The Heart of the Matter

The scene: David's office interior, late morning. The camera moves around the room, showing his suit coat draped over the back of the sofa, a tape recorder, camera equipment and binoculars on top of it. We swing around to the cluttered desk. Next to a carton of chocolate milk sits what looks like a week's worth of mail, some envelopes opened, their contents thrown carelessly about, a few still waiting to be read, all currently being ignored while David intently reads something by the light of his window. His clothes are wrinkled, and his shirt is unbuttoned halfway, revealing his undershirt. He rocks slowly back and forth, rubbing his beard stubble. His eyes never leave what he's reading even as Maddie walks through the door.

David: He would be if he'd been on a stake out for two weeks. All night, every night. With no sleep and no female companionship. Only Herbert Viola to keep him warm. (He throws his reading material to the desk facedown and looks her in the eyes.) Two weeks alone in a car with Bert. Think about it, Maddie.

David: Why does everything always turn into a debate about my maturity. Just because I want to be with you now doesn't mean I can't delay gratification. It just means…okay, maybe I don't want to delay it. Maybe I want to lay it- right here on the desk-

David: What's the difference? I happen to think marriage is the most overrated institution in America. Men only get married because A.) She's pregnant or B.) They think marriage is a ticket on the never-ending nooky train. What they don't get is that as soon as the missus realizes she's the conductor of the train, it pulls into the station. End of the line. No return ticket. Everybody off. Then he's left to wake up to that same face every morning…for the rest of his life.

Maddie: Because of how happy he is? Because of how proud of him your dad finally is? I don't know. But something's got your nose out of joint. Look, David. Amy and Richie may be walking around in a love-induced fog right now, but that's the way it's supposed to be when two people are getting married. They're supposed to act a little silly. After a few months they'll settle into a routine and reality will set in. And I, for one, think they'll be fine. I can't believe I'm saying this to you of all people, David, but you need to lighten up a bit and support your brother.

Agnes jumps, looks at Maddie who shrugs and acquiesces. A few moments later, Agnes shows an athletic, well-dressed, handsome Hispanic man into David's office. He is in his mid to late thirties and his excellent physique is evident beneath his navy blue suit. Maddie motions for him to have a seat on the sofa. As she does so, she notices Agnes is still standing there, staring at the client dreamily.

David: Ms. Dipesto, if we want any beverages we'll let you know. We'll also let you know if we want breakfast, lunch or dinner. Right now we want to know why this man wants to hire us. If he's looking for a woman to have his baby we'll let you know that too.

Miguel: You don't understand. My wife hired a private investigator to follow me, to see if there was any evidence that I was having an affair. This man either fabricated or twisted everything around in my life to make it look like I was cheating! In reality, I assure you, I was not. Am not.

Miguel: I'm a personal trainer, Ms. Hayes. I have extensive experience in exercise and physiology, and I own my own chain of health clubs. This being southern California of course I train many young, beautiful women. But I have affidavits from dozens of them who will attest that I never laid a hand on them except in my capacity as their trainer.

Miguel: Look. These pictures show me helping this woman on the equipment. They show us laughing in the parking lot. There is one in her car that looks rather compromising, but I remember that day. She had gotten a new car stereo and was simply showing me all the features.

Miguel: That's part of the problem and the reason why I need an investigator. Unfortunately I haven't been able to find her for two weeks. Here's her picture. Her name is Lori Christopher (He hands David a picture of a very beautiful and very young woman.) Her last known address is on the back. She seems to be obsessed with me.

Miguel: The letters appear to be in her handwriting. Read them. If she wrote them, she's most definitely attracted to me. But it is all one-sided. My wife, Carla is…well… a beautiful woman to me, although she doesn't seem to think so herself. She's very old fashioned and traditional. She's a few years older than I am and since our second child was born she's put on some weight, which makes her very self-conscious. But she's a loving mother and up until now, a perfect wife. She's always been so devoted to me, but this unscrupulous investigator has poisoned her mind. She's acting so strange, so aloof. It's frightening. Please, I love my wife and I don't want to lose her.

Miguel: When I take a woman and mold her into someone with a great body, it has a tremendous effect on her self-esteem. It also seems to effect some of them in other ways. Some fall in love with me, like some women fall in love with their psychiatrists or obstetricians.

Miguel: Yes, Ms. Hayes. This has happened before and I believe my wife could handle that part of it. But this time she found letters that she thinks I wrote. She has a stack of them, which supposedly were extracted from my office computer, and I supposedly sent to this woman. Here they are.

