Lone star

strength in her sinew. Luz Benedict herself, the strong-willed spinster of Giant.

But a noisy Tansi and Jake, both entering from the sidewalk, interrupted my reverie. Each carried accordion files bursting with papers, each in a hurry. “Edna,” Tansi exclaimed, “don’t forget your two o’clock meeting with Ginsburg and Stevens.”

“I won’t, Tansi.”

Jake turned to Tansi, “We can’t talk. We’ll be late for Warner’s meeting.”

But Tansi hovered over me. “We just met Nell in the parking lot. She said Jimmy hit Tommy.” Wonder, stupefaction; then an odd smile. “You’ll have to tell me all about it.” Jake made a tsk ing noise. He wouldn’t look into my face and began to move away. Pulling her folder close to her chest, Tansi rushed after him.

Mercy and I still didn’t talk, just sat there with coffee. Then Mercy broke the silence. “You look tired, Edna.” A pause. “Don’t forget your two o’clock meeting.”

I groaned. “No, I’m skipping it. They don’t know it yet.”

Then, relaxing, we ordered sandwiches and more coffee, and we talked and talked. I posed an idea, and Mercy played off it. Yes, no, maybe; a possibility. At one point Mercy started to ask a question and then stopped. “You’re right, Edna.”

From my purse I withdrew the napkin I’d scribbled on, and spread it on the table. “Four points,” I said, looking at it. “Indisputable. At least to me. Let’s go over this again.”

But we were interrupted by Tansi, who surprised us. “A reprieve. Warner is with some lawyers, so I get an early lunch.” She waited for me to invite her to join us, but I said nothing. I drummed my fingers on the slip of paper before me, impatient. I wanted the time with Mercy. But Tansi, grinning nervously, uncomfortable with the silence, simply stood there. “I thought I’d join you for lunch, but, you know, if you’re busy, well, then…” She waited.

I looked at Mercy, then nodded. “No, of course, Tansi, please join us.” I picked up the napkin, carefully folded it, and tucked it back into my purse. “We just ordered.”

“I want to hear all about the Jimmy/Tommy brawl.”

“There’s nothing to say Tansi. Those two just don’t get along any more. The end of a friendship that was doomed from day one. And Tommy is angry so he strikes out. Jimmy is-well, Jimmy is just himself. It was an ugly, unpleasant moment, two wilderness bucks locking horns in front of two females. This Hollywood parking lot is, I guess, the last frontier.”

“But…” Tansi started. “But is Jimmy hurt?”

“No,” Mercy said. “Tommy suffered a bruise, though.”

Tansi looked relieved. “As it is, Jimmy gives the makeup people a challenge, what with his sleepless nights, those bags under his eyes, the sloppy shaving…”

So we chatted idly throughout lunch, and Tansi lingered, even having a cigarette after the sandwich. Mercy kept looking at me.

“Edna?” Tansi offered me a cigarette.

“Remember when Jake gave me his pack of cigarettes?” I asked. Tansi shook her head. “Well, I just smoked the last of that pack, up in my room. Last night. I’ve also made a vow never to smoke another cigarette.”

Mercy spoke up. “I’ll never stop smoking. Sorry.”

“Me, too,” Tansi added.

I reached inside my purse, and withdrew something. Mercy watched as I dropped a matchbook onto the cluttered table, and all three of us watched it fall between a plate and a glass. It just lay there.

“I thought you didn’t want a cigarette, Edna,” Tansi said.

“I don’t. I told you I’ll never smoke again.”

“Then…” She glanced down at the matchbook, and I saw color rise in her face. She looked at Mercy, who was staring at her, holding her breath.

“What?”

“I believe these are yours,” I said.

“No, I don’t think so…”

Emphatically, “Oh, yes.” I breathed in. “I’m sorry, Tansi, I really am, but when Jake offered me a cigarette, you did, too. You even lit my cigarette. And you slipped your matchbook across the table at me. Later I recalled picking it up, dropping it in my purse. Last night, lighting the last of Jake’s cigarettes, I reached for the matches, and I remembered. I had taken them from you.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Well, dear, I do. Sad to say. Do you see what they say?” All three of us glanced down at the matchbook, face up. Stamped in gold on the dull brown surface was Ruth’s Grill. With a telephone exchange. And the slogan, “Cocktails and Steaks.”

I pushed the matches across the table. “Take them, Tansi. They’re yours.”

“They’re not.”

“Tell me, Tansi, how did you happen to have matches from a restaurant across the street from Carisa’s apartment? A place you said-more than once-you never went to. A neighborhood you studiously avoided. A neighborhood you insisted I stay out of-fear for my safety.”

“I must have got them somehow-from Jimmy, maybe.” Tansi stared into my face. “Or maybe from Jake. He went there a lot. He told you that.”

“I sat in the same grubby restaurant one afternoon with Alyce and Alva Strand, in the same spot where Carisa sat when she was with another woman. And the two were arguing, Carisa yelling at her. They just saw the back of the other woman’s head…”

“But you can’t blame that on me. Really, Edna, that’s impossible.” She looked around the room, as though for a familiar face. When she looked back, she smiled. “I don’t like this, Edna. We’re friends, you know.”

I sighed. “We are friends, Tansi. I’ve known you since you were a baby.” My mind wandered a bit. “I remember…”

“Edna.” Mercy touched my wrist, softly. “Maybe Tansi can explain.”

Tansi, a little hysterical, “I just did. Didn’t you hear me? I don’t know how I have to explain such a trivial thing as…as a matchbook. I’ve had dozens over the years. From all over. I pick them up. Smokers pick them up. Just as you did. You said you picked mine up, no?”

I sucked in my breath. “Do you remember the afternoon you drove me to the hotel? You were in your new car and…”

“What does my car have to do with it?”

“Manuel Vega’s granddaughter recalled seeing a woman sitting in a car in front of the apartment the night Carisa was killed. She was on a bus, but looked, and thought she saw Jimmy running out of the apartment building. Of course, we learned that it was Tommy, but she thought it was Jimmy. She thought he was joining a woman who was waiting in a car.”

“That wasn’t me. I’ve never gone there.”

I rushed my words. “I asked Connie about the car. She couldn’t describe the woman, but the car she recalled. Vividly. A brand-new Chevy Bel Air. Shiny turquoise with white top.”

Tansi shook her head. “So? Do you know how many such cars there in L.A., Edna? Dozens. We’re car people out here, and it’s a popular car. We like our cars…”

“Yes,” I interrupted. “That’s why Connie mentioned it. She likes cars, too. And movie stars. Like Jimmy. But that got me to thinking. Tommy ran out-Carisa didn’t let him in-but he was not joining the woman in the car, waiting there, watching. There had to be a reason Connie would notice, even if it didn’t quite register with her. She obviously sensed someone waiting in front of the place where she lived. Like a lot of kids, she’s in tune with street life. She spent her hours anticipating the visits of James Dean, her idol. So it stayed with her. Tansi, I think you were there that afternoon. I think you went there, for whatever reason, despite what you’ve said, and watched. You were watching for Jimmy, too. And you saw Tommy run out. And you went in to see Carisa…”

“No, for God’s sake, no!” Tansi thundered. “This is preposterous. Really, Edna.” A tinny laugh. “This is not one of your melodramatic fictions, you know.”

I sighed. “I only wish, Tansi. But my instinct tells me…”

Tansi swirled around in her chair, then looked at Mercy, her eyes searching her face. “Mercy, tell her. Are you