Butterfly (42 page)

to demoralized troops.

“He set up his tent outside of town,” Maggie said. “Everybody went mostly out of

curiosity. I’d never been to a tent revival before. Joe and I are Christians. We go to church

BUTTERFLY

181

every Sunday. But this was something new. And besides, we had heard that Danny

Mackay had been known to do some healing.”

Beverly already knew that also, from her clippings. They were filled with scattered

items from newspapers all around the South: Danny Mackay driving devils out of a hys-

terical woman, making a paralyzed child walk again. He had even made the outrageous

claim that he had brought a man back from the dead.

And people were believing it.

People like this poor woman with the baby in her arms. “Joe and I went to Danny’s

meeting,” Maggie said. “I went out of curiosity. But Joe…” She sighed and her eyes grew

moist. “I know that deep in his soul he was hoping Danny could cure him. We had heard

of his miracles…”

Beverly knew the rest. The meeting had been a rousing one, typical of Danny

Mackay’s frenzied religious revivals, and Joe Kern, in a moment of impulse, had jumped

up and run up to the stage, begging to be cured. It was quite a dramatic moment, wit-

nesses had reported, with Danny laying on hands and Joe fainting dead away. But what

witnesses did not tell the police or the reporters was that Danny had instructed Joe to

throw away his heart medicine. No sir, no one had heard Rev. Danny say that.

But Joe Kern had heard him say it and he’d done it—thrown away his medication

because Reverend Danny had told him he no longer needed it and that to continue to

take it was a sign of faithlessness before God—and a week later Joe Kern had a massive

coronary and was dead.

Maggie had gone wild with grief. She’d gone to the police and the newspapers, accus-

ing Danny Mackay, who was still in town, of murder. But Danny had strong connections

with certain officials, and so no investigation was ever organized, and the next day Maggie

Kern was fired from her job.

“I know Danny Mackay told them to get rid of me. First he killed my husband, and

now he’s trying to kill me!”

Beverly brought a linen handkerchief out of her purse and pressed it into Maggie’s

hand. The young widow cried for a few minutes, then brought herself under control

again. “I’m damn good at what I do, Miss Highland. I’m an executive secretary. I type

ninety words a minute and take shorthand at a hundred and twenty. I was making good

money in San Diego. And I was making decent money here, working for a stock broker-

age firm. I’m good at what I do—there was no reason to fire me.”

She gazed at Beverly with anger and pain in her eyes. “Miss Highland, I consider

myself to be a good Christian. But I say to you now that I would like to see that bastard

Danny Mackay hang!”

Then she looked down at the sleeping face of her baby and seemed to collapse inside.

“What am I going to do?” she whispered. “Joe had only been on his job for two months.

He didn’t yet qualify for benefits. His funeral took the last of our savings—”

“Mrs. Kern,” Beverly said softly, “I sympathize with what you are going through.”

“Why does the world adore that man?” Maggie murmured, wiping tears off her

cheeks. “Why can’t they see him for what he is?” Her green eyes regarded Beverly again,

this time shining with defiance and courage. “It was awful, all those poor people in that

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Kathryn Harvey

tent, putting their money into his collection plates, poor desperate people, crippled and

sick and out of hope, giving him their money! Am I the only person who sees Danny

Mackay for what he is? A monster!”

“I know him, Mrs. Kern. I’ve known him for a long time. You see,” she looked ten-

derly at the baby sleeping in his mother’s arms, “I would have had a child of my own

today, if it hadn’t been for Danny Mackay. And he or she would be fourteen years old

now…”

The sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains began to cast long golden beams

over brand-new furniture that wasn’t paid for. Outside, the shouts and laughter of chil-

dren rang over the young neighborhood. This was a place where couples like Joe and

Maggie Kern came to sink their roots deep into the earth, to raise their children among

friends and long-term neighbors, and then maybe live here in comfortable retirement,

content with what they had done.

Danny Mackay did more than just kill people—he also killed dreams.

“Mrs. Kern,” Beverly said softly, “how would you like to come back to Los Angeles

and work for me?”

When Beverly walked into the office, prepared to spend the evening doing a full day’s

work because her trip to Victorville had taken all morning and afternoon, she was sur-

prised to find Carmen and Ann still there. And when she saw that they were crying, her

surprise turned to alarm.

“Oh, Beverly!” Ann cried. “It’s the most awful news!”

She didn’t say anything. She remained by the door, staring at her friends.

“It’s Eddie and Laverne,” Carmen said. “Their plane went down in the ocean off

Malibu. Beverly—they’re dead!”

The will was read a week later. Those closest to Eddie were present—even Roy

Madison, who had canceled a whole day of shooting on the set of his popular TV spy

series. They stared at the attorney as he informed them of Eddie and Laverne’s last wishes.

Absolutely everything—Royal Burgers, a miniature golf course on Ventura, a car wash

on Wilshire, and a men’s clothing shop in Beverly Hills called Eddie Fanelli’s—went to

Beverly Highland.