Miguel: I have a pretty casual work environment. My computer is in my office but my entire staff has access to it. So anyone could have sent those. That woman and I had a cordial, but strictly professional relationship. But now my wife thinks I reciprocate this woman's affections. Those letters are very damning, I'm afraid.

David: Yeah, I know. You are the one who's supposed to not want the case, but Maddie, I'm sick of these boring matrimonial cases. It's always the same thing. He wants her. She doesn't want him - for obvious reasons I'd say. Then we try to help and wind up in some bizarre chase scene that doesn't make any sense. Do me a favor. Tell the writers we need a good, juicy murder case…

The scene: Blue Moon's outer office, late in the day, around closing time. The staff are milling about, straightening desks, grabbing coats, getting ready to head for the door as soon as the clock strikes 5:00. Maddie walks in with Bert on her heels. Bert is talking her ear off as usual; Maddie is reading as she walks slowly toward her office.

Bert: Well, at least that handwriting expert had good news for us, Ms. Hayes. But if Lori Christopher didn't write them, who did? Some other woman must be attempting to break up the Bellatonto's marriage. But he's not cheating and he still loves his wife. Stranger things have happened.

Tess: I don't know. Closure, I guess. As you know, I had hoped to talk to him at Jimmy's funeral but that didn't happen. Then I found out that he went home to Philadelphia a few weeks back, and I thought I had missed another opportunity. I just never dreamed that David would go to that reunion.

Maddie goes over to the sofa, sits down and looks out the window. She wonders how David will react to seeing Tess. It's been so long. Surely his male ego has has recovered by now. She ponders something that Tess said that night she talked to Maddie on the fire escape: (Transcribed from Big Man on Mulberry Street)

David: See? I knew one of these days I'd make you beg. (Starts kissing her neck) Now come on, Blondie. I brought champagne to christen the new digs. And the beemer is full of food that will look good (he holds her at arms length and gives her the once over) on you. (He starts singing once again, and attempts to twirl her out the door)

He's angry with himself not to mention confused, over his reaction to Tess. Why the venom after…how many years? Twelve? He can't even remember. God, he's tired… But he does remember the day of Jimmy's funeral. How he had planned on going until Maddie had walked into his hotel room and he had realized she wanted to go with him. He'd had his doubts that he could deal with Tess on his own. But with Maddie? No way. Not then. He laughs at himself. Maybe not ever. He thinks back to that night, sitting in that cab under the Brooklyn Bridge, explaining it all to a cabby that didn't understand a word of English…(Transcribed from Big Man on Mulberry Street)

"It's not like I don't want to see her. It's just that I know Tess. If I see her she's gonna wanna talk about what happened. She's gonna wanna analyze it. She's gonna want me to tell her I'm okay with it. Well, I'm okay with it. As long as I don't gotta think about it.

Maybe he should have told Maddie the whole truth. But, hey, a little macho pride goes a long way, Dave. A long, long way. And as far as Tess goes…it's not like she was the love of his life. It's not like he pined away for her. He recovered quickly from the shock. Hell, he was on a plane to LA a week after he found her with…He chuckles to himself, repeating what he said to Maddie earlier in the evening.

There had been a near riot of a fight in the place where he was tending bar. The cops had shown up and closed down the joint so he had left work three hours early that night. He could have gone out with the guys; God knows they were always razzing him about being "whipped". But he had felt like he needed to go home to Tess. They hadn't really been getting along lately. She'd been going out on a lot of auditions, but hadn't gotten anything. He had assumed that was the reason behind the arguments. So he would cheer her up like only he could do like when they were kids. He would surprise her by showing up early and with…stuff! He placed his hand over the back pocket of his jeans where he had his tip money, thought, "What the hell. Still two weeks before the rent's due." He stopped by a neighborhood store, bought a bottle of inexpensive but not too cheap wine, some bread and cheese, and to top it off, some bubble bath. By the checkout counter he spotted a bouquet of day-old flowers that weren't yet brown around the edges and bought those too.

He had been grinning like a Cheshire cat when he quietly turned his key in the apartment door and crept inside. The place had been quiet and dark. He hadn't turned on any lights. He had taken the flowers out of the grocery bag and moved toward the bedroom. He gingerly opened the door and walked inside, almost tripping over a pile of discarded clothing. He approached the bed in the darkness, heard the covers rustling and a low moan. He heard her sigh and as he got closer to the bed his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He thought he saw another form in the bed with her. He stormed back to the wall beside the door and turned on the bedroom light. She quickly sat up, pulling the covers up over her naked breasts. Her eyes were huge when she saw him standing there. "David!" she screamed. The Cheshire grin long gone, he said, "Honey, I knew this wasn't exactly a match made in Heaven. Here. I brought you these. Why don't you hang onto em for a minute." He threw the flowers at her and marched to the other side of the bed. "What's wrong, pal? She didn't tell you she was married?" He had yanked the covers back and had seen what he had seen. He stumbled backward, turned around and walked out. As he slammed the apartment door he could hear her cry out his name.

