Esme. That’s just not going to get it done, is it, Lieutenant?”
Soave shook his head gravely. “Not even maybe.”
“But it’s the truth!” Chrissie protested.
“Tell us what you heard, Chrissie,” Des said, raising her voice at her. “Give us some news we can use.”
“Look, it’s a big, big piece of property. There are acres of lawn in between the guesthouse and the main house. They’re nowhere even near each other.”
“Where were you earlier that evening?” Soave asked.
“I went out to dinner with a couple of reporter friends. Got home at about ten-thirty, climbed into bed, and worked the phone.”
“Who were you talking to at that time of night?”
“My other clients, for starters. They’re my babies. I have to tuck them into bed. And I called Gunnar, my husband. We talk every night when I’m away. Then I, let’s see, I talked to Tito’s agent on the coast, then a guy I know at Daily Variety. What can I tell you? I live on the phone. I was too wired to sleep, so I took a Valium.”
“How often do you need to do that?” Yolie asked her.
“Are we here to talk about my personal shortcomings?” Chrissie shot back.
“Please answer the question, Miss Huberman,” Soave said.
“Fairly regularly, okay? I get kind of wound up. Maybe you noticed.”
“And you heard no yelling going on between Tito and Esme?” Yolie pressed her doggedly.
“For the thousandth time-no.”
“What about cars?” Des asked. “Did you hear any cars come and go?”
Chrissie thought about this for a second. “I did, now that you mention it. The driveway there is gravel, and it makes a definite crunching noise. Somebody pulled in about eleven-thirty, maybe twelve. Then went out again a few minutes later. Another car took off not long after that.”
So Chrissie was corroborating Esme’s story, Des reflected, that Tito had come and gone in a huff and that she, Esme, had then gone running to Jeff Wachtell. “We’re placing the time of Tito’s death atbetween one-thirty and two,” Des said, shoving her horn-rimmed glasses up her nose. “You were in bed?”
“Asleep,” Chrissie replied, nodding. “I dropped off at around one.”
“Alone, yes?”
“Alone, yes,” she answered frostily. “Next thing I knew Esme was in my bedroom screaming about how the police had just found Tito, and I had to hit the ground running in six different directions at once. It’s been like that ever since.”
“She doesn’t seem all that crazy about you,” Des said. “Esme, I mean.”
“She doesn’t have to be.”
Des stepped into the batter’s box now and swung from her heels. “Would that have anything to do with the fact that you were sleeping with Tito?”
Chrissie wouldn’t take the bait. “Why, what did she tell you about us?” she asked, not the least bit flustered.
“Not one single thing.”
“Then how do you… Oh, I get it. Tito must have told someone. He wasn’t real discreet, to put it mildly.” Chrissie fell silent for a moment, staring down at her hands on the table. “Esme probably did know, yeah. And my personal rule of thumb is whatever she knows, Mommy knows.”
“How long had you two been involved?” Des asked.
“ ‘Involved’ isn’t the word for it. Tito didn’t get involved. The boy was strictly a midnight rambler. Showed up bombed on my doorstep late one night.”
“And you let him in?”
“Are you kidding me? He was the sexiest man in America. Who was I not to? And in answer to your next question-Gunnar and me, we’re not about being possessive. So this was not a major deal, okay?” She paused, lowering her voice confidentially. “Neither was Tito, for that matter. In the sack, I mean. Besides, we only slept together a grand total of four times. Three, technically. The last time he couldn’t even rise to the occasion.”
“Too bombed?”
“Too something. Don’t ask me what. The boy didn’t exactly confide.”
“Was he upset about it?”
“Well, he wasn’t thrilled, if that’s what you mean.”
“This is a very interesting angle, Des,” Soave spoke up. “I am liking this large.”
“I heard that,” Yolie agreed, nodding her braided head.
Chrissie’s eyes immediately widened. “Whoa, do not even go there,” she said, her voice rising with urgency. “Tito did not toss himself off of that waterfall because of me. This is ancient history I’m talking about. Five, six months ago. It happened when I was staying with them out in L.A. And he never, ever knocked on my door again after that. We’ve been strictly business ever since. And in case you’re thinking I’m some kind of a Sally Home Wrecker, forget that, too. Their marriage was already a joke.”
“You saying he got around?” Yolie asked her.
Chrissie let out a sharp bray of a laugh. “Don’t put it all on him. Esme more than kept up her end. And that girl’s taste in men isn’t the greatest, believe me. She’s a slut for big dumb clods. That’s the real reason why Tito wouldn’t have bodyguards around. She was always giving ’em some in the pool house.”
“This made Tito jealous?” Des asked, leaning forward.
“Totally,” Chrissie affirmed. “Understand this about Tito Molina. He was a genuine rebel-angry, soulful, gifted, all of that. But when it came to women he was strictly old school. He wanted to chase puss whenever he felt like it, and he wanted Esme waiting patiently at home for him. And if she talked back to him, wham, right in the kisser. Trust me, she wasn’t going to take that from him much longer. A few more months at most. The marriage was toast. That’s why Tito’s agent was so anxious for them to make Puppy Love. It was going to be their last big payday together. I am talking north of thirty million between the two of them. But it was absolutely vital that they start filming it right away.”
“Vital for who?” Des asked.
“For everyone,” Chrissie replied, bristling. “We are talking about two mega-stars. When they work, hundreds and hundreds of other people work. And I’m not talking about the glamour people. I’m talking about the assistant wardrobe girl and the guy who drives the catering truck. These people depend on that work to feed their families. And I’m talking about the fans. The millions of young people who wait in line for hours in the rain just for a chance to see those two up on screen together.” Chrissie broke off, her eyes glittering at Des defiantly from across the table. “You think we were using them, don’t you? You think we were manipulating poor little Tito and Esme for our own selfish personal gain. Well, you’re wrong. I happen to know actors better than you do, and do you know what they fear the most in life? Being ignored. If those two had made Puppy Love together, it would have been sheer tabloid heaven-just like Taylor and Burton in Cleopatra. And, believe me, they both would have loved every single crazy minute of it.” Chrissie sighed, her voice heavy with regret. “But now it’s never going to happen.”
“Tell us what Tito was up to since they arrived in Dorset,” Yolie said.
“Okay, sure,” Chrissie said easily. “What would you like to know?”
“Were you aware that he was seeing someone?”
“I assumed he was. He slipped out a lot late at night.”
“Who was she?”
“You’re assuming it was one particular she. It’s more likely that there were several women.”
“Can you give us a name? One name?”
Chrissie shook her head. “I don’t do that. I don’t gossip about a client.”
“Shut up,” Yolie exclaimed. “What do you call what you were just doing?”
“Dishing like nobody’s business, you ask me,” Soave said, nodding.
“I was not. I was talking about Tito and me. I mentioned no other names. Go ahead, look it up in your notes.” Now Chrissie focusedher gaze on Des. “How come you haven’t asked me who Esme was seeing?”
Des didn’t respond.
“It’s because you already know his name, am I right?”
Again, Des didn’t respond.
“I see, so you get to ask questions and I don’t.” Chrissie heaved her chest, exasperated. “Then let me put it
