
in a voice that meant she was winding up this conversation.

“Thanks, Julie,” Marly said and she put the phone down and sat on the bed just as a happy squeal from Joey rose from the yard.
Then Billy was behind her kissing her neck and her back and moving her body against his under the warm comforter, telling
her he loved her and they would work on it all together. He would help her decide what to do, he would make it all be right.

After their lovemaking, she thought, as he took her nipple
into his mouth and the sweet sensations filled her body, she’d tell him she wanted to adopt Joey.

When it was Rose’s turn to go home, she made Molly breakfast and took a long bath. It was one of those vague school holidays,
teachers’ conference day or something, she was sure she should have known about but didn’t, so at about nine she made a play
date for Molly and then drove her to the friend’s house.

“Mommy, are you sad?” Molly asked her.

“I’m more than sad, honey,” Rose said, making a left turn off Valley Vista onto a street that was filled with jacaranda trees,
their lavender blossoms falling gently onto the cars parked along the curb, and she remembered how much Jan loved jacarandas.
“I’m devasted about Aunt Jan. I’ve loved her very much for a lot of years, and I know when I lose her, my life will never
be as wonderful as it might have been with her in it.”

Molly hugged her mother knowingly before she got out of the car. “Love you, Mom. And if you’re alone and it gets too tough,
come and get me and I’ll come home and keep you company. Okay?”

“Okay, honey,” Rose promised. When Molly was safely inside her friend’s house, Rose turned on the car radio to the news station,
and as she drove up Beverly Glen she was only half listening when the news man said Jan’s name, and then she thought she heard
the words “released for insufficient evidence.” They were saying that the stalker had been released. Good God. He had to be
the one who shot her, and they released him.

When she spotted the old gray car parked in her driveway,
she felt a surge of fear under her ribs. Andy wasn’t home, and her house was isolated just like Jan’s. She felt some relief
when she saw that the driver of the car was a woman. But instead of pulling into the garage, she pulled up alongside the car,
and honked and startled the woman who looked at her.

It was Rita Connelly, the police officer. Both she and Rose got out of their cars and stood facing one another in the driveway.
Rita Connelly looked pretty and fresh in a red wool blazer.

“I heard they released that fan,” Rose said.

“He found his gun, and it was a thirty-eight but not the one that shot Jan O’Malley. How’s she doing?”

“There’s been no change in her. I don’t… there probably isn’t much hope,” Rose said and her face crumbled into a teary mask
and she patted her hip where her purse usually rested, hoping to find a Kleenex, but she’d left her purse in the car.

“I’m sorry,” the police officer said and pulled a handkerchief out of her own pocket. It smelled of cigarettes, but Rose was
glad to have it to wipe away her tears.

“Mrs. Schiffman,” Rita said, looking searchingly into Rose’s eyes, “I called the alumni office at Carnegie early this morning,
and they told me that the person they faxed that list of names to, the person who called them last week and said they needed
the list to do some heavy-duty fund-raising, was you.”

Rose’s stunned reaction was to let out a sharp little laugh. “Me? That’s crazy. I never got that fax. The first time I saw
it was when you showed it to me. I never would have made that call. Somebody must have used my name.”

“Got any idea who would do that? Do you know anyone in San Diego? It was faxed to San Diego. Have you been to San Diego lately?”

“When Molly was two, I took her to the zoo there. That was eight years ago. Someone’s using my name. How do we find out who
it is?”

“Let’s call the alumni office together and see if they can tell us what else the person said,” Rita Connelly suggested.

While Rose looked up the Pittsburgh telephone number on the Rolodex in her office and dialed it, Rita Connelly looked around
at the pictures pushpinned to the cork board. She also squatted and looked down at the pieced-together photo on the floor
of the four friends in front of the college dorm.

“What happened to this picture?”

“I don’t know. I came home and found it like that.”

“Carnegie Mellon University Alumni Office. This is Dee Dee, how may I help you?” The voice from the speaker-phone filled the
room.

“Dee Dee, this is Rose Schiffman, the real Rose Schiff-man, I’m here with Officer Connelly of the L.A.P.D. She told me she
spoke to you earlier. We’re trying to find out who really called you last week and asked for the West Coast alumni addresses.”