He never saw it coming. Of all the ways his marriage might have come to an end, this was not in any scenario he imagined. He had wound up walking the streets of the Village all night. He had thought a lot about their child that hadn't lived. What if the baby had made it? Would that have made things different…?

The scene: The next morning, Maddie's bedroom where she is standing in front of her closet deciding what to wear. The scene: The next morning, Maddie's bedroom, where she is standing in front of her closet, deciding what to wear. She can't help but turn around and gaze into her newly redecorated bedroom. It's perfect, she decides. As she looks through her new wardrobe, the phone rings. She sits down on her new bed to answer it.

David: It gets odder. He said the Mrs. was a loon. His words. A loon. She didn't believe anything he told her. He thought she'd be happy to know her husband wasn't sleeping around. But surprise, surprise. She called him a lousy investigator and refused to pay his bill. Glad the husband's our client instead of her.

She remembers the night in her hotel room when he had knocked on her door and she had asked him about it…and he had told her the story of him and Tess. How he had felt safe with her, how special he had thought she was, how they had gotten married because she was pregnant. Then he had gotten to the part in the story about finding her in bed with "the census taker getting all kinds of pertinent information from her…"

She remembers the flight home when he told her he had gone to the funeral and seen Tess with "that guy"… Maddie had known full well that it was no guy. She had almost told him she knew the truth but had decided not to. She had wanted to prevent another argument, since he would have found out she had checked up on him. But she had also wanted to protect his macho pride. Maybe if she had told him she knew…maybe he wouldn't feel this need to keep her at arm's length. Maybe he could have dealt with Tess a little better when he saw her last night. She purses her lips and shakes her head.

David: Relax, Bert. Maybe he got a good buy… Okay, Bert, this is it. Go in there and do your duty. Just see how he acts in there, especially around the ladies. Observe his method of training. Notice the way he interacts with his female clientele. Does he touch them? Fondle them, perhaps? (Under his breath) Why couldn't I ever find a gig like this?

David: That march down the aisle. That declaration of undying love and affliction. And be prepared to let her tie you up by the-(He shakes his head.) Look, Bert. You're not here to fix your floundering love life. Just have a good time. I shouldn't be more than a couple hours. Enough time for a good aerobic workout, some weightlifting, maybe even a dip in the Jacuzzi.

The scene: Inside the state-of-the-art gym. The soundtrack starts softly in the background…a familiar song…a good work-out song… as the camera pans the place. There are fit bodies, mostly female, working out on the nautilus equipment. Bert sees big, burly guys sweating and grunting as they lift huge barbells. He is standing just outside the locker room, desperately trying to keep remembering to suck in his gut. He looks around tentatively. The camera sweeps him, starting at his feet and moving up his body. The music picks up as he gathers his nerve to go out onto the floor.

He wears brand new black Reeboks and leg warmers. He is dressed in tight black and white striped spandex pants, which leave nothing to the imagination. Covering his chest is a black tank top, tufts of curly black hair straining to get out of it in all directions. As we get to his sweatbanded head (a la Staying Alive) the music hits a crescendo.

She pulls up outside a well-appointed suburban home. She checks herself in the rearview mirror for a second, then climbs out of the BMW, up the walkway to the front door and rings the bell. A blond women with what looks like a permanent scowl on her face answers.

Maddie is shown into the expensively furnished formal living room and sits down on an uncomfortably hard sofa. Maddie takes in the woman's appearance. She is probably a few years older than Maddie and is dressed in a frumpy sweat suit, designed for comfort and nothing else. Her permed frosted hair is unstyled and looks as if it's stayed unwashed for a few days. She is wearing make-up in an unsuccessful attempt to cover the large deep circles under her eyes, which dart about nervously. Her lipstick has worn off lips that look like she has chewed them to death. In short, she looks like a woman under a great deal of duress and she doesn't quite fit into this prim, flawless setting.