24

Jamie couldn’t help himself. It was such a turn-on to swim naked in Beverly

Highland’s pool.

He’d done it seven times now since that first daring time in January, and today was

going to be no exception, despite the gray March weather. But he was foiled just as he was

starting to unzip his jeans. He was standing there, barefoot and bare-chested, hands on

his zipper, already getting a hard-on thinking about the swim for his voyeuristic employer,

when all of a sudden someone appeared on the path that came up to the pool.

It was a young man in swimming trunks and wearing a towel around his neck, and he

called out, “Hi, there! Can I have a quick dip before you put the chemicals in?”

Nonplussed—he had never before encountered anyone on the grounds of Beverly

Highland’s estate—Jamie quickly stepped away and said, “Uh, sure. Be my guest.”

The young man, who looked to be in his early twenties, said, “Thanks,” tossed his

towel aside and dived in. He swam a few laps, then emerged at Jamie’s end and pulled him-

self up out of the pool. “Whew! That felt good! I needed to wash out last night’s cobwebs!”

Jamie watched the stranger towel off and wondered at his ease to be swimming in Miss

Highland’s pool. Who on earth was he?

“You know,” the young man said, toweling his hair dry, “you look familiar. Have I

seen you somewhere before?”

Jamie reached for the pool sweep and guided it into the water. “I don’t know. It’s

possible.”

“Hey! Was it at Peppy’s?”

“Peppy’s! That gay disco on Robertson?” Jamie laughed. “You wouldn’t find me there.

I don’t think my girlfriend would approve.”

“How about around the UCLA campus? Are you a student there maybe?”

“Naw. I went to Cal State Northridge. Majored in drama.”

“Oh, an actor. What’ve you been in? Maybe that’s where I’ve seen you.”

“Well, I’ve had a few parts. I was on
All My Children
a couple of months ago.”

“Hey, no kidding!”

Jamie watched him do some stretching exercises, a young man definitely not in a

hurry and definitely feeling at home here. “So,” Jamie said slowly, “are you a friend of

Miss Highland or something?”

“You might say that.”

“Is she a nice person to work for?”

“I wouldn’t know.” He touched his toes and then straightened up. “I don’t work for

her. Why?”

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Kathryn Harvey

“I was just wondering. You know, like maybe she has contacts in the industry. I sure

could use some help, if you know what I mean.”

The stranger picked up his towel, draped it around his neck, and paused to take a long

look at Jamie. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I know what you mean.”

Their eyes met for a moment, then the young man said abruptly, “Well, gotta go!

Thanks for holding things up for my swim. Hope I haven’t thrown you off schedule.”

And he disappeared down the path.

Jamie watched him go. Peppy’s, he had said. A gay bar. Had the guy been coming on

to him?

It made Jamie shudder. That was the trouble with this town. Especially in the movie

industry.

Deciding that it was too risky to be pulling down his pants at this point, especially

with that guy lurking around, Jamie reluctantly shrugged off his sexy mood, kept his

pants on, and got down to the business of cleaning Beverly Highland’s pool.

Joe’s footsteps could be heard on the marble floor as he neared the solarium. When he

appeared in the doorway, snappily dressed in Port Authority and Stubbies, his hair blown

dry, his smile dazzling, he said, “Good morning, ladies,” and delivered himself into the

jungle of ferns and vines.

Beverly and Maggie Kern were enjoying a light brunch of toast and poached eggs

and tea and going over the day’s business. The New Hampshire primary was coming up

and Beverly had pumped a lot of money into the right political pockets to ensure

Danny’s victory.

Maggie watched Joe as he took a seat and helped himself to a tall glass of orange juice.

“Well?” she said. “What did you find out?”

He sat back, a young man confident of his good looks and personality, and gave her

his best smile. “He’s not gay and he’s not married, but he does have a girlfriend. Slightly

educated—a drama major. Articulate, doesn’t talk like an ape. Looks healthy. His teeth

are nice, probably capped. And hungry.
Very
hungry.”

Maggie looked at Beverly, who nodded slightly.

“Now,” said Joe, leaning forward. “Mind telling me what you wanted to know for?”

“Well,” Maggie said, making a thing of tearing open a packet of Sweet’n Low and stir-

ring it into her tea. “We have to be careful who comes through those gates.”

“Why not just have Security check him out, like you usually do?”

“There are some things even a private investigator can’t find out, Joe. Thank you for

getting the information for us.”

“Sure,” he said with a shrug and stood up. “He probably thought I was putting the

make on him, though.”

“Joe!”

He laughed. “Sorry, Mom,” he said, bending and kissing Maggie on the forehead.

“Aunt Bev, any time you need something done, I’m the man for it. See you later.”

Maggie laughed and shook her head. “Young men these days!”

“Yes,” Beverly said in a distant voice, thinking of Jamie the pool boy. “Young men…”

25

Hollywood: 1971

When Beverly came in out of the bright sunlight and followed the hostess across the

dark restaurant, she did not see the man at the bar watching her. He was a large man, well

dressed, and black. He kept his eyes on her as she was led to a small table in the corner,