Read Diva's Last Curtain Call Online
Authors: Angela Henry
Carl and Greg were the last ones to leave. Carl pulled the curtain between our beds for privacy and kissed me on the forehead.
“You know nothing happened between me and your sister, right? I mean, she’s a beautiful woman but she’s gotta be one of the most self-absorbed people I’ve ever met. All she does is talk about herself,” he said, shaking his head. I burst out laughing.
“I know nothing happened. But it’s good to hear anyway. And you know nothing happened between me and Morris Rollins’s at the Heritage Arms, right?” I asked.
“Of course I do. I know I can trust you, Kendra,” he said, pulling me into a tight embrace.
He trusted me. Great. I thought back to my lip-lock with Rollins. Well, that made one of us at any rate. I happened to look over Carl’s shoulder at the door to the hospital room and there filling the doorway with his tall frame was the man in question. Our eyes met for a moment and then he grinned and gave me a devilish wink before disappearing down the hall.
L
ynette and Greg’s wedding went off without a hitch. Morris Rollins performed a beautiful ceremony after which we all ate, drank and danced at the reception hall until late into the night. My best friend and her new husband got a honeymoon send-off they won’t soon forget. I didn’t even mind wearing the hideous Smurf-blue maid of honor dress. I was actually damned happy to be alive to put the ugly thing on. I shook my bow-covered ass all night long. When it was time for Lynette to throw her bridal bouquet, Justine charged through the crowd of single women, knocking them down like a linebacker to catch it, and every unmarried man in the room scattered like crumbs in the wind. The way Lynette and Greg held each other on the dance floor and gazed into each other’s eyes left no question in my mind as to what kind of honeymoon they were going to have, though I doubt she’s going to be letting him tie her up anytime soon.
Allegra apologized profusely for lying to me about the check. She’d been planning an exclusive story to get back into
Hollywood Vibe’
s good graces and somehow thought holding on to the check would make her exclusive, well, even more exclusive. Whatever that meant. After the wedding, Allegra went back to L.A. She did the talk-show circuit and told the story of finding Vivianne’s body, her arrest and being unjustly accused of murder to anyone and everyone who’d listen. For a while there wasn’t a day that went by that I wasn’t watching her on TV or reading about her in newspapers and magazines. I knew my baby sister was loving every minute of it. As traumatic as the whole experience had been, it all paid off for her in the end. She finally got her big break, the starring role in a major made-for-cable-TV movie. The name of the movie?
The Vivianne DeArmond Story.
Stephanie Preston was severely disfigured in the fire and is still recovering from her burns. She was officially charged with murder, attempted murder, kidnapping and arson. Margo Diamond also sued her in civil court for the fire at Diamond Publishing. Her trial is set for sometime in the fall. Lynette and I will have to testify. I’m praying she’ll save the state the cost of a trial and change her plea to guilty. But since she’s denying she did anything wrong, I’m not holding my breath. The media circus surrounding the case is played out daily on TV. Stephanie’s finally in the limelight, but somehow I don’t think she’s ready for this kind of close-up.
In order to beat the media to the punch, Cliff Preston announced in a press conference that he was born Jasper Hairston to a black family in Indiana. Just like in Vivianne’s book, the real Cliff Preston was a white army buddy of his who was declared missing in action during the Korean War. But unlike the book, Jasper Hairston hadn’t murdered Cliff Preston, at least not as far as any investigation has been able to discover. Vivianne had just wanted to cast a shadow of suspicion on Cliff. The dog tags she had weren’t even real. She had them made and planned to use them in case Cliff threatened to report Blackie being alive to the police. Cliff’s talent agency went belly-up when the few loyal clients he had left defected to other agencies. He was also publicly lambasted by everyone, including comics, politicians and even the NAACP. But Hollywood being what it is, Cliff was able to capitalize on his notoriety by selling the rights to his story. And in the ultimate attempt at distancing himself from future scandal, he filed for divorce from Stephanie, which will ultimately leave her with no health insurance.
Kurt Preston has written off both Cliff and Stephanie. He never had much use for Cliff, who had abused him since he was a child. Cutting Cliff out of his life had been no big loss. But he had really loved Stephanie. What had happened to Stephanie’s daughter, Lilly, and her role in the tragedy, wouldn’t have changed Kurt’s feelings for his beloved stepmother. However, murdering Noelle, the woman he loved, was something he couldn’t forgive Stephanie for. Kurt is living with Harriet at Vivianne’s farmhouse, which she left to him in her will, and is attempting once again to kick his drug and alcohol problem. He felt he owed it to Noelle, since she was never able to overcome her demons. Harriet made sure he knew the truth about Vivianne and that she really did love him. Kurt is also writing a book called, of all things,
Little Black Lie.
I hear it’s a mystery.
And speaking of mysteries, the mystery of who had broken into Cabot’s Cave and chased me with that hammer was solved one evening when I saw the news report that a man had been arrested for trying to sell collectibles stolen from Cabot’s Cave. The thief claimed that Donald Cabot had hired him to break into Cabot’s Cave and steal a few of his heavily insured collectibles so he could collect the insurance money and save his failing business. The plan went horribly wrong when the thief took it upon himself to bust up the place to make the robbery look more authentic. When the unfortunate Mr. Cabot walked in and saw what was being done to his precious shop, he dropped dead of a heart attack.
Blackie Randall quietly disappeared from Woodlawn Nursing Home. I didn’t tell the police, or anybody else, about him being alive. Whether he was guilty of robbing that bank was something we’d probably never know, but in his current condition he was beyond anything the law could do to him. Cliff reported seeing him to the police out of spite and to deflect some negative attention away from himself. I don’t know where Harriet is hiding him now. She isn’t talking, and she swore Cliff was lying and trying to make trouble for her when the police ultimately showed up to search the farmhouse.
But I had a good idea of where Blackie might be, and while I was out taking my new car for a spin I decided to test my theory. My Nova hadn’t been worth repairing and I was now cruising around in a silver Toyota Celica—used, of course. I toyed with the idea of reporting Winette Barlow to the police. Since I hadn’t actually seen her trash my car, and didn’t feel like dealing with any more drama, I decided against it. Much to Rollins’s relief, Winette has since set her sights on a new conquest and has given up her pursuit of the reverend, though she still tosses venomous looks at me whenever I see her out in public.
Anyway, I found myself in front of Morris Rollins’s brick ranch. I saw his car in the driveway and pulled in behind it. Rollins emerged from the backyard at the sound of my car door slamming. His expression was neutral and I couldn’t tell if he was happy to see me.
“Is this a bad time?” I asked. He shook his head and silently opened the gate for me come through.
I stepped into the backyard, looked up onto the deck and saw an elderly man with long silvery-white hair sitting in a wheelchair with an oxygen tube in his nose staring off into space.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“My uncle,” he replied simply. I could tell by the set of his jaw that that would be all the explanation I was going to get.
I smiled at Rollins. He smiled back.
DIVA’S LAST CURTAIN CALL
A Sepia Novel
ISBN: 978-1-4268-0187-7
Copyright © 2007 by Angela Henry
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