Mrs. Bellatonto: Of course not. If you were, you would know that when they swear it never happened, 99% of the time they're lying. Oh some of them want to get caught. They leave plenty of clues around to be found. They'll leave a matchbook from an obscure motel in a coat pocket so you find it when you take their clothes to the cleaners. But some, like my Miguel, get away with murder, if you'll pardon the expression. They don't use charge cards for flowers or romantic dinners. They pay cash for everything. They make sure they are never seen in a compromising situation with the other woman. They make sure to have sex with you-great, passionate sex- just so it turns your mind to mush and you start to feel like your suspicions are all unfounded. You start to feel ashamed that you ever doubted him. But as soon as he walks out that door…

Maddie: This isn't personal. This man couldn't care less whether or not your husband has been cheating on you. He is a professional. He cares about his reputation as such. He would never falsify information just to cover up for someone because he's a man too.

Mrs. Bellatonto: But Miguel never loses control. He keeps everything bottled up. It's funny. That's what has made him such a great trainer. He would exercise to let off steam. His total discipline and obsessiveness are what built his empire. But when he looks at me…all he sees is failure. I'm not one of his success stories, I'm afraid.

Maddie: Yes. And I must tell you that the evidence against him is flimsy at best. Those letters were typed on his business computer to which any employee has access. The phone calls were all very short and your husband says were only made to remind Ms. Christopher about her appointments. The pictures don't really show anything compromising either. Now, don't you have children?

David: Now who's getting testy? Technically, I don't know if the things you did are illegal, but morally, you're just as much to blame for that woman's death as your wife is Mr. Bellatonto. And the police are very interested to talk to you both. In fact, they should be arriving at your house right about now.

David: Oh…is that the truth finally coming out of the locker room? All this show of love for your wife was just an act, right? You wanted to look like the injured party in all this, didn't you? So I guess this relationship wasn't exactly a match made in heaven after all?

Agnes: One time, a long time ago…it was when you were in Chicago…you know…when you were there for that time. Anyway, he was wreck. He was drink-I mean he was depressed, and he said something nasty about being married-you know how he used to get.

Carla: This one actually came by the house this morning. Talked about how sad you were that I'm divorcing you. How upset you were and how much you loved me and wanted to make it work. Talked a fine game too. Almost had me convinced until she started calling you by your first name, like you knew each other intimately.

He gives Maddie a quick kiss on the forehead and walks out of her office. Maddie and Tess are left looking at each other, probably thinking the same thought: There goes David Addison running away…again. Maddie sighs heavily and Tess shrugs as David's head pops back inside the door.

David looks around the room, trying to take it all in. The place is completely different. The pastel colors, chrome, glass, white sectional sofa are all history. The walls have been colorwashed to a subtle golden hue. The tone is warm, creating depth without being too dark or garish. David walks a little further into the room and slips on the new tile floor.

He sees then that most of the tile is covered by a rich Indian tapestry rug in shades of burgundy, navy, and chestnut brown. He looks up at the high ceiling to see exposed, rough-hewn beams. He takes a 360-degree turn around the room. The window coverings are simple: diaphanous ivory gauze draped casually over iron curtain rods. Where the glass coffee table once stood is a large ornately carved square wooden trunk, either resembling or perhaps an actual antique chest from Spain. In place of the white L-shaped sectional are two overstuffed caramel colored leather sofas, with pillows patterned after the colors in the room sized rug. Miss Me looks up at him from her reserved spot on one sofa and wags her stubby tail. David whistles, then scowls. He points toward the side windows.

This room has also undergone a major overhaul. Still feminine, there is nothing peach about it. The carpet has been replaced with an ivory cut Berber with flecks of earthtone colors throughout. The walls are textured and whitewashed to look like old plaster. No pictures adorn them, but there are two large scrolled iron wall sconces flanking the bed. And the bed…David glances over at Maddie beaming in the doorway. He moves to the foot of the bed. The contemporary headboard has been replaced by a spectacular antique iron canopy with yards and yards of creamy muslin draped around it. A fluffy down comforter is enveloped in an elegant taupe floral brocade as well as about ten pillows of varying shapes and sizes on top. There are matching distressed pine side tables and delicate wrought iron lamps on either side. Two slipper chairs covered in the same brocade as the duvet and a small iron table with a glass top complete the room. Maddie has lit three candles around the space, giving it a warm glow.

She smiles seductively, leans over him and starts to pull the pillows off the bed and onto the floor. He stops her hand before she gets to the bottom of the pile. They give each other a long look, she moves into his arms and they fall back onto the bed.

And although my name is attached to this episode, Sarah, Lizzie and Diane deserve much of the credit for helping me stay focused when the going got rough. I feel that both Lizzie and Diane should also get a writing credit for nursing me through a near fatal case of writer's block. Their suggestions and great wit helped keep me on track and have spared all you readers from thirty pages of crap (I hope).